Outcome (Aftermath #2) (15 page)

Chapter 17

"I'm so glad you came to see me, Remy." Gale shook his hand warmly; meanwhile, he couldn’t wait to get out of here. She was in her late forties, Remy guessed. Very nice, calm, and she'd actually made him feel comfortable, but one session was more than enough for now. "I'll see you in a few days?"

Remy nodded firmly and then made his way outside where Minna was waiting.

He blew out a heavy breath. He only had to pretend to be chill for another five or ten minutes. Then he'd see Chase again.

It had been over a fucking week, which seemed like forever, but, at the same time, a lot had been accomplished.

As a small hint, a
"Something to think about,"
Chase had mentioned Gale and contacting her, and Remy had done more than think about it. A lot more.

He now spent most of his days in various diners on the outskirts of the city. While it was boring and he tended to reek of grease, it was a good beginning.
Easing into the world of the living
. It had been Chase's suggestion, and Remy was relieved. He wasn’t ready for too much interaction, but he wouldn't have given it a thought if it weren't for Chase. Remy had simply expected to go from the cabin to home.

This was better, though. The cabin was no longer a prison, but a place of comfort. Peace and quiet. No temptations. A place to process.

After falling into Chase's set pace, Remy had given himself restrictions. He'd bought a second phone with only three people's numbers in it—four now, including his new therapist's—because the last thing he wanted was to hear from the people in LA. He had also relinquished control of all credit cards but one. Andreas and Minna would keep it all for him, keys to his cars too, until he was ready.

Both his cars were parked in a garage in LA, so it wasn’t like he could reach them right this minute anyway, but it felt more genuine—like it was his choice—when he'd handed over the keys.

Lastly, he was officially in therapy. Which he hadn't told Chase about, in the event Remy chickened out of going. He didn’t want to disappoint Chase, so he'd only told Minna and Andreas.

Minna was in tears when he reached the parking lot, though he already knew nothing was wrong. Last Tuesday when he'd told her he was going to see Gale, she'd been an emotional mess.

"How did it go?" She grasped his arms and then hugged him fiercely. "I'm so, so, so happy, Rem. You have no idea."

He smiled tightly and kissed her temple. "I have an inkling." But it was hard to feel the relief when he wanted to punch a wall, followed by sobbing like a baby.

The session hadn't even been a real one. More of an introduction. Gale had told him a little about herself and how she practiced, and Remy had given her the basics of his fucked-up life. He'd glossed over most things, just mentioning his family, the kidnapping, his mom's suicide, and how his life had looked the past year.

"I want to know everything." Minna unlocked the car, and Remy got in. "What's next?"

Remy checked his watch. Okay, more like ten minutes than five 'til he saw Chase. "Um, I don’t know where to start." He slumped back and dragged a hand down his face. "Gale's specialty is in trauma, so she gave me recommendations to others for my addiction." Today had been the first day he'd said that word out loud. Addiction. He was an addict when it came to alcohol. Perhaps not an everyday craving, but it was what he turned to the minute something went wrong. "I'm not ready for some fucking circle jerk—"

Minna giggled and slapped his arm. "Be serious. There's nothing wrong with group sessions."

That may be, but Remy cringed at the thought. No, he'd do this with Gale, first and foremost, and then he'd probably turn to one of the therapists she had recommended.
For solo sessions
.

"Anyway, I'll see her once a week." He looked out the window and scratched his jaw. "I'll rehash all the shit in my life, and we'll go from there."

At this point, he was hopeful but skeptical. He'd go all in and give this a shot, but he doubted talking to Gale would be more therapeutic than talking to Chase.

Remy's head was still spinning from Chase's point of view regarding Remy funding Ben's kidnapping.
I couldn’t have known he was going to use the money for crimes.
It was taking a lot to let it settle, and it felt like an undeserved dessert until he reminded himself that maybe he did deserve it. Sort of like waking up on a Saturday morning and thinking it was time for work, only to grin and realize…fuck yeah, it
was
Saturday.

Chase couldn’t possibly know how much he'd already saved Remy. Unfortunately, it was difficult expressing gratitude in text messages. Remy was usually attached to either Andy or Minna, so they couldn’t speak without an audience. But today Chase could get away from work, so he'd be the babysitter instead.

Texting with Chase was…weird. The two had heavy topics hanging over them like a storm cloud, so cracking jokes and sharing small anecdotes about their days had been awkward at first. It still felt a bit off, but they were getting there. They were finding their little groove.

Remy had especially taken a liking to their good-morning texts. Chase would start off with an
"Okay, I'm up,"
followed by something that was making Remy realize Chase had a sense of humor. Remy's favorite was
"My sister told me to hit ctrl+delete and hold it for a while on my computer if I wanted to change browsers. Now she's on my shit list."
Although, "
Once you hit forty, a discount for backrubs would've been nice"
was solid, too. To which Remy had replied that Chase wasn’t forty just yet, and Chase had texted,
"Semantics, KID."

Remy's mouth twisted.

It was easy to get attached to Chase Gallardo. Too easy.

"Tell me more whenever you want, okay?" Minna patted his hand.

He laced their fingers together and exhaled. "I love you."

Minna started crying again.

*

Remy's fingers nearly shook as he rolled down the window and lit up a smoke. He could see Chase leaning back against his bike—maybe it was new, because it was different from the one he'd had last time—that was parked just to the side of the '50s-style diner.

If Remy was going to be honest with himself, he wanted comfort from Chase, but he had a feeling that was a no-go. Chase was, without a doubt, in the closet, judging by his reaction in the cabin when Andy had shown up.

"He's so fucking hot." Minna sighed and killed the engine. "All rugged and…" She pursed her lips and turned to Remy as he stifled a smirk. "He's a cowboy with a bike instead of a horse. You mind checking if he's single?"

Remy tapped his lighter on his knee and blew out some smoke. "Don’t you have a date tonight?"

"Yeah…" She scrunched her nose and glanced at Chase. "I'm doing a stupid chick thing. There's this hot math teacher at the elementary school across from where I work, and I want his attention." She shot Remy a sheepish smile. "His friend asked me out, and I said yes."

"Honey, we're
thirty
." Remy's anxiousness dissipated slightly, amusement taking over. "If you like the dude, go up to him and ask him out. Games won't impress him." Not to mention the fact that good guys didn’t go after their friends' women. "You're off-limits to him if you go out with his buddy."

"I said it was stupid, didn’t I?" Minna huffed. "But you're right. And I guess I can ask more about Chase another time."

"Yeah, you do that." Remy grinned and opened the door. "When's Andy coming to the cabin?"

"After he closes the shop, so around ten. Do you want him to pick you up, or will Chase drive you up there?"

Remy's forehead creased as he got out of the car and looked over to Chase, who was eating a red apple. "I'm not getting on a fucking bike."

Minna's smile was pure glee. "Why,
Remy
. Are you afraid to lose your
life
or something?"

Hardy-fucking-har-har. Okay, so maybe Remy had never really been suicidal. "Eat shit." He kissed two fingers at her then closed the door and made his way toward Chase.

Behind him, he heard Minna's laughter as she started up the truck again. "That’s your job, Remykins!"

Remy chuckled, rolled his eyes, and threw his smoke on the ground. Like ominous music growing louder in a horror movie, his discomfort and exhaustion returned slowly but surely.

Chase smirked curiously and tossed what remained of his apple into a trash can. "What's your job, Remykins?"

Hearing that warm voice alight with humor did strange things to Remy. He'd
missed
Chase, but Remy's feelings were easier to control when Chase lived in his cell phone. Standing face-to-face—or almost—with the man now was another matter.

Emotions he'd suppressed surged forward, and the state he'd been left in after therapy weighed him down something fucking awful.

He forced a grin. "To ask on Minna's behalf if you're single or not."

Chase's brows rose in surprise, most likely in response to Remy's answer, before they dipped into a frown. "Somethin's up with you."

Guess playing it cool is out the window
. Remy let out a hollow laugh, deflated and beaten, and gestured to the alley between two low buildings.

Chase followed without a word, and Remy side-eyed him cautiously. There was a crease of concern in Chase's forehead, but what made Remy uncomfortable was the way Chase had tensed his shoulders. He was on edge, and Remy's mind came up with countless scenarios in a heartbeat. Was it because Chase thought Remy was going to kiss him or something—be affectionate in public? Did Chase always assume the worst? Did he think something had happened? Did he have an odd fear of Dumpsters? Maybe he feared alley cats?

Internal eye-roll
. Remy came to a stop when they reached the end, and he asked Chase if something was up with
him
.

Chase shrugged, his jaw clenching. "Not very fond of alleys, I guess." He shook his head while Remy narrowed his eyes. "Anyway, what's going on?"

No time like the present, Remy supposed. "You started therapy this week, right?"

"You know I did." Chase tilted his head and showed the barest hint of a smirk. "I texted you—it went fine, and I said I was gonna tell you all about it later."

Remy nodded, nervous as
fuck
. "I started therapy, too. Today—with Gale."

*

Chase was stuck on stupid.

He was surprised and…and
proud
, but he didn’t know what to say. It had been a weird week, and Remy had picked the worst place to reveal good news.
"Not very fond of alleys"
was an understatement.

He struggled against the flashback that would take him to an alley in Fresno three-and-a-half years ago. The guy who had just sucked him off had walked away with a satisfied grin, leaving a highly intoxicated and conflicted Chase behind. He'd zipped up his jeans, feeling defeated, and hadn't noticed the headlights until a truck had him cornered. What came next was a pathetic excuse for a fight before Chase had succumbed to the nauseatingly sweet vapors of chloroform. The last thing he remembered was a man cackling,
"How fitting!"
which Chase had never understood.
Fitting?

He'd woken up in a cage.

"Fuck," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.
Get it together, Gallardo
. But fighting dizziness and nausea wasn’t that fucking easy. "That’s…"
Yeah, go on. Say something to Remy.
"I mean, really? Therapy? Nice." He managed to open his eyes again and saw disappointment in Remy's features.

Way to show your pride, man.

Chase gave up. Feeling like shit, he acted on instinct and pulled Remy in for a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Remy." He cleared his throat and blinked past the blurriness in his vision. "I can't focus here. I was in an alley when Ben took me, but I'm so glad you've started therapy—"

"Shut up," Remy said quickly. "Damn, I didn’t know." He broke the hug and nudged Chase toward the street. "Come on. I'm sorry—I had no idea."

Chase swallowed hard and then drew in a deep breath when they were outta the alley. He felt weak and irritated as hell, and nothing was going as planned.

"Do—do you want to talk about it?" Remy asked apprehensively. "Like, that day, when you were taken? What were you doing?"

Chase shook his head and pressed his lips together, eyes downcast. There was no way he was ready to talk about that. He had never even gotten that far with Gale during the first round of therapy. Everything regarding his sexuality had remained secret for so long, and opening up wasn’t gonna be easy.

"Another time." He coughed and looked up. "Let's get something to eat, okay? I wanna know about your session."

Remy didn’t look all too pleased, but he nodded and headed inside the diner.

Chase followed, and they found a booth and ordered before they addressed each other again, though not without awkwardness.