Chapter 18
Nantes
I wake to an empty space beside me. Vanian is gone.
I hope he’s not freaking out now that he’s had time for it all to sink in.
He was damn good at it though, which is a promising sign.
I can’t count how many supposedly straight men have lost their shit after giving head the first time.
One guy even vomited. But Van seemed to take it all in stride. Maybe.
I climb out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom to take care of my morning needs. After splashing my face with cold water, I return to the bedroom and grab my sweats to put on. I listen closely as I quietly walk out to the living room.
Relief spreads through me when I see Van sitting on the couch, leaning over his laptop, the scent of fresh coffee filling the room. I creep up behind him, but pause when I see what’s on his screen.
He has an article up about Alex Fetterman, the former pastor pedophile I told him about.
Next to that screen, he has a map up. Quietly, I watch him search an address on the map, zooming in on a town in southern Minnesota.
He drags a hand through his hair before clicking back to the article with a picture of Alex.
What is his fascination with this case? I recall how agitated he became when I told him about it, but it’s kind of weird for it to still be on his mind.
“Morning.”
Vanian flinches, slightly closing his laptop and turning to see me. He smiles. “Morning.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay. Guess I was lost in thought.”
“What are you doing?” I ask as I round the couch to sit down.
“Just researching stuff.”
“For work?”
He nods, but his brow creases. “Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
Vanian exhales slowly, leaning back and resting his hand on my knee. “I have sort of this fixation sometimes with sex offenders. I want to know what happens to them after they’re caught. I want to see justice done. Karma, maybe. Whatever you call it.”
I nod, searching his eyes. I sense the truth in his words, but he’s still being a little sketchy. “Who were you researching?”
“Uh, this case in Chicago. One of many.”
I know that isn’t true, but I’m uneasy about calling him out on it. We always said we’d never keep secrets, but I kept a huge one from him for years. It’s fair for him to keep one of his own. Except this one is poking at me.
“I saw your screen when I first came in.”
His smile fades as his neck and cheeks flush red. “You did?”
“I’m not sure why you think you can’t tell me what’s really going on. You know I won’t judge you. Given your occupation, I don’t blame you for being interested in seeing these losers get what’s coming to them.”
Panic sparks in his eyes as he digs his teeth into his bottom lip. “Um, I…” He pauses, blowing out a breath. “I have my reasons.”
“For not telling me the truth?”
He nods. “Yeah. It’s not because I don’t trust you or because I want to lie to you—I don’t, but it’s safer if I do.”
“Safer?” I grab his wrist. “Are you in trouble?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Because if you are, you can trust me to help.”
“I’m not in trouble, Nan. I’m good. I swear.” He plays with my fingers for a moment before fixing his intense gaze on me. “I can get a little obsessed with the subject matter. It’s not healthy, and I am getting better about managing it, but sometimes…” He shrugs. “Sometimes, it gets in my head.”
“What do you mean? How does it get in your head?”
“Remember when I first told you about my work? How a lot of these assholes get away with it? They have lawyers and money, or the investigation gets messed up. Not all of them. Some of them don’t have the money or lawyers or clout to get out of it. Some of them go to prison.”
“I remember.”
“But so many of them don’t pay for what they did.
Sometimes, it’s like my brain gets stuck on those cases.
I look them up and see where they live and what they’re doing now.
It fills me with rage, Nan. Seeing these bastards living their lives like nothing happened.
Like they didn’t ruin those poor kids they abused. ”
I nod, squeezing his hand. “What do you do with the rage?”
I feel the moment his body tenses and he pulls his hand away. Vanian stands up and paces in front of the couch, wringing his hands together.
“Van?”
“Bad things,” he answers softly. “Bad things I’ll never tell you about.”
“Because you think I’ll judge you?”
“No.” He meets my eyes. “Because I don’t want you to know. I don’t want you to be complicit in any way.”
Complicit? This sounds serious. I thought he was alluding to some destructive behaviors—drugs or gambling or something like that—but this sounds like more than that.
Van sits next to me again. “So if you could just pretend this conversation didn’t happen, that would be best.”
I nod, even though a part of me really wants to push. If he’s still anything like he was as a teen, the more you push, the more he shuts down.
“Thank you.” He kisses my cheek. “I made coffee.”
“Thanks.” I get up and pad to the kitchen in a daze. Vanian is definitely hiding something major, but maybe he’s right, and it’s better that I don’t know.
The idea that he could be in trouble or hurting bothers me a lot though. How does he not know after all these years that he can tell me anything? I can’t imagine anything he could say that would make me turn against him.
As I pour my coffee, he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me, kissing my neck. “Last night was amazing.”
“Not freaking out?”
“No.”
I turn towards him, studying his face. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. “That’s good.”
“I keep getting turned on every time I think about it.”
“Yeah? You like having a cock in your mouth?”
He moans softly. “Apparently, I do. The craziest part is that it didn’t feel foreign or odd to me. It was hot and sexy and I loved it. I loved being the one to bring you pleasure. It made me think of all the different ways I can unravel you.”
Excellent distraction skills.
“You were good at it.”
He reaches out, rubbing my cock through my sweats. “I love touching you too. I think I might be clingy when it comes to you.”
I laugh at that. “Worse problems to have.”
“I was thinking this morning… you know, we live in two different states, but Chicago isn’t far. It’s two, maybe three hours away. We could see each other more often after this trip. If we wanted to.”
“I assumed we would. Not for… whatever this is, but for friendship. I don’t want to lose touch again.”
“Me neither. Maybe we even set up a standing date? You visit me, I visit you, once a month or something.”
“That could work.”
“I’d love it. These few days have been awesome, and I wish it could be so much more, but like I said last night, I wouldn’t make a good partner for you.”
I’m slightly taken aback by the statement. Does he think I think this is something more than it is? Or that I’m hung up on something?
“I wasn’t expecting that.”
His expression falls slightly before he very obviously forces a smile to his face. “Of course not. Why would you?”
“Van… it’s not personal.”
“No? It’s not because I’m supposedly straight? Or you just don’t see me as an option? I’m fun but that’s it?”
I pull my head back. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Then what, Nantes? Am I not good enough for you?”
“Whoa. You’re the one who just said you wouldn’t be a good partner.
I guess that was your way of letting me down easy?
” I put my mug down. “We literally discussed this last night, and honestly, yeah, it is because of your sexuality. Your friendship is important to me, and you’ve just discovered something about yourself.
That doesn’t mean you’re automatically ready to date a man or come out publicly.
Frankly, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I automatically assume every hookup is happily ever after. I’d get my heart hurt a lot if I did.”
“So now I’m a hookup.” He nods, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Good to know.”
“Dude, you are seriously tripping. You’re mad because I’m agreeing with you?”
“I’m not mad. I just thought this was a little more than casual. Last night you said you were capable of falling in love and wanting a relationship, now I’m a hookup.”
“What do you want, Vanian? You want it to be serious but you don’t want to date? You can’t have it both ways.”
He looks at me with a stern expression, and it’s like meeting a whole new side of him.
His eyes harden and flash with anger, his jaw clenches, and he briefly balls his hands into fists.
I’ve seen him angry before, but it was always over stupid stuff and never directed at me.
After a stare-down for a few seconds, he exhales slowly, twisting his neck side to side.
“You’re right,” he concedes. “I’m being a dick.”
“Can you help me understand where this is coming from?”
“No. It’s just a pile of unsorted feelings bouncing around my head. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I grab his hand. “Vanian, you can tell me anything. I know you’re trying to protect me from something, but I don’t need protection. I’m an adult, and I can handle myself.”
“That’s easy to say from a position of not knowing.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “You trust me, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then believe me when I tell you it’s better to leave it alone.”
“Okay, Van, but I’ll just say this: I know I’m not a therapist, but I am a doctor, and I’ve seen the negative effects stress can cause. If you keep it all bottled up, it can backfire on you. You’ve gotta know that.”
“I know.” His jaw ticks on one side again. “It’s complicated.”
“If you change your mind, I’m here for you.”
“I know.”
“I have to go work for a bit today. We get busy on Saturdays. You good on your own?”
“Yeah. Have a good day, Nan.”
“You too.”
I head back to my bedroom, but my head is spinning. Something major is going on with him, but for whatever reason, he thinks it’s better not to tell me.
My gut tells me I better keep an eye on him before he does something he can’t come back from.