Worth Keeping (18 page)

Owen shook his head wearily. “And that’s the problem. Don’t refer to yourself as a fag. Using words like that does no one any favours. You just propagate the stereotypes. Have some respect for yourself.”

Tyler flushed. “It’s what they call us isn’t it? Fag, queer, fudge-packer.”

Owen winced. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you should call yourself that. You’re just wired differently, Tyler. It’s no sin. Jules used to preach that every time we went to London.” Owen remembered Jules’ impassioned soapbox tirades in the middle of Leicester Square, saying much the same thing he was only with more fervour, more violence. Until the police had rousted them out and they’d had to pack up their stuff and run. Owen remembered Jules taking his hand and pulling him along, laughing like a crazy person as they ran together through the streets of London. The memory made him smile but it also made his chest hurt and his eyes tear up.

Tyler leaned forward, his eyes concerned. “He meant a lot to you, this guy Jules. Where is he now?”

“He’s dead,” Owen said softly. “Two years ago.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry, man. That sucks.” Tyler’s hand briefly brushed Owen’s. “But you have him now.” He waved at Nick who was still fending off gropes.

Owen smiled. “Yes, I have him now.”

The teacher, Mrs. Grandsome, approached them, motioning to Tyler to stand up. “Mr. Tyler Hamilton, come along. Stop mooching about and join the rest of the group please.” She smiled at Owen. “Sorry if he was taking up your time. Tyler tends to have to have a tendency to be a loner.”

“He was no trouble at all. We were having a good chat. He seems like a nice enough lad.” Owen got to his feet with Tyler. The two men shared a secret smile. Tyler reached out his hand and Owen shook it.

“Nice to meet you, Owen. Good luck with the boyfriend, you lucky bastard.” The younger man chuckled.

“Tyler!” The teacher’s scandalised voice echoed through the trees as she propelled Tyler back to the group.

Owen chuckled as Socks leapt onto his shoulder. “Well, that was educational, Socks. That youngster seems to know what he wants.” He turned to watch Nick, who was now directing the school tour toward the outside barn where Owen knew there were refreshments. A small catering company had come in that morning to put on various sandwiches and snacks for the group. The teacher and her conclave disappeared into the cool confines of the stone barn. Owen saw Nick heave a sigh of relief and then he made his way over to him. Socks chattered excitedly and bounded onto Nick’s shoulder.

“Hey, buddy. Have you been keeping Owen company?” Nick smiled at Owen. “Everything okay? I noticed you inherited that sulky kid. What was his problem?”

“Oh, he was jacking off while watching you, which, while very understandable, rather annoyed me. I had to do something about it.”

Nick’s jaw dropped. “He was what?”

Owen nodded sagely. “Yup. You were his fantasy. But we came to an arrangement.”

Nick still looked gobsmacked. “What arrangement?”

Owen leaned forward and whispered in Nick’s ear. “That you can only be
my
fantasy. And boy, I mean to make the most of that later.” He patted Nick on the arse. “And now, I suggest you get back there to your visitors. The teacher seems to be trying to get your attention.”

Nick groaned. “Christ, I’ll be glad when this tour is over. There’s another one tomorrow too. I don’t know if I can do this.” He turned to see Julie Grandsome waving at him frantically. He motioned to her that he was on his way.

Owen winked. “You’ll do it. Just make sure those horny little girls keep their hands off my merchandise. I don’t want it handled. That’s for me to do.”

Nick grinned as he started walking up toward the barn. “I look forward to you keeping that promise.” He wriggled his arse a little as he walked away and Owen laughed. Not for the first time he wondered what it would be like to bury himself inside Nick. He knew it would never happen and while his preference was for Nick to be the one doing the burying, for a fleeting moment, the desire remained.

Don left Friday morning before Owen went to work. His departure left Owen feeling sad. He’d gotten used to having the burly, gruff man with a heart of gold around. In some ways, he reminded Owen of his own father. That thought made him feel guilty and he decided to give them a call. It had been almost two weeks since he’d spoken to his family.

He listened to the sound of the house phone ringing and then heaved a sigh of relief at hearing his mother’s voice on the end of the line.

“Angie Butler here.”

“Mum? It’s Owen. How are you?”

His mother’s squeal of delight warmed Owen’s heart. “Owen, sweetheart, how lovely to hear from you. Are you still in Norfolk?”

“Yes, still here, with Nick.”

“When are we going to meet this young man? I mean we have offered to come down and visit and each time you say no. Is there going to be a time when we get to meet this man of yours, the one who saved your life?” His mother’s voice was acerbic despite her friendly greeting earlier.

Owen sighed. “Mum, I promise you can come down soon. Nick’s a bit difficult, he has some issues and I want to make sure he’s fine before he meets my folks.”

Christ, the man would probably run a mile if he thought Owen was about to introduce him to his folks. Nick wasn’t quite at that stage yet.

“I see. Well, make sure it’s soon or we’ll simply come down anyway one of these days. I’m quite sure a lighthouse is fairly easy to find in a place called Pebble Cove.” The threat in her voice was clear.

Owen groaned. “Mum, I promise. Just give me a little more time. How’s Dad?”

“Oh he’s fine. Out at golf at the moment. He spends more time there than anywhere else nowadays.” Owen grinned. His father had always loved the game of golf, and did even more so now he’d retired and found himself having to spend more time with Owen’s mother.

“Mum, remember that friend of Aunt Cathy’s in London that owns that art gallery? Do you think you could text me her number? Nick paints and he’s really good at it.”

The one good thing Owen had noticed was that Nick was painting more than ever. Owen still marvelled at the depth of talent his lover had in transforming ordinary everyday scenes, such as a yacht on the sea, into a canvas that simply took his breath away with its vibrancy and depth.

“Who, Lindy Vermeer? Yes, I can send you her contact details. What do you have in mind?”

“I took a few shots with my camera phone and I want to send the pictures to her and see if she knows anyone who might be interested in showing or buying his work. But it’s a secret; I don’t want him to know yet. It’s kind of a surprise.”

The least I can do is get him some recognition for those stunning paintings and perhaps a bit of cash too.

“Darling, if he’s any good, of course Lindy will be your best bet. She knows everyone who’s anyone.”

“Thanks Mum. Look, I have to go now but I’ll call again soon. Tell dad I said hi, will you? And I promise I’ll see you soon.” Owen rang off.

Later that night, he was seated at the kitchen table with his laptop checking out sex toys when Nick came up behind him, laying a cold hand on the back of his neck. Socks was sitting quietly on the kitchen table watching him in between playing with his penknife.

Owen shot to his feet, startled. “Jesus, Nick, your hands are bloody freezing. What the hell have you been doing?” He sat down, still feeling that icy hand on his skin like a wraith.

Nick smiled but his eyes were shadowed. Owen’s heart sank. He recognised that look, the one that said Nick was retreating inside himself. It was as if a switch was flipped and the man Owen knew became uncommunicative and moody for no apparent reason.

“I was outside fixing that leaky tap in the lighthouse. It’s damn nippy in there.” He went over to the sink and ran the warm water, washing his hands. “It’s Friday night, Owen. I thought you were going to head down to town tonight to see Heather. Weren’t you meeting her for a drink or something?” He gave Socks a cursory tickle behind the ears.

“Are you trying to get rid of me? Heather called and cancelled. Some patient emergency.” Owen clicked on the website he was browsing, searching for the right equipment. “I thought I’d see if I could get us those toys we’ve been talking about.” He didn’t miss the narrowing of Nick’s eyes and the faint thinning of his lips.

Christ, has he changed his mind? Better find out now before I waste my money or cause him any other nightmares.

“You don’t look all that keen, Nick. Would you rather I didn’t buy anything?”

Nick shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He went to the fridge, took out a beer, popped the cap and drank it. Owen felt peeved that he hadn’t even offered him one. He tried to ignore the dark Nick cloud in the corner as he browsed the dildo section.

Hell, some of these things are immense
. As much as he liked being filled, he didn’t think that one was going to fit without splitting him in two.

He became aware of a piercing gaze on his back, an uncomfortable stab between the shoulder blades. He turned to see Nick staring at him intently.

“What is it, Nick? Don’t you like the look of these ones?” Owen turned to the screen. “There are ones with ridges, ones that have what look like bloody feelers on them and even some that pulse and throb like the real thing.” Owen was goading Nick now, trying to break through the indifference he could see settling on Nick like a thick woollen blanket. “Seeing as how you’re the one that’s going to be shoving this thing in my arse, wouldn’t you like to help me choose?”

Nick’s face darkened and he stood up, beer in hand. “It’s your fantasy, not mine. You choose. We agreed it was fine. Just be careful what you bloody wish for.” And with those words, he took a gulp of his beer and left the kitchen to walk into the lounge.

Socks scampered off the table and followed him. Owen heard the television go on and the blaring tones of what sounded like
CSI: Miami
echo though the rooms.

Damn that man to hell
. In the weeks he’d known him, he still managed to irk him like no one else could. All Owen could do when Nick got like this was leave him alone. Don had told him he’d done the same thing.

Despite his natural tendency to try and comfort Nick, Owen continued his search, giving him the space he needed. Finally he finished his purchases, getting a fairly realistic, nicely ridged seven-inch dildo with a decent girth that he thought would do the trick. He quite liked the look of the fancy glass ones but thought he’d stick with something a little less flashy until Nick got used to it.

Christ, you could actually put the glass ones in the dishwasher. Who would have thought…?

Owen grinned imagining someone’s surprise—perhaps Don—on opening up the dishwasher and finding a rather sophisticated dildo gleaming in the top tray. He snorted with laughter at the image it conjured up. Just for fun he included three different types of lube, a set of handcuffs and some bondage rope. He felt quite pleased at his evening’s shopping and was busy shutting down the computer when he heard the sound of glass shattering. Panicked, he dashed through to the lounge to see Nick standing up, his chest heaving as he stared at the television. On the far wall, a wet patch was evident, dribbles of beer strolling down the wall. The shattered shards of the beer bottle lay at the bottom of the wall. The monkey sat huddled in the corner of the couch.

Owen looked at Nick in confusion. “What the hell happened?”

Nick said nothing, his nostrils flaring and then he turned and stormed out of the room. Owen swore Nick had been on the verge of crying. Owen looked at the television, just catching the end of the news broadcast.

“And we’ll have more on the story of eleven-year-old Alan Parker just as soon as we have an update for you. This tragic and deeply disturbing tale should not end with his death.”

The newscaster disappeared to be replaced by someone talking about the upcoming sports calendar. Owen ran a hand over his eyes wearily. He went back into the kitchen, powered up the laptop and found the BBC news channel. He scrolled down the page until he saw the article and what he read made him feel nauseous.

Alan Parker had been an eleven-year-old boy who’d been found in an old house in the middle of Nottingham, sodomised and abused so badly that he’d died of internal injuries on the way to hospital. It was thought he was one of many children involved in a child sex ring on which the Nottingham police had been working for some months. But they hadn’t managed to save this boy.

Owen throat constricted and his eyes teared up at what Nick must be going through, having something so close to home brought straight into his living room where he believed he was safe. He switched off the TV and the lights and made sure the doors were locked. Socks made his way to his basket in the kitchen corner. Owen went into the bedroom. It was dark with a still shape under the bedcovers.

“Leave the light off,” Nick said harshly.

Owen fumbled around, stripping off his clothes, only wanting to get into bed and see if could comfort Nick. But even that was to be denied him.

“I don’t want to talk about it and I just want to go to sleep,” Nick muttered, his voice ragged. “Goodnight, Owen.”

He pulled the blankets up to his chin, turning over on his side. Nick had only just overcome his fear of having his back to Owen when they slept together, which had made Owen feel trusted and special. But now, seeing that rigid back facing him with no hope of any form of touch or comforting caress, Owen felt locked out, rejected. “Goodnight, Nick,” he whispered as he settled in to sleep.

The next morning Owen awoke, finding Nick gone from the bed. He brushed his teeth, washed up and pulled on a pair of loose sweats.

Nick was seated in the kitchen, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him. He looked pale and drawn, his eyes red rimmed. The little monkey sat chattering quietly to himself as he feasted on a piece of toast. Nick looked up as Owen entered but there was no answering smile.

Owen’s stomach clenched. Nick looked so vulnerable and hurt and all Owen wanted to do was pull him into his arms and hold him. But he knew that wouldn’t have gone over well. Instead, Owen walked over and gently squeezed his shoulder, planting a kiss on top of his head. He was determined not to push his lover about the events last night.