Outcome (Aftermath #2) (16 page)

Was this what first dates were like? In that case, Chase was glad he'd never been on one. While Remy was fidgeting with his lip ring and the toothpick dispenser, Chase kept shifting in his seat and running a hand through his hair.

"You go first," Remy blurted. "Your session was earlier in the week, so…"

Right. Some kind of logic. "Uh…" Chase scratched his scruffy chin and tried to relax. "Sure. I guess. All right." He took a sip of his water then sat back and gathered his thoughts.
Therapy. Gale. Talk
. Since Chase had seen Gale before, he'd been somewhat relieved when she'd told him he didn't have to recap everything about the kidnapping. Instead she'd encouraged him to start from the beginning. The beginning-beginning. Chase's upbringing and how he grew up.

He still didn’t really know to what end, but it was a fairly safe topic, so the first session hadn't been all that dreadful.

"We talked about my childhood." He shrugged with one shoulder. "I told you I've had Gale as my therapist before." Remy nodded. "Right, so she already knows pretty much everything about what went down with Ben. And she remembered that I mentioned guilt and hopelessness back then, so now…I think she wants to get a clear picture or somethin'." That was the only way it could make sense to Chase, anyway. "I mean, I ain't stupid. I know some of the shit my pops said and believed in has fucked with my head, but…" Really, his childhood had been decent. "You'll notice that with Gale, by the way. She won't give you all the answers you want. She prefers to nudge you in the right direction and let you come to the conclusions on your own."

Which frustrated Chase, but at the same time he acknowledged she knew what she was doing. Because the one person you usually believed more than others was yourself. Or it should be, and it was like that for Chase, too. For the past twenty years, he'd known all about the flaws in his father's beliefs; it was just doing something about it that was the issue.

"That’s good, I suppose…" Remy pondered that for a beat, then hesitated and moved on. "What about your dad, though? Were there problems with him?"

Chase considered his answer before telling Remy about Pop's lectures and strict beliefs on how to be a
real
man. Hard work, standing on your own two feet, never accepting help from the outside—which included a son who'd just happened to move a few blocks away.

"To him, I was no longer
in the family
," he explained, only pausing when the waitress brought them their food. "I was his son, of course, but I didn’t live at home any longer. That made me a guest when I visited."

And if Pops had alienated Chase so easily, simply for moving out, how shunned would he have been if he'd even thought about admitting he was gay?

Remy frowned and picked absently at his food. "So…this is connected to the helplessness? You want to be able to help but he didn’t let you?"

Chase offered half a nod, half a shrug. "Yeah. I was left out." He didn’t know why, but he was embarrassed. "It killed me when I wasn’t allowed to help them. They needed it." He stared at his burger, not feeling an ounce of the hunger he'd felt when he'd arrived earlier. "Thing is, I started resenting my dad. And started to pity him."

That seemed to pique Remy's curiosity. "Pity him?"

"Yup." Chase forced a sense of casual and took a bite of his burger. "He failed at most things, when you think about it. Bad health—" At Remy's raised brow, Chase elaborated. "Diabetes, smoker's cough, and bad kidneys. Then lung cancer that killed him. But aside from that, he couldn’t support his family for shit, and he preached about pride and dignity until I wanted to punch him in the throat." He set down his burger again, agitated by the memories of his attempts at pitching in. Dammit, his dad had barely even let
Mom
work. Her place was at home, he'd said firmly. Only every now and then had he let her sell beauty products and Tupperware between friends and whatever. "He was one of those guys in high school—the jock who goes through his best days in school and then watches all his friends succeed later in life." And his mom had looked up to Pops as if he was a god. Chase shook his head. "He was a patriarch without any reason whatsoever—nothing backing him up."

Remy appeared to understand now. "And so every time he told you how important it was for a man to make it on his own, all you saw was his inability to practice what he preached."

Exactly. But Chase didn’t
want
to pity his own flesh and blood; he wanted to remember his pops like the man he'd looked up to once—a
long
time ago—much like his ma had done. Back when Chase didn’t know better and soaked up every word Pops said.

This had been another reason for Chase to hide his sexuality. Because if he piled together all of Pops's mistakes and failures and then added a gay son, to boot? Come on. What son wanted to be another mistake?

Ma's final words about making Pops proud had buried Chase in a way. He'd said goodbye to ever finding that kind of freedom and started a ridiculous quest of giving Pops a legacy.

Laughable.

"Anyway…" He coughed lightly into his fist and reached for his water. "I hate feeling helpless. Five months in that basement didn’t make things better, and Gale's gonna help me sort shit out, I guess."

Remy looked away with a pained expression. "I don’t think I'll ever stop feeling guilty about what Ben put you through."

Chase stared at Remy intently, and one of the reasons this week had been weird popped into his mind again.

Not a lot had actually
happened
since he'd seen Remy last time—apart from seeing his little sister, which had been nice, and beginning therapy again—but there was this fucked-up question that had snuck up on him.

What if they could make it all worth it?

Austin and Cam had done it.

Chapter 18

Remy felt the need to speak—say something, anything—before his depression pulled him under. "My turn?" He rushed out the words and pretended to be fascinated by the fries on his plate. "The session with Gale, I mean. My turn to talk?"

"Huh?" Chase looked like he'd zoned out for a while, but he refocused and nodded. "Right. Yeah, your turn." The dazed look in his eyes cleared, and a small but genuine grin appeared. "I'm seriously fucking stoked about this, Remy. I didn’t think you'd be ready yet."

Warmth spread in Remy's chest, and he was hit by another case of the Undeserved Dessert syndrome. Or did he deserve it? He could never be sure.

Rather than read into all that and overanalyze until he got grays, he told Chase about the introduction of sorts he'd had with Gale. In a timeline-fashion, he'd filled Gale in on the mere basics of his life, starting when he was nine and left his mom's trailer in Oildale to live with the Stahls—

"Wait," Chase interrupted, "I didn’t know that. When you mentioned Oildale, I figured the Stahls were from there."

"Oh. Yeah, no." Remy shook his head. "I was a secret at first. My mom didn’t give a shit about Clarissa and having an affair with a married man, but apparently she drew the line at involving kids in family drama." He paused, remembering the first time Bill Stahl came over and Mom introduced him as "Dad." She'd looked nervous, hopeful, and skeptical all at once. "Maybe she needed money and contacted him or he found out on his own somehow, but sometime after I turned five, Dad became a regular."

"Huh. So, then what? You moved and changed your name just like that?"

Sure, if one didn't care about the details. "Not
just like that
," Remy replied, stalling a bit. He wasn’t proud of his family history, nor did it exactly leave him warm and fuzzy. "Mom was dirt poor and struggled with pills and alcohol. Dad offered me a brighter future if I became part of his family. So yeah, I moved and had to change my name when I was nine."

Chase's jaw clenched as he looked out the window, his thoughts obviously running wild. "This…fuck, I don’t know, but it doesn’t make sense." His gaze slid back to Remy. "How can he have had such good intentions—and even been a good man—if he also raised the son of a bitch who turned out to be a raving lunatic?"

Remy noticed that Chase spoke of Bill Stahl as if he were already dead, instead of in a home for Alzheimer's. Then again, they'd never get any answers from Bill—about Ben or anyone else. It would be Clarissa and Fred who'd be able to shed some light, but it'd be like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall that hated your guts. Clarissa, in particular. She was pure poison. Fred had been quieter—clear with his hatred toward Remy but not often spewing insults. Fred had been fonder of shooting glares or pretending Remy didn’t exist.

As for Chase's question…? "Seems like something for a psychologist to answer," Remy responded, dragging a fry through some ketchup. But he didn’t eat it. "That said, my dad has never been an angel. He was good to me as long as I did well in school and became successful. Money mattered." When he'd come out, Bill hadn't even batted an eyelash. He'd
ignored
it, pretended the admission had never been voiced, because Remy's perfect grades and the zeroes in his bank account meant everything. "To be perfectly honest, I despised when he put me on a pedestal because it ostracized me further from the rest of the Stahls. They hated me enough already. Dad bragging about me only made it worse."

Chase nodded pensively and sat back with a sigh. "So, Ben and Fred were jealous of the so-called affection Bill gave you."

Pretty much. "When I came out to them, I almost
hoped
Dad would lash out at me," Remy confessed, averting his eyes. "I wanted it to level the playing field. Or battleground—whatever."

"Now,
that
makes sense."

Remy looked up to find Chase smirking. "How so?"

Chase chuckled and went on. "Up in the cabin—Christ, kid. I couldn’t figure out why you kept pushing me about you being gay. It was like you wanted me to hate you for that specific reason."

Oh. Well…yeah, maybe. "I'm one of a kind like that," Remy quipped. He ignored how his ears heated up in embarrassment. "So anyway." It was probably best to move the fuck along now. "I filled Gale in about the major events. Moving in with the Stahls, going off to college, starting my business, and then how it all went to shit. Ben kidnapping you guys, trying to get help, and lastly, Mom killing herself and how I reacted." He cleared his throat and forced himself to eat.

His knee bounced, and he couldn’t shake the tightness building up in his chest. It felt like he was going to cry, and he hated it.

"Hey." Chase locked his feet with Remy's under the table, causing Remy to freeze. "I'm not even gonna ask if you're all right. I can see you're not."

Remy gulped down some Coke but failed to form a response.

"Wanna get outta here?" Chase asked.

Yes, but that felt like quitting. Remy wanted to be strong for once. "Just tell me something," he managed to say. "Anything. Something random. How was your week—or tell me about your damn bikes; I don’t care."

Chase stared at him long and hard, debating. In return, Remy pressed their feet together a little more and sent him a brief, pleading look.

"Fine." Chase conceded with a sigh. "Nothin' much to say about my week, otherwise. I saw my sister for a few days, had dinner with Austin and Cam, worked…"

That little tidbit about Austin and Cam had Remy's attention. "Are you close to them? Huntley and Nash, I mean."

A flash of contentment flitted over Chase's features. "Sorta, yeah. We meet up every now and then for dinner, poker, beer—that kinda thing."

Remy hid his envy. He wanted that, but he'd thrown it all away. Hopefully he'd get another chance, and hopefully…hopefully, Chase would be part of it.

Suddenly he ached for it—a semblance of normalcy. "Come to think of it, I want to get out of here after all." He didn’t have a poker table at his house, but there was a pool and good music.

*

Chase grinned when he pushed down the kickstand and removed his helmet. "I think you can let go of me." Not that it hadn't been nice to have Remy plastered to his back during the ride, but they were here now. "Remy?"

"Yeah," Remy muttered, slowly releasing Chase's midsection.

Chase had planned ahead earlier, having brought an extra helmet in case he'd drive Remy to the cabin later. But now, as they made their way into Remy's house, Chase was told that'd never happen. Ever.

"Andy will pick me up," Remy finished. "A longer ride on that death machine and I'll probably piss my pants."

Chase chuckled and shrugged outta his leather jacket. "They're perfectly safe, kid."

"Perfectly—!" Remy spun to face him, incredulous. "Fuck you. Now, there's all things non-alcoholic in the fridge, and the pool is in the back. I'm gonna go change my diaper and then I'll join you."

Chase's shoulders shook with silent laughter, which felt…so fucking good. Making his way to the kitchen, he smiled to himself and thought what a complete 180 the day had taken. For the better.

After draping his jacket over a kitchen chair, he opened the fridge, and Remy hadn't been kidding. Chase didn’t think Remy spent a whole lot of time here right now—if any—but Minna was definitely preparing for Remy's return. Juice, soda, iced tea, milk, root beer, water, lemonade; if it didn’t have alcohol, it was here.

He was grabbing a bottle of water when classic rock started playing in the living room, and Remy joined him shortly after. He was on the phone, and he was only wearing a pair of board shorts.

Fuck
.

"I'll be here until Andy's off tonight," Remy told whomever. He smiled at Chase and mouthed Minna's name. "Yeah, he's here now." He grabbed a Coke from the fridge. "All right. Enjoy your conference—and the date,
unless you cancel
—and thanks again for taking time off for me earlier." There was a slight pause. "You, too. Bye."

Chase leaned back against the kitchen island and did his best to not picture Remy outta those shorts, but it wasn’t going very well.

"Let's go to the back." Remy took the lead, his mind clearly not in the gutter alongside Chase's. "I'd let you borrow a pair of trunks or something, but I don’t think I have anything that fits." He threw a smirk over his shoulder. "We can call it my excuse to see you in nothing but underwear."

You don’t need an excuse for that
.

Remy opened the patio door, and Chase thought for a second he'd been transported to Austin and Cam's backyard. But instead of a ground made of flat stone and a pool that was kidney-shaped, Remy's pool was rectangular and surrounded by freshly cut grass. Flowerbeds, a lemon tree, and grapevines that crept along the six-foot tall wooden fence added to the oasis. There was also a slightly elevated patio and a barbecue area. Rounding out the space were lounge chairs, a low table, and pots with various vegetables.

The canvas roof over the patio shielded them from the afternoon sun, and Chase had probably never been to a place this inviting before.

"Nice, huh?" Remy seemed to love it, too. "You should've seen it before Minna moved in."

"She did all this?" Chase asked.

Remy nodded. "A few weeks after Mom died, I'd just signed the final papers to sell my company, and I came back here and completely trashed the place. Andy was here, and when I started packing to get the fuck out, he made me promise to meet him a week later. That was all he wanted; otherwise he wouldn’t let me leave." He looked down and opened his soda can. "I kept my promise and met him in LA. Other than signing over the house to Minna, Andy told me he wanted to control my biggest bank account." Remy shrugged. "I didn’t give a shit, so I signed everything. Then I went off the grid, only resurfacing the few times Andy and Minna tracked me down to see if I was still alive."

Having met Minna and Andreas, Chase knew what Andy had been up to. "They wanted to save it for you. The money and the house—make sure there was something left when you got back."

"Yeah. If only I had realized back then that
they
were my family." Remy blew out a breath. "I'm not satisfied with 'better late than never,' but I'm going to make it up to them." He looked determined at that, for which Chase felt proud and more hopeful than ever. "Come on, I want to get in the water. Strip off those threads, Gallardo."

In a carefree manner that Chase had never seen him display, Remy jumped into the pool cannonball style and resurfaced, shaking his head like a dog.

Chase grinned and set down his water, then pulled his shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt. His clothes ended up strewn over a chair before he dove into the pool at the deep end and let the water cool his overheated skin.

When he broke the surface, he found Remy sitting on the other edge of the pool smiling at him. With the sun behind him, Remy was more of a silhouette—all shadows, water droplets, pale skin, ink, and steel.

"What'cha doin'?" Chase pushed back his hair and swam closer, drawn like a magnet.

Surrendering to Remy once hadn't taken much. Surrendering a second time would take no effort at all. Chase couldn’t get the man outta his head, and he constantly found himself wanting more.

He feared he was pretty much done for. Feelings had snuck up on Chase, which both terrified and excited him.

"Enjoying the view." Remy flashed a brief grin, but it was smothered by something intense. At that point, Chase reached him and stood up, his hips coming in contact with Remy's knees. "You make me believe there's something worth fighting for," he murmured, parting his legs a little.

Remy's admission sent a shiver down Chase's spine, and goose bumps appeared along his arms, neck, and chest.

"Ditto." Chase's voice was quiet and gravelly as he stepped in between Remy's legs. He knew his response had been inadequate, but at the moment he would either say too little or
too much
, so he'd opted for the former.

Chase stared as he trailed his hands up Remy's thighs, afraid the "too much" would be visible in his eyes—truths Chase wasn’t ready to share and feelings he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge. Or…or one look at Remy would draw it all out, and Chase couldn’t afford to lose that control.

Too much was at stake.

"Chase…" Remy leaned forward and skimmed his nose along Chase's cheek. "Do you want me to stop?"

God, no
.

In answer, Chase tilted his head and claimed Remy's mouth with his. Heat surged through them, igniting their bodies. In a matter of a second they went from a firm kiss to hands everywhere, tongues tasting, and movements that brought them closer.

Remy scooted forward and snaked his legs up the backside of Chase's thighs. Chase cupped Remy's neck and deepened the kiss, then pressed his hardening cock against Remy's.
Oh, fuck
. Would he ever get enough?

"Switch places with me," Remy groaned into the kiss. "I want you in my mouth."

Chase wasn’t gonna deny him. He broke the kiss, panting, and pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the pool. His wet boxer briefs were plastered to his skin, but Remy made quick work of them, tugging them down past Chase's knees, then off completely. They landed with a splat somewhere behind Remy.