by Cameron Dane
Marek's world grew darker with every revelation Tag shared. “And I killed all that with Colin before it ever had a chance to occur.”
“I choose to think maybe it's on life support, and you have to figure out how to revive it,” Tag offered. “Part of getting Jordan to believe in me was proving myself worthy through Colin. I don't undervalue for one second how much getting to know Colin and becoming friends with him showed Jordan I wanted to be a part of her world. Every part of it. Getting her past the assumption that I was just another redneck, homophobic Bubba was huge for me. And I ended up with one of the best friends I've ever had in the process. They will go to bat for each other, but they will also smack each other into waking up when needed. If you really want him, find a way to prove your character and worth to him, and make it happen.”
“Can I get…” Fuck, this was presumptuous. Still, Marek's heart beat with something other than pure pain for the first time since Colin walked away. “Can you give me your phone number or e-mail address?” he finally asked. “I'd like some way to be able to reach you and Jordan, if that's okay with you.”
“Sure. Do you have a pen and piece of paper?”
“I'll be right back.” Marek took fast strides to the computer room and returned with a pad of Post-it notes and a pencil.
Tag scribbled a half dozen lines on the top page and then handed it back to Marek. “Understand that with everything I've said to you, my loyalty does ultimately lie with Colin. No matter how much I like you guys together, there are boundaries I will not cross to help you get him back.” He laid a very hard, piercing stare on Marek. “I'm willing to be an ear if you need one. Are we clear on that?”
“We are. Thank you.” Marek stuck out his hand, humbled in the extreme. “For everything.”
Shaking with a strong hold, Tag said, “I hope I see you again one day.” He nodded, and started down the porch steps. “I have to get back.”
Marek stood in the open doorway, watching until Tag sped away out of sight. The curtains billowed through the open windows, almost like hands reaching out to the ocean. “You want him back too, I suppose.” He stepped outside and scanned the length of the porch. “Help me figure out a way to make it happen.”
No buzzing, no noises, no life from the house reached into Marek the way it did for Colin.
He was on his own.
Again.
Chapter Eighteen
“Ohhh crap…” Marek groaned and rolled to his back, wiping drool off his chin as he blinked himself slowly awake. Dirt clung to his sweat-damp face and hair, and he spit some from his mouth onto the greenhouse floor too.
What the fuck?
Marek pushed himself upright and dug the heels of his hands into his forehead, cursing the pounding within, as well as the sunlight beaming in through the wall of windows, making the thumping in his skull even worse.
Empty beer bottles littered the area around him, and Marek's cramped muscles shouted in protest as he grabbed onto the bench, then the worktable, until he was eventually on his feet. He remembered wandering into the greenhouse last evening, but he couldn't recall going back inside the house for more beer, and he definitely didn't remember taking a facer into the dirt and passing out.
Wait. How long was I out here? Maybe I missed him.
Marek raced through the backyard and into the house on unsteady legs, but as soon as he hit the kitchen, the chill and silence halted him in place. He didn't have to go upstairs or check any of the other rooms to know they were empty too.
He's still gone. Colin was not in this house. Anywhere. Of course he isn't. Reality slowly returned, and Marek knew there wouldn't be a message on the phone from Colin either. Seven days of checking repeatedly and finding nothing wasn't going to change today.
The loss seeped into Marek all over again, and he relived the final terrible moments with Colin, when the man had learned everything, and the absolute devastation on his face as it all sank in. Marek's gut clenched, and it didn't have anything to do with the alcohol rotting there.
Opening the fridge on automatic, he grabbed another beer. Unbearable guilt and self-hate sat heavily inside him, so much a part of his being he needed a drink to escape it, even for just a little while. Only every goddamned time he woke up, the pain was still there and attacked him harder. It became more acute each time he acclimated and remembered, and so he reached for another drink to dull the hurt. And the guilt.
Doing exactly the same thing you did when you lost Payton.
Marek held the beer poised at his lips, sobering for the first time in a week. This was not the same as Payton. Colin was not dead. Just gone. Shit. The loss still hurt so goddamned badly.
But not with quite the same finality as Payton, so stop acting like Colin's dead and buried. He's still alive, which means there's at least the possibility you can get him back. Marek looked at the bottle in his hand and sneered. But not if you keep drowning yourself in booze and hiding in blackouts.
Goddamnit, he'd wasted time.
“Fuck fuck fuck.” Marek dumped the open beer down the sink, untouched, and did the same with every other drop of alcohol in the house. His hand shook like a son of a bitch, and his pulse hammered harder than he'd felt in a week. He looked up and stared at his mess of a reflection in the window, flinching, but for the first time since Colin leaving, he didn't drop his gaze and hide.
Get your fucking act together, Donovan. Colin's not gonna come back to you on his own. Not after what you did to him. It's up to you to get him. You have to find the answer. Pull your head out of your ass, and figure out a way to prove yourself worthy of him, like Tag suggested. It's your only shot.
Problem was, Marek didn't know if he was worth Colin giving him a second chance. He looked down at the alcohol-splashed sink and thought about running his fingers through the wetness; he saw himself bringing his hands to his mouth and licking the streaks of booze off them as he panicked and craved temporary oblivion again.
No! Marek turned on the tap before he could be tempted again and sprayed the basin with water, drowning the last of the beer, wine, and whiskey away.
He left the kitchen and wandered his house, inside and out, over and over again, letting every piece of Colin and their time and talks together sink into his heart and mind, saturating him. Marek remained sober, didn't have any choice right then, and let every second spent with Colin, and let every emotion the man evoked and provoked, cut into him and go deeper than any drink ever could. Fuck, the pain of feeling everything he'd done to the other man ripped through him hard enough to knock him off his feet, but he screamed at the top of his lungs and pushed himself to get back up.
Eventually, hours after darkness set in, Marek knew what he was supposed to do.
He didn't exactly feel hopeful, but he went inside and got to work anyway.
He didn't have anything left to lose.
* * * * *
Two weeks after returning home from Fiji, Jordan clicked online to check her e-mail and nearly fell out of her chair. The top of the list had a name she'd never expected to see again. From: Marek Donovan, and the subject line read Please don't delete.
Checking her watch, right on time, the doorknob rattled, and seconds later, her husband appeared.
“Honey?” she called to him from the desk across the living room. “Can you come here for a minute?”
“Hey, babe.” Tag looked up and smiled. “What is it?”
Jordan crooked her finger, drawing Tag to her side. “Do you know anything about this?”
After kissing her cheek, Tag leaned over her shoulder and looked at the monitor. His eyes stopped scanning when he spotted Marek's name. “Not what it says. But I did tell you I left him information about how to get in touch with us.”
Righteous indignation burned in Jordan's belly for her best friend. “Damn it. Son of a bitch. I would have thought this guy was smarter than trying to get to Colin through me.” She clicked a checkmark next to the asshole's name and moved her cursor to select
Delete.
Tag covered her hand and jostled the mouse, waving the arrow away before she could make it happen. “Don't do something impulsive you might later wish you hadn't. Aren't you the slightest bit curious about what he has to say?”
She narrowed her gaze up at him. “Why? Has he already been in touch with you?”
“Today, for the first time, same as you.” Tag took off his jacket, loosened his tie, and walked across the open space to the kitchen. “He said hello and let me know he had sent something to you. I just walked in the door. You know I would have told you as soon as we sat down to eat.”
Yeah, she knew he would too. Damn. She turned in the swivel chair, following Tag with her gaze as he disappeared behind a wall into the kitchen. A moment later, he reappeared with a can of soda.
“You think I should read it,” she said to him.
“I think you should at least give it serious consideration before you click the note into the trash.” Tag paused, popped the top of his drink, and took a swallow before he captured Jordan's gaze again and went on. “I think you should think about how damned happy Colin was every second he was with Marek, right up until he learned Marek had misled him. I think you should think about how Colin has looked the last two weeks, and don't even necessarily compare him to the guy in Fiji, but to the man who for the last two years loved this faceless person in his dreams, and how connected he felt to that man.” Tag walked across the living room and kneeled in front of Jordan. Setting his drink on the floor, he tucked his arms around her waist and looked up into her eyes. “I want you to think about how the shape, the structure, and body of that house turned out to mirror the one in his dreams and then just consider that maybe the man who lives inside it has the same heart and soul as that dream man too. What if none of it was a strange coincidence?” he asked. “What if Marek really is a good man who made a huge mistake, and what if Colin really is supposed to be in that house with him in Fiji?”
Her heart squeezing, Jordan caressed her husband's strong jaw. “Nobody looking at you would ever think you were such a big ol' romantic.”
“As long as you know.” Tag leaned in, brushed her lips with a kiss, and stood back up. “I'm going to go take a shower. Then I'm taking you out for dinner.”
“Sounds good.” Swiveling back to face the computer, Jordan clicked on Marek's e-mail. “You're lucky my husband likes you,” she mumbled, glaring, as if the man could see her through the screen.
Then, she read Marek's e-mail.
Jordan—I know I hurt Colin, and I don't blame him or you for being so angry. I hurt him, twice, and you cannot know how much I will always regret that. I miss him more than I ever thought possible, and I'd like to try to build something new with him. I understand, if this is at all possible, it will take time, and Colin should be able to go as fast or slowly as he wants. I would like to send him a paragraph every few days to let him know about some changes I'm about to make, and I'd like to do it through you. I don't want you to be a courier for something you don't approve of, so I'd like you to please read them yourself before forwarding them to him, so he can know I'm not pushing for something he may not want to start again. If you're not comfortable with what I write and don't wish to pass it along to him, all I ask is that you let me know.
I thank you for your time and for even considering helping me out.
I have the first e-mail ready. All I need is your permission to send.
Sincerely,
Marek
Tapping her fingernail against her teeth, Jordan stared at the note on the screen. “Ohhh, you are too good.” Now, she was too curious to know what the damn man had to say to ignore his plea. Before she could change her mind, she hit Reply and started to type.
I make no promises I will help you yet, but you can send the first one.
Without even signing her name, Jordan clicked Send.
* * * * *
Exhausted, fighting sleep, Colin pulled his laptop in bed with him, hoping to stay awake watching inane videos on YouTube. He didn't welcome sleep anymore; he feared if he slipped into a deep slumber, he would dream about Marek and the house. He wasn't sure he would survive living in those dreams every night again now that he knew the reality of the man and his home. Not now that he had been inside them both…and loved it. As quickly as excitement stirred in Colin's sweats, memories of their last moments together flooded him, and he didn't have to fight a hard-on anymore.
His home page flashed New Mail, and Colin clicked on it, figuring he could kill a few minutes browsing the junk mail clogging his in-box. He had to start thinking about a birthday gift for Jordan anyway, and maybe he would find a nice discount coupon for an online store.
“Speaking of the devil herself…” Colin opened an e-mail from Jordan and almost stopped breathing.
I am forwarding this from Marek. You may not want to read it, but please don't delete it. You might change your mind down the line. I love you, and only have your interests at heart. He sounds—
His heart racing crazily, Colin jabbed his finger on the laptop's touchpad and got out of the body of the e-mail before reading another word. He shut down his computer as fast as his shaking hands would allow then ran it into the living room and left it on the coffee table. Backing away as if it were diseased or on fire, Colin crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin the way he used to do as a kid.
I'm not ready to deal with him. I don't know how I feel anymore.
Blindly reaching for his TV remote, Colin's hand brushed the spine of a book. Beatrice's journals. A band tightened his chest as he acknowledged the gift of the diaries. With certainty, Colin knew Marek hadn't given them to Tag to pass along as some kind of manipulation. He just knew how much Colin treasured the find and wanted him to have them. Shifting upright in bed, Colin grabbed the top one, opened it to the bookmarked page, and started to read.
* * * * *
Colin woke up the next morning with his hand wrapped around his cock, shouting Marek's name as he showered his stomach with seed.
The dreams had returned.
* * * * *
“So you're not reading them,” Jordan said. She hoisted herself up on Colin's desk, crossed her legs, and nudged her high heel against his knee, forcing him to acknowledge her. “I just sent you one and watched you look up and glare at me from your office across to mine.”
Looking up at Jordan coolly, Colin picked up his pen and started twirling it between his fingers. “I've already told you I wasn't reading them.”
Jordan grabbed the pen out of his hand and threw it against the wall. “Damn it. It has been three and a half months, Col. I wouldn't care except you don't look happy. You haven't since the day we got back. I understand why you were mad; God knows I was too. Maybe I still am; I don't know. But if you are still angry, then maybe you should go be angry with Marek, to his face, and work through it so you can see if there's anything left worth rebuilding on the other side.”
“I'm not angry anymore.” In the beginning, Colin had speechified so many rants and rails at Marek in his head he simply didn't have the energy anymore. “I just don't care.” Even as he declared the second statement, his heart constricted hard enough to make him put his hand to his chest, proving him a liar.
Openly checking him out from top to bottom, Jordan snorted. “Yeah, right; it's so clear to everyone that you've moved on.” She pulled a sarcastic face at him. “You're letting fear rule you the same way I did.”
“No I'm not.”
“So if you really don't care anymore, then what will reading the e-mails from Marek hurt? How can they have power over you if you don't love him anymore?” She reached across the desk to his computer and clicked the icon for the Internet. “Read them and get them out of your system. I'll tell Marek I can't forward anything else, and we'll all move on with our lives.” She hopped off the desk and pressed a fast kiss to his cheek. “I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Bye.”
Colin turned to get back to work,
and his attention caught on his e-mail home page. His mouse hovered over the icon for the unnamed folder where he had been storing the unopened e-mails from Marek, the little pointing finger just waiting for Colin to click. He understood Jordan's read-them-and-get-them-out-of-your-system taunt was a total ploy, but one she knew would work on him. Damn it.
The dreams continued to haunt Colin too, and the ongoing tie binding him to Marek wouldn't let him delete the e-mails, no matter how much in his waking hours he tried to convince himself he should. Colin could still feel grief in Marek when they came together in frantic sex during those hours of unconsciousness at night. He clung to the man with equal desperation, punishing his body with violent mating in an effort to connect in place of words that no longer existed between them, even in the dreams. At the same time, Colin's original fear for the faceless man's safety no longer existed in these newer dreams; there was an underlying strength and peace in Marek he could not deny.
Maybe he has moved on, and I need to look at these e-mails so I can too.
His hand trembling, his heart screaming with denial, Colin went back to the first e-mail and opened it.
Colin—Even though I can't feel it myself, I've decided you were right. This house is sad due to some serious neglect. I've played a part in that, and I plan to rectify it as best I can. I've contacted an architect to look at the place and help me make choices that will bring the house back to its original character. I know a pair of brothers on the main island who will be happy to have the contractor work and will be open to me being an integral part of the repairs. With only three of us, it won't go fast, but that's okay. I want my hands on all of it, and I want it right more than I want it quick. I'll keep you apprised on how we progress.
