Dissonance (20 page)

C
AM
GLANCED
at the clock: 10:00 a.m. Galen had been gone a while, since on Thursdays the band rehearsed early. Cam had slept so soundly that Galen must have spent the entire night with him. Max still slept at his feet, although he hopped out of bed as soon as Cam did.

Galen. Cam had no idea what to think about him except that he liked Galen. More than liked him. He
wanted
Galen. Wanted to hold him, touch him, have sex with him. The kiss in the leaves…. The way Galen’s hands felt on his body….
The last thing you need!

As soon as he’d showered and dressed, the phone rang.

“I’m fine, Galen,” he said before Galen could get a word in.

Galen’s warm laughter came through the receiver and caused Cam to smile. He hadn’t smiled this much in a very long time.

“So what are you up to?” Galen asked.

“Going out.” He’d decided to make it to the library today. He felt good, having set a goal.

“Library?”

“Yes.” Cam half hoped Galen would offer to go with him.

“I’ll be home around four,” Galen said. “There’s leftover chili in the fridge for lunch. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Cam hesitated, then asked, “How’s your day been so far?”

“Uh…. Fine.”

Of course he’s surprised you asked. You’ve never asked about him before.

“Band getting better?”

“Yes,” Galen replied. “They are. I’m beginning to think I wasn’t overestimating them.”

“Good.” An awkward silence settled before Cam said, “I shouldn’t keep you. And I should probably get going.”

“Right. I’ll call again later. If you need me, just call, okay?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Cam’s face heated as he realized how formal he sounded. They’d slept in the same bed the night before—why was he so damned awkward around Galen?

He knew the answer, but he pushed the thought away. Galen didn’t need Cam’s mess, and Cam didn’t need another complication in his already complicated bloody mess of a life.

C
AM
SAT
down in front of the computer monitor and took a deep breath. How long had it been since he’d been online? He hadn’t seen a newspaper in a couple of days, hadn’t listened to the radio. He spent the first ten minutes catching up on life in the outside world. The usual wrangling in Washington. More inquiries into phone tapping in the UK. Nothing about him, Raice Corp., or Sherrington Holdings.

But they were still out there, looking for him. That was what the FBI did, wasn’t it? Look for fugitives? The only thing he’d proved by not finding a headline about himself was that he wasn’t newsworthy.

After a few more minutes of reading through news websites, he decided to search for stories. Something that he might have missed buried under more interesting headlines. Anything that might help him figure out what he should do.

He started by searching for Raice Corp. Not much came up on the screen. Annual reports, a few articles about a new battery technology they’d been working on that held promise. He did the same for Sherrington Holdings and found nothing interesting there either. He’d seen all of this before; he’d made it his business to keep an eye on the Internet, knowing Duncan used it very little.

Next he searched for himself online. He didn’t find much. The usual profiles, a few articles from gossip pages. Nothing about an investigation. Nothing about a warrant for his arrest or the FBI. The FBI might have several reasons to keep that news to themselves. Best-case scenario, they weren’t sure he was the source of the overseas transactions. Worst case, and probably most likely, they thought he had accomplices and didn’t want them fleeing.

Or it’s just not interesting enough to report about.

He was overthinking this.
It didn’t matter why, because he hadn’t done anything wrong. He tapped his foot against the table. Forty-five more minutes of searches revealed nothing about the investigation. Nothing at all.

Maybe he should just turn himself in. Get it over and done with and face the charges. He was innocent, after all.

And how are you going to prove that if you’re locked away in a cell?

He could check his e-mail. See if anyone had tried to contact him. He’d avoided turning on his mobile because he’d worried the FBI would be able to track him down. He spent a few minutes searching to see whether they could find him if he logged into his e-mail. His answer? Maybe they could.

Not worth the risk.
If he was going to tip his hand, he needed a plan. A way to prove his innocence. And he needed more time to think things through.

C
AM
WANDERED
over to the window and looked out over the yard they’d raked the day before, now once again covered with leaves. He’d fallen asleep on the couch and woken to the sound of Max’s bark and Galen’s car in the driveway. He figured he still needed to catch up on his sleep.

Or maybe you’re just depressed.
He had nowhere to go—
except jail
—and nothing to do.

“Tea?” Galen asked as he joined Cam at the window with two steaming mugs. “Nice first flush I brought back from Darjeeling last year.”

“Darjeeling?” Cam took one of the mugs and inhaled. Floral, quite delicate, with just a hint of spiciness. A lovely tea. He felt relieved that Galen hadn’t asked how he’d slept. He was tired of lying.

Galen nodded. “I spent the summer there.”

“Why Darjeeling?” The wind blew some of the leaves into the air and scattered them again on the grass.

“Seemed like an interesting place to go, and the school system didn’t have money for summer music classes,” Galen answered with a shrug.

“Oh.” Cam glanced quickly at Galen, then back again at the window.

“Autumn’s pretty here.” A non sequitur. Cam had gotten used to them with Galen. He’d begun to believe that they really weren’t the stream-of-consciousness babble he’d come to expect from his mother over the years. Unlike Cam’s mother, Galen didn’t seem to need to fill the silences. He simply thought differently from other people. For Galen, it seemed like the world around him was a constant blur of activity, like a melody that floated in and out of the forefront of Galen’s thoughts, surfacing from time to time, revealing itself in seemingly out-of-the-blue observations.

“Sisyphus,” Cam said with a soft chuckle.

Galen turned and looked at him, lips parted, the edges of his mouth curving upward in obvious amusement. “Raking leaves as punishment? You clean them up only to have them return, just like Zeus’s enchanted boulder?”

Cam smiled, surprised and slightly awed by Galen’s response. “Something like that.” He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but each time he assumed something about Galen, Galen did something entirely unexpected. Cam thought he could read people—he was usually quite good at it—but he’d read Galen spectacularly wrong.

“But you enjoyed raking the leaves,” Galen pointed out.

“I did.” No use in denying it.

“Then what difference does it make if you have to do the work again?”

Cam considered the question as Galen inhaled the steam from his tea, then sipped it. “I… I guess it doesn’t.”

“Then it’s not the same as pushing that rock up the hill only to have it roll down and start over again.” Galen’s eyes sparkled with a friendly challenge. “Sometimes pushing the boulder is fun. Sometimes you have to be at the bottom in order to claw your way back up.”

More new-age bollocks. Galen seemed full of it today. “I suppose.”

Cam stared down at his tea. How many times had he felt as though someone was deliberately pushing that boulder back down just when he’d finally managed to achieve something? His mother laughing as she told one of her friends that he’d taken up a new “hobby” when he’d financed his first off-Broadway production. The way he’d let Duncan convince him that his idea to change the company’s focus to include green technology was a child’s fantasy and that his time was better spent traveling than working with the board to push the company in new directions. Perhaps he could have succeeded at any of these endeavors, but he’d stopped. He’d let go of the things that mattered to him. He hadn’t asked what was happening at Sherrington Holdings. He’d ignored Raice Corp. once the purchase went through.

He’d
let
them push the boulder. He’d given them no resistance. He’d stepped aside, and by doing so, he’d helped them by pretending he didn’t care. He’d wasted his time telling himself that it was all about
them
. He’d denied that he had any say. But the truth was that he’d sat back and let other people do things for him. Hell, he’d pushed the damned boulder all by himself.

Fuck.
He didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to forget about it and go back to the way things had been before his birthday.
Fucking messed-up birthday.
Yes, he was bitter. He had a right to be, didn’t he? He set his mug down on a nearby table without drinking, then sat down heavily on the couch and rubbed his face with his hands.

Galen sat down next to him a moment later. “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

Galen sounded like he did when he talked to his students. Cam fought the urge to snap at Galen for treating him like a child, but he stopped himself when he realized that he’d been wrong about this too. Galen wasn’t treating him like a child. There was nothing condescending in how he’d asked the question, just as there was nothing fatherly in the way Galen spoke to his students.

Cam ran a hand over his mouth and considered the question. “I’m not great at talking,” he said without much thought.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be. I’m a pretty good listener.” Galen pursed his lips and offered Cam an understanding smile.

“I know.” Why did he feel so relaxed sitting here with a man he’d known less than a week? He shifted on the couch, pulling one leg beneath him the way he’d often seen Galen sit. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“Then just say the first thing that pops into your head.”

Shit
. He knew what he had to say, but he’d never said it to anyone, not even himself.
Just say it. Just fucking say it.

“I’ve been having dreams. Nightmares.” He glanced at Galen, then looked down at his hands. He hadn’t even realized he’d been twisting them around in his lap. “At least I thought that’s what they were.” He forced his hands apart and set them on his thighs.

No one will believe you.
He wasn’t sure he could face that sort of rejection. The feeling of despair came back with a vengeance.

Galen put his arm around Cam’s shoulders. “You’re doing fine,” he said. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

And damn if that didn’t nearly make Cam lose it right then and there. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to slow his breathing as he blinked back a wave of powerful emotion. He wouldn’t cry again. Not even in front of someone like Galen, who probably wouldn’t care.
Cam
cared. That was all that mattered. And he fucking wouldn’t cry.

“Something happened to me. Something I think I forgot. Maybe I wanted to forget it. I don’t know.”

Breathe. Just breathe!

“Something bad. I was nine. It was after my father died. My uncle….”
Fuck. I can fucking do this.
“He came to stay with me and my mother. To help with things. Settle the estate.”

Cam stared up at the ceiling. For the first time, he noticed a thin crack that ran from one side of the room to the light fixture at the center. He imagined tracing his finger over it.

Galen gently squeezed his shoulder, pulling him back to himself. Had he understood Cam had needed that? Cam guessed so. Galen always seemed to do that when Cam needed it the most.

“I don’t remember much from that time. Things at home were so busy, I rarely saw my mother.” He didn’t add that he’d guessed much later that his mother hadn’t wanted to see him. Not that she’d ever said as much, but she often told him how much he looked like his father, and he knew how devastated she was when he died. “Duncan—my uncle—spent the entire summer with us.”

Cam closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Why was it so difficult to breathe? Fear seemed to have taken up residence in his chest, around his heart, squeezing it so tight it hurt. But Galen’s hand was still there, and it felt good. It felt like he was close to someone. That he’d
let
himself get close. And for once, that felt like a good thing.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“I need to do this,” Cam said, his eyes still closed. Inside of himself like this, he could do it. Say it. Admit it. “It’s not about wanting or not.”
I need someone to know.

“Okay.”

“My dreams… they weren’t dreams. They’re memories. I think I knew they weren’t dreams. They seemed so—” Cam shuddered. “—real. And then the other night…. The night I….”
Fuck!
He could say this too. He needed to say it. Face it. “The night I tried to kill myself… again….” He opened his eyes and realized his hands were back in his lap. He hadn’t even been aware of it. He got to his feet. It was either fidget or pace, and pacing seemed good right now. Galen had seen him at his lowest—what difference did it make if he saw him losing it? “The night I tried to kill myself, I remembered. Everything. It all came back to me. And I couldn’t…. I didn’t think I could handle it. With everything else, I….”