Give Yourself Away (20 page)

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Caleb said. “What’s she going to say? Is it going to make her feel better that you prefer men to her? You slept with her. You’re just going to worry her.” Caleb squeezed his fingers. “I bought chocolate tart. Want some?”

March gave a short laugh. “Is that it? I was engaged, going to get married, and you’re not—”

“Not what? You’re not engaged anymore. Though I still wonder if you’re bi. It’s just that I really couldn’t have sex with a woman. My dick would not cooperate. A blowjob, yeah, it probably would for that, but I’m not turned on by breasts and curves.”

March tucked up behind him and pinned him against the table. “Do I turn you on?”

“I can’t believe you asked that. Forgotten what happened in the hall? Yes, you turn me on.”

“Can we leave the tart until later?”

Caleb tried to turn but March wouldn’t let him. He reached around to unfasten the button and zipper on Caleb’s pants, and tugged them and his shorts down at the same time. March pulled a condom and lube out of his pocket, and when he dropped them on the table Caleb laughed.

“I’m never going to be anywhere near you unless I’m prepared,” March said. “I can’t wait any longer. I want you right here, right now.”

“I haven’t had a shower.”

“We’ll shower after. You can keep your T-shirt on.”

“You’re not going to freak out eating off this table, knowing what we did?”

“No. My problem will be wanting to do this every time we sit here to eat.”

March pulled down his own pants and shorts and bent Caleb over the table. He leaned against Caleb, pressing his cock into the seam of his butt, and let out a deep sigh. The feeling of being skin to skin set March on fire. Precome gathered at the tip of his cock and he rubbed it down the line of Caleb’s butt.

“Enough foreplay. Fuck me,” Caleb said.

March’s stomach lurched. At least this time he got the condom on and lubed up without shaking too much. He put a hand in the middle of Caleb’s back, positioned his cock at the entrance to his body and pressed, rocking his hips back and forth and pushing in a little more each time.

“Oh fuck,” March blurted and slid deep.

Caleb’s body flowered open to him and all March could do was fuck him, pound him into the table. Jesus Christ. It was such mind-blowing pleasure he almost couldn’t cope with it. His dick engulfed in tight heat, his hips were shifting with a mind of their own. March leaned over Caleb’s back and nipped his shoulder, felt and heard Caleb’s sucked-in cry and fucked him harder.

His chest felt too tight. Breathing hurt but the pleasure spiraling in his belly made it impossible to stop. He reached under Caleb’s hips for his cock and wrapped his hand around it. Caleb let out a sharp gasp and bucked back into March’s thrusts. March stroked him with short, firm movements of his hand. Then stroked him with long, slow, gentle caresses while moans fell continuously from Caleb’s lips.

Caleb turned his face and glanced at him. That little smile almost made March come undone. Desire peaked and yet impossibly went higher. He felt Caleb come, and as Caleb’s muscles clenched around March’s cock, he was dragged closer to the edge.

“Oh fuck,” March gasped.

He thrust harder, deeper, and the breath caught in his throat for a moment as a storm of pleasure engulfed him, pulled him under and drowned him. His balls drew up tight and he exploded with a long cry of what sounded like triumph as come and heat burst from his cock in long, wrenching pulses.

As the spasms died away, March dropped onto Caleb’s back, his body trembling with aftershocks. His chest heaved as he sucked air and then somehow Caleb shifted from under him to sit on the table, wrap his arms and legs around March and press his face against his shoulder.

“Where have you been?” Caleb asked.

“Waiting for you.” And March knew it was true.

Chapter Twenty

Tye cried out as Liam hit him.

“You fucking piece of shit.” Liam launched another kick at Tye’s ribs.

Tye curled up, trying to protect himself.

“I don’t need some fucking-arrogant twat telling me what to do. You were told to keep your mouth shut. What did you say to him?”

“Nothing.”

Liam laughed. “Yeah, right. You think I’d let you go? For ten thousand pounds? You’re worth a lot more than that, you ungrateful little punk. I’m never letting you go. Ever. I made you. You’re mine.”

“Then why…are you selling me…to Jasim?”

“Because I’m bored with you, because he bid the most, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go.”

He hauled Tye onto the bed and sat on his back.

Tye struggled to draw air into his lungs. He didn’t regret appealing to Jasim, but he wondered if it would be the last brave thing he ever did. Maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad, knowing he’d at least tried to save himself.

Liam fastened his arms to the bars of the bedhead and his feet to the base. Tye thought he was going to be fucked. He hoped Liam didn’t shove his fist inside him. He’d threatened to in the past but never done it because he said he wanted to keep Tye’s arse tight.

Tears trickled from his eyes and sank into the pillow. What had Jasim said? Had he asked Liam to let him go? Offered ten thousand? Had Tye not made him understand how dangerous Liam was?

Didn’t matter anyway. Freedom was a dream. It wasn’t going to happen.

Tye’s inability to resist caused more issues than the physical pain Liam inflicted. He suspected Liam had made him addicted to whatever it was he put in his food. When he was younger, he’d been more alert. Now he spent his days in a dream. Tye had almost reached the end. His life was shit and there was no hope.

Liam came back pulling a small suitcase. Tye tried not to think about what might be inside it. A chainsaw? Whatever it was, it would hurt. He didn’t bother pleading, didn’t bother speaking. Nothing made any difference.

When he saw what Liam had in the case, he closed his eyes. At one time he might have come out with a smartarse comment; now he just lay there and accepted. When some lone spark of resistance made him struggle, it hurt more, so he made himself stop. Liam had done worse things.

* * *

Caleb lay on the couch, with March at his back, one of March’s legs hooked over his and March holding his hand.

“Move in,” March said. “Properly, I mean. Make this your address. Live with me.”

Caleb’s heart jumped.

“I know it’s too soon but I don’t see any point you looking for a place when you can stay here. And just to prove I don’t only want your body, you can make the guest room yours. This isn’t contingent on sex, though… Yeah well, the room has its own bathroom and if you don’t say something fast I’m going to wish I’d kept my mouth shut.”

“Something fast. That would be you.”

March nipped his ear and Caleb yelped.

“So?” March asked.

Caleb knew he ought to say no because it
was
too soon, but yes came out of his mouth. He also knew he ought to have added “until I find a place of my own”, but he didn’t because a tiny part of him hoped this could be his place too.

March hugged him. “We can shift things around to get all your stuff in. Is it in storage somewhere?”

Caleb thought of his car. “Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

“Everything I own is in my bag or in the car.”

March swung over Caleb and stood up. “Let’s bring it in now before you change your mind.”

Caleb pushed himself to his feet. “I haven’t seen the room yet. It might not meet my discerning standards.”

March grinned. “It’s lovely. I bought the single bed with the house. There’s flowered wallpaper and a stunning matching bedspread and velvet curtains. I think the owner used that room. She died in her sleep. It’s never bothered me. I’d keep the pink-and-orange rug where it is, though. I’ve never figured out what that stain is underneath. There might be enough room to swing a cat but I’d advise you not to try. She had a cat. Well, not
a
cat. Fifteen. They slept with her. So I was told.”

March said it all with a straight face and for a moment Caleb wobbled.

“She wasn’t found for two weeks after she died. The poor cats were forced to eat… If you don’t like it, you can just store your stuff in there and share my bed.”

“I’m fine with everything except the flowered wallpaper.” Caleb pretended to shudder.

Between them they carried everything into the hall from his car and then took the first load upstairs.

March nodded toward his bedroom. “If you hear cats yowling, you know where I am.”

Caleb pushed on the door to the right and March reached for the light switch. Plain walls, blue curtains, blue-and-white-striped comforter on a double bed, pale-gray carpet and no rug. Caleb smiled, put his bag on the floor and walked over to a display of framed photographs on the far wall.

March when he was a— Caleb’s eyes widened as he tried to take in what he was seeing, because what he was seeing was impossible. He stopped breathing as his gaze flittered from one picture to another and back again, moving faster and faster, trying to come up with an explanation for what was in front of him.

March stood at his shoulder and when he brushed against him it kick-started Caleb’s lungs. “I put my mum and stepdad in here when they come to stay. That’s me and my dad.”

Can’t be real. Just can’t. Oh God.

Caleb’s heart raced so fast he thought he was going to die. Everything hurt. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus. He wasn’t sure how he was still on his feet.

“I miss him,” March said and for a moment Caleb thought he meant
him
.

His arms and legs were tingling. He knew why. Not enough oxygen. He was breathing much too fast, but knowing it made no difference. The air was being sucked not only from the room but directly out of him.

“That’s my mum. I’d just knocked that ice cream out of her hand.”

I was there. That little kid next to her is me. You were trying to stop the seagull getting it and, instead, it hit the deck.

Caleb knew he was safe, but it made no difference. He was going to die. The room shook. No.
He
shook. Couldn’t March see what was happening?

“That’s my mum and stepdad getting married in Saint-Malo and me scowling. Not because they were getting married. I had to wear a suit and tie and it was a hot day and I wasn’t happy. That’s one of me climbing in Nepal. Me surfing in Portugal. Mountain biking in Italy. Sailing. Skiing. BASE jumping. Narcissistic much, right?” March laughed but the sound faded.

“Caleb? I’m trying to distract you and it’s not working. Say something. Look at me. What the fuck is wrong? You’re worrying me.”

Caleb slowly turned to look at him, trying to see what he’d missed in March’s face, looking for some trace of the boy he knew. But his body was still failing him, his mind tricking him into believing he was tied to a train track and there was nothing he could do to get free, that this time he
was
going to die. He slumped to the floor and March dropped to his side.

“Is it your heart?” March asked.

Yes, but not in the way March meant.

“Asthma?”

Caleb shook his head.

“Panic attack?”

He managed a nod.

“Try to breathe more slowly. Breathe out longer than you breathe in.” March took his hand. “What do you need? Shall we get out of this room?”

Another shake.

Caleb stared at March.
Baxter?
Could he be that lucky? Finally?

Even as joy rushed in, anger overwhelmed it, and Caleb dragged his hand free. He was awash with emotion, pulled in so many directions he couldn’t function.

“I’m not going anywhere,” March said. “We’ll just stay here as long as you need.”

God, it’s him. It really is
.
Ask.

“
B
for…Baxter?” His voice was so quiet he could hardly hear himself speak.

March’s brow furrowed. “How the hell could you know that? You’re panicking because you…you recognized me as a kid? Do we know each other?”

“I…I…I…” Tye fought for air, gulped after each attempt to speak.

He wanted to hit March, wanted to hurt him, thump him, strike him. How could this be happening? He felt his face twisting in a scowl. He managed to get to his feet, but he couldn’t move away from the wall.

March stood up at his side. His eyes widened in concern. “What is it? What’s wrong? Please say something.”

“I thought…you were dead.” Caleb flattened his trembling hands against the wall. “He told me you were dead.”

“What? Who told you?” March couldn’t have looked more puzzled if he’d tried.

Look at me. Know me.

Caleb didn’t want to tell him, he wanted March to see.

“He showed me you were dead and told me it was my fault.”

Caleb watched realization dawn as March’s face blanched, his eyes flaring with the same stunned shock that Caleb was feeling.

“Did you think
I
was dead?” Caleb asked.

“Oh my God.” March stared at him without blinking, anguish in his voice. “Jesus Christ Almighty.”

March wasn’t touching him now. Caleb wasn’t sure he wanted him to. Anger still bubbled inside him. All these fucking years…if Caleb had looked harder, if he’d taken the risk despite what Jasim said. If Baxter/March had looked harder for him.

“Why did you think I was dead?” March asked.

“He gave me a newspaper cutting. The bikes found along with charred remains. Yours. But it wasn’t you, was it?” Caleb gasped, his heart back to hurting as if it were tearing itself apart, trying to break through his ribs.

“What did you think happened to me?” He raised his fists and hit March on the chest once, twice, kept going. “What the fuck did you think happened to me?” He shouted it time after time, kept hitting March, who did nothing to stop him.

Caleb’s hands fell back to his sides, still clenched. “Didn’t you look for me? We said… Why didn’t you find me? Oh God, how did you get out of the house? Shit, who died?”

His legs refused to keep him upright and he slithered down the wall.

March dropped down at his side. “Tye? I can’t… Oh fuck. Where’ve you been? What happened? Jesus. You’re here? With me? I can’t believe it.”

He reached for Caleb’s face and Caleb jerked away. March swallowed hard but let his hand drop.

Caleb stared at him. The intense push and pull of emotion was more than he could bear. He was scared he was dreaming. Scared that he wasn’t.

“I’m overwhelmed,” March whispered.

You’re
overwhelmed?

“Tell me what I can do.”

Caleb struggled to pull himself together. “When I was free, when I had my head straight, I looked for you. I wasn’t supposed to. I’d promised. I’d been told you were dead by two people. One I had reason not to trust, the other every reason
to
trust. I still shouldn’t have looked. There were huge risks, but I had to see for myself. There was always the chance the newspaper had been wrong, that Liam had tricked me, that what I’d been told by the other person was a lie and you were alive.

“You weren’t at your house. That was an easy check. I risked one look on the Internet. There was no Baxter Carne.”
I am so angry with you.
His eyes filled with tears.
Oh Christ, my heart.

“We moved to France after Dad died. Mum wanted me to have her new husband’s surname. I didn’t want to be Baxter to anyone if you weren’t there, so I used my middle name. Oh, Tye.”

“I’m not Tye anymore.”

March tried to take hold of his hand, but Caleb wrapped his arms around himself and hugged tight.
I’m so cold.

“I can’t take this in,” March whispered. “I can’t fucking believe it. You, but…your eyes. They’re not green.”

“Contacts.” Caleb spat out the word.

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to see myself when I looked in the mirror. I wanted to be someone new. And years of being kept in continual light, or perpetual darkness when I was being punished, meant my eyesight deteriorated. Maybe it would have anyway, but I might as well blame Liam for that as well.”

“Fuck.”

March reached for him again then pulled back his hand.

Caleb was glad. He wanted to get all this out, see if March still wanted to touch him
then
. See if
he
wanted to touch March.

“I didn’t know he’d set the house on fire. He had me wrapped up in his van. I thought you’d come. Even after Liam showed me the newspaper and I knew you were dead, even after Liam showed me what he looked like without his wig and his scar, I still had this hope inside me. I thought you’d find me and take me away from him. Because we’d promised.” His teeth clenched. “But you didn’t come,
no one
came, so in the end I had to accept you weren’t alive anymore.”

Caleb banged his head back against the wall, did it three times before March stopped him. He slid his fingers between Caleb’s head and the plaster, then trailed his hand down Caleb’s arm to his hand, pushed until Caleb unclenched his fist, then threaded their fingers together.

“I would have done anything for it to have been you who got away and not me,” March whispered.

Caleb looked straight at him. “There wasn’t one moment when I wished you were in there instead of me. Though I did wish you were
with
me. A bit selfish.”

“I can’t get my head around this.” March dragged his fingers of his other hand through his hair. “Why didn’t I know you were free? Have you been in witness protection? Didn’t they catch Liam? Why the fuck didn’t the police at least tell me you were okay? Every time I asked, they said the case was still open but there were no new leads.

“Oh God, after the house burned down, I rode my bike everywhere looking for you and Liam and the van. The license number you gave me turned out to belong to a Porsche.”

Caleb took a shuddering breath.

“When the police came and told me and my parents that human remains had been found, I thought it was
you
who was dead and I… Oh fuck. But when they did their tests, it turned out to be the old guy who owned the house. They couldn’t tell if he’d been killed or died of natural causes.”