Finding North (19 page)

“Shut the fuck up.” I make it back to my seat and sit down, covering myself with the cushion.

“Seriously, that shit is like a weapon of mass destruction. I’d like to take it and put it in my—”

“North?” Tammy steps out onto the patio and stares between the two of us.

“Oh hey, Tam,” I say, and I don’t sound the least bit casual. Behind her, Will shakes his head.

Tammy’s eyes roll over Will as if he were vermin to be stepped on. “What is he doing here?”

“Nice to see you again too, Tammy, and under much better circumstances than you screaming North’s name at the top of your lungs outside my bedroom window.”

“Can I talk to you?” she says, ignoring Will’s comments and looking directly at me.

“Sure.” I let her lead the way because while my cock started lagging the second she set foot on the patio, I’m not completely out of the wood. Pun intended.

“Busted,” Will supplies helpfully, as I follow Tam into the kitchen.

“What is he doing here, North?”

“Having a beer. What does it look like?” I grind out through my teeth, because I don’t like her tone.

“Since when do you drink beer with …” She pauses, clearly searching for the right words.

I find a little of Will rubbing off on me. “The only gay in the village?”

“I’m serious.” She folds her arms across her chest. “You being there until all hours of the night, and the two of you alone here today? What would people say?”

“I don’t give a fuck what anyone says. I’m having a beer with my friend. The fact that he’s gay is irrelevant.”

“He’s your friend now?”

“No, he’s my arch-nemesis. I’ve just invited him around for a beer so I can poison him and watch his demise before dinner.” Will’s laughter filters in from the patio, and I find myself smiling, though I know I shouldn’t. “Yes, he’s my friend. And you know what? I don’t give a shit if you don’t like it. You know where the door is.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” she demands.

“We were never fucking together in the first place,” I shout. “I gave you somewhere to stay while you got back on your feet, which considering the amount of shopping bags I see littering my bench here, you’re well and truly back on them and parading around in fancy new fucking shoes. If you’re going to be a homophobic bitch, then yeah, I want you gone.”

“You’re kicking me out over a … a fag?”

“Watch your mouth, Tam,” I warn.

Will steps into the kitchen. “Maybe I should—”

“Don’t bother. I’m totally leaving. You …” she says pointing a bony, chipped polished finger at me, “you can make your own lunches from now on.”

Naw shit
.

Tam gathers up her shopping bags and struts down the hall, not bothering to grab any of her other belongings. I guess she’ll be back for those later. I never intended to hurt her, but that shit just didn’t sit right. Saying all that stuff with Will in earshot? Not fucking cool.

Tam’s car starts up and roars down my drive, and Will turns to me with a
you’ve done it now
smirk on his sexy-as-fuck face. “She really made your lunches?”

“Yeah.” I cringe, and rub the back of my neck.

“You arsehole.”

“Dude, those were some fucking awesome lunches. Like five-star restaurant quality—all the guys at work were jealous.”

“How would you know what constitutes as five-star?”

“Shut the fuck up. Another beer?” I ask with a grin. “Since my mouth so rudely interrupted your first?”

“Nah. I should get going. I gotta help Dad get to his Cripples Anonymous meetings.”

“Jesus, you really are a cunt sometimes.”

“Hey, someone has to keep him in check,” he says, smiling. “If I didn’t knock him down a few pegs, the bastard would be riding around town on a fucking float waving to all the common people below who haven’t had a stroke.”

“Fuck, remind me never to get seriously injured around you. Knowing my luck, we’d be old and grey, and you’d be hanging my wheelchair over the stairs of our retirement home.”

“Yeah, like we’d make it to old and grey,” he mutters.

I frown. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing,” he says, turning to leave. “I’ll just see you later.”

I reach out and grab his arm, yanking him back to me. He seems determined to struggle free, so I don’t hold him. “What do you mean?”

“It means I don’t trust you. It means I can’t get invested because I don’t know when you’re going to pull the rug out from under my arse.”

“Are you ever going to forgive me for that shit? It was twelve fucking years ago.”

“And I’m still fucking broken because if it!” he yells. “I’m still in love with you, dickhead. Not a fucking thing has changed for me in twelve years.”

I flinch. I don’t mean to, but I do. I’m so used to hiding what we are, what I am that it’s instinctual now. He’s waiting for a response, and I can’t give him the one he wants. “I don’t … I don’t know what to say.”

“Say it back,” Will pleads. My heart hammers out a broke-down rhythm, and sweat prickles along the back of my neck. I can’t say it. Saying it would set into motion things that I have no control over. He shakes his head and sighs. “That’s what I thought.”

Will wrenches free of my grasp and walks out my front door, and I let him, because telling him I love him could mean risking everything, including our lives.

I
take longer than I should on the drive home. I can’t meet my dad right now, so I text him to let him know I’ll be twenty minutes away. I pull the Charger into a quiet lot at the lookout. Thankfully, no one else is around to see me lose my shit. And lose it I do. I take all of my rage out on the steering wheel, smashing it with my fist and laying on the horn as I roar my frustration and heartache until a feeling of helplessness overwhelms me, and I rest my forehead against the black leather and swallow back the lump in my throat. North rings my phone. Dad rings my phone. Sal rings my phone.

Never alone, but always lonely
.

I don’t answer any of the calls, but I do text Sal and ask her to take Dad to his meeting.

I text Josh.

Me: Hey, you busy?

Josh: I’m a defence attorney, Will. I’m always busy.

Me: Right. Never mind.

Josh: What, no comeback? Are you sick? On your deathbed, choking on that gorgeous blond’s cock?

Nope, but he was choking on mine a half hour ago.

Me: Not at the moment, no.

Josh: What’s on your mind Will? I haven’t heard from you since we left Sinners. It’s so unlike you to not call for a pity fuck.

Me: Fuck you, arsehole.

Josh: Fuck me? Or my arsehole?

Me: Isn’t it essentially the same thing?

Josh: Good point. You need me to come over?

Me: No, I’ll come to you.

Josh: Jesus Christ. I just dropped the phone. You come to me? Did hell freeze over?

Me: See you in an hour.

I stand in the hallway, waiting on Josh to open the door. I’ve been here enough times before to know he lives in what’s probably the wankiest building in Newcastle. Everything is pristine. White tiles, walls and ceilings, with sleek chrome surfaces and clean, crisp lighting. Next to me, Josh is the most unclean motherfucker I’ve ever met, so he belongs in this building about as much as I do.

“Hey,” I mumble, as he pulls back the door. He’s still in his suit from work, a grey designer piece I’ve seen before that fits snugly. His hair is styled with some kind of product, and he looks tired but presentable.
Too
presentable. I resist the urge to reach out and muss his hair so he looks a little more like my friend Josh and not some corporate, well-dressed robot.

“Hey yourself,” he says, loosening his tie. I thrust the bottle of booze I bought from the liquor shop down the street at him and step inside the apartment.

“Turkey tonight, huh?” Josh appraises the bottle and whistles. “Why do I feel like we’re about to hear another somebody-done-someone-wrong song?”

“Did your maid come today?” I ask, ignoring his question as I glance around the unusually tidy apartment. He closes the door and walks by me to the very shiny kitchen to pour us a drink.

“Cleaner,” he says. “And yes, Abigail came to the apartment today.”

“You don’t worry she goes through your stuff when you’re not here?” I take a seat at the small breakfast bar and toy with the lid he just removed from the whiskey bottle. “Like, what if she’s using that giant dildo you own, and you know nothing about it?”

Josh glares. “Jesus, Will. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I blurt out.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the ruggedly sexy blond you threw under the bus the other night, would it?”

I stare at him. “Threw under the bus?”

“Come on, Will.” He grins, taking out a couple of glasses and pouring the amber liquid. “It was kind of a douche move, testing him like that.”

Was it that obvious
?

I knew it was a dick thing to do, but I needed to know. I needed to see if he could handle being a part of this life, and in many ways it tested me far more than him, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

“If you knew then why the hell did you give him such a hard time?” I ask.

Josh shrugs. “I like to play gay for the haters.”

“He’s not a hater,” I snap.

“He’s not one of us either.” He hands me the glass of whiskey and I gulp it down.

I wrinkle my nose and beat my chest as the liquor burns my gullet. “Jesus, that tastes like piss.”

“You bought it.”

“I’m losing my goddamned mind, Josh.” I shake my head. “I can’t even think fucking straight.

“It’s because, like a douchebag, you fell in love
with
a douchebag.” Josh grabs the bottle of whiskey and walks over to the couch. I let out a humourless laugh, snatch our glasses from the kitchen bench and follow, falling onto the plush sofa when he yanks on my arm. “Settle in, William. You’re spending the night here, and we’re going to get shitfaced.”

I nod. I shouldn’t, because I have to unpack deliveries and there’s a whole heap of other shit to do in the morning before we open, but I don’t give a rat’s arse. I need this. I need to unload. And for once I need my life to be driven by more than just work.

“Where’s jailbait tonight?”

“Brad,” he says, matter-of-factly, “Went home to his mother.”

“Shit,” I say. “No more underage arse for you.”

“Oh, he’ll be back,” he says. “And I’ll remind you that eighteen is perfectly legal.”

“Eighteen is a disaster waiting to happen. Do you remember what you were like at eighteen? Because I was a complete waste of space.”

“You’re avoiding the topic here, William.”

“I told him I love him,” I blurt out.

Josh glares at me, as though he’s offended by that remark. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I told him and he flinched. He actually fucking flinched.”

Josh takes my hand and squeezes. “He’s just scared. You’ve been out of the closet how long?”

I shrug, because I know he doesn’t really want to know; it’s rhetorical.

“He needs time, and you’re gonna give it to him. And then when he comes around, you’re really gonna give it to him,” he says with a wink.

I nod in agreement, but my heart isn’t in it at all, because once again I find myself standing on the edge of a precipice. My toes dangle precariously over the ledge, and I don’t know if I’m going to jump or if the whole cliff-face is going to crumble beneath my weight.

Once, North tore my whole world apart. I promised myself I’d never fall again. Turns out I lied.