What the fuck?
“I’m not fucking doing that. I haven’t finished my work yet.” Although I had far more than I needed, but had stayed on because—well, I liked it here. With him.
Cary’s sigh was deep and desperate. “Do you care for me, Rhys? As a friend, or…anything else?”
I cleared my throat. Christ, Cary, what do you want me to say here? What answer do you want that won’t drive you away? Sometimes the truth was the only way to go.
“Yes, I care about you. You know that. I think I’ve made it clear. Not just as a friend either. But I’ve never wanted to push it. You blow hot or cold, and the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”
He nodded, face tight with resolve. “Then please do this for me.” He hesitated. “I have something I need to do and you’re a distraction. I have to do research and I can’t do it if you’re around.”
“Oh.” His words breathed a sense of wonder into me. I’m a distraction? Hallelujah.
“You want me to go home. For how long? And why can’t I help you do your thing?”
His eyes shadowed. “I don’t know how long this could take. It’s…complicated.”
I huffed, “Says every relationship Facebook status I’ve ever seen.” Standing up, I stared out the window at the place I’d considered home for the past two months. “Would I be able to come back when you’re finished whatever you’re doing? Because I’m telling you, I like the coffee they serve in the canteen, and the marshmallows out of the vending kiosk are to die for. I’d miss them.”
There was movement behind me and then warm, wiry arms wrapped around my middle. A soft breath ghosted over my ear. “I will miss you too.”
Then my mind blew apart as Cary fucking Stilwell turned me to face him, and kissed me with sweet passion and need, his mouth firm, tasting of liquorice and coffee. I held onto what was left of my sanity and kissed him back, my hands seeking the back of his head to push my lips against his in fierce desire and ownership.
Because this man was mine, and no one was fucking taking him from me. Not even Cary himself. This was the person I’d been waiting to meet, the vulnerable man behind the prickly, cold exterior.
He made a soft groan in his throat as his fingers gripped my hips. The hard press of his groin against me was a delight, and I thrust back in answering arousal.
I still couldn’t believe he’d made the first move.
Cary tasted so good. The feel of his body pushing on mine was a dream come true. I wanted to taste every inch of his skin, marked or not. I needed to explore his body with all its secrets and scars and tell him how much he mattered.
I protested when he drew back, face flushed, eyes dark with blown pupils, his beautiful, kissable lips puffy and pink. And he wore beard burn on his skin, which made me want to crow.
“I was getting into that,” I muttered. “Why’d you have to spoil the fun?”
He grinned faintly. “Because I don’t want to come in my yoga pants. This is my favourite pair.” The look of wonder in his eyes cut me to the core. “I can’t believe what you do to me.”
“Ditto,” I muttered, tracing the outline of his mouth, which curved upward. “Which makes it all the more inconceivable that you want me to leave you alone here. I’m a journalist, photographer or not. I know how to find out stuff.”
He sighed, his face haunted. “No. I have to do this next bit on my own.”
I brushed hair from his forehead. “And you won’t, you know, harm yourself anymore?”
Cary shook his head. “That’s not a promise I can make, Rhys. It doesn’t turn itself on and off like that. It’s…complicated.” He moved away, smile shattering.
I rolled my eyes. “That complicated thing again. Okay, well, can you at least tell me when you harm yourself, you take care?”
He raised his eyebrows at me and I realised what I’d said.
“Crap, you know what I mean. You don’t let it get infected and look after it.” Something struck me. “Hey, how the fuck do you work on those silks without your wound bleeding? Do you feel much pain?”
Cary moved away and shrugged. “I have it all down to a fine art, and I look after myself. I have ways to bind it when I perform and FYI—it sometimes hurts like fuck, but it’s supposed to. That’s the point.”
I couldn’t get my head around his compulsion but was happy he was careful. “I suppose that’s fine then.” I gave a dramatic sigh. “All this because of Marco’s letter, huh? I wish I hadn’t given it to you now.”
“You had no choice, and you know it. I need to finish this.” Cary’s voice was flat, almost dangerous. It shouldn’t have been a turn-on. And the suspense over what he intended to “finish” was killing me. Yet I had to respect his right to privacy, and to do what he needed to do. Life sucked.
I blew out my cheeks in frustration. “Yeah, okay. I’ll do it. Give me a few days to get things settled here then I’ll go back home if that’s what you need from me right now.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
We stared at each other for a while.
“Can we spend more time together before you leave?” he asked. “Not now because today has been the day from hell and I need to sleep.”
“We can do that,” I murmured. “I’ll need a couple of days to pack and make plans to get home. I’m sure in that time we can find some private time.”
Cary’s face darkened. “Will that fancy pants in a suit be picking you up in his sports car again?”
I was confused for a minute then realised he meant Stuart. “No, I have to fly home this time. Stuart is only my local Edinburgh taxi driver. Why do—oh?” My heart leapt. “You’re jealous.” That made me over-the-top smug. Fold-my-arms-across-my-chest-cock-my-head kind of smug.
Cary frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. He looks as if he should be on a catwalk or sipping champagne out a crystal flute. Not lurking around circus fields. That car of his could get stuck in the mud.”
“You’re bloody jealous,” I crowed as I pulled Cary’s mouth down to mine and planted a smacking kiss on it. “Aww, that’s adorable.”
“I’m not fucking adorable,” Cary muttered from between gritted teeth. “I am so far from adorable you couldn’t even see it with binoculars.”
There was the acerbic Cary I knew and loved. Although I loved the softer version, too.
I blinked.
What the fuck? Since when did like turn to love in my crazy brain?
I ignored myself. “Stuart is my best friend. He runs a magazine I sometimes write and shoot for. He’s the one who got me this gig. You should thank him.”
Carey didn’t look convinced. “Mm. I’m not sure I’d go that far.” He smirked at me and I wanted to kiss it off his face. Then he gave a jaw-stretching yawn, and I conceded.
“I’d better be on my way, let you get to sleep. I’m sure there’ll be more police here in the morning asking questions.”
He nodded, looking as if that yawn had triggered his exhaustion. “No doubt. I’ll see you around then. Come say good-bye before you go.”
I nodded as I opened the door and stepped out into the night. “Count on it. Sleep well, Cary. You know where I am if you need me.”
I walked across the field. I couldn’t resist that one final movie moment when you look back. He was still standing there, and that fact made me feel happier about what I’d just agreed to.
Chapter 16
Cary
I didn’t want Rhys to go. Watching him walk off across the field to Greta’s caravan, to no doubt break the news he was leaving, drilled a hole into my chest and left me leaking the little warm blood I’d developed since he got here. My emotional thaw was nowhere near complete yet, but he’d started my meltdown, something I wanted to further explore.
Marco’s letter had touched deep inside me, no doubt as meant. I made myself a strong coffee laced with bourbon and sat down to re-read his words of emotional devastation.
Dear Cary
You know I c
are for you. Me leaving isn’t a reflection on you. It’s a reflection on me, so no misplaced guilt please. You live with enough of that already.
I woke up a little while ago to the news I would only be on this earth another three months. I do not want to live in pain, vomiting up my insides and taxing people I care for with my troubles. I would rather join my sister in peace. Perhaps then I can apologise to her for the things I said that led her to take her own life.
No one knows this part of my story for I have kept it a secret all these years. I have chewed the bitter pill of shame and guilt and I believe only by joining Katerina in the after world, in the same way she died, will I absolve myself of her passing.
Pater peccavi, post tenebras spero lucem
The monster that dwells inside me was the catalyst for me to complete my story, and I hope you find one too.
I know who you are. Not as in your real name or your story, but I recognise a tortured soul when I see one. I also know about your cutting, your need for pain. It takes one to know one, my friend. My white paint was the mask I needed to fake my true feelings—you wear cold and aloofness like a shroud. We are brothers in pain and for me, this is the only ending.
You are another story. You can find the happiness you seek again if you let it in.
And most important of all—as I have come to the final stage of my journey, you need to arrive at yours. You must resolve the demons you live with, the ones that make you bleed and suffer. You must deal with them, put them to rest before you can move on. Letting it fester like a maggot-infested wound will not bring you happiness, my friend.
Whatever ails you, face it and rejoice in the fact you will triumph over it. Rhys will be there to help you, of that I know. He cares for you. I think you care in your own way for him. Please do not throw him away like those discarded bloody rags you use to mop up your iniquities of causing your own blood to flow. He deserves more than that, as do you.
My voice may now be silent, but I live on in your memories and in your conscience.
Live, my soaring and beautiful Air Dancer. Live for you, for Rhys, for me, and for all the others who may not have a voice.
Perfer et obdura dolor hic tibi proderit olim
Your friend always
Marco
The man had reached into my soul and wrenched my guilt and self-hatred into the open, airing it for me to see and realise what I needed to do. The past could be avoided no longer.
I had to bring Father Price Littlejohn to justice for the slaughter of my family, for the years of sexual abuse he’d inflicted upon me, and find closure and perchance solace for us all.
I would need to research him, find out everything I could, and then tell the police about that event over twenty-three years ago that had ended my family’s lives and made me an orphan.
To do this, I needed to focus and with Rhys around, I’d find myself distracted. He’d be every reason in the world not to pursue the monster who had taken everything from me. I’d lose myself in his green eyes, laughing mouth, and the promise of some hopeful joy.
I looked up the Latin phrases Marco had used in his missive. Sadness at their meaning trickled into my mood like slow drips from a leaky tap.
Pater peccavi, post tenebras spero lucem—Father, I have sinned. After darkness, I hope for light.
The last one was aimed at me.
Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim—Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.
I wasn’t sure if that last part was true. Pain had been my constant companion since I was ten years old and had done me no favours so far.
Perhaps that could change.
*****
“Ouch, that hurt, damn it.”
The pinch to my right earlobe was unpleasant but not unexpected. I’d seen Greta storming toward me a few minutes ago and with nowhere to hide, out in the open, I could only stand there and wait for her to give me what she thought I deserved. I stared at Greta in wary resignation as she let go of my poor ear and trundled around in front of me. She wagged her finger with enough violence I thought it might fall off.
“Bastardo. What did you say to my lovely Rhys that he is leaving us? Why did you push him away? I thought the two of you were getting along.”
“We were. Are,” I corrected. “But I need to do something, and he agreed to give me space.” I knew the brave answer would have been to tell her Rhys and I were none of her business, but even I wasn’t brave enough to say.
She glared at me in suspicion. “He didn’t put up a fight, tell you no? What is it with men they give up so easily?”
I shook my head. “He argued. It ended—well.” I smiled, remembering the passionate kiss we’d shared, one I’d started. “He respects me enough to know I need to do this alone.”
Greta’s face softened. “I knew that letter of Marco’s would start something.” She stepped forward and touched my cheek. “Mi querida, remember you are never alone. You haven’t been alone since I found you hurt and shattered in a trailer.”
My throat tightened. “I know. I was lucky to have you all these years. Anyone else would have given up on me.”
She pursed her lips. “Yes, I think they may have greyer hair than I.” She touched her jet-black dyed locks. “And I am glad you and Rhys have found something. So, go, do what it is you need to do and then come back, Air Dancer. I will always be here for you if you get lost.”
Soft lips kissed my ear and then she was gone in a flurry of chiffon and tropical-coloured scarves.
*****
Two days later, saying good-bye to Rhys became a reality. I looked around the comfortable hotel room we were in with some suspicion. The air was redolent with the smell of something savoury and minty.
“When you said we were going out to dinner, this isn’t what I expected.”
Set with a table for two, the suite was inviting, soft music floating through the air, the lighting artfully dim. Rhys waved a hand at me as he spoke on the phone beside the bed to the reception desk.
“That’s why it’s called a surprise,” he hissed, then turned his attention back to whomever was on the phone. “Please do. Send it up soon, will you? My dinner partner needs his edge taking off.” He put the phone down and grinned. “The wine is on its way.”
“My edge needs taking off?” I stared at him.
He sat down opposite me and picked up his napkin. “You’ve been uptight since we got here. It’s as if you think this is a seduction attempt or something.”
My face flushed. “Well, you must admit it looks like that. I thought we were going out to eat. I didn’t expect a taxi, a hotel suite, and a king-size bed.”
Rhys leaned over and touched my hand, rubbing the top of it with his thumb. “I promise I won’t try anything you don’t want. Rather than stay on the circus site for our final evening together, I thought it would be nice to go somewhere more private.” He made a face. “You know those damn pesky dogs are always out prowling around and yapping when they aren’t trying to hump my leg. And Greta has no sense of decorum for personal space. She barged into my caravan the other day and I was starkers. She got an eyeful, I can tell you.” He sniggered, and I grinned with him.
“I heard about that. She told me I could look forward to six inches.” I pursed my lips at the look of indignation on his face. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d already felt what you offered and six was pushing it.”
Rhys gaped and cast an instinctive glance down at his crotch. “I’m sure I’m bigger than that,” he said, and I couldn’t help the laughter that spurted from my lips.
His eyes worshipped my face as I laughed and the look of joy in them was no secret. He looked at me as if I was his moon and sun, and I was humbled.
I didn’t deserve that look.
“She said nothing of the sort,” I sputtered, “and yes, I think six may be on the low side. But then, I’ve never measured it.”
“You bastard,” he said, patting his groin. “Maybe late
r you can verify—” He cut off and pressed his lips together. Then, “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to imply this was anything but dinner. Call it a slip of the tongue.”
I nibbled on a breadstick. “No worries. If I remember, I rather liked your tongue the last time we were together in private.”
Memories of that last kiss and the rampant frotting together on my bedsheets were making me hard. I crunched on my breadstick. Huh. My sex famine seemed to be over. Perhaps tonight I might even get up close and personal with the man sitting across the table.
The knock spurred Rhys from his seat and he sped over to open the door. He came back in, beaming. “One bottle of Muga Selección Especial Reserva Rioja,” he announced, holding up the bottle. “I remember you said you enjoyed this wine. It goes well with the lamb we’re about to have too. Another favourite of yours, I remember.”
Fuck me, this man is trying so damn hard. I couldn’t believe he remembered that conversation we had in the tent a few weeks ago. I cleared my throat, the lump at the back making it difficult to speak. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” I managed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been less than collaborative on this. I should have done more to engage.”
Rhys flung a quicksilver grin at me. “Having you here is enough for me. As I won’t see you and the troops for a while, I wanted us to have something to remember. Besides, I have something to tell you and we need to be alone for that.”
The sadness in his tone belied his confident statement. I nodded, apprehension at what he might say piercing my chest. Perhaps he’d changed his mind and he wouldn’t be coming back. God knows I’d given him little encouragement to think this might be a long-term thing.
Rhys uncorked the bottle and poured the wine into waiting glasses. He set it down before me then walked over to the wheeled dinner tray next to the table on which two silver salvers sat.
“Voila,” he announced as he removed one of the lids with a flourish. My mouth watered at the aroma of roasted lamb.
Living On Air Page 17
