Chapter 14
14
GAVIN
I would never tell him, but I was relieved Beck had come back for me—even though he fucking abandoned me.
He tricked me, then just left me there in that room.
The fear that had consumed me when he turned and walked away was unexpected, unwelcome, and soul-crushing. I couldn’t stop myself from begging him not to leave me. I felt so betrayed, in that moment. I didn’t even have the energy to be angry about it, I was just terrified of being alone again.
But I’d be damned if I let him ever see how much it hurt for him to just leave me there.
I was never going back to that hospital. Fuck the psychiatry appointment. Beck couldn’t make me do shit.
All they’d done was poke and prod and peel and pierce until all my insides were outside and I had nothing left.
What do you do when you’re feeling sad, angry, or hurt?
Have you ever felt like hurting yourself?
Have you ever tried to hurt yourself?
Have you ever been diagnosed with a psychiatric disorder?
How would you rate your current mental health?
Do you use alcohol or drugs?
And because I didn’t care about anything anymore, I’d just answered honestly. In hindsight, that was a mistake.
Something was placed on my chest, and I moved my arm away from my eyes.
The prick had gotten me a burger even though I told him I wasn’t hungry.
My stomach growled.
Beck didn’t say anything, just sat down and started flipping through channels. He landed on some action movie and unwrapped his burger.
“Can you just fuck off and leave me alone?” I said. Why the fuck was he in here with me? Why the fuck had he even come back for me? Why had he brought me back to his house? Why did he even care about what happened to me? Was it just because of his dad? Didn’t he hate me enough to not do any of this shit?
Beck was almost done with his burger in three bites. He said, “No,” around a mouthful of food, not even looking at me. He chewed, swallowed, then said, “You should eat something, you haven’t eaten anything all day.”
Anger flared through me, quick and hot, and I threw the burger on the ground.
“What are you, my fucking mother? Fuck off, Beck. Being gay doesn’t make you a woman, so stop nagging like one.”
I couldn’t stop the words. I wanted him to throw me out. I needed him to fuck off so I could go lick my wounds alone.
No, more than anything, I needed him to hate me, because I couldn’t handle the way he was treating me. I didn’t deserve it, and I needed to remind him just how undeserving I was. How awful I was. I would never be deserving of Beck, and I needed him to see that. Needed him to understand that he couldn’t save me. No one could.
But god, did I hate myself for saying it. I was such a fucking piece of shit. It was like I honestly couldn’t stop myself from continuing to be the awful person I was, and that was terrifying.
Beck stilled, then slowly wrapped up what was left of his burger and set it down on the coffee table. He wiped his hands on a napkin, threw it near the burger, muted the TV, then stood up.
I wanted him to beat the shit out of me. To use those fists to make me hurt.
He stalked toward me as my heart pounded in anticipation, tension radiating from his body and coiling around an almost palpable rage, his eyes like the stormiest sea at midnight. He grabbed a fistful of my shirt as he leaned over me and got in my face until all I could see was a menacing, furious Beck.
“I know you’ve been through a lot of shit, I know you haven’t had an easy life, and I know your dad did something to you to make you like this. But every time you open your mouth and say shit like that, those are choices you are making. You are choosing to be an asshole. Your dad is nowhere in sight, and you still say ignorant shit that you never would have said before. You could choose to be decent, and yet, you don’t. I know you’re hurting in your very soul, Gavin, but don’t you ever— ever —say that again in this house.” He stared hard at me for a long moment, then leaned in until his mouth was pressed against my ear and said in a bitter voice, “And I think we both know why you keep saying shit like that.”
That last line sent a shockwave through my system, stunning me into immobility as his words slammed into me, each one harder than the last, until I felt like I was cracking open. Except there was nothing inside, nothing to spill out.
But it was the mention of my dad, of Beck knowing that he was the reason I was like this, that had me choking up. Tears welled in my eyes without warning, blurring him in my vision, and I grabbed his hand and screamed in frustration. Shoved at his chest. He was immovable. He snatched my wrists and pushed them into my sternum, holding them tight and pressing me into the cushion.
“Stop it,” he said roughly, voice thick with emotion. “Stop fucking fighting me, Gavin! I’m not your fucking enemy! I’m just trying to help you! Let me fucking help you, you goddamn stubborn asshole!”
I could barely breathe around the shame suffocating me, the sobs that were wracking through me, each inhale a violent wheeze that ended on the most humiliating whine. I turned my face into the cushion to my left, drowning my agony in velvet.
My entire body was shaking with the force of it, and I was so lost in my own anguish that I didn’t even notice when Beck let go of my wrists. At some point, the weight on me was gone, so I turned my torso into the couch and just cried. I couldn’t stop.
Something heavy and soft was draped over me, but I didn’t move. I didn’t care. I just wanted this hurt to go away. I wanted to keep my face buried and pretend no one was around to see me like this.
I wished he’d never fucking found me. I was doing just fine not feeling a goddamn thing until he came along and blew it all up.
I didn’t know when I fell asleep, but I was alone when I woke up. My foot was throbbing and I could feel the dried tears on my face. I was turned toward the TV, and it was still on, still muted, the soft glow shining on the polished wood of the coffee table.
I reached for the remote to turn it off so I could sit in the dark, but I only ended up making it slide off the table and clatter noisily to the ground.
I was too tired to go get it. Too drained.
Beck walked into the room a moment later, paused to turn a tall lamp on, then came over to me and perched himself on the coffee table.
I stared at his hands. They were clasped loosely over one thigh, and I could see a vein running between two tendons in his right hand.
“Hey,” he said softly.
I said nothing.
“You hungry?”
I was starving.
“Anya made dumplings last night. Or I could heat up your burger.”
He was relentless, I was exhausted, so I just gave in. “Burger,” I whispered. My throat felt raw.
“Okay. I’ll get you some water, too. And I think it’s time for another painkiller.”
I wished he would stop talking to me like that. Even after what I’d said, he still treated me with a kindness that made it hard to breathe.
Without waiting for a response, Beck got up and left the room. He came back a few minutes later with my food and a bottle of water, set them on the coffee table, pushed it right up to the couch, then left the room again.
The urge to call him back was strong.
Instead, I tried sitting up a little, pulling my arms out of the blanket that Beck had no doubt put on me. I couldn’t resist grabbing a fistful and bringing it to my nose.
It smelled like him. Like stupid ocean breezes and dumb fucking sunsets.
I ate the burger that had no ketchup, drank the entire bottle of water, then stared mindlessly at the TV.
My gaze shifted to the right when I saw Beck walk out of the kitchen. He had another bottle of water. He glanced at the empty wrapper and bottle on the coffee table, then pushed them aside to sit.
“Here,” he said, handing me the water. Then he held out his hand palm up, a pill sitting on his fingers.
I took the pill and put it in my mouth, opened the water, and drank.
Beck said, “You can sleep in my bed while you’re here. It’s too much of a hassle to get you up and down the stairs. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
My stomach turned over. “No.”
“Yes.”
“I want to stay here.”
He sighed, then ran a rough hand through his hair. “Can you just fucking listen? For once? I’m so fucking tired of fighting with you, Gavin.”
I didn’t want to sleep anywhere near him. I didn’t want to be near him, period, but he insisted on playing the part of my savior, and there was little I could do to stop him.
No, there was nothing I could do.
“Great, let’s go,” he said when I didn’t say anything. He stood up and pushed the table away from the couch, then moved the blanket off me, folded it, and set it on the table.
I let him help me up and hand me my crutches. I stopped by the bathroom, then hobbled to his room. By the time my butt hit the bed, I was exhausted, even though I’d only been awake less than an hour. My limbs felt like concrete and my mind was getting fuzzier by the second, thanks to the painkiller.
Beck pulled the covers down without jostling my foot, and when he started to draw them over me, I snapped, “I got it.”
He arched one of those perfect brows at me, then turned and said, “I’ll be right back,” as he walked out the door.
I was hating every second of this. I was trapped in Beck’s house, at Beck’s mercy, and it was all my own damn fault.
I pulled the covers higher and turned on my side, away from the door.
Closed my eyes.
The nightmares were bad that night.
When I woke up, sunlight was streaming through the blinds and I was alone. I really needed to pee, too. I didn’t know where Beck was, didn’t know what time it was, didn’t know if he had a job or a boyfriend or what he did every day.
I didn’t know anything about him anymore.
I shoved the covers off and tried to ignore the pain in my foot. I didn’t see the crutches anywhere. What the fuck, Beck? He’d stranded me on his bed with fucking nothing.
“Fucking asshole,” I muttered.
Fine. I would just…crawl or something. Or use the walls to help me balance.
Bracing a hand on the nightstand, I slid my uninjured foot to the floor. Started testing the weight I could put on it. When I felt like maybe I could successfully do this without falling, I moved around the nightstand and put my hand on the wall.
I made it all the way to the door before the pain got to be too much. I dropped onto my hands and knees, a hoarse shout exploding from my chest when the impact rocketed down to my foot. I slammed a fist into the floor over and over again as I yelled in frustration. I tried to crawl forward and just collapsed to the ground, my upper body in the hall. The cool wood felt good against my cheek.
I heard him before I saw him, crashing through the house like a gorilla.
“What the fuck!” Beck yelled, stomping toward me from down the hallway. “Jesus Christ, what are you doing? Are you that fucking stubborn or just that fucking stupid?”
“Fuck you,” I wheezed out.
“Where the fuck are your crutches, why would you do this? Fucking idiot. I really don’t understand you,” he muttered.
He started to move past me, but I grabbed onto the ankle of his pants. The pain was starting to become overwhelming, so I begged, “Please, please give me the painkillers, it hurts so fucking much. Please, Beck.”
I’d never felt more humiliated in my entire life.
He paused when I spoke. “Fuck,” he said, then started running down the hall.
He sounded like a herd of elephants.
He disappeared around the corner, and I just clenched my hands into fists and gritted my teeth.
I really was as pathetic as my dad said I was. No wonder he left me.
Beck was back ten seconds later, the bag of pills and a bottle of water in his hands. He kneeled by my head, set the water by his knee, and opened the bag.
“I need you to sit up a little, can you do that?” he asked, sitting back on his heels. I heard the pop of a cap, the rattle of pills.
“No,” I answered honestly. I couldn’t fucking do anything except endure the pain. It was like someone was drilling tiny burning needles into my foot, shredding my nerves into nothing. It was all-consuming.
“Okay,” he said. Then his hands were under my arms, turning me over and dragging me up his knees like I weighed nothing until my head was basically on his fucking crotch. I was about to bitch when he pulled me higher. His arms came around me with the water bottle. He spun the cap off, reached behind him, then pressed his fingers to my mouth. I opened, intending on biting them right the fuck off, when he slipped a pill inside, thumb brushing against my tongue. A rush of heat pulsed in my groin as my stomach muscles tightened.
He pressed the water to my lips and tilted it. I drank and drank and drank, trying not to think about his thumb on my tongue or how warm he was at my back. When I mustered up the will to lift my hand and take the bottle from him, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. He brushed his thumb over the back of my hand in an absent gesture, fingers flexing on my skin.
My knuckles were bloody from where I’d punched the floor.
“I leave you alone for five minutes. Five fucking minutes, Gavin! Are you trying to break your fucking hands, too? Jesus Christ.” He set the water aside and wrapped his other arm around my torso, his hand coming to rest on my left pec, fingers dangerously close to my nipple. He was still holding my wrist in his other hand, still moving his thumb along my skin. I felt his breath against my hair, felt his warmth through his clothes, and the closeness of him, the way he smelled, the way he was curled over me, the constant concern and care, were all too much. It was even more overwhelming than the pain. My cock had started thickening in these stupid, thin shorts that I still hadn’t changed out of, and I thought I might die of embarrassment.
“Stop touching me,” I hissed, ripping my hand from his grip. I rolled off his thighs and grunted when I hit the floor facedown.
“Fine,” he grated out. “This is how you wanna be? Let’s do it your way.” He stood up and grabbed a fistful of my shirt right between my shoulder blades and started dragging me down the hall to the bathroom. The stupid hardwood floor was as smooth as fucking marble, making it way too easy for him and I hoped my cast scratched it right the fuck up. “This is where you were going, right?” he said, breathing heavily. In a burst of rage, I swiped my hand at his ankle, caught it, and pulled, tripping him. He fell to the ground hard, but his heel came up and nailed me right under the jaw, making my teeth clack together. My tongue got caught between them and I immediately tasted blood.
“Fuck!” I shouted, rolling onto my back as pain exploded in my mouth. I started punching the wall beside me, quick, hard jabs that drew some of the focus away from my tongue.
“You little?—”
I almost forgot how fast he was. In less than a second, Beck was sitting on top of me and had my wrists pinned to the ground on either side of my head. His chest was heaving, his cheeks flushed, and there was a small trickle of blood coming from a cut on his forehead.
He was putting his full weight on me, so fucking heavy I could barely breathe.
“You literally have no fucking chill,” he panted, staring down at me. Trying to move at all was not possible, so I glared back up at him. “What’s it gonna take, huh? What’s it gonna take to get you to be a fucking normal human being who can interact with other people without resorting to violence and insults?”
He started to lean down, and I stopped breathing as a roaring in my ears began making every other sound fuzzy and dull, until all I could hear were the frantic beats of my own heart. My eyes darted to his lips. They were pulled down in a scowl, moving closer, and I was so convinced that he was about to kiss me that I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Don’t!”
It startled him back a few inches, and his brows drew together in confusion. “Don’t what?” He let go of my wrists and rubbed his hands down his face, looking exhausted all of a sudden. “Can you just chill the fuck out? Please? I have work today and I don’t really have time for this shit.”
I was so fucking embarrassed that I could feel the heat of my blush as it spread across my cheeks, my chest, my neck. My ears felt like they were on fire. And having him sit on me like this was more than humiliating, because I could feel his dick and balls through his sweatpants. They were touching my stomach and our clothes might as well not even be there. He was looking down at me with tired eyes, dark circles under those midnight blues, not having a single clue what he was doing to me. The torture he was putting me through.
Or maybe he did, and this was payback.
“Get off me,” I wheezed. My body was humming with an electric current that was only getting stronger the longer he was on me, and I fucking hated it.
Beck stood up, scowl back in place, then disappeared into the bedroom. He came back with my crutches in one hand—did he fucking hide them?—then held out the other for me to take.
I didn’t want to touch him. I already felt like I was about to combust.
“Just take my fucking hand, Gavin, it won’t magically make you gay if you touch me,” he growled. “That only happens when you suck your first dick.”
Because he was being such an asshole, I took his hand and let him haul me up.
He trailed me to the bathroom and I slammed the door in his face.
“Excuse me, motherfucker?”
“I said, you’re coming with me.” Beck sighed as I gaped at him. He had a bandaid on his forehead. He looked kind of stupid, and I felt kind of bad.
Fine, I felt really bad. Not that I told him that.
“No,” I said, rolling over to face the windows. I’d gone right back to the bed after using the bathroom because I just wanted to sleep all day. The painkiller had dulled everything into muted tones, and it was wonderful.
“It’s not up for debate, I’m not leaving you here alone. We’ll stop by the hospital for your appointment, and then you’re coming to work with me. You can sit in my office and watch something on the computer or be out on the floor with me. Those are your choices.”
I threw the pillow across the room. “I’m not going back to the hospital! You’re just gonna leave me there again, you fucking asshole.”
Instead of sounding angry, I just sounded whiny and scared.
I heard a drawer open and close, and then Beck came into view as he rounded the bed and sat on the edge near my feet. He was holding clothes. What, for me? He’d showered earlier and I could smell him from here. He wanted me to take a bath, said they had a really nice tub in the basement, and I told him to go fuck himself. I wouldn’t be able to get in or out on my own, and I wasn’t letting him touch me while I was naked. I’d rather live in my own filth than suffer the humiliation of getting hard around him and having him see.
“Gavin,” he said softly, making me want to kick him. I preferred it when he was fighting back. I couldn’t handle all this sincerity. “If I could have stayed with you for the assessment, I would have. It wasn’t done to add to your hurt. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand, but you never would have done it on your own. Whether you believe it or not, I’m trying to help you.”
I closed my eyes. “Why? Why the fuck do you even care what happens to me?”
There was a pause, and then he said, “Because no one else does.”
His words were true, and it was a truth I’d known for years.
So why did it hurt so much?
A deeper part of me wanted him to care for other reasons. For him to say that he still loved me like he had back then, and would always love me.
I thought I’d killed that part a long time ago. I’d definitely killed his love for me. I’d made sure of that, and I kept making sure it stayed dead.
“Who’s that girl?” I asked, feeling a sudden rise of bitter jealousy. I bet he loved her .
“Who, Anya?” he asked.
I opened my eyes to find him watching me closely. There was a beam of sunlight hitting the side of his face, making his right eye appear lighter than it was. “Yeah,” I grunted.
“She’s my stepsister.”
I clenched my jaw as something caustic burned in my gut. “That’s nice. At least one of us got to be happy.”
Fuck. I hadn’t meant to say that. I didn’t even want to feel the resentment that was winding through me, but I couldn’t ignore it. It was thick and dark and malicious, desperate to be known.
Beck’s hand moved toward my leg, his lips parted, and then he curled his fingers into a fist and dropped it on the bed. “Gavin,” he said, his eyes quickly darting between mine, searching for something. Who knew what. “That’s not what—after we…after your dad…” He swallowed, the muscles in his thick throat rippling, then stood abruptly. “Fuck!” he shouted, throwing the clothes on the floor and stalking out of the room.
He left the door open and I could hear his heavy footsteps as he moved down the hallway.
I wanted him to come back and finish what he was about to say.
I wanted him to leave me here for good and let me rot.
I wasn’t sure which one I wanted more.