Two

Ileft Gideon, drove the rental car to St. Helier, and found a bar as I contemplated what he’d told me.

I knew I shouldn’t believe it.

It would be easier not to; if I didn’t believe it, then nothing had changed. Cas still chose Xavier, the man who killed my parents was my mystery sponsor, and Gideon was still a conniving, insidious prick who was lying about this just like he lied about everything else. But if it was Cas, then it meant I didn’t know him. Not as I thought I did. He wasn’t the person I’d always believed him to be if he could do this.

But when I turned it over, examined it, it made more and more sense that it was Cas. Cas was the only person it could be. I went back and forth between believing Gideon was a liar, and believing everything Cas had done for the last ten years had been for me.

A lightbulb moment had me go to my phone’s contacts and dial a number I hadn’t dialled in years. The receptionist answered with a cheerful greeting, polished and professional.

“Moreland and Wright, Kate speaking, how may I help you?”

“Hi, I’m an old client of Mr. Moreland’s. I had a question about a legal matter he dealt with for me a few years back.”

“Can I take your name, please? I’ll check if Mr Moreland’s available.”

“Jude Alcott,” I said and told her I didn’t mind waiting.

Moreland greeted me the way he always did. Apologetic and friendly. “You know I can’t give you a name, Mr. Alcott. I’d love to, but I can’t.”

“I know. But how about I give you one, and you tell me if I’m right?”

Moreland sighed.

“Caspien Deveraux,” I said. I could have sworn I heard his breathing change. The smallest, fraction of a hitch down the line. I’d given him a few names over the years, but never this one.

Finally, he said, “Mr. Alcott, we’ve discussed this, many times. I can’t disclose my client’s name to you without being in breach of the confidentiality clause contained therein. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” I hung up and ordered another drink.

I thought about going to Luke’s, putting it all to him to see how plausible he thought it was. But I knew he’d say it was Cas. Of course, it was. And I wasn’t ready to accept that.

So, several hours later, I called an Uber home, banging on the front door and ringing the bell until Jasper answered. “Oh, it’s you. I thought we were being fucking invaded or something.”

Ignoring him, I marched into the red sitting room and went immediately to the drinks cabinet. It wasn’t the horn of plenty it used to be in here, but I found a large bottle of sherry, dusty and forgotten, near the back, which I scooped out and uncorked.

I drank it from the bottle.

Jasper eyed me warily from the doorway.

“He was worried you flew back to London. But I told him your stuff was still in your room.” He folded his arms huffily. “You being like this isn’t good for his health you know.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re on about.” I fell back on the hard sofa and slid my legs up onto the glass coffee table.

“Drunk and disorderly. Shouting. Storming out and coming home at all hours of the night.”

I laughed at that. “Okay, mum.”

Scowling, he came into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa. “If you’re going to be such a moody fucking prick, can you just pack your shit and fuck off? Let the guy die in peace.”

“He wanted me here.”

“Yeah, I know, Jude. I’ve listened to him go on and on about you for months. Cas too. So he was a horrible cunt to you, he was a terrible father to Caspien, but he’s trying to make amends which is a lot more than some people do, so just give him a fucking break, will you?”

“Give him a break? Piss off, Jasper. You’ve not a fucking clue who he is, what he’s done.” I lifted the bottle and drank.

“Actually, you learn a lot about a person by wiping them clean of their own shit and blood, by watching them rot away in front of you.”

“He’s a manipulative liar,” I said, but the anger had subsided at the image he’d painted of Gideon. “He always has been. This is just another one of his fucking games.” He’d designed this in such a way that I’d be left with this even after he died. Never knowing the truth.

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe it is.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s all another big fucking lie to get you and Caspien together so he can die knowing he undid the worst mistake he ever made.” He stood, looking down at me with a measure of scorn I thought I might deserve. “How fucking awful of him. What a piece of shit he’d be for that.”

Jasper strode from the room without looking back, and I proceeded to get very, very drunk. I passed out with Caspien’s name on my lips and the distinct sound of his voice in my ear. I woke and drank some water from a glass by my bedside, before falling back to sleep.

I dreamt of him, willowy and dressed in black, smelling of sea salt and fresh moss.

I was in his bedroom, lying on his bed, as he sat down on the edge and smiled at me. It was a real smile; the London smile. I dreamt of the night we walked along the Thames as the sky turned from summer orange to indigo to deepest black.

You’re ridiculous, you do realise that?

I know,I’d said.

When I woke, dry-mouthed and disoriented, I didn’t know where I was. The bed felt different from my own. There were no iron bars to cool my feet against, and the mattress was softer than I remembered. I looked up at the ornate ceiling and recognised the rose cornicing.

Deveraux. I was in Deveraux. In Cas’s mother’s bedroom.

I sat up and looked around. No. Not his mother’s, his.

I was in his bedroom, in his bed. And I was completely naked.

What in the name of fuck had I done? A glance under the sheets gave me my answer. Mortification spread up from my chest, where my depravity had dried and flaked.

I groaned. I remembered nothing about my night, how much I’d drank – a lot, evidently – before coming into his room and …

Christ. I sat up.

“You’re awake, then,” a voice said from somewhere to the left.

I turned and saw to my utter shock, Cas sitting on the window seat, legs curled up and a book in his hands. I scrubbed my eyes, because I was imagining things, obviously, I was still asleep, obviously.

But still, he remained. He wore all black; turtle neck jumper, smart trousers, and polished smart shoes. A brown coat was draped over the chair next to him.

“Cas? Fuck. What...are you? Doing here?”

He stood up from the window and came toward me, sliding his hands into his pockets. He looked painfully gorgeous. Older, touches of it in and around his eyes, but beautiful still. That same delicate beauty I always associated with him. His face had lost a lot of the hardness it used to carry, now sad where it would once have been cruel. I tried not to think about why that was.

“You called me,” he said.

“No, I didn’t.”

Cas took another step toward me. “Last night. Yes, you did.”

No. Last night, I’d gone out, come back, gotten very drunk. More drunk than I’d been in years, and then, I...oh god.

I didn’t know what to do with this. I certainly couldn’t accept it while I sat here, naked, covered in... and in his bed.

“Could I...Would you mind just waiting here while I go...shower and put some clothes on?”

He nodded, the faintest trace of a smile on his mouth.

Very carefully, I climbed out of bed and pulled the top sheet off to wrap it around myself before walking to the door.

I stopped and turned back, to check he was really there, before I slipped out of his room and down the hall to his mother’s room. Grabbing fresh underwear and clothes, I went to the shower and cleaned myself quickly.

Cas was here. I’d called him. Something he wasn’t lying about because when I found my phone – sensibly plugged in by my bed – there was indeed an outgoing call to him at 11:36 p.m. I wanted to die from embarrassment. I hadn’t done it for years, drunk called him, but last night I had. What had I said?

I’d called him, then gone to his bed and had a wank in it? With Gideon and Jasper in the house? What the fuck was wrong with me?

The only upside as far as I could tell, was that I didn’t appear to have a hangover. The most minuscule of mercies.

I crept back to Cas’s bedroom like a criminal would retrace the steps to their crime scene, to find him where I left him, on the window seat reading his book. He stood when I entered, placing the bookmark inside and setting it down.

I drank him in again, properly. I hadn’t seen him except online for eight years. He looked healthy and vibrant, his skin unmarred and glowing with life, bright blue eyes shining as they looked at me.

“I called you,” I said.

“You did.”

“And you answered.”

“I told you if it was important, then I’d answer.”

“How are you here?”

“Well, I’m living in London now. I caught the first flight over this morning.”

I couldn’t read the look on his face; it was tense, on the cusp of something huge, something I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear.

“Gideon said you never come here, that you’ve refused to set foot in the place .”

He tilted his head a little like it was extremely obvious. “Well, it wasn’t Gideon who asked me to come.”

I went then to sit on the bed, hoping he couldn’t see the way my legs trembled as I walked across the room.

“He doesn’t look good.”

“I know,” he said.

“So… obviously, I can’t remember the call. I don’t know what I said...” I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. I couldn’t look at his face. His perfect fucking face. Christ, I’d missed him. It almost hurt more now that he was here, standing right in front of me. Real. Almost within touching distance. His hair was long again, tucked behind his ears, and curling against the collar of the rich wool at his neck. I wanted to go to him and pull him into me, kiss him. More than anything else, more than knowing the truth about what he’d done, I wanted that.

I said, “You always told me he was a liar. That I should never believe anything he said. So...” I swallowed and looked at my hands. “So, I don’t know what to believe, Cas. I needed to hear it from you.” I still couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be true.

“I know,” he said again. “But I won’t lie to you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You lied to me about Xavier. Then about what he was doing to you, you lied to my face about that. More than once.”

He nodded. “Yes, because I never wanted you to see me like that. As something small and weak – like he did.” I could tell this was difficult for him to say, but he pushed on. “I thought if you knew what he’d done to me then it would change how you saw me. And I didn’t want that.”

“It never changed how I saw you, Cas; it never could. It only made me hate him more.”

He gave me a sort of conflicted look. “I know. I know that now.”

I was quiet a moment before I straightened my spine and looked him right in the eye.

“So is it true? What Gideon told me. You’re the one who set up the trust for me? Who paid for Oxford, my car, my fucking dental treatment?”

This, too, was painful, hard for him to say.

“Yes,” he said at last.

I sat forward, elbows on my knees as I covered my face with my hands. “Fucking hell, Cas. Why? Why would you do this?”

“You know why, Jude.”

I didn’t think I did. I didn’t dare hope that I did. But I could see only two reasons why he’d done it: pity or love. I loathed the idea of the first and could barely stand the idea of the second. Knowing he’d loved me all these years and yet stayed away.

“So you put yourself through years of fucking hell for what? For me?” That’s what Gideon had said. For you, Jude. For you.

He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t entirely like that. It was...” He took a deep steadying breath. “When I first met Xavier, he was different. He was older, experienced, handsome. I was entranced by the life I thought he could offer me. A life away from this place, where my mother’s misery lives in the walls, where Gideon’s lives out in the open in every room. I was determined to escape the moment I could. When my father came to me with his money, earned honestly by all accounts and not inherited, I was going to refuse him outright. I wanted nothing from him. He was the reason I was here and the reason my mother was dead. His name is Liam, by the way, Caspien Liam Deveraux: it’s bloody ghastly. Anyway, I thought I could use his money for something good.”

Here, he looked at me. “I thought it might make what I’d done to you feel less...fatal. I don’t regret it. How can I? You did it, you got your degree from Oxford, and you published your novel. Doing that for you has been the best thing, the only decent thing, I ever did for you. For anyone. You’re not responsible for anything that came after, Jude. This is why it became even more important you never found out. Because I know you: you would take this and make it your fault, somehow. When it was no one’s but his. I made the decision to give it to you before knowing what he was. There’s no fault of yours – or mine – to be found in who or what Xavier turned out to be.”

“But I was to go my whole life not knowing it was you?”

The thought was unimaginable. Painful.

“That was the plan.”

“Still as fucking selfish as ever, I see.”

He winced. But then I saw a hint of the Caspien trademark smirk I thought I’d never see again. “On the whole, yes.”

“So it was a consolation prize? ‘I fell in love with Caspien Deveraux and all I got was this lousy trust fund’? A thanks-for-taking-part sort of thing? That it?”

“Some would argue you got the better end of the deal,” he said. “You got the money without any of the aggravation.” He gestured at himself, the aggravation.

“Yeah, well that wasn’t your choice to fucking make, Cas!”

“But it had to be me, Jude. It had to be. If it had been up to you then you’d have chosen me without thinking, and I’d have broken your heart anyway, and neither of us would have learned a bloody thing!” His eyes were glittering and hard, his cheeks pink.

“So all of this was some sort of fucking lesson?”

“For me, yes, it was.” He ran his hands through his hair and turned to stare out the window, breathing hard and fast. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, calmer. “I thought I could live my whole life the way Gideon has: with love being some ancillary but ultimately useless thing I didn’t need. And perhaps I could have.”

He turned and smiled, some hollow sad thing I could barely look at.

“But then, there was you. And everything that you are: warm and kind, gentle and sweet, and you loved me despite everything I was and everything I did, and everything I couldn’t give you. Christ, I didn’t know what to do with that kind of love, Jude. How to hold it or carry it or even look at it. It was terrifying. I was sure I would kill it – I tried to. But then I began to feel its absence. I missed it. I longed for it. The feel of it on my skin, and deep inside my chest and in my head whenever I felt like I might disappear from loneliness. You and that love was what I clung onto when...when he made me feel as though I was nothing. It was how I survived.”

My throat and chest felt thick from the tears that threatened to spill out. “You could have left him, you could have left him, and you stayed because of me, Cas.”

“No.” He shook his head, firmly. “I stayed because of me, because I’d convinced myself it was what I deserved. I’d made a mistake, chosen badly, and I’d hurt you so cruelly that I could barely stand to look at you. But then in London you were...you. Different in some ways, wiser almost, but you were still you and incredibly, you still loved me. When I thought he might hurt you, I stayed to make sure he never could. I’d hurt you enough, the world had hurt you enough, and I wouldn’t allow anything else to hurt you. Not when I could prevent it.”

“You didn’t have to protect me from that, I told you I wasn’t afraid of him.”

“And have everything be for nothing?” He implored. “Jude, you have to understand the way I saw myself then. It’s impossible to let yourself be loved when you’re as inherently un-loveable as I believed myself to be.”

He sighed, loudly. “I have a lot of regrets, too many to count, but none as great as allowing Gideon and Xavier to convince me of my place in the world. I regret hurting you, Jude, I do, but I think…” He thought about this next part hard, then he took a deep breath, and said, “I think if I’d stayed with you then, chosen you then, I’d have destroyed you. I’d have turned you into something cold and cruel and bitter; a person who hated the world and everything in it. Because that’s who I was then.” He looked around the room, then back at me. “You were everything warm and bright and alive in this place and I would have poisoned that.” Cas looked as though something very heavy had finally been taken from his aching hands.

“Maybe instead of you destroying me, I could have saved you?” I said.

Cas smiled another small, sad smile. “You did save me, Jude. So many times.”

After what felt like hours he moved across the room and sat next to me on the bed. There was less than an arm’s distance between us now and the proximity of him was like the sun after years of winter. Warm and vital, giving life to everything inside me.

It was him who spoke first.

“I loved your novel,” he said, soft and sincere.

“Thank you.”

“Was Bennett based on anyone?”

“What do you think?”

He nodded, smiling a little. “Thought so. Christ, he was awful.”

I looked at him. “Misunderstood, I’d say. Easy to hate a guy like that without taking the time to understand him.”

Caspien was staring at me very intensely. There was a hitch in his voice as he said, “You look well, Jude.”

“I’m alright.”

“Good.”

“You?” I asked.

“I’m alright, too.”

The long-dead glimmer of hope flickered to life again. I’d smothered it more times than I could count, but it always returned. An old friend.

“Are you...seeing anybody?”

Cas smiled, shy. Then shook his head. “No. I’m not.”

I nodded. To my delight and surprise, it was him who spoke next, turning his body slightly towards me as he did.

“Jude, I know we’ve done this backwards, completely, and I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted nothing to do with me. But we’ve established I’m rather selfish, and so I wondered if you might be willing...and able...perhaps you’re with someone now, I don’t know, I should probably have asked that first. But if not, I wonder if you might be willing to give me another chance. With you. We could go for dinner, or a drink: whatever you’d be comfortable with.”

He was nervous. Caspien Deveraux was asking me out, and he was nervous about it.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” I asked, half-smiling.

His cheeks flushed, beautifully. “I...yes. I think so. But only if you’re single, and you’re going to say yes, because otherwise...well that’s rather awkward. And embarrassing.”

“Cas, I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen. I’ve wanted this since I was fifteen. I’m not about to turn you down, am I?”

“Maybe you’d want to torture me a little. I don’t know. I’d deserve it.”

I reached out slowly and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear where it had come loose.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

He leaned into my hand, eyes fluttering closed a little, before he pitched forward and wrapped his arms around me. He buried his face in my neck as he hugged me tight. I held him like that for a long time, his body warm and solid against my chest as he breathed me in. The promise I’d made under the moon flared up bright and potent inside me again.

Love him. Love him. Love him.

It was a dangerous and violent thing to love. And just like me, Cas was war-weary and battle-scarred. But together we’d heal. Together, we’d smooth away the cracks on our hearts so that they could do what they were made to do: love.