Toby didn’t care about him. Toby probably didn’t even like him. And that was okay, if that was how it was going to be. Thinking they’d shared something over a decade earlier wasn’t the basis of a relationship. It never had been and it never would be. He’d allow Toby to use his shower, lend him some clothes if he wanted them, but that wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for another member of the community if they needed it.
Perhaps some more than others. He’d never had much cause to deal with the bikies and drug dealers and other members of Echo Springs’s criminal underbelly in any way other than as a police officer. But Toby would be in and out of his house in little more than fifteen minutes.
Thirty max.
And once he was out, and they’d questioned Bob, that would be it. He’d go back to avoiding the dark looks and keeping Toby Grimshaw from having an impact on his life. To hell with him and his dad. They deserved nothing more than equal justice under the law, whether guilty or not.
They pulled up to his house and Ben got out, slamming the car door. He opened the house and stepped aside for Toby.
‘Bathroom’s down the hall, third door on the left. I’ll get you some clothes. There’s a clean towel in there.’
Toby grunted. He guessed that was some form of agreement, maybe even thanks. He was down the hall and behind a closed door in no time. Ben shook his head. How had it gone so wrong?
He went into his room and picked clean clothes out of the drawer that might fit Toby. Accidents and ashes: was that all there was between them? When their mothers died, a wall went up that Ben had spent too many years waiting to come down. His initial attempts to break it down had met with steel that patience hadn’t eroded. All those years wasted. But to never talk about it, to never have it resolved…
Could he press the issue now? His timing was terrible, but he’d waited for the right moment before and it had never come. Toby couldn’t run now. Couldn’t hide from it. And no matter how badly it might hurt to hear it, what was he still holding on to? A childhood fantasy built on nothing but daydreams and crazy ideas. Toby Grimshaw didn’t know how to love. That had been burned out of him. What was a little more pain?
It’s now or never.
Chapter Six
Ben’s bathroom was as neat as Toby expected. Ben had always been like that, his bedroom tidy with everything in its assigned spot, his bed always made. He probably kept his hair buzzed because it reduced the risk of any follicle getting out of place. His bathroom was exceptionally clean, no toothbrush left out, no hair missed, towels folded on the rack, soap clean and in its dish.
A model home for a model cop.
Toby turned on the water and stripped while it heated, resisting the urge to open the cabinets to confirm what he already knew. Ben would have that ordered too. Probably alphabetised. Toby might not have been the same, he’d have a few bits and pieces left out—or at least they used to be before the bathroom burnt down—but he wasn’t a slob. Yet being here, in Ben’s house, somewhere he never thought he’d be, he didn’t measure up. And being here brought mess into Ben’s life.
Quick shower, then I’ll go.
As he stepped under the spray, the water needled into his muscles and scoured the exhaustion and the worry. He focused on the water’s sting before his skin numbed. At this moment, all he had to do was wash, clean away the stink of smoke, and have it disappear down the drain. A long, hard and loud breath vibrated out of him, the sound dislodging something he’d held onto since waking in terror.
His dad didn’t do this. There was no way. The timing, the slapdash approach—he’d been the fire chief, for god’s sake. The investigation would confirm his innocence, if they were smart about it. And Bob would give his side of the story and everything would be fine.
Well, as fine as anything could be now that they’d lost their home.
And the small matter of someone trying to kill them.
Adrenaline shot through his spine before it dissolved under the heat. He had no idea who would want him dead. He kept to himself, except with his crew. Was it some old vendetta with his dad? Had he put out the wrong fire? Had he helped the police lock up someone who now had him on their shit list?
He’d have to go back through the investigations he’d run. The most recent was the one with Erika and her brother, Peter, who they’d all thought had been killed in a drug lab explosion. Erika was a coroner: she had discovered the body wasn’t her brother’s. That still bothered him, that someone would go to the trouble of faking Peter’s death. And that the guy was still missing. But Toby hadn’t had much to do with what Erika had uncovered. Why go after him? And then there was the question of why they’d bother setting fire to the cemetery as well. That’s if the two fires were connected. A quick recall of the fires during his life in Echo Springs raised nothing suspicious.
Other than the one that had blackened his mother’s body beyond recognition.
Ben’s mother’s too.
Though the water stayed hot, it didn’t warm the chill inside him. He finished washing and shut off the water, grabbed the towel and dried himself. Ben had never confronted him about the deaths. He’d never so much as looked at him funny, never blamed him, questioned him…nothing. That was his own fault. He thought if he could keep Ben away, he’d be able to hold onto his guilt and protect Ben. Eventually he’d stop loving Ben.
But that hadn’t happened.
Ben knocked. He probably wanted to get to the hospital so he could question Bob.
‘Hold on,’ he called out, wiping the last drops off and slicking back his hair before opening the door.
Ben’s fist gripped a set of clothes. His hands were covered in sweat and ash. Toby’s gaze drifted to Ben’s eyes glaring at him from beneath a stern brow. He seemed ready for something, a lecture, a reprimand. This was Officer Fields, one of the most upright and principled men he’d ever met, in or out of uniform.
Ben’s eyes swept down Toby’s chest, his gaze lighting sparks that burst behind Toby’s sternum, showering down around already hard nipples, stirring the turmoil swelling in his belly and landing to ignite a fire in his groin. Being looked at by this man, as much as he wanted to deny himself, brought with it such pleasure that he wanted to drop the towel and let Ben devour him in his entirety.
Coming here was definitely not a good idea.
‘Thanks for the clothes,’ he croaked.
Ben handed them over, but didn’t let go. ‘Listen, I—’
Their eyes locked and those knots of tension from the accident were replaced with a different kind, one he was far too familiar with. Every time he saw Ben was a moment of exquisite torture, hoping yet not hoping he would look over, come near, touch him. He existed in this permanent yes/no state that only intensified when Ben looked him in the eye. But if he was honest, he was more yes than no at those moments.
Or rather, hell yes.
Whatever Ben had been about to say didn’t make it out of his mouth. As Toby’s gaze dropped to Ben’s lips, the memory of them being so soft yet firm came to the fore. If only he could try again, wipe out the years between them. Why not?
You know why not.
‘I want you to know that however this happened, I’m glad you’re safe,’ Ben said. ‘You and Bob.’
Toby’s heart purred at the gentleness in Ben’s voice.
‘Don’t go getting soft on me, Ben.’ He broke eye contact, and pulled on the clothes, but instead of them slipping out of Ben’s grasp, he held on and came with them. He couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to see what was in Ben’s eyes, and how he would inevitably destroy it. But being this close again to Ben’s arms, remembering that moment outside the house when he’d been held and safe and warm…god, it did things to him. He wanted it. He needed it.
He retreated but Ben’s arm slipped around his waist and the space between them vanished. He should have resisted but whatever his mind ordered, his body disobeyed. And then Ben’s lips were on his and thought ceased. There was nothing but lips on lip
s, body pressed against body, and the inner peace of knowing that this was right, that this was what he needed. Desperate yearning reached out from his chest as his fingers spread behind Ben’s head, along his prickled scalp. Toby kissed him harder, their tongues touching, caressing, and he released a deep moan.
He was taken back to that time by the springs, when their families had been alive and whole, and he’d been so happy, having Ben there to be his friend, and thinking that perhaps one day if they left Echo Springs, they could go somewhere and love each other the way he wanted them to love each other. He could wait a few years, and then they could live out the fantasy that he’d built in his head, of their forbidden love given free rein in Sydney where it was not such a thing. Where they could just be Ben and Toby. Together. And when Ben had kissed him, it confirmed his secret hope. He’d given him a gift in those furtive, desperate yet tender kisses when they’d gone off by themselves. Those kisses, followed by childish and horny groping, then more, and those weeks had been filled with bliss.
Until the accident.
Then he’d denied all contact and wouldn’t give Ben a reason why he’d wanted him one moment but not the next.
But he hadn’t stopped wanting Ben. He’d wanted it at the right time when things could be better, could have space to grow. He wanted time to think, and this was no more the right time than it had been ten years ago.
He stopped kissing Ben. Or at least he tried. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be doing this with Ben. But he kissed him again, their lips in sync and it felt so right. Couldn’t he have this forever?
No!
Sorrow and guilt flooded through him and drowned that love, that feeling, he’d kept locked away. He pulled back, wrenched the clothes out of Ben’s hand and used them to disguise the tenting in the towel.
‘What the hell?’ Ben shouted, still leaning forward and his mouth wet with their saliva.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his lips tingling. ‘I shouldn’t have kissed you.’
‘But I kissed you.’
‘Then I shouldn’t have kissed you back.’
Ben’s hands covered his face and his fingers massaged his forehead. The sound of his harsh breath amplified. ‘This is ridiculous. You’re telling me you felt nothing?’
‘It doesn’t matter what I felt. It was wrong.’ His free hand rubbed his sternum.
Ben backed up and straightened. ‘Wrong?’
The tone couldn’t have been clearer. ‘Not how you think I meant.’
‘No, but kissing me has always been wrong, hasn’t it? Ever since we were boys.’
‘It’s not like that. I mean, we can’t be together.’ Why couldn’t he accept that this wasn’t going to work? His heart ached at seeing the distress on Ben’s face. If it hurt this bad now…
‘Because it’s wrong?’
‘Because you’d get hurt.’
‘Don’t you think I can take care of myself?’
He couldn’t speak. He was too much of a coward and Ben didn’t know what he was asking for. Better to have some of Ben’s animosity and still hope than to expose all and live in complete desolation.
‘Let’s talk about this once I’m dressed.’ He shut the door quickly, before Ben could jam his foot in, and before he broke and they kissed again.
Ben’s fist struck the door. ‘Goddamnit, Toby!’
Toby hurried to dress in Ben’s clothes—they fit as best they could—and warmth blanketed his body, inside and out. They even smelled like him under the lemon-fresh detergent. He folded up the clothes he’d come here in. His hand smoothed over the letter secreted into the pocket of the borrowed shorts—the one thing he’d really gone inside the house for after the fire was extinguished, the thing he’d been able to snaffle without Ben seeing.
He took a few deep breaths, but didn’t stay longer than he should, as much as he wanted to avoid what was to happen next. Ben’s questions hadn’t changed in ten years.
Perhaps now he deserved some answers.
When he opened the door, Ben wasn’t there. Caution slowed him as he padded down the hall. He stopped at the door to Ben’s room and watched him dress in his uniform. Toby gripped the doorframe, his hand moulding to the wood as he fought to stay where he was.
His trousers already on, Ben shielded his skin beneath a layer of official blue. Ben ignored him, but he had to know he was being watched. To think that muscled body had been, only moments ago, pressed against his own. They could be lying naked in that bed, making loud, desperate love to each other, but instead he was forced to watch Ben dress and close himself off as surely as each button hid his chest. Words jammed into his throat, stopping his pleas begging him to not put on the uniform. Once he did, they were back to being cop and civilian.
But what could he say to rescue this? Uttering his own sins risked too much.
Ben finished the last of the buttons and tied his boots. Transformation complete. Officer Fields reporting for duty.
‘Let’s go.’ Ben pushed past him and walked to the front door, showing him his back.
He couldn’t bear this. No matter how close they got they always finished up further apart. Distance heaped upon distance until there wouldn’t be a planet big enough for the both of them.
‘That’s it? You don’t want to talk?’
‘What’s the point? It’ll be more crap and I’m sick of taking it. It’s never been right between us. I couldn’t take it then and I can’t take it now.’
He stepped forward. ‘At least let me explain.’
‘I’m not interested.’ He yanked open the door and held onto the handle. ‘I want to get you to the hospital and then get the hell away from you.’
If Ben hated him so much now, he’d hate him worse if he knew the truth. Toby’s fist tightened over the clothes, and the letter crumpled. He denied the words that readied to fire from his mouth, swallowing them down again and burying them so deep he hoped they’d never emerge. Ben didn’t need to know what happened.
‘It’s probably for the best,’ he murmured.
‘No, you don’t get to say that!’
‘Then what do you want me to say?’ Toby shouted.
He surged forward until Ben’s face was so close to his that it would have been nothing to kiss him again. Nothing and everything. ‘I want to know why we can’t be together, why you won’t even try. Why you wouldn’t then?’
His eyes shot to the wooden floorboards. It would have been better to say nothing but those words were as tenacious as weeds. ‘You wouldn’t want me if you knew what I’d done.’
Ben folded his arms, the muscles tensing and rippling. ‘What did you do?’
He dragged his fingers through his hair and pulled at the roots. He’d said too much already. Some secrets were never meant to come out. He broke for the door, but Ben seized his arm as he passed.
‘What did you do?’ he repeated.
‘Forget it, Ben. Forget everything. I need to see Dad.’
Chapter Seven
Toby’s fingers drummed on the bonnet of the car. Ben had two options: take Toby to the hospital or watch him go.
Should he have demanded Toby tell him what the hell he’d done that was so bad? Perhaps—especially if it were illegal—but maybe he’d been given the chance to extricate himself without implication from whatever it was. He’d already gone through that once before.
But this was Toby, and he’d go through anything for Toby.
Anything to be kissed like that again.
Anything to be loved by him.
He locked the door behind him and walked to the car; Toby climbed in. An agitated silence filled the already hot car as they drove the short distance to the hospital. Questions and unspent desires kept them company like blowflies buzzing at the base of the windscreen. Ben pressed his foot to the floor, travelling at just above the speed limit. His hand gripped the gearstick, the closest he could physically be to Toby, who held himself tight against the door. Ben chewed his tongue like it was a gnarled d
og toy. They couldn’t arrive soon enough.
After checking in at the front counter, staff directed them through to Emergency. Bob sat on a hospital bed with his bandaged hands resting in his lap. Narelle wasn’t there, but Leila stood talking beside him. Whatever they’d been discussing was forgotten mid-sentence as they entered. She eyed Toby as she passed him. He ignored her hello and focused on his father.
‘How are your hands?’ he asked, picking them up gently.
Bob snatched them back. ‘Why’d you do it?’ The skin around his eyes quivered as he demanded answers. His lips pulled back from his teeth as distress gouged lines into his forehead.
Did Bob mean… Ben stepped closer to Toby.
Toby blinked, his head swivelling between his dad and Leila. ‘Dad? What are you talking about? What’s he been saying?’
If Leila had any misgivings, she hid them behind a mask of official neutrality. Her words marched resolute from her mouth. ‘Bob says you lit the fire at the house.’
Ben’s stomach hit the floor. Bob must be mistaken.
Toby’s eyes searched his dad’s face, his hand gripping Bob’s forearm. ‘Dad, what is this? I was asleep, remember? I came outside to find you.’ His voice jittered as he reasoned with him.
‘I saw you running. That’s why I went outside. That’s why I chased you.’
Toby tried to say something, anything, but nothing came.
‘Bob, are you sure?’ Ben asked. ‘If you saw Toby set fire to the house, why didn’t you stop him?’
‘It was already up, it was already lit. I heard a sound and went into the kitchen and the fire was already…but there he was at the window and he ran and I chased him…it was him!’ He pointed at Toby with a gauze-covered hand. ‘He thinks I don’t know it but I saw him. He was running but I couldn’t get to them in time, but he got out.’ Bob’s eyes turned glassy and stared into a past none of them could see. ‘At least Toby got out. But Ella and Mary—’ He covered his face with hands; the bandages caught his tears.
Embers and Echoes Page 5
