by Ruby Moone
“What?” Christian frowned.
“Only, the big dude looks like he’s going to chase after me, rip off my arm, and shove it up my arse.”
“What?”
“Think I’ll need private healthcare for that kind of damage.”
Christian shook his head and smiled reluctantly. “Fuck off.”
“Seriously, what did you do to him? He looks like he’s going to start bawling again. Last time I saw him, he was all but sobbing over your body.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“He fucking was. He was a total mess.” They headed for the car park. Christian shivered as a cool blast caught him.
“Well, whatever that was, he got over it pretty fast.”
Finlay blipped the car, and the black machine’s lights flashed. He opened the boot and stored the luggage. Christian got in the passenger side and let his head flop back with a heavy sigh.
“Thanks. I appreciate this.”
“Welcome.”
“Did I interrupt anything?”
“Naw. Quiet day. Michael is in the office, so I was able to bail.”
Christian kept his eyes closed. It was easier that way. Easier to pretend that his whole world hadn’t just crashed and burned.
38
Daniel held out his hands. There was a definite tremor there. His heart was slamming against his ribs, and his head was pounding. He needed a drink so fucking bad. It hadn’t been this bad for a long time.
Two weeks. Two weeks since Christian had walked away at the airport, and not a fucking word.
He sat back in his office chair, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe steadily, deeply like he’d been shown. Tried to let thoughts come and go but they battered him even harder. All he could see was the hurt in Christian’s eyes one minute, and the gleeful viciousness in his father’s the next.
He was going fucking mad.
He stood up and paced the room, pausing to look out over the Manchester skyline. Christian was out there somewhere. He leaned his head against the coolness of the glass and closed his eyes. He was so damned tired.
He thought Christian might have caved by now and contacted him, but nothing. Zero. Nada. If he thought he’d missed him twelve years ago, it was nothing compared to now when his absence was like a constant echo to his life. Last time, he’d thrown himself into work but now, now, he could barely summon the energy and interest to function. He sucked in a breath. He needed to ride it out. Needed to get a grip and ride it out. Like he always did.
A knock at the door and his PA, Martin, put his head around.
“Hi boss, your next lot are here.”
He nodded and tried to smile. The next lot were investors who were likely to part with significant sums of money from which he would make a killing. Not the kind of killing his father made, rather a financial one. He sucked in a breath and reminded himself that he was nothing like Kenneth. Nothing at all.
Christian finished off the report he was working on and hit send. He was struggling to work up enthusiasm for much, and it was definitely not forthcoming for boring reports. Michael had disappeared for lunch with Jack, and the rest of the office were either eating or working. He supposed he could go and chat to some of them, but he had the feeling that they were avoiding him. He couldn’t blame them. He’d avoid himself if he could. After two weeks, he should have stopped obsessively checking his phone, but he still pulled it out to look for a non-existent text or missed call.
He could always make the first move, but Daniel had made it clear that he wasn’t going to talk. It left him in a weird limbo. There was clearly something about his father’s death he didn’t know about. Something Daniel wasn’t going to tell him. He’d thought of asking his mother but abandoned it quickly. He couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t rake up all that pain, particularly if there was something wrong.
He glanced at his phone again, then tapped it against his lips. He thought for a moment, then pulled up his contacts and messaged Asher.
Christian: Hey. How’s it going?
Asher replied almost immediately.
Asher: I’m okay, thanks. You?
Christian: I’m good.
He hesitated, but then, what the hell.
Christian: Daniel okay?
Asher: Hmm. Not so good. Actually, he’s a hot fucking mess.
Christian’s heart jolted so hard his head ached.
Christian: What do you mean?
Asher: I think he’s struggling with losing his father, tying up the business, losing you kind of finished him off.
Christian: He didn’t lose me. He gave me away.
Asher: Technical detail. Talk to him.
Christian: Is there any point?
Asher: How much do you know about his life with Kenneth?
Christian: Nothing at all. We didn’t grow up together. I met him when I was eighteen, and we had a summer fling. He ended it when my dad died.
Asher: He’d murder me if he knew I was doing this, but I think I need to talk to you.
Christian: Anytime.
Christian held the phone, waiting for Asher to text back, but instead, it rang.
“Hey.” Christian sat back in his chair.
“Easier than texting. Look, I can’t say much because it’s not my story to tell, but in a nutshell, Kenneth McCafferty was a viscous, abusive, nasty bastard. The person that took the brunt of it was Daniel.”
At some level, Christian knew Kenneth had been difficult to live with. He knew about Kenneth, everyone knew him, but the face he presented to the world was that of charming rogue.
“My parents pretty much kept me away from him. His reputation is, was shit. There wasn’t any contact.”
“Christian…he was abusive. That’s the only way I can put it. I don’t know the details, but I know Daniel suffered at his hands. Before he got sober, he once talked about the beatings, the times he was locked in a cupboard, the times he was tied up so bad and for so long…” Asher sighed. “Christian, it was awful.”
Christian swallowed. Hands shaking. “What…”
“Seriously, he’ll kill me if he knows, but…if he’s pushing you away it’s not because he doesn’t care about you. He does, and he’s as lonely and as miserable as fuck. If you have any feelings for him, just give him another go and don’t let him back out.”
Christian felt sick. “I’ll contact him.”
“Thank fuck for that.” Asher sounded genuinely relieved.
“Asher, do you…do you know anything about my father? Before he died, Bryce said something about Daniel not telling me everything. I’ve asked Daniel, and he says there is nothing but I’m not sure he’s being truthful.”
He heard Asher sigh. “Then, I think you need to ask him again.”
Christian stood at the door of one of the fanciest high-rise blocks in Manchester and stared at the number in front of him. Press it. Just press it.
He held his finger over it, hovered for a second, then pushed.
What was the worst that could happen? Daniel could tell him to sod off. Not interested, don’t want you, don’t love you. That was about the sum total. He must be wrong in the head laying himself open for this level of rejection from the only man he’d ever loved. Again. But he couldn’t get Asher’s words out of his head or the image of a young Daniel being hurt. His throat closed at the thought.
The box buzzed and the camera moved so Christian tried a smile.
“Hi. It’s me.”
There was a very long pause.
The door unlocked so Christian pushed at it and entered the lobby. A man sat behind a desk, so he nodded to him and headed for the elevator. He pushed the button, and wished he’d not worn his tight jeans. They were making him lightheaded, or at least that was what he told himself. When it arrived, he got in, pushed the button and as the doors closed, he looked at himself in the mirrored surfaces inside the box and ran a hand through his hair. He looked okay. Tight blue jeans, black Converse, black shirt. He looked pale and tired th
ough. Being fair, it didn’t take much to knock him off colour, and the shadows under his eyes were noticeable. He peered at the surface and poked the corner of his eye. He was getting fucking wrinkles. He sighed and leaned back against the wall.
As the doors opened, he wiped his damp palms on his jeans. The braided leather bracelet from Greece still circled his wrist. He sucked in a breath, blew it out, and headed for Daniel’s door. He lifted his hand to knock, but it opened immediately, and Christian realised that however crap he looked, Daniel looked a million times worse. His eyes looked like piss holes in the snow, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved. Christian’s first worry was that he was drinking. He looked closer, but he seemed pretty solid, and he couldn’t smell booze.
“What do you want?”
Daniel’s tone wasn’t inviting.
“I want to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“Well, if you let me in, I’ll tell you.”
Daniel hesitated.
“What? Got someone else in there?”
For a moment he looked so damned guilty that Christian was lost for words. After everything Asher had said, and here he was fucking someone else?
But then he stood back and let him in. Christian breathed in and let it out slowly, trying to regain at least some semblance of control, and not come off like a possessive nutter.
He walked into an amazing space. All open plan, all floor to ceiling windows, all done in beautiful toning greys. And a lot of white. If possible, it was even more impersonal than the Cheshire house.
He looked all around, then glanced back at him. “Who designed this one?”
Daniel rolled his eyes, and followed him in. “Some bloke. Cost a fortune.”
“You know, one of these days, you should buy a house you like, and do it out yourself. How you like it.”
Daniel shook his head. “No idea what I like. No idea what I’d put in it.”
“Did you like my house?”
He thought for a moment, then smiled. It was a very small, lopsided smile, but a smile, nonetheless. “Yeah. I did.”
“There you go. You need traditional and comfortable. Stop with the modern shit.” He knew he was babbling, but the words wouldn’t stop.
Daniel looked bewildered. He shook his head and ran a hand around his neck. “What did you want.”
Fucking good question.
“I needed to see you. I…missed you.” Christian cleared his throat.
Daniel’s gaze lifted to his. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel swallowed and walked into the huge lounge space, but then stopped dead and shot Christian a look so filled with guilt, that Christian expected to see a naked man on the sofa.
Instead, he saw a litre bottle of vodka in the centre of the coffee table.
His heart thumped as he looked at Daniel. He swallowed. The silence lengthened between them. He was the one that broke it. “Did you?”
Daniel shook his head. A small, economical movement.
“Should we throw it out?”
A small nod.
“Do you want me to do it?”
Daniel hesitated, then moved quickly. He picked up the bottle, broke the seal as he twisted the cap, and headed for the kitchen. His hand wasn’t quite steady, and his breathing was erratic, but he poured it down the plug. When it was all gone, he opened a cupboard and threw it in a bin. He stood with his hands on his hips, breathing hard, not looking at anything.
Christian wished he knew what to say. Wasn’t sure he could speak properly. The first thing that came out of his mouth was, “Proud of you.”
“Well, don’t be. I don’t deserve it.”
Christian moved closer but didn’t touch him. “Why? You didn’t drink it.”
“But I nearly did. I bought it.”
“But you didn’t drink it.”
Daniel looked unutterably weary. “No. I didn’t.” He lifted both arms, linked his hands, put them both behind his head, sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Because I think we need to talk. Because I miss you, I need you.” His voice wobbled on the last words and he had to look away.
Daniel looked pained.
Christian got himself together. “And I think you miss me. I think you need me as much as I need you. What I don’t understand is, why do you keep pushing me away?”
Hands still on his head, Daniel sent him a side-eye look. “I…”
“Just tell me. Talk to me. Tell me about Kenneth, tell me what Bryce meant when he said there were things I didn’t know, why you push me away. I know they are all connected. Just tell me and let’s deal with it.”
Daniel lowered his hands, turned to him with a look of such misery, Christian hurt all over.
39
Daniel’s heart was racing so fast, he thought he might pass out. He didn’t have the strength to keep pushing him away. Didn’t have the strength to keep all the secrets anymore. Didn’t have strength for anything. It was all over now anyway. It would still be all over if he told him. He just didn’t want to give him more pain.
“I don’t want to hurt you. What I have will hurt you.” He reached out to touch him.
Christian shrugged him off. “I’ll deal with it.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Tell me about your dad.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Tell me about my dad.”
Daniel closed his eyes and shook his head.
Christian turned part away and scrubbed his face and made a visible bid for control. “For fuck’s sake, Daniel, will you just speak? Just tell me. Fucking tell me!”
And it all burst.
All burst free.
Bubbling up like a geyser that wouldn’t be stopped. Before he knew where he was, the words were spilling out.
“Tell you what? How Kenneth used to treat me? Is that what you want to hear?” The words sounded loud, too loud, but he couldn’t control his voice. Nor could he control the tremor in it as he went on. “You want to know how he beat me? Is that it? Or do you want to know how he locked me up?” He shrugged. “Tied me up, sometimes as a kid when I didn’t behave as he thought I should. Want to know why I hate closed spaces, the dark…”
“Daniel…” Christian’s voice was a hoarse whisper. He held out a hand, but Daniel avoided it. The words continued as though someone else was speaking, not him.
“You want to know how one minute he was the perfect father, then the next he’d behave as if I didn’t exist. Like I was less than nothing? Treat me like shit. How I never knew which ‘dad’ I was going to get?” Daniel was shaking. It was a tremor that came from deep inside him, way deep, in the past deep. He wasn’t even seeing Christian anymore. “How he’d lay into my mother, how I tried to protect her and then he’d… he’d…” He couldn’t even say the words. He sucked in deep breaths and tried to focus. He noticed wet drops on his hands and wondered if he was crying, but he was locked in the past as though it were still happening.
“I was going to break away, you know. I’d it all planned. I…I went to him and told him. Told him I was gay. Told him I was in love with you and that I was walking away from it all. Walking away from the firm, from him.” His chest hollowed out when he remembered the look on Kenneth’s face when he’d said he was gay.
“You told him that?” Christian’s voice was barely a whisper. Eyes wide, lips pale.
Daniel nodded.
Christian swallowed. “What did he say.”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Daniel shook his head. A tiny movement. “Nothing. And like a fool I thought he’d accepted it. Thought I’d won. Thought I could have you and the life I wanted. Needed. Could be the person I was supposed to be, not the one that Kenneth wanted me to be.”
His jaw worked to contain the emotion bubbling up. His throat ached; his eyes stung.
His voice was a whisper. “Then, two days later, your dad was killed in a car cr
ash. Kenneth came to me and backhanded me across the face so hard he knocked me across the room.”
Daniel was back in the room with him. The look of contempt and disgust on his father’s face, the hard press of his lips, the flared nostrils, this pain of his split lip, the sting of the shame.
“He told me no son of his was gay. Told me that…that if I told anyone, if he ever saw me with you…” He swallowed and tried to bring his voice under control.
“Your mother would be next.”
The words trailed away into a pool of nothingness, but they were out there now. Free in the world. And Christian had heard them.
He legs gave way, so he sat. Put his head in his hands. And waited.
“He… he had my dad killed because we were seeing each other?” Christian’s words were a horrified whisper.
All Daniel could do was nod.
“He killed my dad and threatened to kill my mother if you didn’t stop seeing me?”
Another nod.
“Fuck.”
Silence.
“The fucking bastard!”
The fury in Christian’s voice dragged Daniel’s head up. He looked so angry, so broken. He couldn’t blame him. He had both hands clamped over his mouth as he tried to assimilate what he’d told him and guilt tore through Daniel.
He scrubbed at his eyes. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you. Because it was hard enough for you to lose your dad without me laying this on you. Without you knowing Kenneth had him killed…because of me. How could you be expected to live with that? I tried not to tell you. Tried so hard to protect you from it, but…” He gestured weakly with both hands. He’d done it. Done the thing he swore he’d never do. “But now I’ve done it…” Tears burned the back of his throat. “I’m sorry. I never wanted you to know. Never wanted to hurt you like this.”
Christian was shaking. “You’ve lived with this all this time?”
He nodded.
“While Kenneth was alive, you were afraid for me and my mother?”
Daniel nodded again; it was all he could do. If he spoke, he’d lose it. His head hurt. His heart hurt. He wished Christian would go so he could do something to make it go away. He wished he hadn’t poured the vodka away, but no matter, he could buy more. Maybe this time enough to blot everything out once and for all.
