CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
FRIDAY ARRIVED BEFORE Derek was ready, and as he drove down his childhood street at a slow crawl, nausea roiled through his gut. He couldn’t believe he was back there—of his own volition.
As he navigated his vehicle between the ones parked at the curbside, he saw Finn’s mother’s car and stared longingly at the home he’d once wished was his own. It’d been so great to reconnect with Finn recently, and just like back in the day, Mrs. Finley had welcomed him into her home with a warm smile and a hug.
But he wasn’t on this street today for a hug and a pat on the back, no. He was there to do something he never would’ve believed himself capable of years ago. It had taken him weeks to come to terms with the fact that he was helping his father, but now that he was there driving down a street that for him ended in hell, he wondered if he’d lost his sanity.
As he pulled to a stop at the curb of his father’s home, he took a moment to try to calm his nerves. God, what he wouldn’t do to be anywhere other than there today.
As the engine idled, he tapped his thumb on the steering wheel and counted back from twenty.
Just get in and get out. You only have to get through the next few hours and then you can forget about this place.
And therein lay the problem. Knowing that he had to be in the fucker’s presence for even five seconds was what caused the heartburn. Because even though he knew he could leave at any time, it didn’t do shit to help with the fact that he felt obligated to do this in the first fucking place.
After grabbing the keys from the ignition, he made himself get the hell out of the car before he drove away. He marched up the cracked pavement of the concrete path and shook his head at the weeds growing in between them. The two banana trees he and his brother had planted when they were boys swayed in the breeze, causing the large leaves to drag against the once yellow shutters of the classic-style “Conch House.” The paint was chipping off the wooden boards that made up the old shack, and the swing that used to sit invitingly on the porch now hung off one chain—broken.
A true representation of the family who’d once lived there.
He hadn’t been back in years, and he’d stopped thinking about the occupants the same day he’d left. That was, until his brother had recently tracked him down.
Wanting to get this over with, he didn’t bother to stop and knock, and instead opened the door and stepped inside. The depressing gloom that greeted him went hand in hand with the familiar stench of cigarettes and alcohol, and when the door shut behind him the walls seemed to close in, making it even more difficult to breathe.
He peered through the haze and shadows to the place where he knew he’d find him, and sure as shit, there was his father. His ass was planted in his beat-up vinyl recliner facing the one window he’d bothered to open for air—passed out.
Fucking hell, Derek thought, as he walked over the crushed beer cans on the floor. He spotted a pizza box on the counter with the lid askew, lifted it the rest of the way, and cringed. Half the pizza was gone, and the other half was at least a couple days old.
“Hey,” he said as he came around in front of the recliner. When his father didn’t budge, Derek took a second to look over the man whose legs were sprawled out on the ripped vinyl of the upturned footrest.
The greasy hair sticking out at all angles and the unshaven face aged him considerably. He barely resembled the monster that Derek remembered.
“Hey,” he said again, louder this time, punctuating it with a kick to the footrest. He’d be damned if he was going to be polite to this piece of trash.
His father roused, and tried to sit up, but his hand slipped off the armrest and he slumped back down, clutching his head. “Fuck, do you gotta be so loud?”
“Apparently,” Derek said, crossing his arms. “Why aren’t you ready?”
His father hacked and coughed as he struggled to sit up while at the same time tucking the footrest back under the chair. When the task seemed too much of a monumental effort, Derek raised his leg and, with the sole of his boot, shoved the footrest under the couch with a little more force than necessary.
His father rocked forward on the chair and glared up at him. “Watch it, boy.”
Derek told himself not to flinch, but old habits died hard. When the asshole got to his towering height of six foot four, Derek took a step back, but he wasn’t quick enough. His father got a hold of the middle of his shirt and yanked him forward. Derek’s palm shot out to hold him at bay, and his father narrowed his eyes.
“After all these years, you’re still a fucking pussy. Afraid of your old man.”
Derek wrapped his fingers around his father’s wrist and ripped it from his shirt. “You don’t scare me,” he spat, as he shoved his father away. “And you know why? I got away from you. You hold no power here, old man.”
“Don’t I? Last time I saw you, you were on your ass crying like a little queer—”
“Shut your mouth,” Derek barked, the reminder of that final beating his father had dished out bringing to the surface his barely restrained anger.
“What are you even doin’ here?”
“I’m here to take you to the clinic. Alan didn’t tell you?” Derek looked around the dump he used to call home, and then back to the fucker in front of him. “Of course he didn’t,” he said. “This place smells like shit.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
Disgust radiated through Derek as he kicked an empty Chinese container on the floor. “Really?” he asked, and walked back through the living room, past the kitchen, to the front door. “You hadn’t noticed this place looks like a fucking pigsty? You’re gonna have roaches crawling through here soon enough,” he said with his hand on the doorknob. “What time’s Alan get home?”
“What’s it matter to you? Boy’s got a real job, he does. Not like you who thinks he’s a real hotshot. Dontcha, Derek? With your overpriced gym full of fags and pretentious dicks willing to pay out the ass to stare at each other bending over all day.”
Derek bit the inside of his cheek so hard that the metallic taste of blood hit his tongue and he told himself to just go. Just leave him there to rot. It’s what he deserves.
But something inside him, obviously some sick and twisted part, couldn’t make himself leave.
“I’ll be out in the car. You’ve got five fucking minutes and then I’m leaving. Whether you’re dead on the floor or not.”
He didn’t bother waiting for an answer. He needed to get away from the guy before he lost what little hold he had on his temper. Who knew what he was capable of when pushed far enough, and with the amount of rage he harbored toward that man, it was a miracle he hadn’t beaten him and left him dead already.
Jesus, how is this my goddamn life again? He was right back in the same fucked-up scenario he’d been in as a child. But what was the alternative? Knowingly letting the man die? Because he would, and soon, without medical intervention.
Derek looked toward the faded yellow door and cursed the universe yet again for the crappy hand he’d been dealt. Why was he the one burdened with the ability to help this man, when he’d done nothing but try to destroy him?
He’d wanted to say go to hell to both his brother and his father…but when it had come down to it, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say no.
The situation was beyond fucked.
He felt cornered. Like a trapped animal, and he knew by the end of today he would either need boxing gloves and a bag—or Jordan.
* * *
JORDAN SAT ON his couch with the phone pressed to his ear while he and Brantley discussed whether he should serve a rack of lamb or surf and turf tomorrow night at Finn’s get-together.
Jordan gave the question careful consideration and then asked, “Surf and turf with lobster?”
“Of course. What do you think?”
“Sounds delicious. Don’t even think about buying drinks, though; I’ve got those covered. Is there anything Daniel doesn’t like?”
Brantley covered the mouthpiece and called out over his shoulder, then said, “No. He’s easy.”
“I was talking about the wine selection, Professor Hayes. Not his behavior in the bedroom.”
Jordan heard a smile in Brantley’s tone when he answered, “Who said I was talking about his behavior in the bedroom?”
“Oh, look at you finally making sex jokes about your younger man.”
Brantley laughed. “Speaking of younger men. How is yours this evening?”
“He is not mine…”
“Isn’t he? So you’re trying to tell me you won’t be turning up to our place tomorrow night with Derek Pearson. A.k.a. owner of Pearson’s Total Fitness, a.k.a. He-Man.”
Jordan couldn’t help the ridiculous grin on his face as he twirled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. “I’m not telling you anything.”
He could practically hear Brantley’s frown through the phone as he said his name.
“What?” Jordan asked.
“At least have the decency to tell me if I need to hide the fine china if you are bringing someone other than Derek. I’d hate for World War Three to break out in my dining room. Oh, I’m sorry, World War Four. Three happened a few months back at Boyz.”
“You know, I think Daniel Finley is rubbing off on you. You’ve become quite petulant lately.”
There was a shuffling sound and then Daniel’s voice came through the phone. “Listen up, Posh, I know you’re bringing Derek, because he told me. So let me extend the same advice to you that you once gave me: If you hurt him, I will hunt you down and have your perfect, overpriced balls for breakfast, you got that?”
“Overpriced?” Jordan said. “I’ll have you know—” He was cut off by the buzzing of his intercom. Getting to his feet, he walked over to press the button to show him who was by the elevator. Derek looked up at him, and any other words that Daniel was saying were drowned out.
If a picture was worth a thousand words, the one he was staring at portrayed anguish and pain in a single image.
Derek’s eyes held his as Jordan punched the button to let him inside, and even as Derek vanished from the screen, Jordan told Daniel he had to go, and switched to the camera inside the elevator. Just as he had a week ago, Derek stared up at him the entire ascent.
He knew that look. He’d seen it on his man before. It was the look of someone who needed his demons exorcised, and knowing where Derek had been today, Jordan knew exactly which demon it was.
He let go of the VIEW button and stood there waiting for Derek’s arrival.
When the elevator finally got to his floor and the door opened, Jordan held his hand out and said, “Come with me.”