Shades of Gray (33 page)

Cleared out and vanished into the world. The ache settling under Miller’s ribs, sending its tentacles into his stomach and lungs, sprang not from the fact that he couldn’t find Danny. That could be accomplished easily enough. It was because Danny had gone without a word, leaving Miller without even a good-bye. And Miller understood suddenly that Danny’s “I love you” on the bench had been his farewell, a final good-bye present.

Miller felt a strange kind of nakedness, not knowing where Danny was or what he was doing. For so long he’d been aware of Danny’s every move—what he wore each day, who he saw, what he ate. And then Miller had gained even more intimate knowledge—how Danny tasted, how his skin felt, the way his face softened during sleep. And now it was all gone. Miller’s focus for so long had disappeared, had slipped through his fingers when he was looking the other way.

“Can I have a minute?” Miller asked.

“Sure,” the woman said. “I’m going back to my office.” She handed Miller the key. “Just lock up when you’re done and bring the key down.”

Miller walked slowly across the living room, the winter light 258 | Brooke McKinley

filtering in through half-open blinds. Danny’s apartment was housed in an old mansion in the central part of the city, near the art museum. It was considered an up-and-coming neighborhood, charming with just a hint of leftover seediness. The apartment itself was large, lacking the high ceilings of Miller’s own place but made airy by the big windows and clean, white paint. Miller wandered into Danny’s bedroom and his bathroom just beyond. The medicine cabinet opened with a startled squawk of metal, Miller’s heart racing loudly in his ears in the following silence. The cabinet held only a roll of dental floss. Miller cupped it in his hand, slipping it into his pocket without knowing why.

He leaned his hands against the pedestal sink, head hanging low, and counted to ten, willing himself back to neutral. He didn’t know if he’d ever hurt this badly before or felt this diminished by loss. Danny had left, moved on, and maybe that was what Miller should do as well—forget about the life that had almost been his and try to be content with the life he’d had before Danny Butler had entered his world.

Miller tried to imagine instead living that new life Danny had shown him—walking through the world as a gay man, not pretending anymore, turning away from his career, loving a man who would probably never outrun his demons and whose face would always remind Miller of his own dark places. He let the fear wash over him, the strong urge to duck away from those truths surging through his blood. And then he thought of Danny. Stepped back from all the heaviness surrounding them both and just conjured up the man—the way he smiled and smelled, the way he laughed and let Miller be, never wanting anything more from him than who he really was. Danny, whose body made Miller forget the world and whose soul, even marked with shadows, made Miller believe in something beyond the stars.

Danny… who had traded his life for Miller’s without a second thought.

You have to decide the man you want to be from here on out.

How long ago had Danny said that to him? And he still hadn’t decided.

Still had Rachel marooned out in no-man’s land, wondering what the hell had happened to her plans for the future. His career still poised on the brink, and he didn’t even know if it was worth pulling back. His Shades of Gray | 259

own darkness hung over him like a guillotine, and time was running out for him to make peace with his choices.

Miller slammed the medicine cabinet hard, eyes like gunmetal in the mirror. They both had to clean up their lives; that’s what Danny had told him. Miller didn’t know if he had the strength to do that, to face Rachel and Colin with an open heart, to look without flinching at what had become of his life. But cleaning up his mess was the only gift he could give Danny, and he would do it with the hope that, wherever he was, Danny was doing the same.

“YOU planned this, didn’t you?” Griff huffed as he staggered through the door with an armful of boxes.

“What are you talking about?”

“Planned this move for when your arm was still in a cast, just so you wouldn’t have to help with any of the heavy lifting, you fucker.” Danny laughed, scooting boxes against the walls with his feet. “Is that it?”

“Yeah, that was the last load.”

“Well, sit down for a little bit; you’ve been working like a dog.”

“Nice of you to notice.” Griff glanced around the living room crowded with boxes. “Where?”

“Just push that shit off the sofa.”

Griff cleared a small space and flopped down on the sofa with a groan. “If you come across the cooler, pass me a beer.”

“I already put them in the fridge. The pizza guy was here while you were downstairs. It’s in the kitchen too.”

“I’ll get some in a minute,” Griff sighed. “Too tired right now.” Danny cut through packing tape with his Swiss Army knife, kicking boxes through the doorway into the kitchen or down the short hall to his bedroom, where they belonged. This apartment was half the 260 | Brooke McKinley

size of his old one and in a less-than-ideal area of Chicago, but at six hundred dollars a month it was the most he could afford.

“So, tell me more about this job,” Griff said when Danny returned to the living room. He handed Danny a beer and gestured toward the greasy pizza box he’d opened.

Danny shrugged, lowering himself to the floor at Griff’s feet. “I don’t know much. It’s at Legal Aid. Sort of a runner, I guess. Just helping them with whatever needs doing.”

Griff threw Danny a skeptical glance. “And they know your record?”

“Yeah. My probation officer was the one who told me about it.

He recommended me for the job and they interviewed me over the phone. It was all pretty casual.”

“So you work for the whole office?”

“Yeah, but I have a primary attorney I help out. Jill Ward. She seemed nice enough when we talked. I think they’re desperate. The job doesn’t pay for shit. It’s part of a grant, some rehabilitation project”—

Danny rolled his eyes—“trying to keep us ex-cons out of the pokey.”

“You’re going to starve,” Griff pointed out.

“I’ve got some money left. And I sold my bike. I’ll be okay.” Danny paused to stuff half a slice of pizza in his mouth. “What about you? What are you going to do in St. Louis? Live with your brother?”

“Yeah, Owen said he had room for me and could help me get a job.”

“Are you sure hanging around your brother is such a good idea?” Danny asked carefully. Owen Gentry made Griff look like a small-time crook, having spent more of his adult life in prison than out. It made Danny nervous to know Griff was going to be living with the man.

“Sure, I like St. Louis.” Griff grinned, knowing that wasn’t what Danny meant.

“Yeah, but you know Owen’s going to want you to get mixed up in—”

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“Danny, stop worrying. I’m a big boy.”

“Okay,” Danny nodded. “Okay.”

“Besides, not all of us are meant for a life on the right side of the law.”

“Griff.” Danny shifted his position so he could get a better look at Griff’s face, wincing as he moved.

“You still hurting?” Griff asked, sliding off the couch to sit next to him.

“Nah, it’s nothing,” Danny said, waving him off. “Just sore.”

“You’ve got to take better care of yourself, man,” Griff said, his face inches from Danny’s. Danny saw the feeling in Griff’s eyes and wished—God, how he wished—that he could love this man. When Griff left, he would be alone with regret that was eating him from the inside out, with pain he was trying to stifle by keeping busy, by moving his body, moving his life, so that he wouldn’t have to face the empty spot where Miller used to stand.

Danny pressed forward quickly, bringing his mouth to Griff’s, opening Griff’s lips with his tongue, desperate to soothe the ache and fill the emptiness inside. The kiss was familiar, a move they knew by heart, but it wasn’t what Danny needed, the shape of Griff’s lips not what he craved, the taste of his mouth only reminding Danny of who it was he really wanted.

“Stop,” Griff said, untangling himself, giving Danny a gentle shove. “Stop. I’m not him, Danny.”

Danny saw the conflict in Griff’s face, understood what it cost Griff to turn him away. “God, I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m sorry.” Griff took a long swallow of beer, his eyes on the ceiling.

“How did you know?” Danny asked. “About Miller and me.” Even saying his name hurt, a direct hit to the heart.

“I suspected something when he came to interview me. He was jealous; it was written all over him. He could hardly stand to look at me. Then, when I talked to him that night at the hospital, I knew for 262 | Brooke McKinley

sure. And your face, when I told you he’d been there….”

“I’m sorry,” Danny repeated. “That wasn’t fair to you.” Griff blew out a short breath. “People can’t help what they feel, Danny. If they could, I would have been over you a long time ago.” He gave Danny a rueful smile. “What happened between you two?”

“It didn’t work out for us,” Danny said. “He deserved something more than being stuck with me and my shitty past for the rest of his life.”

“He didn’t seem too worried about your shitty past that night outside the hospital.”

Danny shook his head. “He did something for me, something that he’s not going to be able to live with.”

“Was he forced to do it?” Griff asked, confused.

“No.”

“Well then, it was a choice he made, wasn’t it? So that just means he loves you more than doing the right thing all the time.” The words looked like they hurt Griff as they left his lips, his eyes reading Danny’s face as easily as Danny had read his. “You’re always putting people up on a pedestal, Danny, people who have more education or better jobs. Shit, don’t you ever watch the news? Seems like every day some big-shot head of a company is going to prison because he fucked over his employees and they lost their life savings. Everybody’s got a dark side. It’s nothing that wasn’t already there in Miller.”

“Yeah, but I made it come out. He gave up everything for me and I’m—”

“Oh, bullshit!” Griff exclaimed. “There’s no talking to you sometimes, you idiot. You have to take the blame for every fucking bad thing that happens in the world? People make their own choices.

Whatever it was Miller did, he did it because he thought you were worth it. He chose
you
, Danny. That’s what you should be thinking about, not about what he gave up. Jesus.” Griff threw up his hands in exasperation.

Danny could hear the wisdom of Griff’s words, but it was so hard Shades of Gray | 263

to believe they applied to him. They seemed such small comfort in the wake of all Miller had sacrificed. Danny had left Miller on the park bench, walked away and then kept on going, because he wanted to give Miller a chance at a life where he could forget what he’d done. And that would never happen with Danny there to remind him.

But Danny’s leaving wasn’t just about Miller and what Danny believed he deserved. It was about Danny, too, and finding a way to start over. He hadn’t expected to live beyond that day in the kitchen with Madrigal, had already released his hold on life and made his peace with death. But now he had to come back from the dead and find a way to live again, to stand tall as his own man, to uncover the true Danny Butler and face whoever he turned out to be.

RACHEL was chewing each bite at least fifty times. Miller wondered if she was counting in her head, forcing the food down after the prescribed number of chews, a trick borrowed from the obsessive-compulsive handbook to get her through this meal. It was the first time they’d seen each other since that night at his apartment almost six weeks ago. They’d talked on the phone a few times—short, awkward conversations with neither of them sure where they stood, Miller always making excuses about why he couldn’t see her quite yet. Every time he expected her to curse and shout or slam the receiver down into his ear, but she never did.

Miller had known that when they finally saw each other, he’d have to look within himself and answer her questions honestly in a way he’d never done before. And it was only now that he was ready. With Danny gone from his life, the way before him was no longer clear, but he had to keep walking, take the steps and hope that by doing so the right path would reveal itself.

“How has work been?” Rachel asked, using a gulp of wine to swallow her latest bite of salmon. They’d been making stilted small talk all evening, avoiding the real reason they were sitting across from each other.

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The restaurant had been a bad choice on his part—too fancy, too formal, both of them feeling on display in the hushed, rich atmosphere.

On the upside, Rachel was hardly going to throw her drink in his face in front of this crowd, but Rachel wasn’t the type for public displays anyway.

“Fine,” Miller answered, eyes on his plate.
Time to be honest with
her about everything, jackass.
“Actually, I’m on administrative leave.” It was almost a relief to finally be getting down to it.

“What?” Rachel’s fork clattered against her china plate and she glanced around guiltily. She wasn’t wearing her ring, and every time she moved her hand, the lack of sparkle hurt Miller’s eyes. “When did that happen?” she whispered, her fingers twisting nervous loops in her pearl necklace.

“A few weeks ago.”

“You said they cleared you in that shooting.”

“They did.”

Rachel’s brows drew together like magnets, confusion clear in her eyes. “Then why?”

Miller set down his glass, took a deep breath, drawing courage up through his core. He could do this; he had to do this, because if he didn’t, all the sacrifice had been for nothing. “There are some unanswered questions about me and an informant.” He looked at Rachel. “The man you saw me with at my apartment.” Rachel stared at him. She took her napkin off her lap and placed it across her plate.

“Rachel….”

“I’m not talking about this here. I’m not,” she said brokenly, pushing back from the table. Even on the verge of tears she walked with care; no one watching would have suspected anything more than a trip to the ladies’ room.