Chapter Thirteen

Holden

Holden drove into town berating himself all the way. You were going over to say sorry, not to get your cock sucked. He sighed and thumped the steering wheel. The sly voice of his addiction spoke.

You went over to suck his cock, just like you wanted. Just like every man you ever meet. You wanted to be on your knees, him gripping your hair, forcing himself down your throat.

He didn’t force me, he told it furiously. His hand was gentle. He didn’t make me do anything. He’s the gentlest man I’ve ever met. It was a pleasure to do that for him and a bonus that he returned it.

Still, he felt bad that it had happened at all. Hadn’t he told himself to keep his hands off Tyler? Hadn’t he told himself the age gap was ludicrous and wrong? Tyler didn’t need this shit. He still hadn’t decided if he wanted Tyler for Tyler or because he was the nearest available man.

He didn’t want his desire for Tyler to be merely a manifestation of his addiction. He pulled up in a space outside the bakery and sat staring forward. I shouldn’t have done it. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his head on the steering wheel. Get it together. Get it together. He lifted his head and saw Finn standing at the hood of his car. Swallowing, he opened the door.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Holden.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Holden got out and shut the door. I’m sorry,” he said. “About the other day.”

“It’s okay,” Finn said.

Holden shook his head. “It’s really not.”

Finn trailed a hand over the dusty hood of Holden’s car. “I might be interested.”

“What?”

“I might do it.”

Holden couldn’t believe his ears. “Really?”

“Yeah. Have you asked your publishers if they’re interested?”

Holden shook his head mutely.

“Then why don’t you?”

Holden stared at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Come over to the house now. We’ll have a chat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Brandon’s at work. It’ll be just you and me if you want to talk.”

“Shall I call my publisher first?”

“Sure. I’ll go get us some coffee and pastries. See you in a minute.”

“All right.” Holden got back in his car with his mind whirling. He searched for his editor’s number in his phone with a trembling thumb. It was too good to be true. Provided they were interested in Finn’s story of course.

“Hey, Holden, thought we were never going to hear from you again,” Megan Brown answered. She was an efficient red head with expensive taste in shoes. Rumor had it she owned over two hundred pairs. While she was a slave driver with no room for sentiment, Holden rather liked her. He guessed she had always got the best out of him.

“Yeah,” Holden said. “I’ve been off grid.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“I’d rather not say.”

Megan sighed. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I just don’t want anybody coming here disturbing my peace, that’s all.”

“All right. Less than a month till deadline. Are you ready?”

“Not exactly.”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking of a non-fiction.”

“What? You mean you haven’t even started?”

“Not as such.”

“Fucking hell, Holden.”

“I can do it if you give me the go ahead for a true crime.”

“Tell me more,” Megan said cautiously.

“There’s a guy who was the victim of domestic abuse. By his boyfriend. The ex followed him here and was shot by the local sheriff. Sheriff and the guy now live together. The guy’s interested in telling his story.”

“How serious was the abuse?”

“Scarred for life serious.”

“All right, first draft in a week.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t let me down, Holden.”

“I won’t. But listen, there’ll be an advance, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll get you an advance.”

“I need it to be a good one.” Holden bit his lip, hating himself.

“I know you do,” Megan replied with her tone softer than Holden had ever heard it.

Holden hung up. He got out of the car again as Finn approached from the bakery with a take-out bag and opened the passenger door for him. “Thanks.” Finn climbed in and pulled on his seatbelt. Holden swung himself behind the wheel. He glanced at Finn’s smooth, perfect profile and wished with his whole heart that he didn’t have to rip this man apart in order to make some money.

At his home, Finn ushered Holden in and asked him to take a seat at the kitchen table. He unpacked the bag, pulling out two Danishes that he put onto plates and two coffees. Finn sat opposite him. It was quiet and warm in the house. Somewhere he could hear a clock ticking. He imagined Finn and Brandon here in contented domesticity and he ached for something so alien to him.

Finn took a sip of his coffee.

“Why do you want to do this, Finn? It can’t just be catharsis, can it?”

Finn shook his head. “No, it’s money. Brandon says he’ll pay for me to start art school in September, but I know he can’t afford it. And I sure as hell can’t, working at the diner and selling the odd painting.”

Holden bit his lip. “I don’t want you to do this just for the money,” he said in a low voice. “It’s a bad idea.” Was he trying to talk Finn out of it? He guessed he was, because then, while still broke, his conscience would be clear.

Finn licked his lips. “Okay, let’s pretend it’s for a noble reason then. To encourage people to leave their abusive partner.”

Holden regarded him. “You can be that spokesman, Finn. Having a voice in a way you never have had before.”

Finn dipped his head with his mouth trembling.

Oh God, don’t cry, I can’t handle it. Right now, Holden wanted to be anywhere but here. He almost opened his mouth to put the brakes on the whole thing.

Instead, clearing his throat, he said, “Can I record you?”

Fin nodded. “But I want the right to delete any part of it before you leave this house.”

“Of course.”

In a low voice, Finn started to talk. “I met Dominic when I was twenty-one. He was handsome and charming with old-fashioned manners. He was a badly needed distraction from the misery of my life at home. I’d just come out to my parents and man, they did not take it well. My dad threw me out of the house and only my mom’s intervention allowed me to come back. On our first date, he took me to a restaurant. He held doors open. Pulled my chair out, gazed into my eyes like I was the most interesting person in the world and paid for everything. I was smitten. More so when he did nothing but kiss me on the cheek at the end, when I wanted so much more. And he knew that. He knew he had me on a string and he knew I’d put out as soon as he clicked his fingers.

“The first time he hit me, we hadn’t gone all the way. I could have escaped then and I didn’t. I don’t know why. Well, I do. I was telling myself he was something special and he was going to save me from my mundane, unhappy life.”

When Finn paused, Holden asked gently, “Why did he hit you?”

“Because a guy smiled at me when we were out on a date and I smiled back.” Finn lowered his head. “He almost knocked me out. I hit my head when I went down and my mouth was bleeding. He helped me up and gave me coffee and told me he got kind of jealous and he was sorry. I said I forgave him.” Tears slid out from under Finn’s lashes. “And I didn’t walk away when I should have done.”

“You don’t have to blame yourself for what he did to you,” Holden said with his heart breaking apart.

Finn swallowed. He cupped his hands around his coffee mug. “I’m not sure how I’m going to bring myself to tell you some of the things he did to me.” He took a breath and even though Holden didn’t expect it, he launched right into it. “He broke my bones. He burned me. He imprisoned me. He made me eat my dinner from the floor. He raped me. He pulled handfuls of my hair out in clumps. He held parties where he passed me around his friends and they all took a turn while he filmed it. He kept it on a DVD and Brandon’s seen it.” He wiped a rough hand over his face and stared down at the table.

Oh, Jesus.Holden kept his gaze fixed on Finn’s distraught face and wished he hadn’t opened this can of worms. What a terrible person he was for making Finn relive it all again.

“Sometimes he told me he loved me and that he didn’t mean it.”

“Did you believe him?”

“I guess I did. I stayed there, didn’t I?”

“Do you think it was just more a case of you wanting to believe he wouldn’t do it again?”

Finn bit his lip. “I suppose it was.”

“Did you love him?”

Finn didn’t look at him. He was silent for the longest time. Finally, he said, “I thought I did. Now when I compare it to what I feel for Brandon, I don’t understand how it could ever have been love.” He started to weep. “I thought it would get better. I thought he loved me enough to stop doing it. I dreamed of the day when he would. When we could be a normal couple. But I knew deep down that nothing about us was normal.” He put his head down on his hands.

“It’s okay,” Holden said with a lump in his throat, deeply shaken.

Finn pushed his chair back from the table. He paced a few steps to the counter, then back again, looking at Holden with his eyes red and his face tear-streaked. “I lived in terror for ten years,” he said. “And when I remember it, I can’t breathe. I hate that he still has this power over me.”

Holden pushed his chair back and stood. He shook his head. “He doesn’t, Finn. They’re just memories that will get better in time.”

Finn’s shoulders shook and Holden couldn’t bear it. He stepped forward and took Finn into his arms. “It’s okay,” he murmured, stroking Finn’s head. “It’s over.” What he really wanted to say was sorry for opening this Pandora’s box. Guilt ate him alive. Was it really worth this to make a few bucks?

He didn’t hear the front door opening over the noise of Finn’s tears. Then he saw Brandon standing in the kitchen doorway with his face like thunder. With his stomach sinking, he extricated himself from Finn. Finn looked at Brandon with wide eyes. Then he went into his partner’s arms. And despite the look on Brandon’s face that suggested he was going to punch Holden, he held Finn with the most tender of hands.

Holden hurried down the hall and opened the door, cursing himself.