Closer by Morning

by Thom Collins

  “So what gives?” asked Conrad, sipping his own drink.

  “Dale,” Matt answered, giving him a brief update on the last few days.

  Conrad listened quietly, without any remark or judgment. He’d always been a good listener. Matt appreciated it. He couldn’t tell anyone else about this. Certainly not Annabel. She would widen her eyes and gasp and smile all the while then post a Facebook update to share the story. Conrad wasn’t like that. Matt could tell him anything and he would respect his confidence.

  “It sounds like it’s getting serious between you.”

  “It is.” Matt smiled. “He told me that he loves me.”

  “Wow, already?”

  He nodded. “And I love him too. I know we’ve only known each other five minutes but I’ve never felt anything like this. Not with anyone. I’ve been in love before. I loved Jamie for a while. But it was nothing like this. This is…so strong, so all-consuming. I think about Dale all the time. When I wake up the first thought I have is about him. And all through the day, when I should be concentrating on my cases, I just look at my watch and count down the time until I see him again.”

  “I’m happy for you, Matt.”

  “Even with all the shit that is going on, it makes me happy just to think about him.” He told Conrad about the visit he’d had from Jamie. “He’s working on the case now. Of course, when the boy from the studio was murdered, Jamie took it as an opportunity to put some pressure on Dale and me. Even had the nerve to suggest Dale might be the killer. He was none too happy when I provided Dale’s alibi.”

  “Shit. He won’t take that well.”

  “He didn’t. It doesn’t matter what I say, he wants to get back together.”

  “He’ll find someone else soon. Once he realizes there’s no chance of you making up.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Matt finished his drink and went to the bar for another round. The place was starting to get busy. He was in the mood to stay out and get drunk. With Dale down south, it was a good way to blot out the lonely night ahead. But it was only Thursday. He still had to work tomorrow and he had a trial lined up at Crown Court. No way he could do that with a hangover. No, this would be his last drink. He would get up early and head to boot camp for the last session of the week.

  Conrad gave him an update on his charity fundraiser.

  “Damn,” Matt said, suddenly remembering. “I was supposed to ask Dale to get some autographs and stuff from the studio for your prize fund.”

  “Don’t be daft,” Conrad said. “You two have far too much to worry about.”

  “No, I said I would help and I completely forgot. It’s too late now. I don’t think Dale will be home until Sunday evening.”

  “It’s not a big deal, honestly. You can fix up a prize for next time instead.”

  It was a shitty thing to forget. These charity nights were a big deal to Conrad and the kids at the theater. “I’ll be there though,” he said. “Feel free to sting me for as many raffle tickets as you like.”

  “You’re on.” Conrad smiled.

  Matt suddenly had an idea. It wouldn’t make up for the missed celebrity autographs but it was better than nothing. “I’m going to boot camp in the morning. Why don’t I ask the instructor if he’d like to help out? You know, donate a prize or something. He runs a gym as well as the morning groups. Maybe he could provide a free membership or something along those lines.”

  “All donations are gladly accepted. You know that.”

  Matt grinned, pleased with his idea. “Clint’s all right. A bit intense, but I think he means well. I’ll speak to him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help out.”

  ****

  It took six hours to complete a journey that would usually take a little over four. Heavy traffic and frequent roadworks all down the motorway meant Dale rarely got above fifty miles per hour. He pulled off south of Nottingham to use the bathroom and sent Laura a text to say he was running late. After driving all this way, he didn’t want her to put Jack to bed before he arrived. Now that he’d decided to be open with his son, he couldn’t wait another night. Who knew what kind of stories they’d wake up to in the morning? He had a suspicion that Keeley would keep a lid on her scoop until the weekend. Scandal played so much better in the Sunday editions, but the murders in Durham were major news. Maybe she would go straight to press before another journalist got a lead on her exclusive. Only one thing was certain—the story was coming out. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

  He’d been a jerk. Six hours on a dreary motorway had given him ample time to assess the situation. It was a mess entirely of his own making. Matt had been right, no one gave a shit about gay actors these days. They assumed the pretty ones were all gay anyway. Why the hell hadn’t he come out when Laura divorced him? Or when he had followed her to England? A new beginning in a new country, it was an ideal chance to start over. No more lies or covering up. It would have been so easy.

  Better than becoming a scandalous footnote in a murder enquiry.

  Thinking about the murders, and Aaron, only made it worse. His problems were nothing compared to what those boys had gone through and what their families must be suffering now.

  If he could only get to Jack before the shit hit the fan. If Jack was okay, he didn’t care about anyone else.

  Eventually he reached the modest three-bedroom house where Laura had settled with her new husband. A large white Qashqai was parked on the drive and Dale pulled in behind it. He left his luggage in the trunk. He’d look around for a hotel once he’d seen his son. He saw movement behind the living room window and the front door opened before he raised a hand to knock.

  Henry Kinnear, Laura’s second husband, greeted him with a warm smile and a handshake. A heavyset, balding man, Henry made up for what he lacked in looks with a friendly personality, kind eyes and a wicked sense of humor. When they’d first met, Dale only had to spend a few minutes with the guy to totally get what Laura saw in him. If another man had to be a father figure to Jack, Dale couldn’t have chosen better.

  “Don’t look so serious,” Henry said, welcoming him inside. “You have nothing to worry about here.”

  The house was in its usual state of habitual chaos. There were children’s toys all over the floor, laundry on the radiators, the TV blasting to an empty room.

  From above, came the thunder of footsteps across the landing and Jack’s excitable face appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “Dad,” he squealed excitedly, rushing down to meet him.

  “Hey, take it easy. You’ll fall.”

  Then the boy, dressed for bed in pajamas, was wrapping his arms around Dale’s waist and pressing the side of his face into his stomach. The worries that had plagued him all the way here were forgot in that moment. He put his arms around his son’s shoulder. Jack was warm and his damp hair smelled of shampoo. Dale cherished each second. The six-hour drive had been worth it.

  “Have you eaten?” Henry asked.

  Dale shook his head.

  “We made you a pizza,” Jack said excitedly. “Ham and mushrooms.”

  “Wow, my favorite. Did you make it yourself?”

  Jack nodded. “Mum bought the base but I put all the toppings on. We’ve already had ours so it’s all for you.”

  “All for me? That’s great. I’m starving.”

  Jack giggled. Taking Dale’s hand into two of his own, he dragged him toward the kitchen.

  Laura met them halfway, carrying Emily, her wide-eyed little girl, in her arms. She leaned in, turning her cheek for a kiss. Laura had blossomed into motherhood in the years since they’d separated. Her face and figure were fuller than before, but there was a contentment about her that he couldn’t ever remember in the years they were together. She was finally happy. It was only through distance and time that he was able to see how wrong they had been for eac
h other. Laura had fooled herself about him just as much as he’d fooled himself.

  “She’s grown so much,” he said, planting a soft kiss on the baby’s chubby cheek and stroking her blonde hair. “How old is she now?”

  “Nineteen months,” Laura said, stepping back to look him over. “You look tired.”

  “Long journey. The traffic was a nightmare.”

  “Mum,” Jack wailed. “Let’s put the pizza on.”

  “Why don’t you and Dad do that?” she said. “Henry and I are going to put Emily to bed.” She looked at Dale with understanding eyes. “Go ahead. We’ll see you in a while.”

  Dale followed Jack into the kitchen. The oven was already preheated and on the counter, ready to go, was the most top-heavy pizza he’d ever seen—tomatoes, mushrooms, ham, onions and a ton of cheese. Jack pulled on a pair of oven gloves.

  “Let’s go, Dad, you get the door and I’ll put the pizza in. It’s gonna be delicious. I know it.”

  Dale smiled. “If you ever decide to make a living of this you may need to cut back on the toppings. You’ll be out of business before you get started.”

  “Mum says you’re too skinny,” Jack said, sliding the tray into the oven.

  “She does, does she?”

  Jack nodded, pressing the buttons for the timer. This kid was a real pro.

  “How come you don’t cook like this when you come to visit me?” Dale asked.

  “’Cause you like to live off takeaways.”

  Dale laughed. He suddenly felt very calm and sure of his future. Jack was a great kid. He didn’t know why he’d been worried for so long.

  “C’mon, let’s sit down. While this monster pizza of yours is cooking, your old man needs to tell you something.”

  ****

  Matt got home around eight-thirty and ate a solitary supper at the kitchen table before watching television. He went to bed at eleven. Clint Dexter saw all of this through the kitchen windows. It was remarkable how much could be seen by a stranger hiding outside a well-lit window, especially when it was dark outside. Because the house was not directly overlooked at the rear, Matt rarely closed his curtains or blinds.

  Clint watched, expecting the American to show up at any time. When Matt turned off the downstairs lights and went upstairs alone, Clint smiled. No Yank in the bedroom tonight. Good. It was a comforting thought, knowing Matt was alone in the house. He could go in there if he wanted. It would be easy. Creeping around the house while its occupant slept. Standing over his still, softly breathing form.

  The idea made him hard.

  He could end it all tonight if he wanted to. Slip silently in and take what he wanted. Destroy the younger man in the most depraved manner. Ravage him. Hurt him. Matt was strong but Clint was stronger. One punch would take him out, long enough to tie him down. And once he was bound… Clint could do what the hell he wanted. Make use of that heavenly body—corrupt and defile it. Torture and fuck him.

  God, how badly he wanted that.

  But not yet.

  He was playing the long game. The time was not right.

  But it would be soon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  For most people, as the week reached an end, the urge to exercise weakened. The turnout for Friday’s boot camp proved the theory. Dale was not the only regular who was absent that morning. Matt made it through habit rather than willpower. A mindless autopilot kicked in when his alarm went off, getting him from his bed to the park without too much effort.

  Thinking about Dale was the biggest incentive. He wanted to look good for his return and intended to work out every day till he came back. He wanted to be in the best possible shape to please him. Thighs, bum, abs, chest—he would be the best version of himself he could be. Dale deserved it.

  He missed him so much already and he’d only been gone a night. He’d been sleeping on his own for months now, for far longer than he’d known Dale, but going to bed alone, he felt his absence enormously. Without him in the bed, the sleepy smell of his hair and beard in the night, just didn’t seem right. He was like a child, denied his favorite teddy bear or comfort blanket. He woke several times, reaching into the empty space, rolling onto Dale’s pillow to breathe the scent that still lingered there.

  He understood Dale’s reasons for going away—it was a massive moment in his life—but selfishly he hoped he would come back soon.

  So he’d decided to exercise. Boot camp this morning and maybe a run or a session in the gym after work. He would make himself so exhausted that he’d have no option but to sleep tonight, however lonely and unwelcoming the bed felt.

  These were intense feelings. Especially for such a short relationship. But they didn’t scare him, he embraced them. He loved Dale and wanted to be with him. There was nothing scary in that.

  Matt pushed hard along the course. Clint barked orders from the front, blowing his whistle. “Thirty squats. Now.”

  Matt dropped into the squats without a pause, performing them with steely determination. His thigh muscles screamed their protest but he didn’t break form. He took all of his frustration out on his body. Off again, running hard, embracing the pain. It was insignificant compared to being without Dale.

  Dale had sent a text before bed last night. Everything was okay. By all accounts, Jack wasn’t fazed in the slightest by his dad coming out. No reason why he should be. Kids were often a lot more relaxed than their parents when it came to issues like that, but it was a big deal to Dale and he appreciated that. With Jack on side, Dale was ready for anything.

  He hoped Dale was wrong about the oncoming media storm. Surely an actor’s sexuality wouldn’t cause much of a scandal these days. He would like to think so, but if Dale was right, they would know soon enough.

  He warned him it wouldn’t be pretty. If the press got wind of their relationship, they would drag Matt into it. Big deal, he thought. Bring it on. He had nothing to hide. He’d already made up his mind to handle any press intrusion with quiet dignity. They’d get nothing from him because he had nothing to give. If it was scandal they wanted, they would have to source it elsewhere. Matt’s slate was clean.

  “You pushed it again this morning,” Clint said at the end of the course. “Well done, my friend. I like to see commitment like yours. You have everything it takes.”

  Matt was knackered. Shit. He fell forward, gripping his thighs, sucking in air, the coldness of which was painful against the back of his throat. He’d pushed it harder than he’d thought. The muscles in his legs trembled. But despite the exhaustion it felt damn good.

  “Take it easy,” Clint said, a hand on his shoulder. “Get your breath back. It’s good to work it hard, but not if it kills you.”

  “I’m fine,” he gasped at last. “But maybe not quite as up there in terms of fitness as I thought.”

  “You’re getting there.” Clint squeezed his shoulder.

  Eventually Matt straightened up. Clint was looking straight at him. Matt laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to have a heart attack. It just looks that way.”

  “I’m not worried about you. You’re one of my best men.”

  What was it about Clint this morning? The vibes he was giving off were very different to his usual no-nonsense demeanor. The way he was looking at him and how he’d touched his shoulder just then, sustaining the contact for longer than necessary. Did old Clint fancy him?

  Matt laughed at the idea as soon as it occurred. No way. Clint having an eye for him—it was ridiculous. There was just no chance. He’d never met a guy who was so determinedly straight in body and character as Clint. He made guys like Gerard Butler and Colin Farrell look effeminate.

  Maybe it was him. With Dale away, he was horny. Seeing sex in the most improbable places.

  “Clint, before you go, can I ask a favor? I’ve got this friend, Conrad. He does a lot of work for charity. He’s got a big e
vent this weekend and he’s looking for prizes that can be raffled or auctioned off on the night.”

  “Prizes?”

  “Yes. Anything. I wondered whether you’d be in a position to help out. It doesn’t have to be much. A free month’s membership to the gym, or a couple of free boot camp sessions. Anything you can afford, really. I wouldn’t ask but it’s a great cause and it means the world to Conrad.”

  He looked Matt carefully in the eyes. “Tomorrow, did you say?”

  “Tomorrow night, yes. It’s short notice, I know.”

  He smiled. It looked uncomfortable on him. “I’d love to.”

  “Brilliant. You’re a great guy, Clint.”

  “Why don’t you call round later and I’ll see what I can come up with? Can you stop by the gym tonight?”

  “Absolutely,” Matt said. “I’ll call on my way home.”

  Clint slapped him on the shoulder again and walked away.

  Matt chuckled. Clint fancying him—the idea was insane. Maybe he’d pushed it too hard after all. His head was cracking up.

  ****

  Clint watched him walk away. There was no trace of the excitement he felt inside visible on his face.

  Matt’s jogging bottoms clung to his sweaty ass, dark and damp in the cleft between those firm mounds. His T-shirt was soaked, clinging to the contours of his torso like a second skin. His hair was also wet, plastered in delectable curls to the skin of his neck. What I wouldn’t do to that body. If he allowed his iron control to waver for just a second, he would drag that ass into the woods and brutalize it. Fuck it without mercy. Piss in it, come in it, make it bleed.

  Clint turned away from the stragglers in his group before any of them could see the protrusion of his massive hard-on.

  Matt was coming by the gym tonight. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. He’d been playing the long game, teasing himself with the belief that he would take Matt sometime in the future. By why wait? Plans could change and he was adaptable. It was a skill that had kept him at large and functioning all this time.

  No, he couldn’t let this one go. Matt was coming to him tonight. He would be ready.