27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Axel
“ O kay, seriously?” I sat next to Ed as he played Hugo’s latest song on his laptop.
They’d stopped exchanging CDs apparently, and my former music teacher had sent his latest cheesy song via a file sharing app.
“Do you want to hear it again?” Ed cocked his head. “I thought the song was…charming.”
“Oh, my God. All the I love a man who doesn’t believe in me . Or if only the man could see . Or, Jesus, he could see his dreams are real . Did you hear that shit? With the ooo waah wahh thrown in?” I winced. “Cheesy is generous. It’s…bad.”
Thornton snickered. “Only you would see it that way. I think it’s charming.”
I shot him a glare. “Who asked you?”
“I asked him,” Ed shot back. “He was the one who said I had to play it for you—and here we are. And what did you expect? You wrote that heartbreak song, which is releasing in four days, I would like to remind you. Then we’re announcing our triumphant return to Rocktoberfest. You thought he’d just…take it lying down?”
“Well, not with me, he doesn’t.”
‘’What?” Ed might’ve snapped that.
“I think it’s sweet.” Thornton offered his shit-eating grin.
“Thank God he’s not going to release it.” I eyed Ed. “He’s not releasing, is he?”
“You mean like some acoustic solo on the internet?” He tapped his lips. “He didn’t say. He would get a ton of hits, though. There’s plenty of curiosity about him—even after all this time.”
Which sort of bothered me. Hugo had never wanted the spotlight. He’d always wanted to be behind the scenes. Even though he was incredibly talented, he never performed. Well, perhaps in private. Certainly not in public.
That you know. Ten years is a long time, and you haven’t kept track of him, have you?
“Would it be the end of the world if he did?” Ed eyed me. “We’d get more attention for sure. And since it’s pretty harmless, I think even Pauletta couldn’t object.”
“Tell me you did not just invoke our manager’s name.” This I did snap.
Thornton chuckled.
“Who asked you? Why are you even here?”
Hard to say who appeared more shocked and then hurt—Ed or Thornton.
Eventually, though, Ed’s hurt turned darker. “He’s my fiancé, Axel. He’s here because I love him and want him here. I’m lucky he’s willing to do that, given this isn’t even his country.”
I should’ve felt contrite—but I didn’t. “You once said you loved me and wanted to be here with me. Has that changed?”
Ed and Thornton exchanged a look.
My heart sank. I rose. “Fine, then. I’ll move out. I think Big Mac’s spending all his time at Meg’s these days. I’m sure I can crash—”
“Big Mac’s lease was up last month.” Ed held my gaze. “He moved in permanently with Meg. I mean, they’re getting married in a couple of months.”
Meg had her preventative breast removal surgery a month ago. And you haven’t even asked how she’s doing . As she was our drummer, we were taking a break. The record execs had wanted us touring after the album, but even they admitted Meg’s health came first. Ed had told me they found a small lump and it might’ve eventually become cancerous. Meg was so damn young, but I understood her choice to choose better health than keeping, as she put them ticking time bombs . Genetics sucked—but she’d had the tests and they’d given her some hard truths.
“I’m certain I can share a bed with Wren.” Wren being Meg’s very spoiled dog. “Or Pauletta. She’s got that big—”
“Mickey’s there all the time.” Thornton eyed me. “We’re not asking you to leave the condo, Axel. This is your home.”
And just like that, the pieces fell into place. “You’re not asking me to leave…but you’re going to.”
Ed winced. Then straightened his shoulders. “I’m going to give you my share. You’ll pretty much own it free and clear.”
“That’s hundreds of thousands of dollars.” I spun on Thornton. “You’re just gifting him the money?”
“It’s a loan.” Thornton slowly nodded. “We’ve bought a small house in Kerrisdale—”
“Kerrisdale?” My head ached. “Even the smallest of houses in Kerrisdale costs well over a million dollars.”
“Over two.” Ed murmured that, but I heard him clearly.
“Throwing your money around?” I glared at Thornton. I hated White savior shit. I didn’t want him saving Ed and I sure as shit didn’t want Hugo saving me—even if only from myself.
“I’m not throwing my money around .” Thornton laced his hand in Ed’s. “I’m making a life for us. I’ve rented out my loft in Portland. I’ve secured a work visa for Canada.”
“Just that easy?”
“Far from it.” Ed fidgeted. “He’d be giving up a lot to come here.”
“Not really.” Thornton brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed Ed’s knuckles.
Don’t gag .
I wouldn’t. Because the gesture was sweet. And so…Thornton. He wasn’t the detached man we’d met nearly eight months ago. He was kind and gentle. His thoughtfulness knew no bounds. And, most importantly, he made my best friend so fucking happy. Ed was incandescent with joy.
I was happy for him. Truly. Except…we’d had a really good thing going for a long time. I didn’t know how I’d cope without him. “We can sell the condo.” Inwardly, I winced. Outwardly, I held my ground.
“Axel—”
I waved off his objection. “You should be able to contribute to your new life…even if he is richer than…” I floundered.
“Axel—”
Another slash of my hand through the air. “Yeah, it’s rude to talk about money. Except because of his money, you don’t need me anymore—” My voice caught. “I have to go.”
I bolted.
Well, I went to the front door, shoved my feet in my shoes, and searched for my keys.
“Axel, we need to talk.” Ed’s voice was laced with concern.
“No, we really don’t. Ah here they are.” I grabbed my keys, double-checked my phone was in my pocket, then unlocked the door.
“Axel.” This time, Thornton spoke.
I blinked several times before meeting his gaze.
“Are you okay? Should you be driving?”
Shooting back a comment about it being none of his business died on my lips. He loved Ed. He would give a shit about me because if something happened to me, Ed would be devastated. Even in my muddled brain, I was able to piece that much together.
I took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I just…need some time. I’ve got my phone, okay? I’ll be back…later. Don’t worry.”
“Axel.” Ed’s voice carried a worry I remembered well. I hadn’t heard that tone in a long time because I’d been okay for a long time.
“I’m okay, Ed.” I met his gaze. “I don’t feel the need for a drink. Or a hit. I’d never endanger my sobriety.” I blinked, then met Thornton’s concerned gaze. “I swore on Kyesha’s grave that I’d never…and I won’t.” I opened the door, not waiting for a response, and left.
The elevator ride down felt like it took forever. I’d never actually been to Kyesha’s grave in Portland, but I knew Thornton would understand I wasn’t being literal. And hopefully he and Ed would understand.
I waved to our concierge as I headed out into the warm day. Cursing my stupidity, I strode to the first sunglasses store I could find. I paid way too much, but the relief was instantaneous as I stepped back into the bright sunshine. Looking dorky was the least of my worries, and I made my way down Hastings Street. The homeless situation was still bad in Vancouver, even as the city had attempted to sweep people off the street. Without anywhere for them to go, however, they kept coming back.
Passing Carnegie Library on my way through the intersection of Hastings and Main, I smiled to myself. Carnegie had been closest to our home, but Ed always dragged me to Library Square because, frankly, a different caliber of people. Rarely did the homeless congregate in Library Square. Instead most of the patrons were student, seniors, children, and people who lived nearby. Lived on the Westside of Vancouver. A million miles from the Eastside. At least wealth-wise. I continued down Hastings Street, trying to ignore the drug addicts, homeless, and those who were simply destitute.
Over and over, I thought about the song I composed back in high school. About feeling at home with the inhabitants of this part of town. A song, apparently, that Hugo still had.
I hadn’t listened to the CD he’d given me. I’d managed to look through the song list and had cringed over and over again. A couple of the songs I didn’t even remember. Most, though, I had. Memories of the unrequited love songs hit the hardest. They’d been the cheesiest. Because they’d been about Hugo. Only I hadn’t known he was gay. Or married to a man who turned out to be a douchebag.
Are you any better with what you’ve done with your life?
Ouch.
True.
But ouch.
Eventually, I stepped beyond the Downtown Eastside and made my way through to East Vancouver. The west was mostly towers with a smattering of homes between Cambie Street and Stanley Park. The east was some low-rise buildings mixed with plenty of houses. Small houses as well as ones torn down and replaced by monstrosities.
Still, I walked. When I’d left the condo, I hadn’t been certain where I was going or what I was going to wind up doing. By chance I’d grabbed running shoes instead of a more stylish pair of boots. As my legs ate up the miles, that choice felt providential.
Eventually, I turned off Hastings and headed down Victoria Drive. Just a couple of streets later, I hung a left and continued eastward down Turner Street. I’d never been here, of course. Never would’ve had a reason to. Vancouver itself was a sprawling city. Add the other cities close by and the Vancouver region was substantial.
I stopped on a patched sidewalk that really needed complete replacing and stared at the small house thirty feet away.
The squat, one-story house was slightly elevated with stairs leading up and basement windows visible. The garden was neatly trimmed and the one tree appeared to offer shade. The yard was fenced in with an adorable gate. The stone stairs showed a little wear, but the house carried a certain charm. A house I would’ve done anything to live in during my childhood. Our two-bedroom three-story walk-up had been…awful. Barely affordable with what my father made. My stay-at-home mother had been…well, not very helpful.
I tried to wipe out the memories I always did my best to repress. Thanks to Ed, I’d survived. Thanks to him and Pauletta, I had a new life. And yeah, Ed was leaving. For a better life. But he wasn’t leaving Grindstone. He wasn’t abandoning me—no matter how I chose to frame this departure. I could wish him well and help him pack or I could sulk and be a baby about it. Although the sulking option was tempting, in my heart, I knew I wouldn’t. I loved him too much to make this all about me—no matter how much it felt like it was.
The gate swung open when I undid the latch. Carefully, I closed it up again. Slowly, I took in the entire space. Small. Cozy. But charming.
I ascended the stairs and stopped at the door. I wasn’t expected. I didn’t even know if anyone was at home. If there might be a guest. Or even if my presence would be welcome.
Still, I knocked.
And waited.
I had my hand raised to knock again when the door opened. “Can I come in?” If someone else was here, I’d just deal with the consequences.
“This doesn’t mean anything.”
And maybe if I repeated the words enough, they might actually be true.
Yeah, right.