Bound and Determined (33 page)

father's fist caught him high on his cheekbone, the blow strong enough to leave

him dazed, the salt taste of blood in his mouth. He explored the place where

flesh had been driven against his teeth and spat blood onto the pale gray

carpet. “Asshole.”

“
Faggot
,” his father hissed. “You're too much of a sissy to hit back, aren't

you?”

Actually, Sterling was too much of a pacifist, which was funny when he

thought about what he did in his free time—but that was different. Letting

Owen spank him was one thing; punching somebody because he was irritated,

or even seriously pissed off, was something else entirely. “No, I'm too
smart
,” he

retorted. “You'd probably call the police on me.”

He didn't think his father would, though, because it was the kind of thing

that would get around, the kind of thing his father didn't want “ruining the

family reputation.”

“You've never been the kind of son I could be proud of,” his father growled.

“You disgust me.” And he left the room, pushing his way past his wife and

daughter, who were in the hallway right outside.

“Will…” Justine moved into the doorway, her face white, long hair loose.

Her Hello Kitty nightgown, too short but her favorite, made her look younger

than she was. Beside her, elegant in a black cocktail dress, Audrey looked

equally shocked and upset.

Sterling turned, heaved his mostly still-packed suitcase up onto the bed,

and carefully took the wrapped presents for his mother and sister out, laying

them on the pillow. Then he shoved his other things back into the case and

zipped it up before turning to Justine, who was crying, with Audrey's arms

around her. She turned to look at him and pulled free of her mother. Sterling

led her over to sit on the edge of the bed with him. He hugged her and rested

his cheek against her hair; Audrey watched them, a stricken, helpless look on

her face.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured. “Shh, it's okay. It'll be okay.”

Bound and Determined

139

“No, it won't!” Justine pulled back, her eyes red. “Is that why Dad hates

you? Because you have boyfriends?”

Here it was, the conversation he'd been thinking about for a couple of

years, afraid of how it might go. “I think Dad hates me for a lot of reasons,” he

said. “But yeah, that's probably one of the bigger ones. I'm gay, and I'm sorry I

didn't tell you sooner. I wanted to.”

“Did you think I'd be mad?” Justine looked worried more than anything

else.

Sterling studied her eyes. “I thought maybe you'd hate me too.”

Tears welled again, and Justine buried her face against his chest and

hugged him tightly. “I love you, Will. I'd never hate you. And especially not for

something stupid like that. I don't care if you have girlfriends or boyfriends.

There are girls at school who are gay.”

Audrey, who'd been standing nearby letting them talk, said, “There are?”

her voice startled.

Justine nodded and wiped her eyes. “Yeah, a couple. I don't care. I don't

get why anyone would care about something like that.”

“Dad does,” Sterling said grimly. “Look, I love you guys, and I don't want

you to have a crappy Christmas because of me. I'm going to get out of here,

give Dad a chance to blow off some steam without having to look at me.”

His mother didn't protest, which told Sterling where she stood on the

matter—on his father's side, just where she always had. Oh, she loved her

children, but William came first.

Sterling's father was waiting for him downstairs near the front door,

another drink in his hand. “Figured you'd run. You never did have a spine.”

“Just like you never knew what you wanted from me,” Sterling said,

tightening his grip on the handle of his suitcase. “First you want me to have a

spine, then you want me to do what you say. What
do
you want?”

“A different son.”

Sterling nodded, appreciating the honesty of the reply in a strange way, if

not the spite behind it. “Yeah. I get that, I really do. But you and I have never

gotten along, ever, so somehow I don't think me being straight would've made a

whole lot of difference. It's just a handy hook for you to attach all your bullshit

to.”

“It makes a difference. And I always knew there was something wrong

about you—”

Sterling gave him a cold stare, something of the chill in his eyes creeping

into his heart. Shit, he was about to walk out on Christmas Eve, spend it away

from his family for the first time ever. The worst part was that it was kind of a

relief to do it too.

“There is
nothing
wrong with me. Considering my parents, it's a shock, I

know, but I'm just fucking fine.”

140

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

“Get out of my house,” William said. “And don't come back until you've

decided to live your life the way it should be lived, with morals.”

Setting his jaw, Sterling said, “Oh, I have those. But if you think I'm ever

going to live the way you want me to, you're crazy.” And before he could say

anything else, he pushed open the front door and walked over to the garage,

hoping beyond hope that his car would start up when he turned the key.

It did, much to his relief, though it didn't stop his heart from pounding in

his chest as he maneuvered the car carefully down the driveway. His hands

didn't shake as he drove, at least, and he realized he wasn't feeling much of

anything. He was kind of numb.

Numb was okay. Better than freaking out on the highway.

He got most of the way back to college before he remembered that the

dorms were closed for the break—he couldn't stay there. He could call work

and see if there were some shifts he could pick up over the next week—having

something to do would be good, something to keep him busy. For tonight,

though, he knew where he wanted to be.

Somehow, Sterling couldn't bring himself to actually call Owen until he'd

pulled the car into Owen's driveway. Maybe it was because he was afraid Owen

wouldn't be there—when he saw Owen's familiar car was when his hands
did

start shaking, but that was okay—or maybe he was worried that Owen

wouldn't let him in. Not because anything was wrong between them, but

because Sterling was pretty sure Owen wasn't big on surprises, especially when

they were accompanied by years of family angst.

There weren't any lights on in the house. It was really late, way past

midnight, and Owen was probably sleeping. Sterling could drive to a local hotel

and check in for the night and worry about tomorrow when the sun came up,

but he didn't want to.

Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted Owen's arms around him.

Taking out his cell phone, Sterling dialed Owen's number. It rang three

times, then on the fourth ring Owen picked it up, saying, “Hello?” in a half-

asleep voice.

“Hi,” Sterling said, and now his voice was shaking too. “Hi, Owen, it's me,

Sterling. I'm, um…I'm sitting outside in your driveway. I know it's late, and I'm

sorry, but—I really need a place to spend the night. Can I come in?”

Bound and Determined

141

Chapter Twelve

Owen had wondered if Sterling would call him over the Christmas break

and decided, more than a little regretfully, that he probably wouldn't. Not

because out of sight was out of mind—he was sure that Sterling would be

thinking about him from time to time—but because Owen just didn't fit into

the world Sterling was returning to.

Neither did Sterling, of course.

Hearing Sterling's voice so unexpectedly, the phone call coming just long

enough after he'd turned out the light that he'd been mostly asleep, had woken

him up with the decisive kick of an espresso shot. It still took a moment for

Sterling's words to register.

“Outside? You're here?” He rubbed at his eyes and then closed them,

fumbling for the bedside light and switching it on. The blaze of light brought

him a step closer to coherent thought, and he opened his eyes, blinking away

the dazzle. “God, yes, of course you can. I'm coming down to open the door.”

“Thanks,” Sterling said.

The boy was waiting on the steps when Owen opened the door, still

holding his cell phone in his hand. Even under the porch light, Owen could see

the bruise coming up on Sterling's cheekbone, the skin there swollen and

reddened.

“Sorry,” Sterling said, giving a little shrug. “I didn't know where else to go.”

His face crumpled, and he brought his free hand up to hide it, shoulders

shaking.

Owen's feet were bare, and the icy air struck at him through the robe he'd

pulled on over bare skin as he hurried down the stairs, but he stepped out onto

the small porch, folding Sterling in his arms. Practicality made the hug a brief

one, but he kept an arm around Sterling as he drew them inside, and once the

door was closed, he held him again.

The tremors running through Sterling were getting worse. Owen could

hear Sterling's teeth chattering, although the boy felt warm enough and was

wearing a thick, down-filled winter jacket. Shock, not the temperature, was

causing this reaction. Sterling was sobbing now, silent, heaving sobs that

seemed to leave him no chance to breathe, certainly no opportunity to talk.

Owen stroked Sterling's hair and cradled him as tightly as he could, but when

Sterling showed no signs of calming, he broke free of the hug. Taking Sterling's

142

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

hand, he led him into the front room and pushed him into the armchair by a

fire that had burned down to embers but was still throwing out heat.

“Sit there, Sterling,” he said, consciously using a tone of voice that

demanded obedience. “I'm going to get us both a drink, and when I come back,

you'll be calm enough to talk to me, is that understood?”

It didn't take long to pour two drinks and bring them back, but by the

time he had, Sterling had shrugged out of his heavy jacket and was wiping his

cheeks. He glanced up at Owen, then away again, and he didn't say anything.

“Drink this,” Owen told him, pressing a glass into his hand. It was Scotch,

which he normally wouldn't have given to someone who was underage for a

variety of reasons, but in this case he was making an exception because it was

clear that Sterling needed the mild sedative effects that the liquor would

deliver.

Sterling sipped at it and leaned his head back against the chair. “Sorry—I

kind of lost it there. I'm okay.”

“I very much doubt that, and I'm sure you had good reason. Tell me what

happened.”

“I was born into the wrong family, pretty much,” Sterling said, directing

his gaze toward the fire. “My father is an asshole, and my mother takes his side

every time. I finally came out to my father and my sister—he flipped out, which

was stupid because he
knew
, it was just something I never
said
.”

“And hearing it said made him do this?” Owen asked, brushing his fingers

over the bruise rising on Sterling's cheek. He had to work to keep his anger

from showing when he got a small nod in reply. He'd put plenty of bruises onto

Sterling's body, inflicted pain that to an outsider would make a single punch a

trivial thing—hell, he'd made Sterling cry with that pain.

Not the same.

Not the fucking
same.

Moving slowly, reading every shift in Sterling's body, he fitted his palm to

Sterling's jaw and turned his face so that the soft glow from the lamp

illuminated it. Sterling stared at him without expression, his eyes dull. The loss

of the sparkle in those eyes made Owen angrier than the bruise on a body that

belonged to him, inflicted by a hand that should never have been raised.

Sterling might be an adult, but he was still Baker's son, and to hit your child—

He took a deep breath and then kissed the reddened cheek lightly,

claiming the mark and wishing that he really could kiss it better. “Some arnica

will take the bruising down, and it's not close enough to your eye to give you a

really spectacular shiner. You're still pretty, don't worry.”

“I'm just—really tired.” Sterling looked exhausted, actually, and Owen was

grateful that he'd made the drive without incident. The thought of how it would

have felt to discover that Sterling had driven off the road… “I don't want any

arnica, or anything. Can we just go to bed, please?”

Bound and Determined

143

“Of course. Let me take that.” Owen took the glass from Sterling's hand