Chapter Nineteen
VINCENT STARED at his phone with a frown, completely willing to blame it for the fact there were no new messages from Jasper.
It was still early, far too early to be awake on a Saturday, but having his weekend disrupted meant no Jasper in his bed, which meant he’d slept as poorly as usual.
He knew he shouldn’t read more into a text than what was there, but Jasper’s last message seemed off.
And since he definitely knew he shouldn’t assume the worst, he sent a text asking if Jasper was feeling better and if he needed anything.
That done, he dragged himself out of bed and dressed. With his weekend plans shot, he took his time making breakfast and drained three cups of coffee. Not like there wasn’t plenty of work he could do, but he wasn’t feeling it.
His phone chimed when he was settling on the sofa, debating on a movie or a game, and he immediately checked the message. He raised an eyebrow at the single-word text from Jasper.
No
He tossed his phone aside so he didn’t immediately respond, letting his head fall against the back of the sofa.
It didn’t mean anything, even if it felt like Jasper was pushing him away.
It didn’t have to be a bad sign. Maybe he was trying not to be clingy.
He let out a slow breath, but then he was up and moving before he’d fully decided on what to do.
Two and a half hours later, he found himself knocking on Jasper’s door, a large bowl of hot homemade chicken noodle soup in hand.
Keith answered the door mid-yawn, still in a T-shirt and boxers, and squinted at Vincent in confusion. “What happened?”
“Jasper said he was sick,” he replied, lifting the bowl a bit.
A long, drawn-out silence followed that.
“Huh,” Keith finally said, turning and motioning Vincent to follow.
He bypassed the kitchen and headed upstairs, where he knocked on the second door.
“Jas, you in there?” he asked, glancing at Vincent and pointing for him to stop where he’d be out of sight of the door.
That wasn’t foreboding in the least. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and shifted his hold on the soup as the door cracked open.
“What?”
“You sick?”
“No, why?”
Vincent tensed and somehow kept himself from stalking forward.
Keith raised an eyebrow at Jasper with a frown. “You sure? Why aren’t you with Vincent?”
“Fuck off,” Jasper snapped. “It’s none of your business.”
“But it is mine,” Vincent said, managing to keep his voice steady.
Why Jasper had felt the need to lie to him was something that would need to be addressed, but that wasn’t the bigger issue right now.
He breathed through the anger twisting his stomach, the silence from the other side of the door speaking volumes.
Keith shot Jasper a look that clearly said Good luck digging yourself out of this one and stepped back.
Jasper sucked in an audible breath, then stepped out of his room. His eyes landed on the bowl, and he glanced up in confusion, though he quickly turned his attention to the floor. “I said I didn’t need anything.”
Vincent fought down an incredulous laugh. “That’s what you’re going with?” He waited a moment for Jasper to offer anything else, an excuse or explanation—anything—but Jasper stared at the floor with a stubborn set to his shoulders.
He was well-versed in the signs of someone who wasn’t willing to talk, but he couldn’t understand what had happened. He’d been sure things were going well, that they’d settled their misunderstandings and moved on, but maybe he’d missed something.
It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
He stepped closer to hand over the soup at the same time another door opened down the hall. He glanced up and met Matt’s eyes with the same sinking dread he felt every time they met.
“The fuck?”
“I’m leaving,” Vincent said, not at all willing to stick around an openly hostile environment.
Jasper could reach out to him when he was ready to talk.
Or not. He didn’t like the thought of Jasper cutting things off without even an explanation, but if that was how he wanted to play this, they wouldn’t have made it past a second contract anyway.
Before he could even get to the stairs, Keith poked his head out of his room, where he’d obviously been listening. “Or maybe you two could finally put this shit behind you.”
Vincent hesitated and glanced at Matt. He’d offered an apology years ago, and Matt had made it abundantly clear he would never forgive or forget.
“You’re a fucking cuntass bitch,” Matt snarled at Keith.
Then he turned his attention to Vincent, his gaze snagging on Jasper.
His expression shifted with sadistic delight, and Vincent braced himself to have the entire story laid out for everyone.
“But sure. Jas deserves to know what he’s getting into. ”
“Matt,” Vincent said tightly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you what you wanted—”
“You think I give a fucking shit about that?” Matt yelled, slamming his fist against the wall hard enough a picture frame fell and shattered on the floor. “You fucking. Left. Me,” he snarled. “I let you tie me up, and then you left me there. Did you really think no one would find me like that?”
“I—What?” No, that wasn’t what happened. “I untied you.”
Matt laughed and stepped forward, the broken glass crunching beneath his socked feet.
“No you fucking did not.” He stopped in front of Vincent, leaning close and pitching his voice low enough Vincent could barely hear him.
“Do you know how many guys found me like that? Three. And they were all too happy to do what you were too fucking chickenshit to do.”
No. He’d untied Matt before leaving him in that room. He’d been sure of that. Except he’d been so drunk he didn’t even remember getting from that room to his car, and he’d never understood the depth of Matt’s hatred and anger.
Vincent flinched, nausea quickly slicing through his disbelief. “Matt,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Die and go to hell!” Matt shoved past him and down the stairs, with Keith hurrying after him.
He clutched the banister for balance, struggling to get a decent breath. He swallowed hard, forcing down the roiling emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
When he looked up, Jasper was still in his doorway, watching him with wide eyes. How much of that had he heard?
Not that it mattered. Whatever he’d done to make Jasper distance himself from him paled in comparison to Matt’s bombshell.
Fuck, he wouldn’t even want a contract with himself right now.
“I’ll consider our contract void,” he managed to say.
He could at least spare Jasper the trouble of ending it himself.
He stepped back, nearly tripping down the stairs when his feet refused to work properly.
He barely got the door to his car open, but it was probably a good thing he couldn’t get the key in the ignition.
His fingers refused to cooperate, enough so that the keys finally clattered to the floorboard, and he couldn’t bring himself to try again.
He gripped the steering wheel and pressed his forehead against it, struggling to keep his breathing even.
All these years he’d blamed himself for hurting Matt and ruining their friendship, and he’d never understood how much damage he’d done.
He never should have let Matt talk him into tying him up.
Even drunk he’d known it wouldn’t satisfy either of them.
Matt didn’t submit easily, and Vincent had never been interested in anything less than a full-time lifestyle.
But he never would have left Matt there without untying him.
Never would have left him naked and powerless. At a frat party of all things.
He remembered reaching for the ties, pulling the knots free. But nearly every other memory of that night was a black nothingness or a blur, and there was little more than flashes of sense memory or disconnected images from the moment he left the party to waking in the hospital.
The sickening self-loathing he’d felt when he learned his accident had nearly killed someone returned with a vengeance. Somehow it was even worse now, fueled by a decade of ignorance and the fact Matt was living with that trauma because of Vincent’s careless mistake.
He should have died in that accident. There was no reason he should have survived.
He didn’t deserve to be alive. He certainly didn’t deserve to be free, with a nice home and thriving business, all because of his grandfather’s money and expensive lawyers.
Once he’d healed enough to be discharged, he’d completed his mandatory counseling while finishing his degree at Oxford.
It was only when he’d returned to the States with Adam in tow that he’d found Dr. Cohn to ensure he never reached that low point again.
Footsteps smacked against the pavement, and he lifted his head to find Jasper standing near the car.
“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out rough.
“I’m leaving.” He swiped his arm across his face and fumbled for the keys with one hand, tugging the door shut with the other.
He looked up again when the door didn’t shut, eyeing the hand gripping the top in confusion.
Jasper pulled the door open farther and stepped around it, expression somewhere close to furious. “What do you mean the contract is void?”
Vincent pulled back, unsure how to respond to that as he struggled to switch his focus from Matt to Jasper. “It’s fine,” he finally said. “You don’t need to worry about it. I won’t contact you anymore.”
For some reason that only seemed to piss Jasper off further, but a moment later his expression shattered. “Just like that?”
Fuck. He apparently couldn’t do anything right today. “Trying to keep a contract when one party isn’t committed is a breeding ground for resentment and abuse. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Who said I wasn’t committed?”