Chapter 16
16
BECK
G avin was a fucking nightmare.
He fought me at every step, always had some biting remark, and he was starting to really fucking stink because he refused to bathe.
He was like a petulant child that only knew how to get attention by throwing tantrums. He should’ve known by now that he wouldn’t get his way doing that.
He wouldn’t get his way, period, because his way wasn’t working for him.
It had been three weeks since I’d found him flopping around in those holly bushes, and even though I was glad I’d found him, the frustration with his behavior was mounting higher every day.
I tried to tell myself that at least he was trying.
And he was. He was taking his medication. He hadn’t said another word about not wanting be here anymore. He was still seeing his therapist. Well, that was only because I basically dragged him to her office, pushed him into the chair and took his crutches as I sat outside the door.
And he hadn’t said anything even remotely homophobic or misogynistic again.
Fuck, the way he’d cried the day I brought him home from the hospital…it tore my heart into pieces. It was clear to me now that everything he did was because he was hurting. That everything he’d done in the past ten years was most likely a response to whatever his dad had done to him. It didn’t make it okay, not in the slightest, but it explained a whole hell of a lot. It told me that he hadn’t just woken up one morning and decided he hated me and all queer people.
Underneath all the anger and spite, he was just scared. Terrified. Of his dad, of himself, of the world. And knowing that…fuck, it honestly just made me feel guilty for not trying harder to reach him back then. Maybe I could’ve prevented this. Maybe I could’ve saved him.
Who knew if he’d ever take off this toxic armor he’d put on. It might be permanently embedded in his DNA at this point.
What a depressing fucking thought.
The scars on his back were all I could see when I closed my eyes at night. They felt like a testament to my own failure to help him that day. I should have pressed the matter more. I felt like being a kid was just an excuse, and I could have done so much more than I did. And it was eating me up inside, not knowing what happened to him. I kept imagining all the possibilities, but I thought that anything I could come up with was probably nowhere near the truth. Hopefully he was talking about it with his therapist, but I doubted that.
Neither one of us had mentioned the fact that it had been three weeks since his hospital visit and he was still here. The two weeks I’d promised to watch over him had come and gone, and I was reluctant to say anything. I knew it was because I felt like I could help him somehow, that I also needed to see for myself that he was okay. But I had no idea why he hadn’t just left.
Anya was ecstatic to have another person living with us. When I’d explained the state of Gavin’s mental health, she’d immediately started crying. I don’t think I’d ever met anyone with more empathy than her, and it wasn’t always to her benefit. No matter how many times I told her to avoid him, she didn’t listen. She was constantly baking and cooking for him, pestering him with question after question when he sat in the family room, trying to engage with him however she could, and I could see on his face how much he hated it. He usually just ignored her, but sometimes he would snap and tell her to fuck off.
Some things were getting better. Gavin was starting to have a little more energy, thank god. He was doing his work well, and I was grateful that Roman had apologized to him and toned it down. He knew who Gavin was and what he’d done two years ago, knew how he’d treated me in school, and I was sure that severely clouded his judgment of him. Most people in this town hated Gavin.
This past week, he’d started walking back and forth on his crutches out on the floor during his breaks as some form of exercise. I was glad to see it. But I was also afraid that he would hobble away one day and I would never see him again. I just hoped that he didn’t hate being here as much as he acted like he did, that he wanted to stay for a while longer.
But his attitude was shit, and I was getting tired of it. I’d told him we needed to talk the day he’d attacked me for no reason at the gym, but the few attempts I’d made to do just that ended with him walking out of the room.
Why the fuck couldn’t he talk to me? Did he really still hate me that much? I didn’t want to believe that, but it was in every look he gave me, every word he spat my way. I was starting to believe that he would never, ever change. That this was it for him.
I was so fucking sick of it.
“I’m not taking a fucking bath, Beck. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To see me all wet and naked?” he snarled at me.
It was weird that he’d phrased it that way. All wet and naked? If he hadn’t snarled the words, it might’ve been a come on.
“I’ve already seen you naked,” I reminded him, wearily rubbing my temples.
It was Sunday and Gavin and I were sitting at the table on the backyard patio.
When I first came out, he was just staring into space. But I was so relieved to see him sitting there; I didn’t know where he’d gone when I’d gotten out of the shower half an hour ago. I’d left him in the family room and he wasn’t there. A shock of panic had me running through the house, checking every single room and calling his name until Anya told me, “He’s outside, doofus.”
I felt like a fucking doofus.
“I’m not doing it,” he said.
“What about a shower?” He could probably stand long enough to do that. Plus, there was a handrail he could hold onto. “Not to be a dick, but you smell really fucking bad, Gavin.”
He didn’t say anything. Good, he was thinking about it.
We sat in silence for a while. The leaves were starting to turn color, and soon enough I’d be spending my Sundays raking and bagging them. A bird flew by, right in front of us, letting loose a tiny chirp. I watched Gavin out of the corner of my eye as his gaze followed that bird. It was almost…comfortable, just sitting out here with him. I could almost pretend that everything was okay.
Almost.
“What was I doing?” Gavin asked quietly.
I glanced over at him. “When?”
“When you found me.”
I studied his profile since he was just staring straight ahead into the trees. He had a full beard now because I wouldn’t give him a razor and he refused to let me shave him. It was thick and dark and made him look as wild as he acted. He was wearing my shirt—all the clothes he wore were mine—and it was just a touch too big on him. I could see goosebumps on his arms from the chill in the air, and I wanted to get him one of my sweatshirts, but I knew he wouldn’t take it.
“You were in someone’s bushes in their front yard. On Briar Street,” I said. “Do you remember how you got there?”
Gavin shook his head slowly, still not looking at me.
“Do you remember how you got those bruises?” It was a question that had been lingering in the back of my mind since I found him. Unanswered and disquieting. I’d bet good money someone had hurt him. Maybe even left him there without any clothes. Maybe even…Christ. The thought that someone had done that to him bothered me more than I wanted it to.
Except bothered wasn’t the right word, was it? I was enraged that someone had hurt him, had most likely taken advantage of his drunken state to inflict harm. I wanted to find whoever did it. I would find them.
Gavin didn’t shake his head. He didn’t nod. Just stared into the trees. After a minute or two, he shrugged and said, “Who knows.”
I think he had some idea.
“Did someone hurt you?” I asked gently.
He bit his lip and shifted in his chair. “Probably. And I probably deserved it,” he said, surprising me with the bitter resignation in his tone. Surprising me by actually answering my questions without a snarl or a glower.
“Where were you earlier in the evening?” I was going to make the most of his lack of abrasiveness and try to get everything out of him that I could.
Gavin shrugged. “A bar.”
There weren’t many bars in Gardiner. Four, at most. The closest one to the shelter was— “Shelby’s?”
His eyes cut to mine, the golden brown lighter in the sun. “Yeah.” Those eyes slid down my face, my neck, my chest. Then he turned his torso toward me and rested his elbows on the table. “So you, what, just happened to be driving by? You just happened to be the first one to stop and help me? Kinda convenient, don’t you think?”
I bristled at the accusation. “You think I’m lying? That I somehow knew when you’d be blackout drunk, knew you’d be at that exact house at that exact time and then made you come back here? To what end?” My blood was heating in my veins, and fuck, why did I always let him get to me? Why?
“You tell me,” he said.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. I shook my head. “You have to make everything—fucking everything —hard. It won’t hurt you to just have a normal conversation, Gavin. Can you put the claws away and talk to me without the anger and hostility? Can you do that? Because I’m trying really hard to be patient with you, but fuck, you don’t make anything easy.”
He looked at me—just looked—for a long time. I looked right back. And then he said, “I don’t want to use your shampoo. I want my own.”
I choked out a surprised laugh, then covered it with a cough when he glared at me. “Okay,” I said, happy that he was actually trying. “All right, princess. Let’s go to the store.”
I had to force myself not to hover by the bathroom door like a fucking creep after Gavin closed it in my face.
I wasn’t trying to be a creep, I was just worried he would fall and hurt himself. After we wrapped and sealed his cast in plastic, he’d all but growled at me that he was fine and told me to fuck off, and for a minute, I just stood there.
I forced myself to leave when the shower turned on. He wanted his privacy, and I had to respect that, so I went to my room and left the door open so I could hear in case he did fall.
His words from earlier popped into my head. All wet and naked .
Christ.
Did he hear himself when he talked?
But it made me think about the first day I’d brought him to work with me.
That morning.
When I’d left him alone for five minutes and he’d tried to get to the bathroom by himself.
When he was lying on my thighs. When my arm was wrapped around his chest. When I’d straddled him a few moments later. He was blushing so fucking hard, and maybe he just couldn’t breathe because I was sitting on him, but I didn’t think that was it. Not all of it, at least.
And then again at the gym, when he attacked me. He’d been hard as a fucking rock, and I wanted to know why. If it was because of me.
I wanted to tell him it was okay to be afraid, it was okay to be who he was, it was okay to be vulnerable sometimes. I wanted to tell him I would never hurt him, but that wasn’t something I could guarantee. It wouldn’t be a lie, not exactly; more a thin hope masquerading as truth.
Fuck, I was losing my fucking mind. Seventy-five percent of the time, he was his usual asshole self. But when he gave me those few moments of a different side of him, a softer side, something so similar to the boy I used to know, it only made me cling harder to the hope that I could still fucking help him.
I honestly hated myself for holding onto it so tightly. I was a fucking fool, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. It was all I’d wanted since he stopped being my friend. I just wanted him back.
In those moments when he dropped that toxic armor, I wanted to grab it and throw it into the hottest fire I could find. I wanted him to keep looking at me without any hint of anger, I wanted him to keep talking to me in softer tones with words that had no barbs.
It was wishful thinking that I shouldn’t be having at all, because despite the kiss we’d shared ten years ago, Gavin didn’t want anything to do with men.
Especially not me.
He probably blamed me for everything that happened to him from that moment forward.
After coming to understand that he’d been shaped by the things his dad had done—things that had hurt and terrified Gavin to the point of making him shake at the mere mention of his dad—I blamed myself. But there was nothing I could do to change the past. All I could do was try to help him now.
I heard a loud bang and sat up on the bed. Swung my feet onto the floor and listened.
He probably just knocked a bottle over. I couldn’t go running every time I thought he might need help. He wasn’t incapable and he didn’t like the help anyway.
I listened for a few minutes, but didn’t hear anything else except the faint sound of the shower.
I lay back down and crossed my arms over my head, trying to chill the fuck out, and closed my eyes.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before there was a knock at the door. I opened my eyes as Anya made her way over to me, her expression pinched with worry.
“What?” I said hoarsely, sitting up and running a hand over my hair. “What’s the matter?”
“I think something’s wrong with Gavin,” she said. “He’s been in the bathroom for a long time, and when I knocked, he didn’t respond.”
I was up off the bed in an instant, racing toward the bathroom with Anya at my heels as a sickening dread began clawing through me.
“Gavin!” I yelled, pounding on the door. I tried the knob, and of course he’d locked it. “Gavin!” I turned to Anya and said, “Go get the pin key. It’s in the drawer to the left of the silverware.” My voice was shaking, and so were my hands. I watched Anya race down the hall and disappear around the corner, then started pounding on the door again. “Gavin! Fucking answer me!”
A million different scenarios were tripping through my mind, each one worse than the last, and I was about to throw my shoulder into the door to break it down when Anya came careening around the corner. “Here,” she panted, handing me the key.
“Go wait in the kitchen,” I told her as I popped the lock out. For once, she didn’t argue.
When I threw the door open, expecting an awful sight, the relief that slammed into me almost brought me to my knees.
He was sitting on the shower floor as the water streamed down on him, his legs splayed out in front of him, forearms resting on his thighs, eyes open and fixed on me.
“What the fuck,” I said, closing the door behind me. He kept his eyes on mine as I walked slowly toward him—so he was here, he was present, I just had no idea what the fuck he was doing. I crouched by his feet and said, “Gavin, what are you doing?”
“Just sitting here,” he said, so quietly it was hard to hear over the running water. I got up and shut it off, then crouched near his feet again.
“Why are you just sitting here?”
His eyes trailed down my torso, moving all around, and then slowly made their way back to mine. “Because I fell and couldn’t get back up. So I decided to just sit here until you came to get me.”
My heart twisted at that. Because I’d fallen asleep and hadn’t come to get him. I knew I should’ve come when I heard that fucking bang.
Gavin was so… calm that it was freaking me out a little. “Okay,” I said slowly. “Well I’m here now. Do you want to get dried off and put some clothes on?”
He looked down at his soft cock, which I’d been trying not to look at, then back up at me. Something akin to a smirk played on his lips, and I had no idea what was happening right now.
“Sure,” he said. “Why not.”
“Did you hit your head when you fell?” I asked, because he was acting like it.
“No,” he said. “Just my hip.” He moved his hand until he was sliding his fingers down his left hip. He was still staring into my eyes, but I looked down when he started moving his fingers to his thigh, then toward his cock. His now half-hard cock.
I cut my eyes back to his and said tersely, “Stop it.” A wave of heat was spreading through my body, the shock of what he was doing holding me still.
“Stop what?” he whispered, tilting his head back against the tiles, exposing his beard-covered neck. His eyes were almost closed as he watched me, and I could see him moving his hand over himself.
He was fucking stroking his cock right in front of me.
A strangled sound erupted from my throat, and I went down on my knees as I grabbed his wrist, ripping his hand away from himself. “Don’t be a fucking bastard, Gavin.”
“Do you want to do it?” he asked, and I must’ve been hearing things because it sounded like there was a hopeful edge to his words. Had he found his painkillers and taken too many? What the fuck was he doing?
“No, I don’t want to fucking do it. Let’s go,” I growled, moving to stand. I was done with this.
He reached out with his other hand and squeezed his fingers around my shoulder, stopping me.
“Please?” he whispered, staring up into my eyes, begging me with his, and something inside me almost snapped.
Almost.
“No,” I tried to say firmly, but my voice was shaking too much. I wrapped my hands around his biceps and hauled him up with me. He grunted, his hands flying to my shoulders to stabilize himself, and in the next breath he was throwing his arms around my neck and plastering his body to mine.
All wet and naked.
He buried his face in my neck as my body thrummed with an electric heat, as my heart stopped beating and my lungs stopped working.
“Becky,” he whispered.
I shuddered against him, my breath shaking out of me. I set my trembling hands on his back as he clung to me. In less than thirty seconds, Gavin had started to unravel every tightly woven thread I’d sewn around my heart. Pieces of memories tangled with the strongest emotions I’d ever experienced began slipping through the loosened fabric, tumbling into the darkness and sparking the dying embers of an abandoned fire.
“Please don’t leave me again.” It was a broken whisper that buried itself in my soul, and I crushed him to me.
“I won’t,” I said raggedly, bringing my hand up to cradle the back of his head. I pressed my cheek against his clean hair and inhaled. “I promise, I won’t.”
“Okay,” he murmured.
Then he went limp in my arms.
Turns out I was right and Gavin had found his fucking painkillers. I’d been keeping count of them, and he only took three, which wasn’t anything to worry about as far as medical emergencies went.
I was fucking pissed. Beyond pissed—but not at him. Not at all. Of course he would try to escape a reality he hated in any way he could.
I was angry at myself for not hiding them better. For not being more vigilant. For not seeing the signs leading up to this. But I wasn’t Gavin’s keeper, and no matter what I did, it wouldn’t change the fact that he was suffering from something I had no cure for. He had to want to change. He had to want to live.
But I’d be damned if I let him destroy his life on my watch. I wanted to handcuff him to the bed again, but that was what had gotten us into this mess in the first place.
“Are you sure he’s okay?” Anya whispered, glancing at Gavin again. After he passed out, I carried him back to the bedroom and just put him under the covers naked. He could dress his own damn self when he woke up. Images of him stroking his cock and gazing into my eyes with a hot intensity that set my blood on fire were seared into my mind. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing him like that.
“Yeah. He’ll be fine.” I’d looked up the dosage online and called my doctor, too; he would need to take ten times the amount he’d taken for it to be dangerous. He’d just gotten an extra buzz. “He’s just sleeping it off,” I told her. “Why don’t you go finish your homework, I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“All right,” she said. “You’ll let me know if he’s not okay, right?” Her earnest eyes searched mine, and Christ, I had no idea why she was so taken with him when he was basically a dick to her.
“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” I said softly.
She smiled. “Good. And I thought I’d try to make chicken parmesan for dinner, you good with that?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. Was it just a coincidence? Or had Gavin told her that was his favorite meal? I sincerely doubted that. The only words he said to her were fuck off and eat shit .
“Yeah,” I said. “Sounds really good, actually.”
“Cool!” She turned on her heel and left, gently shutting the door behind her.
“Goddammit,” I muttered, hanging my head in my hands.
Everything he’d said and done had shaken me to my core. He’d unearthed a maelstrom of raw, broken feelings that chafed against my soul, and I felt like my entire world had been upended.
There was a current of uneasiness snaking its way slowly beneath my skin because I knew—I just fucking knew—nothing was going to be the same after that. Not for me, at least. That twisted tug of war inside me was pulling toward those brighter memories, and their light was beginning to overshadow a decade of animosity.
Now I wouldn’t be able to even look at him without seeing those honey-brown eyes begging me to touch him. And the way he’d whispered the nickname he’d given me, the anguish and desperation in his voice when he’d begged me to never leave him…
I lifted my head and looked at Gavin. I’d only pulled the covers up to his waist so I could watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. His face was turned toward the windows, one hand resting on his stomach. He was always facing the windows, as if he wanted to be out there more than anything but was too afraid.
All I wanted to do right now was climb in beside him and curl my body around his, shield him from everything that wanted to hurt him. Tell him he could turn everything around, that he didn’t have to live like he’d been living, that I would be here for him if he wanted me to be. That he didn’t have to be such an asshole all the time, not with me, because I would never judge him or hurt him on purpose.
He wasn’t anywhere near ready for words like that, and I wasn’t sure if he’d ever be.
And, because that thought spawned a wretched sorrow in my heart that weighed more than I could carry right now, I stood up, went to the bed, and climbed on top of the covers. I wrapped an arm around his chest and slid the other one under his pillow, resting my head above his.
It felt more right than anything had in a long, long time. Holding Gavin was a muscle memory, like magnets snapping together once they were close enough, and there was immense comfort in the easy way I locked into place around him.
I didn’t care if he attacked me when he woke up.
Right now, I just needed this.