by Jet Mykles
He closed his eyes over more threatening tears, managing a watery smile at her conviction.
“What if he meant it?”
“Please stop.”
“No. What if he meant it? What if he does love you? What if he means everything he says?”
“I don’t …” Days of denial, years of hurting and fierce determination to change what he was all came crashing down on him. Reese’s entire body shuddered. The palette fell to his feet, hitting the carpet seconds before his knees. He buried his face in hands that stank of oil paints and turpentine.
Reegan sank with him. Her arms circled him, her weight a welcome press against his side. He crumpled against her, turning his face into her neck and wrapping his arms around her. Sobs tore from his chest.
“Oh, honey,” she crooned, smoothing his hair, hugging him, rocking him. She held him until the sobs died down. Held him until he half-lay in her lap, spent from the purge of emotions long suppressed. “Brother mine, talk to me.”
“I can’t love him.”
“But you do. You pretty much always have.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. Used her T-shirt as a handkerchief to wipe eyes and nose. “Gross,” she muttered but didn’t stop him.
His laugh was weak and died quickly. “It’ll hurt too much.”
“What will?”
“I’m not … He’s …” He sighed. “He’s… everything I ever wanted.”
“And he you had him.”
“For a week.”
“He offered more.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“Why not?”
“What happens when it goes away?”
She grunted and he heard the frustration. But her voice was mild when she said, “What happens if it doesn’t?”
“It will.”
“Because…?”
“Because dreams don’t come true.”
Nails dug into his shoulder, making him wince. “Okay, honey, you’re starting to get on my nerves here.” She pushed at him until he was sitting on his own and frowned at him. “You’re creating problems where there just aren’t any. Shut up and listen to me.” When he would have pushed to his feet, she grabbed his arm and shook it. “Listen.”
He shut his mouth and settled back on his ass.
“You are a gay man.” Her nails almost broke skin when he tried—and failed—to pull away. “You like cock. Plain and simple. That makes you gay. Can we agree on that?”
His lips thinned.
“Right. You are also a supremely talented artist.” She glanced up at the painting. “I don’t give a fuck what any art school ever said. You are amazing and anyone with eyes can see that.”
He let it go since it didn’t matter.
“You went through an awful time and it affected you. I know that better than anyone. I’ve tried to be quiet and helpful as you put your life back together and I tried to be supportive when you started pretending you’re not gay, but it’s been hard.” She shook him to silence him when he opened his mouth to comment. “I did that because I wasn’t sure what else to do. I didn’t want to push you back into places where you’d already been hurt.”
He hung his head, fighting more tears.
“But now I’ve got to knock some sense into you. Luc told you he loved you!”
He stared at the paint stains on his hands, not saying a word. How many times had he heard the echo of Luc’s voice saying that over the past few days?
Grumbling, she released him to fold her legs more comfortably. “I really don’t understand what your problem is with being gay. It’s not like Mom and Dad will care, or any of your friends. I certainly don’t mind. Did you not enjoy the sex or something?”
He hung his head, blushing a little.
“Well?”
“No. I enjoyed it.”
“Okay, so if that’s not it, I don’t get it.”
“My job…”
“Fuck your job.”
“It’s…”
“It’s something you kinda enjoy doing, something that you barely need to think about. You do it for the paycheck, not because you’re really invested in any of your kids.”
“That’s not true.”
“Really? Are you really going to try and convince me that you get real joy out of teaching?”
He glared at her, wanting to dispute her but knowing she’d obliterate the lie. “I care.”
“Of course you care, because you have a huge heart. A heart that was horribly hurt, again and again.” She didn’t just mean Luc but the string of men who came after, the one’s Reese had used to try to fill the gap in his heart. “But you can’t tell me it’s your life calling. Any more than you can tell me that you were really in love with Piper. Or Kalyani or whatever that girl’s name was before that. If they weren’t a sorry excuse for a cover-up, I don’t know what is.”
“Cover-up?”
“That you’re gay.”
“I’m not. I don’t think about other men.”
“Just the one.”
“Yeah.”
“So you’re gay and you’re hopelessly in love. Luc was your dream. And you got him.” She shoved his arm, slamming him into the paint table which threatened to topple. “Why aren’t you in Italy with him?”
“So what happens if I go to him?” He kept staring at his hands. “And we spend a couple of amazing months in Italy. What then?”
“I don’t know. Whatever comes next.”
“Right.” He met her gaze. “And why should I believe that what comes next for him would involve me?”
“Because he loves you.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“There I am, stuck with these dreams and hopes that go nowhere. Again.”
“Or his next is also your next.”
“And we live happily ever after?”
“Why not?”
“Because that doesn’t happen.”
Her frustration had reached its limit. He saw it in her narrowed eyes and the fists in her lap. “I’m not getting through to you.”
“There’s nothing to get through.”
She sighed and just like that the fight went out of her. “I love you.”
“I know you do.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“I’ll get there.”
“Will you?”
He resisted the urge to glance up at the painting. “Eventually.”
◆◆◆
This call might be a waste of time, but he had nothing to lose. Luc hit the dial button then raised his cell to his ear.
“Why do you think I want to talk to you?” was her greeting.
Prepared, Luc also ignored the pleasantries. “I just want to know if he’s okay.”
“After what you did?”
He didn’t have a clue if Reegan was talking about the roof at Purgatory or what he did at Reese’s school and it didn’t matter. “Yes. Is he okay?”
“They didn’t fire him.”
He was going to hell for the surge of irritation that went through him. Yes, he had wanted Reese to lose his job. Without it, there was one big obstacle between them gone.
“Good,” he managed.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
He grit his teeth. “I was thinking to knock some sense into him.”
“In front of his kids? At his work? Not cool.”
“He doesn’t need that job.”
“We mere mortals have to do something to pay the bills, you utterly pathetic moron.”
He ignored the jabs. He deserved them all and she was striking out because he’d hurt her brother. He could respect that. “I’ll pay his bills. I’ll pay off his mortgage. I’ll send him to art school. I’ll take him all across fucking Europe, for fuck’s sake. I’ll do anything he wants.”
That shut her up, at least for a minute. Okay, a few thoughtful seconds. “Do you really mean that?”
“With all of my small, shriveled heart.
”
She sighed, recognizing the words she’d spat at him when she’d broken up with him. “Damn it.”
“I’ll do anything, Ree. I swear, I’ll make it up to him. But he won’t talk to me.”
“I know. He won’t talk to anyone.”
“What?”
“He’s been holed up at his place for weeks.”
Luc’s heart stopped. He stared out the window at the spectacular view of the vineyard that housed the mini-mansion they were staying in. It was beautiful and remote and had a state-of-the-art recording studio in what could loosely be termed as a “basement”. He’d been here three weeks and he should be enjoying the hell out of it. He and the guys were on fire, the music flowing out of them better than ever. This album was going to be kick-ass. But when he wasn’t making music, he was missing Reese. He was trying to give it time, let Reese calm down, but his emails and texts, trying to explain his actions and re-connect, had gone unanswered. A call to Reegan was a desperate effort to find out something. “So he’s not okay.” His voice was flat to keep panic at bay.
Another sigh. “He’s been painting.”
This time his heart lurched. “What?”
“Yeah. And he’s kind of manic about it. He barely remembers to sleep or eat.”
“I don’t know if that’s good or not.”
“Me neither. But… Hold on.”
He wasn’t sure what she was doing but he waited patiently. A text pinged just as she came back on the line.
“I probably shouldn’t have sent that but fuck it.”
He pulled the cell down so he could swipe the screen to see the text. What he saw floored him. So much that he turned on speaker so he could keep staring and talk. “Holy shit.”
“He’s still got it.”
“Yeah.”
“And it looks like you’re the inspiration.”
It certainly looked like it. The snapshot was of a canvas and that canvas depicted him. In his humble opinion, he’d never looked so good, even if the image was unfinished and there was a weird swipe of red that seemed out of place. He lay in a swirl of sheets, naked and barely covered. That Reese could recreate him so well from memory spoke volumes.
“That was the first one. I think he’s on number four or five now. He says he’s going to burn them.”
That stabbed at the happy bubble that had formed around his heart. “What?”
“Yeah. He says he’s going to exorcise you.” Her tone was flat and neutral.
He couldn’t make his the same. “What the fuck?”
“So, yeah, he’s so far in denial I don’t know what to do.”
He did. “Help me.”
“How?”
Hardly daring to believe that he seemed to have Reegan on his side, he plowed on. “Talk to him.”
“Don’t you think I’ve been doing that? He won’t listen to me. You need to talk to him.”
“He won’t take my calls.”
“Can’t you come back?”
Expelling a frustrated sigh, he pulled a palm down over his face. “Not right now. We’re in the middle of recording.”
“Then I don’t know what to do.”
“Fuck.”
He stared at the gorgeous painting, frustration gnawing at his gut. “Ree?”
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t he go to art school like he planned?”
She sighed. “He tried. The first school was this fancy dancy one that he had to send in samples of his work. They rejected him and told him his subject matter was juvenile. Awful shit to say to a young artist, if you ask me and I’m really glad he didn’t go there. But then he applied to another and they were nicer about it but they rejected him. He got into the third school, but by that time he was going crazy. Halfway through the first semester, he dropped out.”
Luc swallowed, not wanting to hear but thinking he needed to. “Crazy how?”
“Out every night. Drinking. Drugs.”
He hissed softly.
“Yeah, it was pretty bad. And he was hanging out with some really awful people. Guys who didn’t treat him right.”
“Is that why he decided he’s not gay?”
“I think so. To his credit, he finally figured out that what he was doing was destructive. He, like, flipped a switch and within a month he’d cleaned up his act, stopped hanging out with those people and had enrolled to get his teaching credentials.” She took a breath. “I think one of those guys hurt him bad but he wouldn’t ever tell me about it.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
They were quiet with their own thoughts for a moment.
“Luc?”
“Yeah?”
“You do mean it, right? When you say you love him?”
“I do.”
“He’s afraid that it’s just temporary. That even if he goes with you, that it can’t be forever.”
He blinked at the image on his phone’s screen. “It is.”
“Forever?”
“Yes.”
“You mean it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. Good. But… now he’s got to believe it.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Well this place is as much of a shithole as I remember.”
Reegan’s dry comment made Reese laugh as he got up off his knees. “At least it’s clean now.”
“I guess. You want these in the bedroom?” She brandished the two duffle bags she’d carried up the stairs.
“Yep.”
As he busied himself tying off yet another garbage bag, she made her deposit and then met Dave in the doorway on her way back out. They exchanged a brief kiss before Dave focused on him. “Truck’s downstairs. You ready?”
“Yep.”
With a spring in his step, Reese followed Dave down the staircase at the back of Purgatory to get his meager furniture off the moving truck.
After a three week sulk and six paintings—all of which were safe in the back of his new closet and not burned as he’d threatened—he’d emerged with a new plan for his life. Reegan had been right. His life was shit. He was hiding and living in denial and that was no way to live. He wasn’t ready to dream—probably not ever again—but he could live better. So, for the second time in his life, he made a fresh start. The townhouse had been put on the market and, because of the location, it had sold almost immediately. Today, he was moving into the same apartment Luc and Brent had lived in with a job and a similar break on rent. Because he’d also contacted Mr. Tarkington and the Brighton board to tender his resignation. Teaching wasn’t his thing. In this fresh start, he hoped to figure out what, exactly, was his thing.
A few hours later, Dave had returned the moving truck and he, Reese and Reegan were at the pizza place down the street.
“I hope you’re sure about this,” Reegan said, not for the first time since Reese had sold the townhouse. She watched cheese stretch as she transferred a slice from the pan in the middle of the table to her plate.
“It’s way too late to back out now,” Dave added, tipping his beer to drink it.
“Way too late,” he agreed with a grin.
“He seems happy about it,” Dave said to his wife.
She just shrugged.
“I’m going to talk to Tom about apprenticing at his parlor.”
They both froze, with reason. Reese had hit them with a lot of life changes over the past few weeks. Tom was a guy they knew through Purgatory, a regular who was something of a friend. Reese had talked to him a lot over the past week, once he’d found out what Tom did for a living. Just the other day, he’d visited the tattoo parlor and they’d talked well into the night.
“What about your job at Purgatory?”
“I’ll still do that.” He lifted pizza to his mouth. “What else have I got to do with my life?”
“What about the mural?” Dave asked.
Garth had commissioned Reese to paint a mural in the courtyard and the money was good. Plus, it was money earned with his
art, something he’d promised himself that he’d pursue. “Tom hasn’t even said he’d take me on yet. It won’t be a problem.”
They exchanged a glance that he chose to overlook.
“If he does take me on, it still takes a few years at least. But I’ll finally be making money with my art.” He beamed at his sister. “That’s all good, right?”
“Of course it is.”
He munched happily, comfortably sore from cleaning and moving all day. He thought about taking a trip to buy some things for the apartment tomorrow. Maybe some kitchen appliances. He should really learn to cook.
“Reese?” Reegan’s careful pronouncement of his name brought him back to the here and now.
“Yeah?”
“Have you thought about calling Luc?”
The question only threw him off slightly. He’d been waiting for her to ask. Reegan had stopped pestering him about Luc shortly after painting number four, finally giving up on getting him to talk. He thought she might bring him up again when he’d started making changes, but she hadn’t. He was almost relieved she’d done it now. “No.”
“But…”
He held up a hand to forestall her. “No. Luc’s a dream. He’s not part of this life.” The hand again when she would have spoken. “Right now, I’m all about me and what I can do for myself. I’m tired of just existing and I’ve got you to thank for making me see that.” On a roll and feeling good about it, he kept going. “I’ve made all sorts of changes and I’ve done them. Me.” He met her gaze and tried to convey the importance of what he was saying. “I’m going on a date this weekend.”
Two sets of eyes locked on him as he grinned.
“His name’s Jimmy.”
Reegan’s jaw dropped and Dave’s eyes went wide before he broke out into a grin.
“Oh!” With that squeak, Reegan was out of her chair and around the table, nearly tackling him and his chair to the floor.
“Hey, watch it!” he laughed, holding her as she sank into his lap.
“Oh, Reese, really? A boy?”
He grimaced Dave’s way before saying: “I really hope he’s more man than boy.”
Undeterred, his sister hugged him again. “Oh, I’m so happy.” She pushed back to see him. “No more hiding?”
“No more hiding.”
