37. Chapter 37

Von's howl is inhumane. It's playing on repeat in my head, sounding as if someone was ripping his soul from his body.

Not someone—me.

It's my fault my valiant Viking is devastated.

I'm having an out-of-body experience where none of this feels real.

But Lars's murderous stare is definitely aimed at me. He's a huge guy, and there's an actual possibility that he's plotting to fuck me up. The sculpture in his arms is the only thing saving me.

I hide in the bathroom, needing to escape. She didn't intend to add the Evighet piece to the show. I insisted, determined the world should see Von's a brilliant artist.

There are multiple six-figure bids on it. A monumental success.

But he'd rather never sell another piece of art than sell my gift. I've epically fucked this up.

Using the back hallway, I exit the gallery. People with camera phones are still recording, and I can't risk being filmed. Hurting Von more than I already have isn't an option.

The video feed showcased Von's beautiful face as gaunt, without any light in his eyes. He's not comfortable in the public eye, but today he sounded automated. His forehead vein popped out as large as an appendage.

My head is swimming, and I ignore my phone. It's not Von.

He messaged me early this morning saying he won't force himself on me, but he'll wait for me to contact him.

I just killed that chance.

I'm angry he left. That's the worst lie of all.

Anger is so much easier than pain. My heart is being ripped out of my chest.

The broken part of me thought it was an easy way for him to breakup with me. But he didn't resemble a man who got what he wanted. He…my brain can't supply the right word, but hopeless pops into my head. Von and hopeless do not belong in the same sentence.

I assumed seeing Von would help me feel better breaking it off because of the distance. He'd be gorgeous and triumphant from his art show and I'd know I'd done the right thing by setting him free.

The biggest mistake of my life. I try to scrub the image of his brokenhearted face from my mind. It won't leave and, in fact, gets bigger and sharper and clearer, seeing it close-up in high-def.

He'd rather never sell another piece of art than sell my gift.

It's hard to breathe in the chilly air as the wind sweeps the air out of my lungs. I'll be fine when I get home.

Tomorrow will be better.

Tomorrow is not better.

It's worse, and each day gets worse than the one before. I can't stand being in my apartment. I've been sleeping on the couch in the loft above Unframed Art. Em hasn't been there in days, but I'm afraid the first night I sleep in the spare room will be the night he comes back. Picking up after myself requires an extreme amount of brain power and effort, but it's necessary, so they don't know where I've been sleeping.

I'm closing the shop tonight. Ordering dinner and eating here is less work than carrying it upstairs. I ask the guys if they want to put in a dinner order. It's Saturday, so they all have plans. I've lost track of the days.

Finally, the last customer leaves, and the shop is empty. My dinner is cold and tastes cardboardy. It could be a me problem or the dinner. I'm sprawled out on the couch in the consultation area. It's pretty comfortable and I might sleep here.

The double doors rattle and I lift my head to see Cole and Shane enter. I don't have the strength to pretend to be okay.

Cole crouches by my head and sweeps my hair off my forehead like I'm his kid. Someday, he'll be an amazing dad. "How you doing, buddy?"

Shane sits by my feet and rubs my leg. He's biting his lip, but he's not radiating stress.

"The video of him went viral." I hate myself for it.

"I know." Cole's voice is soothing.

"His howl is a goddam meme," I say, and Cole nods with understanding. "I did that to him. I didn't mean to do it."

"I'm sure he knows that," Shane says without judgment.

I count the ceiling tiles in this section. "I tried to call, but he either blocked my number or his phone isn't in service."

"What do you want to do?" Cole sits on the floor, resting his palm on my shoulder.

I shrug. I'm confused because most of my brain cells have stopped working.

"Alec," Shane says and pauses until I look at him, "can I be honest?"

"Suuuure." I deserve to be yelled at.

"Cole wants to give you time and space to talk to us, but we're worried."

"I'm fine." I lean to sit up but flop back. Shane snorts, and Cole is not convinced. "I just need…" I trail off and can't finish my sentence.

"I don't think you know what you need," Shane says, and Cole grumbles at him. "Cole, can you give us a minute?" Cole doesn't move. "Alec, will you promise to yell for Cole if I"—he does air quotes—"therapize you?"

That startles a laugh out of me, and Cole shakes his head but gets up.

"Behave," he orders Shane, who grins as if he'll do anything but behave.

Once Cole has shut the door to his office, Shane turns his sharp brown eyes to me. "You know I've been hospitalized for depression more than once, right?" He starts right in with no preamble and I nod. "Depression and anxiety are old friends or enemies, however you look at it and so are guilt and self-blame."

I haul myself into a seated position.

"I'm worried that you're heartbroken and on a downward spiral." He holds his hand up when I try to talk. "We know you haven't been home and you're sleeping in the loft." I must look surprised because he says, "We have motion cameras that connect to our phones. You did stripteases for us the first week they were installed." He smiles, but I can't believe I forgot.

"You're not eating."

"I am," I protest.

Shane motions to the food container on the table. "You buy food. You don't eat it." He sighs. "I know more than anyone that we can't help you unless you want help. But Alec, we love you and we're here for you. I know you feel terrible for hurting Von and the insane social media attention. That's not something you could've foreseen. I spent years, years feeling guilty and responsible for my twin's accident. Don't repeat my mistake and torture yourself."

Shane is offering me a lifeline, and I desperately want to catch it, but I'm terrified of failing.

"The truth is, I don't think the viral meme is the issue. You love Von, and he left. That hurt."

"He had to leave," I say automatically.

"It doesn't hurt any less though, does it?" Shane's eyes have always held a pain and wisdom far beyond his years.

"Have you ever met someone but thought they were all wrong for you?" I ask.

Shane's eyes widen as his mouth drops open. "You must remember how Cole acted when I met him. At first, I avoided him then I cut him out of my life. You had to tell him I blocked him."

"You thought he'd break your heart, didn't you?" Cole had been a drunken mess the night he met Shane and wasn't in a good place. Shane gives me a soft smile and agrees. "How did you trust him?" My future hangs on his answer.

"I didn't." Shane shocks me with his answer. "When you lose someone you love like I lost my brother, it changes your perspective. If you asked me if I could choose between never having a brother or losing him at age eleven, I'd pick losing him at age eleven. And you know, that means I have to keep the shit that followed. My parents' blame, my guilt, depression, and the list goes on. I wouldn't trade cutting Shep out of my life for anything. So I took a chance on Cole."

I swallow past the lump in my throat. "That's brave."

"I have some words of wisdom that were hard to learn."

What Shane says changes my entire perspective and might very well change my life.

His words sink and threaten to pull me under. I've been a colossal asshole. I told Von from the beginning that I wasn't good at relationships, but I underestimated how I monumentally fucked it up.

"Hey." Shane shakes my leg. "Don't."

He doesn't need to explain. He knows where my mind is going and why it shouldn't.

"What am I going to do? I've ruined everything." My voice is high and hysterical.

"First, tell me what you want." The weight of Shane's hand keeps me grounded and from going off the rails.

"Von." It's that simple. And that complicated.

"Then you have to decide what you're willing to risk for him. You are in control of your future."

"But what if he won't see me?" My stomach has been eating itself and no amount of antacids helps.

"You can't control what he does, and that's a risk, but the man made a statue to tell you he will love you forever."

"I don't even know how to find him. I have to do this in person." I catalog the things I have to do before I fly to Sweden. There's a flicker of hope and although it terrifies me, I have to take the chance.

Em's words ring true––I can't throw away a man who loves me.

Shane pulls his phone out. "Well, the only positive thing about the viral video is the goddamn paparazzi stalking Von. They found him and are reporting his every move." Shane turns his phone and I see a long-range shot of Von riding a tractor.

"Where is he?" I can't wrap my head around farmer Von.

"His grandparents' farm. There are reports he is investing time and money to run it and make it profitable. I can get you an address."

I tackle Shane in a hug. "I think I love you!"

"He's still my husband," Cole yells from his office, and Shane laughs.

Before they let me leave, they force me to sign the contract I've been imagining doesn't exist. But Shane, with his financial wisdom, has some very valid arguments, so I sign it. Then contact my lawyer to let him know I'll be out of the country and we might need to put the plans for a queer youth center on hold until I get back.