Cowboys Down (36 page)

Jasper thought if he opened his mouth now, a sob might escape.

The cab dropped them back at the house, and Jasper stumbled as he walked to his front door. Calum laughed and propped him up.

“You shouldn’t have had that last drink,” Calum said.

Jasper wished he was drunk. He’d tried hard to get drunk but had stayed distressingly sober. Calum took the keys from Jasper’s pocket and opened the door.

“Need to lie down,” Jasper mumbled and headed for the stairs.

Calum followed. By the time Calum emerged from the bathroom, Jasper was putting on the performance of his life as a man sound asleep. He lay naked on his stomach under the duvet, face planted in the pillow, and under it his fist was clenched tight. The bed dipped as Calum climbed in the other side.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

To speak or not to speak? By the time Jasper accepted he ought to say something, he’d felt Calum turn away and the bedside light went off. How hard was it to tell Calum how he felt? He just had to open his mouth and let those three words out.

Only Jasper had never said them to anyone since he’d last said them to Ben.

Nothing was wrong.

Everything was wrong.

Jasper wanted Calum to stay. He didn’t want to let him go, and every moment they spent together made the thought of their parting more painful. And yet he knew how idiotic that was. Wasn’t Ben’s accident enough of a lesson? Seize hold of every second of time you’re given. The thought of not having Calum in his life made Jasper physically hurt.

Jasper rolled over at the precise moment Calum rolled to face him.

“I love you,” Jasper blurted.

Then he saw Calum’s eyes were closed and he was sleeping.

Calum didn’t move a muscle.
Oh Christ.
It would be the easiest thing in the world to open his eyes and say those words back, so why couldn’t he?

Because Jasper had only said them because he thought Calum was asleep. Or maybe Jasper was talking in his sleep.

Fuck it. Open your eyes. Say it back.
But when Calum’s eyes opened, Jasper’s were closed, the regular puffs of air from his mouth evidence that he was sleeping. Calum closed his eyes and whispered, “I love you too.”

Jasper didn’t stir. His breathing stayed the same.

Calum had never slept with a guy before. He’d dozed after sex, but never spent the entire night in a guy’s bed. He hadn’t wanted to. Now, he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be. Except instinct told him he’d upset Jasper in some way. Something he’d said? Done? Not done?

Calum lay awake, rerunning everything and came up with nothing. So it had to be because he hadn’t let Jasper fuck him. Maybe Jasper didn’t want to be fucked. Maybe he thought he was doing Calum a favor by not pushing.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

After he’d lain awake for an hour, wishing the word “maybe” didn’t fucking exist, Calum slid out of bed, pulled on his boxers and padded out of the bedroom. He wasn’t tired, but wired. In the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of milk and went in search of something to read. The room opposite the lounge was a study, shelves lined with paperbacks, DVDs and CDs, and facing the window was a desk with a laptop and printer. Calum put the milk on the desk, and as he ran his gaze over the books, he frowned. Advances in Equine Nutrition. Textbook of Veterinarian Anatomy. Fundamentals of Biochemistry. Neurophysiology.

“I studied veterinary science at university,” Jasper said.

Calum spun round in shock. Jasper stood in the doorway wearing boxers, his dark hair mussed.

“You’re a vet?” Calum asked. “Is that how you knew about the laminitis and the tumor?”

“I’m not a vet. I didn’t finish my degree.”

“Why not?”

“I needed to earn more than I would as a vet.”

Calum frowned. “Why?”

“There was the mortgage to pay on the house where my mum and Ben lived. Wages for additional care assistants. Money for all sorts of crap—extra heating, another opinion from yet another consultant, state-of-the-art equipment for Ben. I tried to keep studying. I really wanted to be a vet, but after a full day at the university, I had to work in a bar every night just to keep us afloat, only we were sinking faster and faster. When my uncle offered me a job, I took it. Ben told me not to do it, but my mother pleaded with me to work for my uncle. I thought I could maybe go back to studying at some point in the future, but then Ben died, my mother needed care too and I was trapped.”

Jasper turned to look at the books. “Don’t know why I kept them really. I’m thirty-one. The dream’s over.”

“Why does your mother need care?”

“She has Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t remember who I am. And sometimes I think I’ve forgotten too.” His jaw twitched.

Calum stepped forward and pulled Jasper into his arms. He pressed his face to the side of Jasper’s head.

“I’ve had to be what everyone else wanted for so long,” Jasper whispered into his hair. “I was lost and you found me.”

Note to self: Jasper isn’t talking about the beads.

Chapter Twenty

Calum got out of the car outside the nursing home and closed the door. He shivered and wished he’d brought his coat.

“Sure you want to do this?” Jasper asked.

Calum stared at him over the roof of the car. “Don’t you want me to come in with you?” He wasn’t sure whether Jasper wanted him with him or not.

“She might not recognize me anyway,” Jasper said in a glum voice.

Calum walked with him to the door. Jasper clutched a bouquet of flowers and had a box of chocolates tucked under his arm. It was his mother’s birthday.

Time had seemed to speed up over the week. Jasper had spent a couple of hours in the office on Monday and taken the rest of the week off. They’d explored London together, wandering around museums and parks and eating leisurely lunches over a bottle of wine. They’d gone bowling and Calum had chuckled at how competitive Jasper was. They’d gone bike riding, and Jasper had even taken him sailing. It seemed to Calum that the guy was trying to fill every minute of every day.

In the evenings, they lay entangled on Jasper’s couch and watched movies, their legs and fingers entwined. They ate in, they ate out, they laughed and kissed and fucked, though Jasper shied away from topping him. Calum wasn’t sure why. Because Jasper sensed he wasn’t ready? Because he really
wasn’t
ready?

Jasper gave their names at the reception desk and they were buzzed through. Calum caught hold of Jasper’s clenched fist and rubbed his knuckles with his thumb. Jasper shot him a smile.

“Shouldn’t take long,” Jasper said. “Unless she thinks you’re Ben.”

“Won’t the accent tell her different?”

“She sees and hears what she wants to.”

Since Calum had arrived almost a week ago, he’d sensed a quiet desperation building in Jasper, and he understood it because he felt it too. Jasper was intent on them having as much fun as possible, and Calum was determined to have as much fun as possible. He had and yet there was always that knowledge that they were trapped—by circumstance, by a sense of duty, by inertia, but maybe most of all by fear of trying to make this work. It made Calum’s heart ache when he laughed hard enough to bring tears to his eyes, made his stomach clench when Jasper looked at him as though he was the most special person in the world. They loved each other. They’d admitted it and yet neither of them seemed able to say it again when the other’s eyes were open. Calum had tried a couple of times and the words had dried in his mouth. They needed to talk about the future and yet neither of them seemed capable of bringing it up.

Jasper halted outside a half-open door. He knocked, took a deep breath and went inside. Calum followed.

“Happy birthday, Mum,” Jasper said.

She sat in a recliner in front of a flat screen TV though it wasn’t switched on. Calum thought she looked too young to have dementia. Her nails had been painted with bright pink polish, her dark hair was neatly coiffed and she wore a pretty dress and jacket. Jasper bent to kiss her cheek and she glared.

“I don’t like those,” she said, nodding at the chocolates that Jasper had told him were her favorites.

Jasper stiffened. “Okay, I’ll take them away.”

“You might as well leave them now,” she snapped. “The staff can eat them.”

Jasper rolled his eyes.

“I brought a friend.” Jasper beckoned him. “This is Calum.”

Calum walked forward with his hand out. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Ben! How lovely. Sit down and tell me what you’ve been up to.”

She beamed at him, and Calum flashed Jasper a look of desperation.

“Mum, this is Calum. He’s my friend from America.”

“Go away, Jasper,” she said. “I want to talk to Ben alone.”

Jasper winced and his shoulders slumped. “Mum—”

“I said go away,” she barked.

“It’s okay, Jasper,” Calum said. “We can chat for a while.” Calum wished he could talk some sense into her, but knew he couldn’t. He’d had plenty of practice at talking to people who didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

Jasper mouthed “Sorry” and left the room. Calum could imagine how much it hurt to have a mother who didn’t even recognize you. It made him feel even guiltier for not calling Vera his mom sooner. Jasper’s mother grabbed Calum’s hand and pulled him onto the chair beside her.

“Jasper’s trying to kill me,” she whispered.

Calum gaped at her.

“Are you a policeman?”

“No, I—”

“A doctor?”

“No.”

“Jasper killed his father and his brother and now he’s trying to kill me.”

“No, that’s not right,” Calum said.

“Are you an angel?”

Oh Christ.

“You look like an angel.” She smiled at him and he saw Jasper in her smile. “You were always such a good boy. You did as you were told. It was all Jasper’s fault.” She began to wring her hands and rock in her seat. “I don’t understand why it happened. We had everything and then we had nothing.”

Calum patted her fingers and wished Jasper would come back. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“Michael swerved so he didn’t hit Jasper and instead he hit you. He was so sorry.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “He broke my heart that day along with his. Better if he’d hit Jasper. Jasper always bounced back. But you didn’t, sweetheart. You were broken and no one could mend you.” She clutched his fingers.

“You’ve wearing a lovely dress,” Calum said in desperation.

“Jasper was in the way. That’s why Michael had to swerve. Jasper should have died.”

She looked toward the door and Calum turned to see Jasper standing there, his lips pressed tight together, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

“I don’t feel well. I don’t want any visitors.” She let Calum go and closed her eyes.

Calum tried not to run as he left the room. Jasper nodded toward the stairs and Calum followed. He reached for Jasper’s shoulder, but he pulled away. Calum stayed on his heels all the way back to the car. When Jasper wrenched open the driver’s door, Calum pushed it shut before he could get in and slipped to stand in front of him.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t push me out. I don’t know how the hell you cope with her. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She thought I was Ben, an angel, a doctor, a policeman. She didn’t mean what she said.”

Jasper’s head sagged. “Yeah, she did. When Ben lay there, tubes in his mouth, and in his backside and in his cock, alive and yet not alive, she turned and said it would have been better if I’d died rather than have this happen to my brother. I wanted to believe she didn’t mean it. The accident wasn’t my fault. Ben had been messing around, not paying attention, but that isn’t what she wants to have happened. Easier to have someone to blame.”

Calum’s heart ached in sympathy. “After all you’ve done, all you gave up… It’s not fair.”

Jasper pressed his mouth to Calum’s ear. “News flash. Life isn’t fair.” Then he straightened and gave a tight smile. “But I’m not going to let her spoil our last night. That really wouldn’t be fair. Come on, get in.”

All the way back, Jasper worked hard to dispel the pall of his mother’s outburst. Calum recognized that Jasper didn’t want to talk about her but he was doing a skilful job of not talking about anything that mattered.

“Is she like that every time you visit?” Calum asked.

“I never know what I’m going to find. Do you want to stop and pick up a couple of pizzas?”

“I’m not hungry. Does no one else visit her?”

Jasper sighed. “A few relatives.”

“I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“I’ve learned to clear my mind the moment I leave. Would you rather get a Chinese takeaway?”

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Want to go to the pub?”

“I want to go home. We need to talk.”

After that, Jasper didn’t say a word, but his grip tightened around the steering wheel. Calum wanted to pull him into his arms and tell him everything would be all right, that they’d find a solution, though it flittered through his mind that in some ways, it might be kinder to concoct an argument and make the break unpleasant. If Jasper thought there was no hope, maybe he’d find someone else to…
Christ.
It wouldn’t be difficult. They already had an unresolved issue. Jasper hadn’t topped him. All Calum had to do was tell Jasper he didn’t want him to, that he didn’t trust him. The lump in Calum’s throat threatened to choke him.
God, I can’t tell him that.