Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

“This feels like a terrible idea,”Oakley grumbled to Heath a week later, early on Friday morning, as Heath helped load the van for the trip.

Heath stepped back from the van and looked Oakley over with a frown. “I would have thought the new chair would be more comfortable,” he said. “Particularly as it’s designed for all terrains.”

“I like your chair, Uncle Oakley,” Eugenie agreed with her bright smile as she leaned against one of the thick wheels with a deep tread.

“I like the chair too, darling,” Oakley said, forcing himself to smile for his niece and stroking a hand over her sweet head. “But that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

He glanced up to Heath with a frown.

“What do you mean, then?” Heath asked, then answered his own question a moment later with, “This trip? But you love Brynthwaite House.”

Oakley sighed. Already, he could tell his brother wouldn’t be his ally in this particular fight. “To tell you the truth, I’m thinking of selling it,” he said.

Heath looked horrified. “You can’t do that,” he said. “For one thing, isn’t it entailed or some other such Victorian nonsense?”

“It is not entailed,” Oakley said witheringly. “I just don’t think I’m going to be spending much time there going forward. It’s a waste.”

“Not after the renovations are made,” Heath said, packing the last of the bags that had been waiting by the curb into the van. He sucked in a breath and once again seemed to grasp the truth of the situation. “Don’t make any decisions until you have a better understanding of things,” he warned Oakley in a frustratingly vague way. “And if you do decide you can’t face the ghosts of Oakleys past that Brynthwaite House represents, sell it to me.”

Oakley sank into his chair with a combination of gloom and frustration. “It would have gone to you if I’d died in the crash,” he muttered.

Heath whipped to face him so fast he startled Eugenie…who had been climbing on the back of Oakley’s chair when she shouldn’t have anyhow.

“Don’t say that,” Heath snapped. “Don’t ever say that. The world would not be better off without you in it.”

“I’m not suicidal, you dolt.” He wanted to call his brother something else, but Eugenie was definitely listening in. “I would never consider that.”

At least, he hadn’t considered that since the very earliest days of his recovery, when Ellis was gone and Heath was a wreck and everyone he came across had pitied him. Before Will.

“Good,” Heath told him, staring hard, like Oakley still might change his mind. He shifted to lift Eugenie into his arms, since she was now trying to play with the tread in Oakley’s wheels by pressing pebbles into it to see if they’d stick. “Personally, I think the country air will do you a world of good.”

Oakley laughed despite himself. “You sound like some sort of dowager countess.”

“I’m just someone who cares about your wellbeing is all,” Heath defended himself.

They were spared from getting any closer to an argument when Will and Aubrey came out of the house with the last of the bags and supplies.

“Do we really need all this for a long weekend in Cumbria?” Oakley asked.

Will smiled at him, clearly excited for the trip despite everything else. “Absolutely,” he said. “It’s better to pack thoroughly than to forget something and have to run around finding a replacement, and probably paying too much for it.”

Oakley hummed, but he wondered if what Will really meant was that traveling with a paraplegic meant you had to be ready for every sort of disaster. Like inaccessible restaurants or petrol station toilets. Or nervous breakdowns and panic attacks because the paraplegic in question was only going away under protest and was likely to change his mind and demand to be taken home at a moment’s notice.

“You two have a good time,” Heath said, taking a large duffle from Will and stashing it in the van with the rest of their things. “Call when you get there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Oakley sighed, wheeling his chair onto the ramp that would lift him into the van. “I’ve never called you when I’ve gone out to Keswick before.”

“Yes, well,” Heath argued impotently.

Oakley arched an eyebrow at him, and that was the end of that.

He was used to getting himself into Will’s van now, and he had to admit as he maneuvered around the packed bags and supplies, that the new chair was a marked improvement over the old one. He still had the old one at home, but part of him was starting to wonder if collecting fancy, new wheelchairs would end up being a new hobby, like collecting sports cars had been before.

How utterly pathetic.

“Everything strapped in and ready to go?” Will asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the van.

Oakley saw the irony of the situation. Truly, he did. But he sent Will a mock withering stare all the same and asked, “Are you asking me if I’ve fastened my seatbelt?”

Will seemed to catch what he’d said a moment later. Blessedly, he grasped Oakley’s subtle attempt to find humor in the situation and said, “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Oakley laughed and settled himself in as Will pulled out onto the street. He believed that Will wouldn’t want him to get hurt. That was what made the moment so light when it could have been macabre. He would have done anything to stop Will from being hurt as well.

If he could. Because that was the problem. It had been the problem from the beginning, and it was still the problem. There wasn’t anything he could do to protect Will or to stop bad things from happening to him, especially since Will was so unwilling to accept anything that his money could buy.

“How did the interview go?” he asked instead as Will made it out to the A40.

Will hesitated before answering, checking the mirrors and looking like he might use the excuse of needing to concentrate on driving to keep quiet. He hadn’t said anything when he’d come home from work the evening before, right after the interview, either.

“It was fine,” he answered at last, eyes glued to the road.

Oakley waited for more, but had to pry to get it. “Just fine?”

Will shrugged. “It went well. Armitage and I had a lot to talk about. He gave me a more complete picture of what the position would entail.”

Again, Oakley had to prompt to get more. “And?”

“And what?” Will answered, a little peevish and definitely avoiding glancing at Oakley. “It’s exactly the sort of position I’m suited for and that I’ve always wanted,” he went on in a quieter voice.

Oakley’s heart began to beat faster. “Did Dr. Armitage think so too?”

“It was a very promising interview,” Will said, tensing.

Which meant Dr. Armitage had likely gushed over Will in some way. He knew that the man liked Will, and that he didn’t have a problem with the two of them dating.

“Did anyone mention…reasons you wouldn’t be considered for the job?” Oakley asked, loath to come right out and ask if he was standing in the way of Will achieving his dreams.

Will peeked sideways at him, then snapped his eyes back to the road. “It was mentioned,” he said.

“Mentioned?” Oakley’s insides started to crack and guilt spilled all through him, like sticky oil that would be impossible to clean up.

“I mentioned that we were dating,” Will said, his voice betraying no emotion. “I brought it up before anyone else could. I said it wouldn’t be an issue and that it wasn’t a reflection of any sort of lack of ethics on my part.”

Oakley felt vaguely sick. He was an issue. His relationship with Will, the best thing in his life, was an item to be checked off on a job application.

He was holding Will back.

“Do you think they’ll offer you the position?” he asked, fighting hard to pretend that he didn’t feel like shit for being an albatross around Will’s neck.

Will was silent for a long time before blowing out a breath. “I honestly don’t know,” he said.

That was the end of that. Oakley couldn’t think of any other questions to ask that wouldn’t upset Will. Or him, for that matter. Will didn’t volunteer any new information. Oakley was convinced that the job was all but Will’s, and that it would be the beginning of the end of the two of them.

He didn’t know if he could go through it again. He’d had half a dozen boyfriends at least drift away from him and then break things off because they’d grown tired of him. In the past, he’d been able to write that off as him having terrible taste in men and not really wanting a relationship to begin with. Those abandonments hadn’t cut deep.

If Will slowly drifted away and then left, it might just destroy him. He’d never cared for someone like he cared for Will. He’d never loved before.

And dammit, he still hadn’t told Will he loved him. Oakley just knew that would be his downfall in the end. It was a shock to realize he was so afraid of abandonment that he couldn’t tell Will he loved him, because when he did leave, it would hurt more.

By the time they made it most of the way to Birmingham, where they would turn north, Oakley had made up his mind. The weekend would be a litmus test. He would enjoy Will and his company as much as he could. He would ask questions and try to figure out what Will wanted from their relationship. And if he got so much as a tiny hint that he was standing in the way of Will’s future, he would be the one to break things off.

It wouldn’t hurt so badly if he was the one doing the abandoning.

That thought wasn’t as reassuring as he’d hoped it would be. In fact, it made his insides bleed. Life without Will was not something he wanted to contemplate. But he would do it. He would go through the crash again and wake up on the other side, missing a major part of himself, knowing that he would never be the same, if it meant Will could be free to soar and reach his highest potential.

“You okay?” Will asked when they were less than an hour away from Brynthwaite House, as the countryside had turned glorious and the ancient mountain peaks that he loved so much rose up around them. “You’ve been awfully quiet for the last few hours.”

Oakley grunted, then said, “I’m starting to regret this entire trip. I shouldn’t have let you talk me into it.”

That much was true, too. He hadn’t forgotten how wary he was of facing all the things he’d once loved but couldn’t do anymore. He’d just added something even more painful on top of it.

“Maybe you’re just hungry,” Will said. “We can stop somewhere along the way before we get there and have dinner.”

“Or I could call ahead to Brynthwaite’s staff and ask them to have something waiting for us,” Oakley said, pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket.

“You’ve got servants at your country house?” Will asked, brightening a little, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Will they line up, all Downton Abbey style, to greet us at the front door when we arrive?”

Oakley sent him a flat stare. “No, they will not,” he said. “And we call them staff these days, not servants.”

Will laughed. The sound and the sight of it kindled something in Oakley’s heart that he’d been struggling to keep burning. The smile lit his lover with joy and reminded Oakley of all the things he loved about the man. Will was lively and intelligent. He was a cocky shit sometimes, but he was determined to do as much good in the world as he could. And he was gorgeous as fuck when he laughed. He was gorgeous all the time.

Maybe they could work things out between them after all. Maybe they could be good together, even if they had to juggle wildly different lives.

But again, if it came down to it, Oakley would sacrifice his own happiness so that Will could have everything he wanted and deserved.

God. Why did real love have to be so horrifically painful?

Less than an hour later, as the late afternoon sun dipped low on the horizon, limning the entire place with an almost magical glow, they pulled onto the drive that took them through the grounds and up toward Brynthwaite House.

“My God, Oakley,” Will said, awe thick in his voice. “This is what you were thinking of selling?”

Oakley took a deep breath and looked out at his country home, trying to see it through Will’s fresh eyes. Everything about the house and the property was beauty personified. The house was late-Georgian, and he’d fielded more than one request from film crews to shoot period dramas there. It was lush and luxurious, with mullioned windows and intricate carvings in the pale cream stone of the fa?ade. The various chimney pipes that reached up from the roof had always reminded Oakley of the chimney sweep scene from Mary Poppins, and thus carried the richness of nostalgia with them.

Corners of the gardens were visible as Oakley directed Will to drive the van up around the side of the house to the kitchen entrance. Will exclaimed again at the explosions of color and the artful madness of the way the gardens had been planted.

“I want to see all of it,” Will said, looking around as though he didn’t know where to settle his eyes, as Oakley used the lift to get out of the van.

“There will be time enough to see everything,” Oakley said with a bittersweet smile. “I can probably manage the gardens in this chair.

He turned on instinct to look out at the panoramic, mountain view. The house had been built so that the stunning view of the hills, with Grisedale Pike in the distance, was visible from every room on that side of the house.

His bedroom was on that side of the house on the first floor. He’d positioned his bed so that he could look out through the tall windows at the peak first thing in the morning when he woke up every day.

He would have to rearrange the furniture so he wouldn’t be slapped with that reminder of the hike he would never take again every time he woke up.

“Welcome home, Mr. Manfred.”

Oakley swung around and Will turned as Mrs. Millbeck, his house manager, stepped out through the kitchen door to greet them. A sudden swoop of dread hit Oakley square in the gut, especially when he caught the quick, anxious way his long-time employee and friend took in the sight of him in his wheelchair. It hadn’t even occurred to Oakley that his Keswick staff would be shaken by the sight of him now, and probably taken aback by his limitations.

“Hello, Mrs. Millbeck,” he greeted the woman anyhow, pretending nothing was wrong. “I don’t believe you’ve met my boyfriend, Will, yet. And before you say it, no, he’s not like any of the others.”

He sent Will a sly grin…mostly to stop any further awkwardness. The way Mrs. Millbeck wrung her hands and hesitated before moving forward to help unload the van was just another reason why it would be better for everyone involved if Oakley just sold the house and was done with it.

“Do you want me to call some of the boys to come help you around the house?” Mrs. Millbeck asked with an attempt to remain casual as Oakley wheeled himself toward the kitchen door.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Oakley called back over his shoulder. “But thanks.”

Ten seconds later, when he reached the kitchen door, he realized that it might actually be necessary after all. There was a single step up into the kitchen, but it might as well have been an entire staircase for all Oakley was unable to climb up it.

“I’ve got the portable ramp in here,” Will said from the back of the van as he unloaded. “Hold on a second and I’ll set it up.”

“A portable ramp?” Oakley asked, battling to sound casual when inside he was spiraling down the slippery slope of depression that he’d just clawed his way up in the last week. “Is that what that thing on the side in the back is?”

“Yep,” Will said over his shoulder. “I got one for you after La Friponne.”

It made sense that Will would have a portable ramp in his van, but that didn’t stop Oakley from feeling, once again, like he was an inconvenience. At least the ramp was easy to maneuver. Will placed and secured it, and Oakley was finally able to push himself into his home at last.

And at the other side of the kitchen, he was met with two other, bitterly inconvenient stairs.

He had to wait while Will lifted the portable ramp and carried it across the kitchen to set it in place over those stairs. This time, the ramp ended up being too steep for Oakley to navigate on his own.

Three minutes later, Will had to fetch the ramp again to get Oakley over another small stair where the oldest part of the house connected to a newer wing.

“Looks like I’ll be getting a workout on this trip,” Will laughed once he had Oakley over that step. “I can see now why Heath is so insistent on remodeling the place.”

“It’s not particularly convenient for me now,” Oakley said, pushing himself on to the front hall, where the stairs leading up to the first floor were located.

“It will be,” Will said, still full of enthusiasm, despite Oakley’s sinking mood. “This place is stunning, Oakley.”

“I love it,” Oakley admitted, watching Will as he glanced around at the wood and marble, the lavish artwork and portraits, and the light streaming in through the windows at the front of the house.

Everything in his heart wanted to scream that he loved Will, too. He wanted to say it. He needed to say it. But seeing Will standing there, looking so natural and at home in a house that was no longer accessible for him, only made him see how everything beautiful in his life was out of his reach now.

“I’ve got that supper you ordered ready when you are, Mr. Manfred,” Mrs. Millbeck said, following them into the hall. “And I will definitely call the boys to take your things up to your room while you’re eating.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Millbeck,” Oakley said, turning his chair to face her so that he didn’t have to eat his heart out over the sight of Will, standing in a beam of afternoon sunlight coming in through the windows, gazing up at everything around him with a look of wonder.

It was all clear to him now. If he didn’t let go of the things he loved so that they could truly shine, he would bring it all down around him.