Bonds of Denial (26 page)

Some things never changed.

He watched his mother with a detached emptiness that grazed over the old pain he’d buried for so long. Her reaction was better than some guys got, like Carter. Yet it still dug in to pick at the childish longing for more.

But this was it. They may never flat-out reject him, but it was clear he wasn’t to talk about it again. And he wouldn’t push it. There was no point. They had different lives and as long as they didn’t intersect, his picture would remain on their wall.

“You ready?” Rachel asked as she passed him to wrap her arms around their mother from behind. “Take care, Mom. Call if you need anything. I can be down here in two hours.”

“We’ll be fine.” She patted Rachel’s arm. “Thanks for coming.”

He stepped up when Rachel moved away and pulled his mother into a hug. “I love you, Mom.”

She nodded stiffly and pulled away. “Take care of yourself.” She wiped at her cheek and turned back to her vegetables.

He grabbed his and Rachel’s bags off the floor by the door and stepped outside into the blazing heat of the sun. He was almost certain that only another emergency or death would call him to return. Each step was one away from the past that’d held him trapped for far too long.

He needed to get back. To his life, his friends. To Carter.

Carter jerked up, the rapid knocking at his front door startling him out of his zone. Being hunched over a computer screen for hours, touching up the pictures he had to get to the gallery, was killer on his back and neck. He swiveled his head to get the knots out, but it didn’t help. His palm throbbed now that he’d stopped, the small movements from using the mouse inflicting more pain on his cut than he thought it should.

He stood, stretched and slowly made his way downstairs. Maybe Tony was back to tell him Hank had changed his mind on letting his last two weeks slide. That’d be just about right for his life. He ran a hand through his hair and over his mouth before he peered through the glass side window.

Rock.

His stomach clenched and he almost stepped back. Maybe Rock hadn’t seen him. But he was staring right at him, his face grim. Carter couldn’t sneak away and hide. Hell, he’d barely managed to shower. He was pretty certain he looked like shit.

He took a steadying breath and opened the door.

“Hey.”

Rock’s deep voice ran over him, the resonance ticking over his memories and guilt. He went to shove his hands in his pocket, but they slipped over the silky material of his track pants. The pants had no pockets. “Hey,” he remembered to say as he floundered for a pose, finally ending with his arms crossed over his chest.

Rock looked him over, frowning. “Can I come in?”

Carter squinted into the bright sunlight, uncertain if that was a good idea but knowing they needed to talk. He hung his head and stepped back to let the man enter.

Rock moved past him, his scent drifting by Carter in a tempting wave of longing and more regrets. He ached to reach out and touch him, just a brush of fingers over his arm, but he kept his hands firmly tucked under his arms.

He nudged the door shut with his shoulder and followed Rock to the living room. He didn’t miss that, for the first time, Rock hadn’t stopped to remove his shoes and coat. Maybe it was the dry weather that came with early May, but it was more likely he didn’t plan on staying that long.

The room was dark, the blinds and curtains closed tight against the sun that insisted on shining. Carter shuffled his feet over the soft carpet. The apology he owed Rock stuck in his dry throat. God, he was such a shit.

Rock turned around, scanning the room in a slow appraisal that took in the pile of dirty dishes on the coffee table, the stack of unopened mail spread across the kitchen counter, the damaged wall and remains of his cell phone that still lay by the stairs. He clasped his hands behind his back and settled into what Carter thought of as his rest position before he finally looked to him.

They stared at each other for a moment. Maybe it was a minute, an hour, Carter didn’t know. He took in everything that he could, afraid this was the last time he’d get the chance.
So handsome
, that’s what he thought, even in a black windbreaker and cargo pants. Strong but gentle beneath. Like the first time they met, Rock stood proud, shoulders back, chin raised, his expression guarded.

“We’re not done. You and I.”

Rock’s level words shot over the silence. Carter closed his eyes and hugged himself
tighter. He couldn’t trust those words and what they might mean.

“I’m sorry,” he said, forcing his eyes open.

Rock hadn’t moved, not even his facial muscles. “For what?”

Carter wet his lips and scrambled through the list of regrets that filled him. “For being a shit. For treating you like I did.” He shook his head, the guilt choking his throat. “You should hate me.”

The pain rose up from his chest, the burn rising with it. He sniffed, blinked and turned his head away. Damn it. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve and blew out a breath. He wouldn’t break. Couldn’t.

But it didn’t matter what he wanted because a few tears slipped out anyway. He quickly wiped them away under the cover of scrubbing a hand over his face.

Rock took a step closer, just one then stopped. “I forced it. You told me to go. I refused.” He glanced up and blew out a breath. “I wanted to help and ended up hurting us both.”

“No.” Carter shook his head. “God, no. I did it. I fucking took you when…” His throat closed up again and he swallowed, twice. “How could you ever forgive me for that?” He couldn’t forgive himself.

“You took what I offered. I basically gave you no choice.”

“That doesn’t make it right.” He couldn’t hug himself tight enough to ward off the chill that raised goose bumps on his arms. “There’s always a choice.”

“We both did wrong.” Rock took another step, his hands falling to his sides. “I’m sorry. I didn’t respect your space—”

“I didn’t respect you,” Carter shouted. “How can you forgive that?”

Rock fisted his hands. His jaw tightened, the line of his scar twitching. “Can you tell me what happened?” His voice was level and quiet after Carter’s outburst.

Carter looked around—searching for what, he didn’t know. His stomach heaved, but he refused to give in to the sickness that rose at the thought of that night. He dug his toes into the carpet, the small movement giving him something to focus on.

“It was a bad job,” he said mechanically. “Two guys tag-teamed, wouldn’t let me get off then tossed me out when they were done. I felt like shit and took it out on you.”

“And the erection from hell?”

He scoffed a laugh. “I started needing the drug to get through the jobs these last months.”

“Only the last few months?”

He nodded, letting Rock come to his own conclusions. The silence stretched for a moment, but Carter couldn’t make himself look up. He wiggled his toes deeper into the carpet, the bristly fiber prickling the groves between his toes.

“Is the agency screwing with you because your contract is almost done?”

He shook his head and sighed. He might as tell Rock all of it. “It was because I dumped a regular. The guy I came to The Den with. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done.”

Rock stepped closer, his boots coming into view. “Why’d you dump the regular?”

Carter gave a weak laugh around an exhale. He looked up. “Like I could go back there and fuck a guy, knowing you were watching. How much of an ass would that have made me?”

“So you did it for me?” Rock narrowed his eyes.

“You. Me. Us. A lot of good it did me. I still fucked it all up.”

Rock was arm-distance away now. Close enough to touch but too far to hold. Would he ever feel those arms around him again? Did he deserve to?

“When are you going to trust me?” Rock asked. “I’m here. I came back. When will you
trust that I want to be with you?”

“Why?” The pathetic question was out, so he dug the hole deeper, showing his real fear. “You don’t need me anymore. You’re out of the closet. I’ve served my purpose.”

“You’re wrong.” Rock’s declaration was firm and curt. “But
you
have to believe that.”

“I have nothing to offer you.”

“All I need is you.”

Carter shook his head, the denial ringing strong within him. “No. You don’t.”

“Damn it, Carter. What happened to the confident man who knew who he was? Who took a closeted man so far in denial about his sexuality that he couldn’t breathe and showed him how great it felt to be himself? Huh? Where did that guy go?”

“He met you.”

Rock reared back like he’d been slapped. “What?”

His reaction came around to punch Carter in the gut. The soft reply had been an honest response, but he hadn’t intended to hurt Rock. He’d never meant to hurt him. “I’m a great escort,” he mumbled. “The perfect man for a night. But you wanted more. You made
me
want more. And that’s fine until you wake up one day and realize you’re with a whore. You can’t want that forever. No one does.”

“You’re right,” Rock agreed, and Carter’s legs almost buckled. “I don’t want a whore. I want you. When are you going to trust that?”

Trust that? His head was swimming and he swayed on his feet. “I don’t know if I can.”

Rock took the final step forward, bringing him so close. Carter could lean forward and fall into those strong arms and solid chest. They’d catch him, he was pretty certain of that. But would they hold him?

Big hands with lean fingers came up to frame Carter’s face. Rock’s pale eyes were full of words that neither of them said. Finally he leaned to press their foreheads together.

Carter closed his eyes, his lip clamped between his teeth. He had to hold on. He couldn’t crumble, not in front of Rock.

“I love you.”

The quiet declaration floated over Carter on a wave of warm breath and quiet beginnings.
Oh, God. How can I believe that?
He started to shake. The burn killed his throat and prickled at his eyes until he squeezed them closed. His heart pounded against his ribs, demanding he respond to the words he’d longed to hear, but his lips were glued shut.

The empty hole within him opened up to suck in the light that was Rock. He wanted this man too much. Seconds before he broke down and fell into Rock, the man stepped back, taking Carter’s courage with him. He sucked in a breath, his eyes fluttering open. He couldn’t hug himself tight enough to hold back the ache that grew in his chest.

Rock rubbed a hand over his cheek and pulled a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his coat. He unfolded it. “This was in my mail when I got back.” He looked up. “I submitted one of the pictures you took of me to
Army Family Magazine’s
photo contest. It turns out an organization pushing for full rights for gay military personnel and their families saw it. They want to use it for their national campaign.”

He flipped the paper around to show the picture he was talking about. The subject change was so abrupt, Carter barely kept up. But his smile was automatic. It was a great image. He’d faded out the city background a bit and pulled the focus onto Rock’s statement and the strength he portrayed in the pose. “That’s one of my favorite shots.”

“This right here is proof that you’re more than an escort.” Rock swung it back to look at
it again. “What do you think?”

Carter’s smile dropped away. “What do you mean?”

“It’s your photo. I submitted it with you as the copyright owner. It’s up to you if you want to let them use it.” Rock held the paper out, and Carter slowly took it.

He scanned the letter, the paper shaking slightly in hand. He got the basics but glossed over the details. Someone really wanted to buy the rights to use his photo? The money would be nice and it would be fantastic for his photography career. “No. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Do what?”

“Expose you like that.” He handed the paper back and wrapped his arms around himself once again. Why in the hell had he worn pants without pockets? “It’s your photo. I only clicked the camera.”

Rock folded the paper up and put it back in his pocket. “What if I don’t care?”

“What about your family? Your friends? Are you ready to come out to everyone?”

“I told my parents when I was home last week. My friends who count all know.”

“Really?” Carter let his surprise show. “I didn’t know…How’d it go? Is that why you went home?” He belatedly remembered that Rock had gone home for an emergency. He’d been so deep in his own wallowing he hadn’t even asked if everything was all right.

Rock shook his head, a half smile curling his lips. “My dad had a mild heart attack that led to double bypass surgery.”

Now Carter felt like an even bigger shit. “Is he okay?”

“He will be.” He shifted and tucked his hands into his pockets. “They both dismissed my big declaration. They adhere to the ‘don’t say it and it won’t be true’ policy. It’s not perfect, but it could be worse. I don’t know if I’ll ever bring you home to meet them, but my sister wants to know everything about you.”

Bring him home… “You’d really want to do that?”

“You’re my boyfriend.” His smile softened in that way that had Carter almost tumbling into his arms. “If they were accepting, I definitely would.”

His pulse was going too fast, his thoughts frazzled. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Declarations of love. Rock coming out to the world. Forgiveness. How was he supposed to process it all? He was emotionally stripped and raw inside.

He shuffled back a few steps and sank onto a bar stool by the counter before his legs gave out. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered.

“What?”

“All of this. The gallery show, the campaign, you—it’s too much. It’ll never work. Something will go wrong.” It always does.

Rock stepped between Carter’s knees until he was forced to spread his legs and let the man in. Those strong arms came around him and he was helpless to do anything but fall into Rock, finally. His arms seemed to move on their own, wrapping around Rock to hold him tight.

He pressed his forehead to Rock’s chest, that perfect scent flowing over him. Did he dare believe in this? Them? Being held, holding on to Rock was still so right despite everything that had happened.

“What gallery show?” Rock’s voice rumbled low in his chest, his hands stroking over Carter’s back with gentle comfort.

In the easy security of Rock’s warmth, Carter told him about the upcoming art show weekend and the offer from the gallery to spotlight his Lost Opportunity series.

“That sounds great,” Rock said.

“Then why am I terrified?”

“My dad always said if you weren’t terrified then you weren’t trying hard enough.” He leaned back and tilted Carter’s chin up until he was forced to look at him. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re a great photographer. Stop doubting everything.”

“I want to.” He really did. “But I need some time, and you need to be sure I’m what you want.”

“I am sure,” Rock insisted, frowning. “You’re the one who’s still pushing me away.”

It was true—he was the one still doubting, pushing, not trusting. Yet he couldn’t change that, not that second. Years of habit were hard to break.

“I’m the first man you’ve ever been with. How do you know its love?”

“The same way I’ve known since the beginning that we’ve never fucked.”

Carter winced. “Until the last time.”

“Which is in the past.” Rock smoothed his thumb over Carter’s lips in a gentle caress. “Let it go. I have.”