Chapter 17 #2
“Because I had to wait for a place at the clinic to become available. I wanted him safe and under my eye. He couldn’t be left alone, so I employed a companion, someone versed in Tyler’s problems. And we waited it out.”
I feel my cheeks flush deep red with embarrassment. “Oh my god ,” I groan. “I can’t even…”
“What is it?” he asks urgently, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. I look at him, and he stops, his face bare and almost naked with some deep feeling. “Whatever it is, I will help.”
“ Why ?” I shout, and it’s so loud that two birds burst out of a bush nearby and fly away.
I take a calming breath. It doesn’t work so I take a few more. He waits, watching me with that searching look that shouldn’t affect me so much. I want to step into his arms and forget everything but him.
“Why do you want to help me?”
“What do you mean?” He looks startled.
I spread my hands. “Well, you must think terribly of me. I sold my body to you, and that’s all you ever wanted from me.
But I kept trying to make it something that it wasn’t.
And then when you finally got free of me, you have to turn around and rescue my brother.
Not to mention having to send your chauffeur to take me home.
I must seem like a chaotic liability to you. ”
“ No .” His voice is loud and impassioned.
I startle when he drags me into his arms. It’s such a sweet painful relief to feel his body against mine, to smell his scent, and to feel his strength.
Tears fill my eyes, and for a precious few seconds, I rest against him.
His breathing is fast and jerky, and he clutches me so tight it’s like he wants to meld us together.
“No,” he says again. He pulls away a little to look at me. This close, I can see the navy striations in his beautiful eyes. “Never. I could never think badly of you .”
The emphasis on the word you is almost forlorn and my eyes grow hot. “Cormac.”
“Don’t call me that,” he grits out. “I’m never that to you. It’s Mac.”
I lick my lips, feeling his gaze drift down to them, and the usual heat roars between us. “Mac,” I say hoarsely, and his head moves, his eyes on my lips. I’m moving towards him before I realise and jerk back. His arms tighten for a second, then he opens them and lets me move away.
He shutters his expression, but his chest’s rapid rise and fall gives him away. “Your brother needed help,” he says, his voice thick. “And I gave it. I would give it over and over again.”
“But why?” I say helplessly. “Why would you do that? We’re nothing to you. A few months ago, you didn’t even know me.”
“How is that possible?”
“What do you mean?”
He gives a humourless laugh. “How is it that I haven’t known you forever? Because that’s what it feels like to me.”
I rub my eyes, feeling the hotness underneath my fingers. “I know,” I say quietly. “It’s the same for me.”
“You know why I did it,” he says quietly.
“I honestly don’t.”
“I would do anything for you.”
Joy sends a flood of warmth through me. Those words, and the simple emotion I hear in them, mean everything to me.
But I take a deep breath because I’m a more cautious man than I was a few months ago.
The words might not mean the same thing to him.
How many times has he pushed me away? Told me he didn’t want anything but my body?
He smiles sadly. “It’s okay, Wes.”
I shake my head in bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”
“I know, and it’s okay. I know why we can’t be together again, and you’re right.”
“I don’t understand how I can be right when I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about.”
He goes to speak, hesitates, and then, with an air of grim determination, says. “You got hurt because of me.”
That statement is completely unexpected. “What are you talking about, Mac?” I repeat.
He gestures at my face. “Ian beat you up. He hurt you, and he tried to rape you, for fuck’s sake.”
Julian was right, not that I’ll ever tell him. “I know. I was there. Which is why I’m unsure why it’s your fault.”
“He attacked you because of me. Ian hates me because I cancelled his contract and cost him a lot of money.”
“He told me that.”
“He had a grudge, and he took it out on you,” he continues doggedly. “He couldn’t have done that if I hadn’t taken you to that stupid fucking party.”
I hesitate and then ask the question that’s been in my head since I left him. “Why did you?”
He runs his hand through his hair. “I wanted distance.”
Stung, I try to step back but his sad eyes stop me. “Well, you got that.”
“You were getting too close,” he bursts out. “And I needed to reset the boundaries.”
I sigh and step closer to him. I feel suddenly weary.
“Mac, it’s not your fault.” He goes to argue, and I hold up my hand to stop him.
“You had a right to want distance. It was your arrangement after all.” He opens his mouth to speak but I carry on quickly.
“And the assault was all Ian’s fault. He decided what he was going to do, and I have to say that if a business contract is all that’s standing between him and rape, then he’s a complete cunt.
Who cares what his reason was? It’s his actions that matter. ”
“ I care,” he says passionately and then takes a calming breath. “You would never have been in that position if not for me.”
“Yes, I would,” I say quietly. “There’s plenty of blame for why I was at that club.
We could blame Tyler’s addiction. His shitty choices.
My friendship with Julian. My questionable choice to take Julian’s advice.
” I huff out a laugh. “But ultimately, I was the one who decided to go to that club and start seeing you.”
“And that’s another thing.” He runs his hand through his hair, his eyes wild. “I wish you’d told me.”
“About Tyler?” When he nods, again I have to ask, “Why?”
“Because I could have helped you. I hate that you were with me because of that awful situation you had nothing to do with.”
I spread my hands, feeling helpless about this entire conversation. “How the hell could you have helped me? You were a stranger. The club had rules and so did you, by god. I couldn’t have—wouldn’t have—spilled my personal shit all over you.”
“Be that as it may…” He shrugs. “I just hate it.”
“I don’t hate that I was with you.” His head jerks up at my quiet admission, and he stares at me. I gesture at him. “I’m glad it was you. I will always be glad it was you.”
A silence falls as we begin to walk again. The conversation was difficult, both in what I said and what I heard, but as a gentle breeze ruffles my hair, I feel like it’s blowing away a few old hurts and worries. Walking beside Mac feels easier.
“The clinic is the best in Europe,” he says quietly.
He reaches into his pocket and draws out a card.
He hands it to me, and I look down at it.
It’s heavy and embossed with the clinic’s logo and a doctor’s name and phone details.
“That is Tyler’s doctor. Tyler isn’t allowed a phone for a while, but if you’re amenable, Doctor Bola will text you weekly to let you know what is happening. He has Tyler’s permission for that.”
I stare at the card, running my finger over the letters. When I look up, I’m surprised at the gentle look on his face. “Thank you,” I say simply. “You’ve given him a chance that no one else could.”
“There’s no need for thanks. I would do anything for you.” He gestures and I see that we’re back at the park entrance. “Back where we started,” he says.
Are we? I don’t say it. Instead, I say, “I’m sorry for making you meet me again when I walked away.” I give an awkward laugh. “I must be giving off very strange signals at the moment. I just feel so helpless and alone.”
“I know.” Something in his voice tells me he does know, and I wish I could hug him again, but I can’t. “And there’s nothing wrong with a faulty signal or two.” He cups my face in his palms, his eyes full of a funny sort of humour.
I can’t help my laugh. “Who are you?”
“I’m Mac. The man who you made, Wes. And now I’m stuck somewhere between Mac and Cormac.”
I catch my breath. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I thought so at first, but now I don’t know.” His eyes sharpen.
“What is it? Is something wrong? Please tell me.” I edge closer, as drawn in by him as ever. I can’t be near him without wanting to touch him.
“No, no. I’m fine.” He begins to walk again, heading ever closer to the entrance and away from me. Maybe forever.
I catch his sleeve to stay him and then pleat the expensive fabric between my fingers.
It’s heavy, and I catch the scent of his cologne.
“Can we talk occasionally?” I ask in a small voice.
I need to see him or just hear his voice every now and then.
Even angry, this hour with him is the most alive I’ve felt in a month.
“Wes.” He’s watching me, his face gentle. “Baby, it would be my pleasure if you wanted to speak to me. I am always here for you.”
“Always?” I whisper.
He nods. “ Always . I told you that you were sticky.”
I hand the customer his change. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”
He says something, but he’s out of my head before he walks out the door. There’s no one in the shop now, so I look back at my laptop, which is currently displaying the log-on screen for my university. My fingertips beat a restless tattoo on the counter.
I should look, but I don’t dare. What if I’ve failed? What will I do then? No dream job. No degree.
I blow out an explosive breath, and before I can stop myself, I enter my login details. Then, I click to see the exam results and search for my name.
For a dreadful few seconds, I scroll through results. Are my results so bad they can’t show them? I check the thirds, the seconds, and still nothing.
“ No ,” I breathe as I find the firsts. There I am. Wes Archer. First-class degree. “Fucking hell,” I whisper.