Authors: Shira Anthony
“I didn’t—” Why had Cam needed to know any of it? Ancient history. Something to forget about and leave languishing in the past.
“Galen Arendale?”
“Arendale is my father’s name,” he said, knowing he’d already said that and that repeating the fact would do little to placate Cam.
“So you’ve said. And Rusk?”
“My mother’s name. The name I use now.” He’d used her name for so long, he hadn’t really thought about it.
“Now?” Cam’s pale cheeks flushed with anger.
Galen knew Cam had a right to be angry, even if the past was done and gone. Even if the past had nothing to do with now. With
them
. He’d lied to Cam—a lie of omission, certainly, but a lie nonetheless. His guilt threatened to overwhelm him, and he gritted his teeth against a sudden wave of dizziness. He teetered on the edge of his fear, his Zen failing him, everything he’d worked so hard to attain fleeing him as he struggled for an explanation. Why did it feel as though his control was taking a stand against the man he…
loved
?
“After I stopped performing,” he said, hoping the explanation would suffice but knowing Cam had every right not to let it go at that.
“Chicago Symphony
debut
? That’s more than just a hobby, Galen. How old were you?”
Galen schooled his expression. “I was eighteen.”
“Eighteen?” Cam shook his head and clenched his fists at his side, looking as though he’d explode. Galen couldn’t avoid the hurt in Cam’s face, along with the anger. Pain that Galen had inflicted. Trust that
he’d
breached, even though he knew how important that trust was to Cam.
“Trumpet.” He didn’t want to talk about this. Not now. Not ever, really. Bad enough that David had brought it up with all the memories. And the fear. God, he didn’t want to do that again. He’d spent
years
just getting past the fear that he’d relapse. But he owed Cam the truth.
“You were eighteen when you played with the Chicago Symphony? When the
hell
were you going to tell me?” Cam demanded.
Galen swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter now. That was a lifetime ago. I was a different person.” Easy to say, even as the memories flooded back in a torrent.
“How did you end up in a psych ward? That had something to do with this, didn’t it?”
Breathe. Relax. Inhale. Exhale.
“Yes. But what difference does that make? It was more than ten years ago.” Ten years that felt like yesterday. Ten years of learning to survive without the drugs. Ten years of practicing yoga. Of trying to let it go and stay on his path. And it had worked. He’d been fine. He hadn’t had to go back to the hospital. He hadn’t needed the meds.
I want to tell you, Cam, but I’m afraid if I do, the dam will break and I’ll be back there again. Wanting to die. Lost. Locked up.
He shoved his trembling hands into his pockets in an effort to hide his fear.
Cam stared at Galen, clearly at a loss for words. He shook his head, then walked to the couch and tossed his jacket there. “It makes a difference because you know everything about me. I’ve told you everything. Every horrid thing I’ve done, all the things that I’d never thought to tell another person. And all along, you knew that I’d want to know, and you didn’t say a word!”
“You never asked why I tried to commit suicide.” No, not outright. But he’d known Cam
wanted
to know. Cam was too polite to ask, and Galen had taken advantage of that.
“Bollocks! I shouldn’t have had to ask. There were so many times you could have told me, but you didn’t. I figured I’d wait. You’d never pushed me about difficult topics, and I didn’t want to push you. But you knew I wanted to know.”
Of course he did. Galen tried to swallow, but his throat felt dry. Tight.
Breathe. Relax.
“Galen?”
Inhale. Exhale.
“Why don’t we just let this go?” he said, knowing Cam wouldn’t. That he
shouldn’t
let it go. That Cam deserved
all
of the truth.
“Why? Because you’re afraid to tell me?” Cam demanded.
Breathe. Relax.
“Because it’s ancient history and it makes no difference. Especially to you. You have an entirely new future to look forward to, to live for. Possibilities you hadn’t even imagined two months ago.” The words helped him regain his center. He always did better when he was helping others. His students, his friends. Cam. He was so fucking proud of Cam for taking his life back. And when Cam moved on, he’d make damn sure Cam moved on without the excess baggage of someone else’s past. Cam would remember him the way he was now and not the way he was ten years ago.
Cam blinked and clenched his jaw. Galen hadn’t been prepared for this—the feelings, the depth of the emotion the chance encounter with David had stirred in Cam.
Inhale. Exhale.
He forced his shoulders to release their tension, then moved on to the muscles in his neck. Methodical, familiar relaxation. He fought the urge to straighten Cam’s tie, which was slightly askew.
“Galen….” Cam shook his head. His voice sounded tentative this time.
The anger still simmered, but Galen noticed that Cam had slowed his breathing and recovered his focus.
So proud of you, Cam.
Even as he thought this, his guilt surged again, like a tide rising around his heart.
“Remember when we first met?” Cam asked. “And how you told me I was kind?”
Galen nodded.
“I didn’t believe you then.” Cam inhaled audibly, then exhaled. “Sometimes I still don’t believe you.” The tension in Cam’s shoulders began to fade.
So proud of you.
“But sometime along the way, I began to understand that I could be kind. That I could
be.
”
“Be?”
“Yes,
be.
I could be whatever I wanted, because I’d lost everything. Lost myself. Maybe even a part of my soul.” Cam paused as if gathering his thoughts, and he inhaled and exhaled once more. “I didn’t know what was left except to disappear. Die.
“But you showed me that there was so much more…. That I could have faith in myself. I could create something. Hope. Kindness.” Another pause. “Love. You helped me find the confidence I’d never really had.”
Cam ran a hand through his hair. Those defiant curls Galen loved to wrap around his fingers. He’d come to think of them as a visible extension of Cam’s soul. Those curls had never cooperated, never behaved the way Cam wanted them to. Cam had spent his entire life trying to behave, trying to be something he thought he should be, and in the end he’d denied his heart and so much more. Denying his heart, he’d become the antithesis of what had been expected of him.
“I’m glad.” What else could he say? He felt truly happy for Cam.
“Galen. I want to understand you.”
Galen forced a smile. “Nothing much to understand. I’m a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. Not all that interesting.”
“More bollocks.” Cam shook his head and sighed.
“It doesn’t matter, Cam. What matters is that you’re doing fine. Me? I’m just a guy you met along the way. And if you think I helped, then I’m happy.”
“Is that all you feel?” Cam met his gaze with those piercing blue eyes, and Galen knew in that instant he’d miscalculated. He’d always been good about toeing the line between teacher and student. Not this time.
“My feelings are irrelevant.” A half-truth, but the best he could manage under the circumstances. Speaking was hard enough—the dizziness and the cold sweat on the back of his neck made it difficult to focus.
“Irrelevant?” Cam laughed. “This from the new-age guru who guides his students to enlightenment?”
Galen should have known Cam was too smart to continue to play the role of student. Too smart not to want more. Worse, he knew he loved Cam, even though he’d denied it all along. Even though he had no place for Cam in his life.
“I am who I am,” Galen said at last. He struggled against the feeling that he was drowning. The pain in his chest made it difficult to breathe, and the mantra that had gotten him through so many other challenges now seemed powerless to help.
Breathe. Just breathe.
“No commitments. No long term. I made myself a promise when I was in the hospital, doped up on meds. I’d be the stone. Immovable. Immutable. I’d just
be
.”
Cam frowned, his lips parting in obvious surprise. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he said. “I’m the slow one here.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“The hospital. I don’t know what else happened to you back then, but there was someone, wasn’t there? Someone you cared about? Someone you loved?”
Inhale. Exhale.
He didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to remember. He gripped the chair and willed the room to stop spinning.
“That’s it, isn’t it, Galen? Someone hurt you. Maybe even left you after you’d pulled yourself back together.”
Breathe. Relax.
Galen forced an image from his mind. Brian kissing him. Telling Brian he loved him. Telling Brian he wanted a relationship.
Inhale. Exhale.
“I can’t, Cam.” His voice cracked.
Breathe. Relax.
“My life works because I’m past that.”
“Past it the same way I denied that I wanted to kill myself? Twice?”
Was Cam right? Was he doing exactly what he’d called Cam on?
No. That was different. We’re different people.
He closed his eyes and saw himself watching the blood pool on the floor of the bathroom. He remembered the feeling of peace, of falling into the warmth of nothingness. He heard music and allowed himself to be enveloped in it. The music that comforted him. The music that he’d tried to share. But when he’d shared it, he’d lost it somehow.
I can’t lose it again.
He needed to guard it and keep it safe.
“Galen.” Cam’s voice brought him back to himself.
“I can’t, Cam.”
Then Cam did something that took Galen by surprise. Something beautiful and frightening. Cam walked over and took him in his arms. Just held him close without speaking.
I can’t do this.
The fear made his blood pound in his ears. What if this time he couldn’t fight his way back? What if when Cam left him—and he
would
leave, because all things ended eventually—he lost himself so completely that he could never escape the confines of his mind?
“Please, Cam.” He gently pushed Cam away. “I told you. I don’t do long term. It’s here and now. That’s all I can do.”
“I want more than that.” Cam pressed his lips together. “I love you, Galen. I want you for more than here and now.”
You can do this. Just breathe. Relax. Inhale. Exhale.
The mantra wasn’t working. Every muscle in his body screamed at him. His heart hurt. “I’m sorry, Cam,” he said in an undertone. “I don’t love you.”
He’d never lied to Cam before.
M
USIC
BLARED
from a set of speakers near where Cam danced with Bill. He’d taken off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Bill traced his fingers over Cam’s skin as they moved in time to the music, their bodies pressed together. All around them, men danced, some shirtless, sweaty, aroused. Cam had been to the club before he’d met Aiden. A great place to find a quick fuck or a blow job in the toilets. Cam had met Bill here a few years before, and they’d ended up in bed on a few occasions since. Bill had suggested it when Cam had called an hour before.
“I don’t love you.”
The loud music did nothing to erase Galen’s words from his mind.
No!
Galen had lied to him. Cam could feel it.
I know he cares about me.
Still, he’d left Galen alone at the house a few minutes later, unwilling to challenge him but unable to face him after confessing his love. And fuck, Galen’s rejection hurt more than he’d expected.
Fuck him.
“I thought you were with the singer,” Bill said when Cam called to ask him if they could meet.
“There was someone,” Cam told him. “But it was a mistake.”
He’d been wrong about so much. He’d misread Galen. He’d been so desperate that he’d let himself fall in love.
That’s not right, and you know it.
He’d seen the fear in Galen’s eyes. He wanted to challenge Galen, force him to answer truthfully. A month ago he’d have done exactly that. But now he saw things differently. He knew challenging Galen wouldn’t help. Instead, he’d frightened himself by doing something he’d never have done before. He’d taken Galen in his arms. Just held him close without speaking.
And it didn’t work
. Galen had lied to him just when he’d come to trust him. Cam felt angry. Angrier than he had in a long time. Hurt, too. But he wasn’t willing to let Galen go.
You’ve already lost him
, the insistent little voice at the back of his mind whispered gleefully.
He and Bill ordered a few more drinks from the bar, Bill some fruity drink that made Cam queasy just looking at it, Cam a double shot of an outrageously expensive single malt that he barely tasted as he downed it in one swallow. Heat from the alcohol radiated to his fingers and cheeks. Aiden had always said he was cute when his pale skin flushed pink from whiskey.