Fall Apart (31 page)

So good.

So good.

Leo returned to his seat on the other side of Molly and Damon sensed everyone’s eyes land on him at the same time. Honestly, he still didn’t know if he should say anything. He didn’t even know if he could hear his own voice if he went up to the podium anyway.

What had he said during his speech at Luke’s wedding?
I’m going to wing it. No safety rope.

Damon cringed, biting his tongue to block out the image of Todd falling. No safety rope.

Like a tired old dog, he got to his feet and stepped behind the podium. He didn’t look out at the mourners, or at the picture Mandy had chosen of Todd laughing at the wedding—there was no way in hell Damon was going to look at a picture Alarik had taken right now. Instead, he concentrated on the wood grain of the lacquered coffin.

If coffins could be called beautiful, then they’d picked a beautiful one for Toddy. For a beat or two, he wondered if it was comfortable—like Todd was going to open the lid and say, “I’m like the Princess and the fuckin’ Pea in this thing—you guys got me sleeping on rocks!” He imagined his friend rolling his eyes, because if Todd could sit and listen to his own memorial service, he would’ve been hard-pressed not to roll his eyes or fall asleep. Before his first snore, he’d probably say, “What a lame funeral. Where’s the food?”

Damon almost laughed at the thought. That is, before the pain returned.

He turned back to the podium with its somber looking microphone and that particular image of a wryly-complaining Todd in mind. He cleared his throat and his hearing suddenly returned. Damon sort of wanted it to go away again.

“Todd knew how to make things fun. I can’t help but think of what he’d say about all of this. I love him very much,” he said quietly, but his voice was still louder than the rustlings of the audience. “I loved him like a brother since I met him. He was the first guy, aside from my own dad, to tell me it was okay to be who I am. I don’t want to say anything more. Just…I love him.”

No one moved to the front to speak after he finished, so the funeral director gave instructions to the guests and asked for the pallbearers to remain behind.

Damon, Luke, Franco, and the guys from Todd’s office stayed behind. Since Damon knew he couldn’t carry his share of the weight, he’d asked one extra guy Todd had known to stand in. They were waiting for further instructions, so while the other guys were staring everywhere but at Damon’s injuries or the coffin, Damon limped his way to it and ran his hand over the wood.

Hey, Toddy. Almost done…

The director returned and informed them in his gentle voice what they were supposed to do. Damon took position at the head of the coffin where an extra handle waited for him. He grabbed hold of it after the six other men had taken the weight and his muscles clenched down his right side.

Fuck
, he thought.
God-awful
.

Another hand squeezed in beside his and he met his dad’s eyes. “We’ll help on this end of the trip, Day. We’ll sit it out at the cemetery.”

Damon didn’t want to argue. He just wanted to get the hell out of there and go home. Todd would whisper the same thing to him if he were there.

This blows. Let’s get pizza.

***

As instructed at the beginning of the trip, the driver took Alarik straight to the
Sunrise Productions
office. His car was still parked in the lot and when he saw a few other vehicles, including Max’s, he remembered that another night shoot was on the schedule; more than just the receptionist and small staff would be in the building.

Tipping the driver, he went straight to his car, chucking his things in the backseat. He hesitated as he went to get behind the wheel because his eyes fell on Max’s R8 again. In a decisive move, he closed the driver’s door and went inside through the back entrance. There were people in the small offices he passed, talking on cell phones, or hunched over their keyboards. The conference room was empty, but Max’s office door was open and he heard someone discussing lighting and weather concerns for a scene being filmed on Friday.

When Alarik stepped into view, Max looked up from notes covered in scribbles and yellow highlights. There must have been some indication that his situation had deteriorated dramatically because Max asked for the pair sitting in front of him to take a break.

Alarik stepped out of their way and into the office as Max rounded the desk to shut the door. The latch had barely clicked when he was being pulled into an embrace. Alarik had managed to release the most embarrassing bout of emotion on the way to L.A., so he simply allowed himself to sink into Max’s hold, his face buried against the other man’s neck.

He smells so good.

Max’s left hand traveled up into Alarik’s hair, his fingers gripping the locks in a way that abruptly reminded Alarik how many days it had been since he’d experienced another’s gentle touch. He knew he was enjoying it more than he should and he couldn’t stop the quick moan of pleasure. Max’s grip tightened, but he didn’t push further.

“You’re back much sooner than I expected,” he said carefully.

Alarik nuzzled deeper into Max’s hold and nodded. He was afraid that his raw and bruised heart would have him making rash decisions. He wasn’t trying to run from his problems with Damon—in fact, he’d been dismissed and all but told that it was over between them, but he wasn’t ready to truly believe it. Logically, he could understand and interpret Damon’s behavior, but emotionally, he was rejected and hurting. Add a comforting Max to the mix and all signs pointed to trouble.

What exactly are you doing, Alarik? He asked himself, then immediately told his conscious to piss off.

“You didn’t go to the funeral?

His answer came out muffled against Max’s neck. “Damon told me to leave. I… I don’t know, but I think he ended it.”

“Your relationship?” Max didn’t stir in the slightest; he didn’t even offer a gasp of surprise, but Alarik heard the interest in his voice.

He nodded again, trying to control the reins against runaway thoughts.
What if…? What about…? Maybe…?

Max didn’t immediately respond, but his embrace tightened again. God, it felt so good.

“I know you’re not okay, so I won’t ask.”

“Thank you.”

Alarik took in another breath of Max’s masculine scent and let the guilt drown him because he was craving touch so badly and the person holding him
wasn’t
Damon.

“I’ve imagined holding you, Alarik, but not quite under these circumstances,” Max confessed softly. “Something tells me you might feel the same way.”

“If you mean that this is dangerous—”

“It’s only dangerous if you’re letting me hold you for the wrong reasons. Is this simply comfort, or is it more?”

Alarik hesitated. “I don’t know, Max.”

“So, for now, strictly comfort.”

It could’ve been pressure from Max’s jaw, or even a quick kiss that touched Alarik’s temple, but it made a shiver skip down his side. “For now,” he answered, thinking of Damon with a pang in his chest.

***

Damon made his way to his parents’ car, holding Davey’s tiny hand in his own. Neither of them were very sure-footed on the uneven ground of the cemetery and he was trying to navigate them in the direction of the paved walkway. The last thing he needed was to step wrong and twist his ankle. He already looked like a cartoon character that had an anvil dropped on him.

Davey was very quiet beside him and Damon was able to step outside his own grief long enough to wonder how much his nephew understood about what he’d seen today.

“Davey,” he said, squeezing the kid’s hand. “What’d your mom tell you about today?”

Davey squinted up at him, one eye entirely shut. “It’s a sad day and I gotta be quiet and use my inside voice.”

“Okay, but what’d she say about the rest?”

“Uncle Todd went away. I guess to heaven.”

Damon cleared his throat. Seashells, he thought suddenly, c’mon seashells; make me deaf again. “Yeah, Todd went away to heaven.”

“Do you think you forget stuff in heaven?”

Damon blinked away another stupid wave of emotion and focused on the cars leaving the cemetery one-by-one. “I think…” he paused and realized he’d never
really
thought about it—or about the afterlife in general. Deciding what happened after death had always seemed like a waste of time to him because it wasn’t like he could change anything at that point; he’d be dead, after all.

“I think that in heaven you don’t remember pain and hurt the way you do when you’re here.”

“But, will he ‘member me? Or you? Or grandma and grampa? Or mommy?”

“I think he’ll remember us. Especially you,” Damon added. “Who could forget you?”

Davey shrugged. “Still sad, huh?”

Damon coughed a couple times and then regretted it as his ribs protested. “Yeah, kiddo. It’s still sad.”

At his parents’ house, a group of people closest to Todd was gathered and Damon couldn’t wait for them to leave. He wanted nothing more than to be alone. He’d hidden himself in the kitchen at the small table his mom used for breakfast, and was staring at a box filled with sugar packets when Simone came in. Her eyes were red, her makeup smeared, and she looked like she was ready to escape, too. He lifted his glass of ice water in her direction and she quietly joined him at the table.

“Hi.” Her smile was timid, but they’d only met in person once before.

“Hey, thanks for coming today.” This was his practiced funeral response, but with her, he actually meant it.

“Thanks for calling me.”

They sat together for a few minutes, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Damon tuned in eventually and noticed she was casually stacking sugar packets. He grabbed a handful and began holding them out to her one at a time.

“He was going to take you to dinner, Simone. He came across like he didn’t care sometimes, I know that about him, but he was really happy about you.”

Simone’s hand stopped moving and trembled in mid-air before slowly taking the next packet he offered her. “I waited
forever
for him to ask me out. Never saw so many mixed signals in my entire life.”

“He was conflicted,” Damon agreed.

“He was an ass sometimes, too.” She smiled briefly.

“Frustrating, for sure.”

“Egotistical.”

Damon shrugged. “He’d say that was only a natural by-product of being Todd.”

Simone chuckled softly and accepted another sugar packet. “Maybe you’ve heard this a few times today, but you look like hell.”

“I was aiming for that; I appreciate the honesty.”

Simone cocked her head skeptically. “I can’t be the only one who’s mentioned this abstract display of bruises, the wrist with its shiny metal accessories, and your land speed of a less-than spry ninety-year-old.”

Damon took another sip of his ice water. “You’d be the first, actually. Everyone else seems to think I look damn good.”

“Well, the cracked lip is kind of dashing in a Rocky V kind of way.” She started another sugar packet stack and nervously met his eyes again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” Please don’t ask about the fall, he thought.

“What…what do I do about his office? I mean, he didn’t keep a ton of stuff in there, but there are some pictures.”

“I’ll come get it with my dad this week. What’s your real question?”

Simone dropped back in her seat, giving up. “He liked me? Really?”

Damon stared directly into her eyes as he answered so she would know he was telling the truth. “Yes. He did. He liked you a lot and you were the first woman he wanted to ask out since college. I can see why,” he murmured. “You’d have been good for him.”

His wording must’ve given the wrong impression because she twitched in her seat, uncomfortable beneath his gaze.

“Don’t take that the wrong way; I’m gay and I wouldn’t cruise my best friend’s girl anyway.”

“Oh. Gay?” She was relieved and when he rolled his eyes at her, the smile returned. “How’s that working for you?”

“I kinda suck at it—no pun intended.”

Her laugh was warm and he tried to accept it for the solace it offered. “We should start a club for people who ‘suck at it.’”

Damon grinned and held out his glass. Simone lifted her own and they clinked them together. “TWS—Those Who Suck Anonymous.”

Simone stood and lightly squeezed his left hand. “How about we have our first meeting on Friday night? My date canceled—” Her voice broke and she couldn’t finish the joke, so Damon just tightened his hold on her hand for a second before he released her.

“Pick me up here at seven? I can’t drive.”

She kissed him on the cheek like she wasn’t sure she should, but decided to do it anyway. “I’ll be here.” In the doorway to the kitchen, she turned to him once more, her expression wistful. “I’m so mad he won’t be there.”

Yeah, me too.

It was thirty seconds to midnight and Mark was sitting in the kitchen, staring at his watch as the time ticked by. His right hand hovered over the “call” button on his phone and the exact second that the numbers switched over, he tapped it. It rang twice and then:

“Ohhhhhh, you fucker! I got you this time. I waited up for you.” Reid was jubilant, as he always was when the center of attention.

“Happy birthday, dude.”

“Yeah, thanks. Sean should be calling any sec—oh, wait, there he is. I’ll conference him in.” There was a short pause before Sean’s voice came on the line.

“Did I beat Mark?”

“No way,” Mark answered. “Born first, but you’re always last.”

“Sean!” Reid barked. “You forgot something.”

“Happy birthday,” Sean offered blandly. “You’re lucky I remembered you at all, middle child.”

“Gentlemen.” Reid paused to emphasize that his annual birthday speech was about to begin. “Now that I am the ripe old age of thirty-five, I have come up with an idea that will dramatically improve our lives. It involves adventure.”

“This sounds a lot like the speech you gave when you were eight,” Sean interrupted. “You need new material.”

“Adventure, boys!” Reid trumpeted over their laughter. “We all have vacation the week before Christmas for Mark’s anniversary party slash gay celebration,
but
—”