Chapter 13
Beck
Beck was watching a repeat of The Late Show with James Corden when his phone rang, and considering it was almost four in the morning, it had him on instant alert.
“What’s wrong?” he asked Joey.
“You might want to come down to the hospital, Beck. Kole’s been hurt.”
Beck shot upright, hitting his toe on the coffee table but barely feeling it as his stomach churned. “How? What?” He paced in front of the windows, his heart pounding as he waited for Joey’s answer.
“Some guy convinced the landlord to give him the key to Kole’s apartment and then attacked him.”
Beck stopped still, his entire body turning into a solid block of ice. Joey’s voice wavered in and out as his eyes glazed over and the past and present merged. He couldn’t tell which words were from Joey and which were from years ago until a short, sharp crack of his name slammed him back fully into the present again.
“What?” he croaked.
“Fuck,” Joey muttered. “I said, I’m coming to get you. He’s asking for you.”
“No! I’ll…I’ll get there. Just…give me a few minutes, yeah?” He wasn’t in any fit state to drive right then, but he didn’t want Joey seeing him like he was at that moment.
“Not a chance, Beck. I’m almost at yours, anyway. If you’re not there when I turn up, there will be hell to pay. You feel me?”
Beck swallowed and knew his friend would keep his word. “Sure.” He wasn’t at all sure, but he had to talk the talk.
“Do I need to keep you on the phone while I drive the last few streets?”
That made Beck crack a small smile. “No. I’ll be here.”
“Good. Have a drink and get dressed in something other than those threadbare joggers, okay?”
“Yes, boss.”
“And leave the sass at home.” Joey ended the call.
Beck gave himself precisely thirty seconds to let the panic and pain wash through him before he raced off to get dressed, and being the exemplary employee that he was, he drained a glass of water before the doorbell rang. When he opened the door, Joey looked in about the same state as Beck probably was, with a creased T-shirt, jeans and a hoodie beneath a worn, thick leather jacket and bloodshot eyes.
“Come on.”
With no other information or words, they headed to Joey’s car. Beck had so many questions but wasn’t sure which to ask. Luckily, Joey knew him well enough to start talking once they were on the road, and Beck gripped his hands together to stop them from giving away just how hard he was shaking.
“I know you might not want to hear the details, but I think you need to, and Kole has given me permission to explain.” Joey’s hands tightened on the wheel, his white knuckles visible on the passing streetlights. He let out a tremendous sigh. “Kole had fallen asleep when the guy let himself in. When Kole realised, he tried talking the guy down, but he wasn’t interested. He had a point to make, apparently. He got Kole on the floor with a hand around his throat. Kole can barely whisper right now, and the doctors have advised him not to talk too much. His throat needs to heal.”
“Did they catch the guy?”
“Yeah. Kole knew him. Drake something.”
For the second time that night, Beck froze. His lungs burnt, his heart pulsed, and his head throbbed. No. He wouldn’t. But he couldn’t bring himself to believe his thoughts. Drake could and would and…had.
“Jesus, fuck. Breathe, Beck. Fucking breathe.”
His body slammed forward and then back again, and then Joey’s hand rested on his nape and his head was thrust between his knees. Soothing circles were drawn over his spine and he found his lungs easing.
“You scared the fuck out of me, asshole.” Joey exhaled. “You okay?”
“Nope,” he croaked.
“You ready to tell me what the fuck is going on?”
Beck’s brain fired up, and he rose. “You ready to tell me why you’re swearing so much tonight?”
“Because my fucking boyfriend had the scare of his life tonight, and then we find out his best friend was almost fucking killed, and then you’re having fucking panic attacks on me, and I just want to know what the fuck is going on.”
Beck couldn’t help it. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he burst out laughing. And then suddenly, he wasn’t laughing anymore and tears streamed down his cheeks. Arms slid around his shoulders and pulled him into a warm cocoon.
“Whatever the fuck this is, Beck, we’re in it together. You got it?”
Beck nodded against Joey’s chest, but he couldn’t form any words. He just sat there clinging to Joey and crying like the baby he apparently was. That brought him up short. He was stronger than that. He had to be. Kole wanted to see him, and therefore, he needed to be in one piece. For however long it took him to make sure Kole was all right, he would keep it together. He pulled away from Joey and wiped his face, sniffing hard to unclog his nose and throat.
“Better?” Joey asked, and Beck could almost feel his need to get going.
“Yep.”
“Liar, but I’ll let that go for now.”
Joey started driving again, and Beck tried to get his head around the information Joey had told him. How had Drake even known where Kole lived? But then he rolled his eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time his ex-foster brother had stalked someone, but it would be the last if had anything to do with it.
Keeping himself together for the rest of the journey, he gave himself two precious seconds after Joey had parked the car to breathe, and then he climbed out and followed Joey into the hospital.
The medicinal scent of the place had always turned his stomach, but with the number of times he’d ended up in a place like that, he was used to ignoring it. The fake niceties of the staff still rubbed him the wrong way, but that was a him problem. They were just doing their job, however strained it seemed to him.
“He’s this way.”
Joey led the way. Beck kept his eyes on the distance, turning when Joey did, stepping into the metal death trap that was the lift when he was told to, and finally, Joey stopped outside a door.
“Ethan managed to get him into a room by kicking up a fuss with the staff. His argument was about us being well known, which isn’t wrong, and so Kole has some privacy.”
Beck swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”
Joey stared at him for a long minute and then knocked softly before opening the door and poking his head around the edge. For those few seconds, Beck held his breath, tightening every muscle in his body to keep his feet planted right there instead of tearing him away from the very place he didn’t want to be. But he did it. For Kole. But it would be the last time because Beck had brought pain and disaster to Kole’s door, and he refused to do so again. They were over, even though they had barely begun.
Joey stepped through the door, leaving it open for Beck to follow, which he did. And then he had to lock his knees again so he didn’t hit the floor when he met Kole’s gaze. Despite them both knowing why Kole was there—because Beck had brought Drake into their lives—Kole’s eyes were, as ever, trusting, kind and patient. It made Beck want to howl with the unfairness of it all.
Kole held out his hand. “Come,” he rasped, and Beck almost broke at the pain in those words. Pain, not from emotional hurt, but from physical hurt.
His gaze dropped to Kole’s neck, which was free of clothing and bandages and anything else, and saw the already formed dark bruises marring his perfect skin. His nostrils flared to keep his emotions in check. He had never been this blatantly emotional before. Or had he?
“Come.” Kole’s rasp accompanied his waving fingers, urging him closer, and Beck moved, drawn by the order. “Not…your…fault.”
Beck placed his hand over Kole’s mouth. “Stop talking,” he said, his voice far shakier than he intended.
Kole grabbed his hand and squeezed, and Beck could see the words he wanted to repeat, but no matter what Kole said, it was his fault. If Drake hadn’t been part of Beck’s life, however short a time, he wouldn’t have focused on Kole. Though why he did was still a mystery to him, but one he intended to figure out. The one redeeming factor was that Drake was in jail, which meant it was trickier for Beck to get to him, but even harder for Drake to get to Kole.
Kole pointed to the chair beside the bed, and Beck sighed and sat down when Kole wouldn’t let go of his hand. Beck glanced at Joey and Ethan, the two having their arms around each other. Ethan looked wrecked, but he managed a smile when he saw Beck looking.
The room dropped into silence, and eventually, Kole fell asleep. Once he was sure he was gone, Beck slipped his hand free and stood, heading for the door.
“Don’t turn your back on him, Beck,” Ethan said.
He stopped with his hand on the door. “I will always be there if he needs me, but I’m no good for him. He’ll be better without me.”
And with that, he walked out of the room, down the corridors, down the stairs instead of the lift and out through the automatic doors. He barely felt the cold seeping through his thick jumper. He barely registered the puffs of air leaving his mouth as he strode down the street. He barely acknowledged whenever he bumped into someone he hadn’t seen. He just kept walking, his mind a tangle of memories, nightmares and lies.
He finally slowed to a stop, his mind flickering with knowledge of the present, the past receding, and he glanced around.
“Hyde Park,” he murmured.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have been storming through the large, semi-deserted park at that time of night, especially without a coat. He turned in a full circle and got his bearings before slogging his way to the nearest taxi stand. He could’ve called someone, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to go home and lock himself away. But before he could do that, he had to speak to the police officers who had arrested Drake, and there was no way the police station would let him do that at that hour of the morning, looking like he did.
When he reached home, he showered under the hottest spray he could, hoping it would bring the feeling back into his body, but that type of cold wasn’t so easily washed away. Instead, he dressed in warmer clothes and rode his bike to the police station, waiting in the car park around the corner until a reasonable hour. He didn’t want to do what he was about to do, but it was the only way to make sure Kole was safe. If that meant he had to break his silence after all this time, he would.
Taking a deep breath, he walked into the station and up to the desk.
“Good morning,” an older man said. “What can I do for you?”
“Is there a time limit on when someone can report a…” He swallowed hard and took another breath. “A rape?”
The man blinked and then shook his head. “No limit at all. Is that what you’d like to do?”
The images, already beginning to bombard him, froze for a second with his indecision, but he straightened his shoulders and looked the man in the eye. “Yes.”
Within seconds, he was taken to a room with comfortable chairs and beige walls and given a cup of coffee he immediately forgot about and told someone would be with him shortly. He settled into a chair and stared at the neutral wall, trying to stem the flood of his past. It wasn’t to be. After all, he was there to bare his soul. Because even if some people didn’t believe men could be raped, Beck was living proof they could. And hopefully, by giving the detectives this new information, Drake would be kept behind bars for a very long time.
The door opened, and two officers entered. “Beck Cavanaugh?” one said.
Beck nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you mind if we sit?”
“Not at all.” He repositioned himself from his slouch.
“I’m Detective Conrad. This is Detective Haynes. Can you tell us about what you want to report?” the second said, and Beck focused on the softer-spoken officer.
Steeling himself, Beck said, “I was raped from the age of eleven by a man you currently have in custody. His name is Drake Price.”
The officers glanced at each other before Haynes spoke. “Are you willing to give us all the information you can? No matter how small?”
“I am. I remember every detail.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I will be upfront and say Drake just attacked someone close to me, but this is not retaliation. Not truly. I want my boyf—my friend to be safe, and if this means I have to talk about what happened to me to ensure Drake stays behind bars, then I will. I’ll tell the world if I have to.”
“Knowing who you are as I do,” Haynes said, “you’ll have no choice about the world finding out. You need to be ready for that.”
Ice-cold fingers raked down his spine. “I am. I have to be. I will not let him hurt anyone else.”
“Okay. Let’s get some information down,” Conrad said.
Beck frowned. “Are you not going to record it?”
Conrad tilted their head. “We thought that might be too much for you.”
Beck shook his head. “No. Please record it. I want to get it all down.”
Haynes reached inside their pocket and produced a recorder, and Beck told his story. Every sad, demeaning, painful word of his past. Every threat, every encounter, every…touch. Not once did he break down because he was doing it for Kole, and he needed to be strong.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been there before the detectives called a stop to the interview.
“Go home and get some rest. We’ll start investigating, but it’ll take a while. Reporters will get wind of it sooner rather than later, so prepare yourself and those around you. It won’t be pretty.”
Beck huffed a laugh, the first tendril of amusement working its way through him since that brief burst of laughter in Joey’s car. “None of this has been pretty.”
Haynes stood and held out a card. “We suggest you talk to a counsellor. Not only to help yourself through the process but also to help us with more information if you’re willing to allow them to discuss your sessions with us. It’s not mandatory, but we recommend it.”
Beck stared at the card. “Will it help the case?”
“It certainly won’t hurt the case.”
That hadn’t been an answer, but he’d do anything to protect his family. “Okay.”
“Drake Price won’t be leaving jail right now. With this new information you’ve given us, we can hold him for longer. I can’t guarantee it will be indefinite, but we’ll do what we can.”
Beck stood, fingering the edge of the card. “Can I ask one favour?” Haynes nodded. “Will you let me know if he’s released?”
“Absolutely.”
Beck nodded slowly, his body beginning to feel the emotional upheaval of the last few hours.
“Get some rest, Mr Cavanaugh. We’ll be in touch soon.”
The winter sun had him squinting as he exited the station, but he breathed deeply of the frigid air. He didn’t feel any lighter for sharing his story, but he had to hope it would be enough to protect them. Beck wasn’t powerful enough to do it alone, even though he wasn’t an eleven-year-old anymore. If it took every penny he had, every item he owned and the clothes off his back, he would stop Drake from hurting anyone ever again.
He just wished he’d done it sooner because then Kole wouldn’t have been hurt, and Beck might’ve been able to look himself in the mirror. He also wished the world wouldn’t find out, but it was what it was. One day, he would look Drake in the eye and smile as he got sent to prison. One day, he could put it all behind him. One day, he might even be able to love someone.
Maybe.
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