Outcome (Aftermath #2) (18 page)

There was something else Remy wanted to do for Chase too, but it was a task Remy planned to do on impulse. Because thinking about it made him sick.

"You've reached Andy. Leave a message or try later…"

Damn it. Remy needed the number to the studio, and he'd never fucking learned it.

He ended the call and blew out a breath as he looked toward the cabinet where he knew Minna had hidden his old phone. He'd found it the other day when he was looking for a notepad.

For one second, he made a face at the fridge—or at the thought of Minna—because back when Remy's house was a nondescript bachelor pad, there were business cards decorating the fridge.
With certain phone numbers
.

"Let's get it over with," he grumbled. The last thing he wanted right now was any kind of contact with the people from LA, and he hoped that guy…fuck, what was his name, again? Travis…no…Trent. Yeah. Remy hoped Trent wasn’t blowing up his inbox with messages.

Remy opened the cabinet and grabbed his phone—charger, too—and plugged it in. He waited anxiously as the phone flashed with life, and then how text after text popped up on the screen.

They were all from Trent, or "Malibu Hustler" as Remy had labeled the guy the night they'd met, been high off their asses, and thought they'd been funny.

Remy scrolled down, his body tensing up more for each message.

Party in Vegas, u in?

Got new shipment, lemme know what u need, bruh.

Haven't seen u around lately. Whatchu up 2?

Need a favor, call back.

Can u front me three k? Big money in it 4 u.

WTF Stahl. Call me.

Sending a friend 2 check in on u. Need ur help.

Remy swallowed past the tightness in his throat and deleted the entire text conversation. Then he pushed the phone away from him and just stared at it as he willed his heartbeat to slow the fuck down. It wasn’t like Trent was right here in the kitchen with a bottle of vodka and two lines of blow. He was in LA, where he belonged, doing the same old shit.

Trent was all bark and no bite. The fact that nobody had "checked in" on Remy proved as much. Fuck it, Trent just wanted a rich kid who could lend him money whenever he wanted to expand his business.

Steeling himself, Remy went for the phone again and located the number to Andy's studio.

Andy himself answered after the third ring, and Remy stomped down the longing he felt when he heard the music and bitching between Dan and Martinez in the background.

"It's Remy." Remy leaned back against a counter and looked down at the floor. 

"Shut the fuck up, guys!"
Andy yelled, holding away the phone.
"And Martinez, clean your goddamn station or have Newbie do it, but it gets done before your next client comes in."

Remy grinned to himself, remembering now that Dan and Martinez were always at each other like a couple two-year-olds.

"Sorry 'bout that,"
Andy chuckled.
"What's up, Rem?"

Jesus Christ, Remy missed it. "No worries. You've taken on a new apprentice?"

"Yeah. Nine months now. He's not you, but I had to find a new one, you know?"
Oh, twist the knife, Eriksson.
"He has the same specialty as Dan though, so we'll see if I can give him a position later."
Dan was the master of anything Japanese, but the demand for that wasn’t crazy high in Bakersfield.
"If you're calling to say you wanna come back, I'll smack you upside the head and thank you. I'll ride your ass too, but not the way you like it."

Remy couldn’t help but laugh. It was shaky, genuine, and full of both fear and relief. He
wanted
to come back—more than he could say—but he was afraid to have even more to lose. The stakes were suddenly so high, and Remy felt the pressure to succeed.

He put that pressure on himself, but he couldn’t help it.

"Hopefully one day soon," he settled for saying. It was the best he could come up with that wasn't a promise he could fuck up by breaking. "I called to ask if you have any clients within the next hour. If not, I have a favor to ask you. And shit—" A memory hit him, for which he felt like hitting
himself
for not remembering sooner. "How did the doctor's appointment go?"

Andreas's fiancée was seven months pregnant, expecting a boy. Apparently the little fella had been shy, so the doc hadn't been able to see the gender until recently.

"It went well."
There was a grin in Andy's voice.
"Don’t worry, I won't ask you to be godfather."

Remy laughed again, this time amused. "Dude, I was seventeen when I told you kids freaked me out."

"Have things changed?"
Andy shot back.

"Well." Remy smirked and scratched his chin. "Maybe not. Projectile vomiting isn't my thing, and they're so fucking dependent on you. Aren't you afraid you're gonna screw up?"

"Uh…"
Andy let out a chuckle.
"First of all, thank you—for
that
. Second of all…Remy, of-fucking-course I'm gonna screw up. It's sort of part of the parenting thing. At least that’s what the books say."

Remy smiled and shook his head in wonder. His friends had a way of making things sound so natural.
Of-fucking-course I'm gonna screw up
. Because it was okay to do that sometimes?

It hadn't been for Remy when he grew up.

"Anyway, what's the favor?"
Andreas asked.
"I'm off for another few hours. Just came down here 'cause my girl was sick of my overprotective ass. And, let's face it, sometimes I'm afraid Dan and Martinez are gonna burn down the place."

Right. The favor. Remy didn't like to ask because Andy and Minna had already helped him so much, but this was for Chase. Was there anything Remy wouldn’t do for that man?

Shit. That was kind of an aha moment he hadn't seen coming. Caring for someone, even loving them, was…entirely different. Making sacrifices for someone mattered more, because it
showed
just how much that love meant.

"It's Chase," Remy said, slightly dazed from his realization that Chase was his top priority in life. "He's in therapy now, and I'm not sure he should get on a bike when he's done. I think they're going to talk about something he's not comfortable with."

Andreas hummed.
"Interesting. Well, I can pick him up. He goes to Gale too, right?"

"Yeah, and I think he'll be done in like half an hour." Remy's brows furrowed. "But what's so interesting?"

Andy just laughed.
"It's nice to have you back, man. I'll pick him up."
With that, he ended the call.

"What the hell," Remy said flatly and stared at his phone. "Fucknut."

He shook that off and pondered for a second what he'd do next. Minna wasn’t due home yet, so Remy had a while before he even had to think about going back to the cabin. And then it hit him, that other thing he wanted to do for Chase.

Remy cursed, knowing if he thought about it for too long, he'd never go through with it. Chase had questions about the kidnapping, and Remy felt compelled to help. And since he didn’t have all the answers—futile as it was—there was only one thing to do.

Remy had to contact Fred and Clarissa.

Chapter 20

Chase had forced himself to be truthful with Gale, but he hadn't expected to share
this
much. In fact, the talk he'd had in his head before entering Gale's office only included being truthful about the hows and whys he'd been kidnapped. He'd gone as far as to tell her he'd been with a man prior to the kidnapping, and how it had to have been Ben's reason for choosing
him
.

But it'd gotten worse. Once Chase had started talking, the words had kept tumbling outta his mouth. Which included his fear of telling Remy everything, or rather, Chase being afraid of Remy blaming himself.

"I don't want this to be a setback for him,"
he'd explained.
"We've got a good thing goin' on, you know?"

"I actually don’t, Chase. I have a pretty good idea, but I would like some clarification."
Gale had tilted her head and studied him closely. Never any judgment. Only interest and curiosity.
"Are you romantically involved with Remy?"

Well, Chase hadn't exactly been lucid enough to lie, nor would he want to lie. Dizzy with memories, triggers of flashbacks lurking dangerously close, he'd nodded and admitted that, yeah, they'd started seeing each other in secret.

After that, Gale had paused the session, urging Chase to take a minute alone to gather his thoughts, and now he was waiting for her to return.

Rubbing his temples, Chase squeezed his eyes shut but almost found that worse. He needed to
see
reality; he was in his therapist's office, not in that motherfucking basement or in an alley.

His exhaustion ran bone deep, but it was more than the session that had taken its toll on Chase. It was the front he'd put up for decades, the hiding, the bullshit excuses, and the denial.

For each second that ticked by, he grew more and more pissed with himself. All this time, he could've been open and honest with who he was. Instead he was now stuck with regrets.

You know that's not true
.

It kinda was, though. Yeah sure, Gale was right; parents had a big impact on their children, and Chase's dad had definitely fucked with his head. But after all that…? After Pops had died, Chase had continued like he was still alive—like his dad's word was still law.

That ended now.

Chase wasn’t gonna wreck his own life anymore just because Pops had wrecked his. And hell, Adriana could be the fucking legacy.

It was time for Chase to have some peace in his life. If Remy was willing, Chase wanted to take baby steps and overcome his irrational fears—because there would always be kidnappers nearby waiting to strike, right?—with Remy at his side.

Christ. Remy
. Chase had to tell him how he'd been taken by Ben.

And when Gale returned with two glasses of water, Chase didn’t beat around the bush. He asked bluntly how he could be honest with Remy without sending him running for the nearest bottle.

Gale seemed momentarily surprised, perhaps because Chase rarely spoke willingly or asked many questions, but she caught on quickly. "Well. First of all, I want to revisit the fact that you're involved with Remy. Is it all right if we do that next session?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Chase wasn’t sure what that could be about, but he officially no longer had any secrets, so he was game.

"Excellent. Aside from the events that led up to Ben taking you, have you been honest with Remy?" Gale asked. "As you know, he's my patient too, so I'll have to tread carefully regarding what we talk about—unless you choose to come here together."

"Austin and Cam do that." Chase nodded, and he didn’t mind coming with Remy.

"They do, yes." Gale smiled. "So. Honesty. Of course it's always important, and I'm glad you want to be up-front with Remy. And since you mentioned 'running for the nearest bottle,' I assume you know of Remy's addiction." Chase nodded with a dip of his chin. "My advice is to sit him down where he's comfortable in his surroundings—and seclusion certainly won't hurt."

Chase could only agree. "He's told me he caves easily."

"Exactly. Perhaps you can go up to his cabin," Gale suggested. "If he gets upset—"

"Oh, he'll get upset," Chase muttered.

That was the whole point—why he'd been so reluctant to tell Remy.

Gale grinned wryly. "Keep him away from car keys and escapes, okay?"

Chase huffed a small chuckle 'cause it was probably the first time Gale had been so blunt. "Copy that."

For the next twenty minutes, Gale gave Chase advice on how he could approach this with Remy, and he was thankful. Anything to cushion the blow. And eventually, they returned to the reason Chase was there today.

"Start small, Chase," she told him gently. "That you're getting ready to accept this part of you and move on is wonderful, and you don’t want to move too fast. Whether you choose to come out, so to speak, with or without Remy, I advise you take baby steps."

"I'm not gonna plan my own Pride parade," Chase deadpanned.

Gale's mouth quirked up. "You know my thoughts on sarcasm in therapy, Mr. Gallardo."

Oh yeah, she called it
sugarcoated hostility
. Chase couldn’t help but grin. "Gotcha. Baby steps." He sobered as the funny moment was over. This was real. They were talking about his being gay, for fuck's sake. Something not even his sister knew about him. Christ. "It's easier to have a goal than taking the first step," he admitted.

"Of course it is. But keep in mind that the people closest to you aren't waiting for a reason to judge you," Gale reminded him, leaning forward. "It won't be easy, I know. The way you were taken, months of degradation for Remy's sexual orientation, and your childhood… I cannot stress this enough, Chase: do not rush things." She leaned back again. "So far, we've discussed your father, a so-called victim of his generation. It was nothing but fear and ignorance on his part."

Uh-huh, but that didn’t make it easier. Chase would always remember the snide remarks Pops made the few times homosexuality popped up in conversation. Whether it was the anniversary of a gay politician's murder in San Francisco Pops had heard about on the radio or another case of the "gay plague" in the '80s…he'd never run out of spiteful things to say, and Chase had always been close enough to hear it.

Chase grew uncomfortable in his chair and starting bouncing his knee. "It won't be easy to tell Ade."

"Perhaps she'll surprise you." Gale raised a brow and smiled. "From what you've told me about her, she looks up to you very much."

Chase didn’t know what to say to that.

*

After the session, Chase was too overwhelmed and tired to analyze the shit that had just happened. His plan was to chuck it all into the back of his head for now 'cause he had to get his ass to work. God,
work
. He needed a dozen pain-killers for his headache, and a few drinks wouldn’t hurt.

The late-afternoon sun was punishing, so he slid on his shades and started making his way toward his bike—

"Chase!"

Chase cursed, caught off guard, and turned to see…Andreas?

Andreas jerked his chin in hello and opened the door to his car. "Rem was right. You shouldn’t drive, man." Another chin jerk, this time toward the passenger's seat. "Get in. We can always come back for your bike later."

Chase ran a hand through his hair and looked between Andreas and his bike. Warmth seeped into his chest at Remy's thoughtfulness, and it made Chase miss him incredibly. He couldn’t describe how much he wanted to say
fuck it
and skip work. But the bar would fill up nice and slow over the next few hours, and Donna couldn’t work alone.

He got into Andreas’s car and tried to come up with something polite to say, but Andreas beat him to start conversation.

"How you feelin'?" he asked as he backed outta the parking lot.

"Uh…" How
did
Chase feel? Overwhelmed. Yeah. Still overwhelmed. "A bit slow on the uptake. Too much to process."

Andreas side-eyed him. "Yeah, so this is where you tell me to drive you home and not to your work. Remy's told me you work too much."

Chase let out a low laugh and shook his head. Then he gave Andreas the address—to his work that was also his home—and asked, "What else has Remy gossiped about?"

Andreas smirked. "Surprisingly little, which says a lot."

There was no way to misinterpret that. This was one of Remy's best friends. Chase wasn’t even gonna try to play it off. "You know about us," he stated quietly and looked out of his window. In his periphery, he saw Andreas's nod. He tensed up in reflex, but his heartbeat stayed steady and calm. "And Minna?"

For some reason, that made Andreas laugh. "My sister can be very unobservant. She tends to see what she wants."

"Which is?"

Another smirk from Andreas. "You—single and straight. Don’t worry, it's just a crush, but I'm still grateful you're neither."

"I'm…I'm not sure if I'm offended or flattered." Chase scratched his eyebrow.

"Go with flattered." Andreas shrugged. "Considering I haven't bitched at you about being with Remy, you're safe. But for Minna…? Dude," he chuckled, "she needs a guy who can put a leash on her. I don't think you're him."

Right. Add
that
to the pile of crap that already had Chase walking around in a daze.

He got it, though. Andreas was not only a big brother to Minna, but sorta to Remy, too. And Chase would always admire people who took care of their own.

In an attempt to put the therapy session behind him, Chase let a blanket of numbness cover his mind, which would hopefully allow him to work through the night without losing his shit.

"So…" Andreas tapped his fingers along the wheel. "You and Rem. Is it serious?"

I hope so
. "I don’t know." Chase absently watched an old pickup roll up next to them. It was a beauty that Cam would probably love to work on. By focusing on cars and bikes, it was easier to relax, but it also meant he had less control of his verbal filter. "We have some stuff to figure out. He has to stop blaming himself for every little thing, which…" He chuckled humorlessly. "I'm exactly the same, but I'm doing my best to quit."

"Did he cause a hurricane somewhere?" Andreas sounded like he was used to Remy taking blame. In this case, it was nothing yet, but it would be once Chase had spoken to him. "What's his fault this time?"

Heh. "No hurricane." Chase pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's about how Ben targeted me. For the others, he obviously only cared about the fact that they had shitty jobs. But for the guy who was gonna be Remy in captivity, Ben wanted a gay man."
Maybe you should shut the fuck up, Gallardo
.

"Ah." Andreas cringed. "So what, you'd been with your partner or something? I mean, how did Ben know?"

Chase swallowed bile. The numbness was gone, and he was in disbelief as to why he was spilling the guts to Andreas. Yet, the words kept pouring out. "Little less romance than that. Random hookup in an alley."

Andreas nodded once, quiet for a beat. "Sorry, man."

The rest of the ride was quiet, and when Andreas dropped Chase off at the bar, he only smirked and rolled his eyes—since Chase was obviously gonna work and not rest.

Chase thanked Andreas for the ride and then did his best yet again to forget about the session and focus on drinks, guests, and paying bills.

*

At the fifth time Remy's old phone buzzed with a text from Trent, he wanted to throw the damn thing against a wall.

Really, Remy should've known better. It was iMessage. Trent had clearly been alerted to Remy having read the messages.

He didn’t want to see Trent—at all—but after contacting Fred and Clarissa in Milwaukee, Remy was painfully close to leaving the house and going to track down a bottle of vodka. His stomach churned, either in approval and nausea. Maybe a bit of both.

Minna was home, though. That kept Remy in his room.

She was thoroughly distracted too, otherwise she would've noticed something was wrong with Remy. But as it was, Minna was busy looking through the listings for houses and condos Remy had printed out for her.

The day she'd told him she'd remodeled the whole house solely for his sake, to give him a real home to come back to, he'd decided to give Minna her dream home in return.

Every now and then, he heard her squealing and throwing out "Oh my Gods" in the kitchen. They were usually followed by a,
"Remy! Are you suuuure?"

"Yeah,"
he'd reply.

"Oh my God!"

He was going to do the same for Andreas.

Rolling over on the bed, Remy muttered a curse into the pillow. He was waiting for the anxiety to recede, the cravings to disappear, and for the image of Chase to pop up and be enough for Remy to relax. But nothing worked. Over and over, Clarissa's voice pierced his fucking skull.

"How dare you call here?"
she'd spat out.
"Haven't you ruined my family enough?"

Remy had struggled with his temper, no longer hurt by their bullshit, but downright furious for what a cunt Clarissa was.