Chapter 9

The engagement ring in Curtis’s pocket might not have gone down the drain, but he wasn’t so sure his relationship with Reed, maybe even with Lawson and Matt, hadn’t landed there in its place. Walking out of the dance club, leaving Reed, had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. At least in this, however, he’d respect his boy’s wishes. Even if it ended up being too little too late.

“Why did you lie?” The question echoed, hollow, in the palms of his hands.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out the answer.

Straightening, he rested his head on the back of Lawson’s leather couch in their now semi-joined lofts. An ache behind his breastbone he couldn’t quite swallow down made his breaths shallow, oxygen a scarce commodity, as he forced himself to face the truth.

Reed lied because he can’t trust me to fulfill his needs.

Thinking the thought shook loose a piece of the pain, giving him a foundation to build from. Maybe. If it wasn’t too late.

And if I can figure out what the fuck to do about it.

At The Asylum, relationships among many of the Doms and subs seemed to ebb and flow like a tide, the little dramas playing out, forming and reforming cliques and alliances that had once struck Curtis as almost Daytime Emmy worthy. With a lifestyle as complex as theirs, however, was it any wonder that tensions could run hot, parching the landscape they’d been built on until there was only sand beneath. So easily washed away…

Memories of Reed’s smiling face, two or three years ago now, the newness of their relationship and the adoration that had shown there—the playful teasing they’d once been able to share—rushed in on a tide of longing. “I miss that. I miss you… So fucking much.”

But I don’t have a clue how to get back there.

Back to you.

Did that boy Reed had been even exist anymore, buried beneath a mountain of black fabric and brittle expressions? And would he want Curtis even if he did? Could he be the one to help his boy find his way home, or was he the reason he’d gone away in the first place?

Quick footsteps he identified as having Matt’s gait approached the loft door, and Curtis sat up, grabbing a book from the coffee table. One of Lawson’s ledgers… Which he held open upside down. Righting it, he sat back, masking his emotion with the page of numbers and dates in Lawson’s elegant hand that he didn’t really see.

The door slammed back against the wall, Matt not stopping on his way through the entry until he stood before Curtis, pointing the way he’d come. “Reed. Jared.” He panted, catching his breath. “He ate a whole bag of gummies and Jared took him to the clinic.”

On his feet without having to think about it, Curtis tossed the ledger to the sofa, already on his way out the door as it bounced to the floor, Matt close behind. “It’s gummies, so weed, right?”

“Yeah.” Matt kept up with him, catching each door Curtis opened, and following him through. “But Jamie said they were laced with something.”

Curtis’s heart stuttered, getting its third sucker-punch of the day. He broke into a run, unsure whether he said his thoughts aloud, or in what order.

I’m killing Jamie.

I’m locking Reed in that cage.

Jesus Christ please let him be all right.

Someone got in his way as he passed through the bar, a white bet slip flagging Curtis’s vision. He knew he hit them only by the pain in his hand and the clatter of toppling stools behind him as he burst through the gym doors. At the clinic door, he slowed, some undamaged and unpanicked sliver of his brain registering that he might cause Reed harm if he startled Jared coming through the door like a freight train.

Quiet. Careful. Not nearly as calm as he looked. He entered the clinic, his gaze snapping to the procedure room. Voices. Reed’s, Jared’s.

At Reed’s side, Curtis said soothing words. Reassuring words. Not really hearing himself at all, only seeing his boy’s glazed blue eyes, his sweat darkened curls, the rest of the room and the world fading away to nothing.

Jared nudged him out of the way, and he nearly swung.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come.” Lawson’s tone was gentle, but the way he held Curtis’s arm as he eased him back made it clear he’d restrain him if necessary. “Let Jared take care of him. He’ll make sure our boy gets well. We need to let him do his job.”

Curtis nodded, the motion of his head automatic, though his head didn’t nearly feel connected to his shoulders. Keeping his voice low, he asked, “What’s he doing?”

“He’s getting all the toxins out. It won’t be a pleasant process, but it’ll help.” Lawson ran his hands up and down Curtis’s arms. “This is a precaution more than anything.”

“How did this even—” Shaking his head to cut himself off, Curtis motioned toward Reed. “Jared will let you. Please, take care of him. I’ll be fine.”

For a few seconds, Lawson remained silent. Then he shook his head. “He needs us both, Curtis. I’m not sure he’s fully aware that we’re here, not right now, but he needs to feel that when he does. We’ll both stay close, without getting in the way.”

Unable to tear his gaze away from the bed, Curtis listened to the sound of Jared’s voice, his instructions to Reed, his own chest constricting at the panicked noises his boy made. With Jared’s back blocking the view of Reed’s upper half, he couldn’t see anything, which almost made it worse. At one point, Lawson left him to help Jared raise the bed, and Curtis looked to Noah, registering his presence.

Hand on Jamie’s shoulder, gaze locked on the procedure, Noah didn’t seem to even breathe. A few times, his hand twitched against his boy, and his jaw tensed, but other than that, he barely so much as blinked.

Glancing around, then up at Curtis, Jamie quickly shied his gaze away.

Anger’s gloved fist closed around Curtis’s throat. Prying away its fingers, he returned his attention to Reed and the machine that whirred on a metal cart, suctioning the poison from Reed’s stomach. Keeping it from entering his blood. His body.

It might have been minutes or hours, but then it was over. Jared removed the tube, and Reed gasped. Holding up a paper cup full of something black, Jared handed it to Reed. “It tastes terrible, but it will help. You did well, my boy. Drink the whole thing and I’ll be very proud.”

Reed nodded, bringing the cup to his lips, speaking softly to himself. “Jared wouldn’t have me drink it if it was really alive. None of this is real. I still have hands.”

Fingers digging into the metal doorframe behind him, Curtis held himself up. And back. Everything in him screaming at him to go to Reed, to find a way to take his pain and fear, to make it better, like he should have in the first place.

Finished drinking every last drop, Reed held the cup out in Jared’s general direction. “I don’t want them watching me anymore, sir. Can I have a different punishment? I hate them. I want them to stop. They’re too close.”

Jared took the cup. Placing it on the table just beyond Reed’s sight, he sat on the edge of the bed to trace his fingers along Reed’s jaw. “It’s just us here, Reed, love. Noah, Curtis. Lawson and Matt. Jamie too. You’re not being punished.”

“You can’t see them? There’s so many eyes. They see where all my pieces went, but I can’t. It’s not fair.” Reed inhaled roughly. “I want to get out of the bath now. The water’s cold.”

“All right.” Standing, Jared held out his now ungloved hand. “Let’s get you somewhere before the activated charcoal works its magic.” He looked over his shoulder, cold blue eyes searching out Lawson. “I’ll bring him up when he’s ready to sleep. He’ll need some privacy with me now.”

Curtis opened his mouth to object.

Squeezing Curtis’s shoulder, Lawson shook his head before turning his attention to Jared. “We’ll be waiting in the loft.” He glanced at Noah. “Can you…?”

Quickly nodding, Noah gave both Curtis and Lawson a reassuring look. “Jacks took over for Matt. I’ll keep an eye on things and see to closing. Focus on your family.”

Though he hadn’t thought about it in a long, long time, Curtis found himself blurting out “He’s your family too.” Not accusing. Not wanting to hurt Noah. But Damn it. “Reed deserves to remember that. You do too.”

“I know that, Curtis.” There was some tension in the set of Noah’s shoulders before he visibly let it go. “And I’ll be around, but you’re the ones he needs right now.”

Matt stepped in from the outer room, his gaze going over Reed as Jared helped him across the room. “I could stay… Get anything Jared needs, sir?”

Brow furrowed, Lawson hesitated, glancing at Jared. “It’s up to you. I understand if you’d prefer us all out of the way.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Jared nodded, his grip tightening as Reed swayed. “That isn’t a bad idea.” He nudged his chin in the direction of the bed. “Curl up there. I’ll call out if I need you.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” A pained frown drawing his brows together, Matt crossed to Lawson. “I’m sorry. I knew he was upset. I should have said something. Done...done something. Please tell me I’ll feel better about that someday…” His fist moved unselfconsciously to his middle, his blue eyes filling. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh.” Lawson pulled Matt into his arms, holding him close. “Sometimes the people we love make bad decisions. And the best thing we can do for them is be there as they face the consequences. It wasn’t your responsibility to stop him. You’re doing what you can now. It’ll feel better when you’re willing to accept that.”

Face pressed into Lawson’s shoulder, Matt nodded. “Yes, sir.” He tipped his head back a bit. “I don’t think we should allow drugs in the club anymore. Even if they are legal.”

After pressing a tender kiss to Matt’s lips, Lawson nodded. “I agree, but it will have to be put to a vote with the board. I’ll bring it up at the next meeting.”

Jamie remained absolutely silent as Curtis stared him down before the sub lowered his gaze. It wasn’t lost on him that the one person who should have apologized in all this hadn’t. As Jared shut the bathroom door, though, Curtis turned away, needing to either go to his boy or get the hell out of the room before he went crazy from not being able to help.

“Thank you for staying, Matt.” Squeezing Lawson’s arm, Curtis moved toward the gym, then the bar, noting vaguely that the crowd had thinned out. He glanced at the gym clock, saw that it was closing time, and grabbed the trash barrel from the custodial closet to begin clearing red plastic cups half full of beer from the floor and the edge of the ring.

Once the bar had cleared out and the front door was locked, Noah came over and patted Curtis’s arm. “Go on upstairs, my man. Stay with Lawson until your boy’s there for you to fuss over.”

“Noah…” Seeking comfort where he rarely had before, Curtis straightened and faced the man who’d—for all intents and purposes—saved his own life. “Tell me I’m not the worst thing that ever happened to him. Tell me you don’t regret… Just…” He shook his head, looking away. “But I am. Aren’t I. God, Reed—”

“Stop it, Curtis.” This time, Noah gripped both his arms, giving Curtis a bit of a shake. “Your relationship is going through a rough spot. Maybe he did something reckless because of that, maybe he was just being a young man not thinking through his actions. It happens. You’ll get through it if it’s as important to you both as I believe it is. In the end, this is no different than sweeping up broken glass or icing busted knuckles. And you’ve both done your fair share.”

Tipping his head back, Curtis nodded. “Yeah… Yes.” The clinic door opened, Lawson coming out. “I’ve definitely done my fair share of breaking the glass too.” His lips did their own thing, curving upward, though he didn’t feel much like smiling. “Thank you, my man.”

“Anytime.” Noah hugged him with one arm before inclining his head to Lawson, then heading into the bar, likely to deal with the cash.

“Hey.” Stepping up to meet Lawson at the other end of the ring, Curtis jammed his hands in his pockets. “You all right?”

The man looked a bit worn down, the shadows under his eyes seeming to have deepened in the last few hours alone, but Lawson simply nodded. “I hate seeing either of our boys hurting, but he’s in good hands. I’ll feel better when we have him home...it’s not a huge difference, since we all live here, but you know what I mean. In our own space.”

“I do…” Curtis touched his forehead to Lawson’s. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you where I hid the cigars.”

Lawson breathed out a laugh, glancing over at him as they made their way to the stairwell. “Do I even want to know why they needed to be hidden?”

Brows raised, Curtis looked over his shoulder. “Hello? Jared said he’d play bongos on your ass if you touched them before he said so? I was protecting my interests.”

“Fair enough.” Lawson brought a hand up to rub the back of his own neck. “I have some appointments tomorrow, but I’ll reschedule them. I should be around more. It felt like things had calmed down but...there’s still a lot to work through.”

Keying in their door code, Curtis shouldered open the door when it stuck a little. “I’m going to fix that.” He looked around the space, the tools lying everywhere, the dust sheet that covered the new hole that connected his and Reed’s old loft with Lawson and Matt’s. “Along with everything else.” A wry smile twisting his lips, he shook his head at himself. “And maybe that’s the problem. We haven’t given ourselves room to breathe since everything with Wren. Kovit. And, God, even Avery.”

Lawson nodded, pausing by the coat rack, chuckling as he picked up a work boot, next to a glittery pink sneaker, neither pair in sight. “Some things have changed a lot. Others haven’t changed at all. I think, given room, we’ll be able to see both.”

Lifting Reed’s sneaker, Curtis ran his fingers over the glitter’s rough edges. “The sparkle...I never knew it had grit.”

“Mhm.” Lawson replaced the boot, dusting his hands off before heading into the living room and pouring two helpings of bourbon. “He was hanging out with Jacks the other day, getting the parts he’d worn down fixed. Came back more covered in the stuff than usual. I still have not figured out how to get it off all the furniture, but I think I’m getting used to having it around.”

“Lint rollers. The tape kind.” Taking the shoe with him, Curtis put it on the coffee table where he could see it and took up the Glencairn glass to take a sip. “You remember when he first got to Tracey’s? How he stole her silver glitter nail polish and then claimed he must have sleepwalked into the dressing table and it fell into his pajama pants?”

His own glass between his hands as he settled down on the sofa beside Curtis, Lawson nodded. “He’d disappear into his room, then come out smelling like nail polish remover and hiding his hands. He’d always have a bit of polish on his clothes and skin and never get it fully off his nails. But he didn’t want anyone to see him wearing it for the longest time.” He brought his glass to his lips. “Tracey started leaving different colors in his room for him to try out. Didn’t comment on it until he was ready to come to her himself.”

A flash of what his own father would have done to Reed tightened Curtis’s fingers around his glass. He tossed back the rest of the liquor, then fell into, more than sat on, the sofa. “Did he stop trusting me when he saw what my family was like—where I came from—or did I imagine that as a way to explain all this?”

“He trusts you, Curtis. And this has nothing to do with your family.” Lawson sipped his own drink, not commenting on Curtis polishing his off, his gaze level. “Not to say the experience didn’t impact him in some ways, but I think he’s learning things about himself that don’t fit how everyone sees him. And much like he did then, with Tracey, with us and Noah, he’s hiding it. Exploring in his own way. Maybe a bit afraid to share that side of himself completely because he doesn’t know how we’ll react. Or thinks he does know. Which...can be difficult.”