Scars Page 2

  Henry

  Henry opened his eyes and drew in a startled breath. Pleasure pulsed through his cock, and he reached down his body to grip his length. He’d been having the most amazing dream.

  A man with pale blue eyes like ice had pinned him beneath the sheets. Both of them nude, their cocks had rubbed together, and Henry had tasted his lips. There was no hesitation between them, and initially Henry was convinced it had to be Pritchard.

  But what had made the dream so good was that it wasn’t Pritchard at all.

  Dream logic told Henry the man was familiar, but someone he didn’t have a name for. The connection between them bound him to the man, and it made the way their bodies touched feel phenomenal.

  The man’s hand had closed around their cocks and stroked, and Henry lost himself to pleasure.

  However, before they could get any farther, he’d woken up.

  “Mmph,” he murmured as he turned onto his side on the bed, curling beneath the sheets. His hand pumped, and he closed his eyes and tried to return to his dream state. There had to be a way to get back, right? It had felt so good.

  Please, just a little longer, Henry thought to himself. Ever since he’d come back home following his breakup with Pritchard, he’d been starved for attention and looking for comfort. The dream had been so nice.

  Struggling to get back to sleep, Henry thrust his hips lazily into his hand and gasped into his pillow. The bed was hot, and the sheets stuck to his body. Once again, his parents had jacked the heat up.

  “Yeah,” Henry whispered. The blue eyes were paired with dark hair, nearing black, and a body that just about made him lose it. Toned, muscular, and capable, he was too good to be true. “Oh fuck yeah.”

  When he let his mind wander, he could imagine that his hand belonged to the man, and that their cocks still brushed against each other. Henry rolled over onto his stomach and burrowed his face in his pillows. He pushed his hips down into the bed as he stroked himself, too worked up to let the fantasy go.

  “Gonna…”

  He sighed, a quiet, needy sound just the wrong side of a whine. He was so close, so close –

  Knock, knock.

  Henry froze as the person on the other side of his door turned the handle and pulled it open. He gasped and flipped around, glad that the blankets on his bed were generous enough to cover his raging erection.

  His mother stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. “Henry Isaac Weston, when exactly did you plan on getting up for the day? It’s already half past nine.”

  Scrambling to pull the covers up over his bare chest, Henry felt heat spread rapidly across his face. There was no privacy in his parents’ house, and it wasn’t the first time he’d been caught in a compromising state. He was sure that his mother could tell he was up to something, but if she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

  Gloria Weston was a woman of high class, and her expectations were just as lofty. Even at such an early hour, she had a full face of makeup and was dressed in heels. Henry knew she wasn’t a natural blonde, but never once had he seen her roots showing. Imperfection wasn’t an option for Gloria, nor was it for any of the Westons. Henry’s father was likely already at work, overseeing his company with his iron fist as per usual.

  How they’d had a son like Henry, Henry didn’t think he’d ever understand.

  “I was getting up soon,” he said in a soft voice without really meaning it. “Is there breakfast?”

  “There has been for a long time.” Gloria took a small step into the room and looked around. It was largely unchanged from when Henry had left for college. The same novels were on the bookshelf by the door, similar potted plants, which grew by the window, and the original alarm clock sat at his bedside, always unused. While the rest of the house was furnished extravagantly, Henry’s room was simple. He liked it that way. “Get dressed and come eat something. It’s time you get out of bed.”

  It hadn’t always been like this. Until recently, Henry had been living with his boyfriend, Pritchard — now his ex-boyfriend, and for good reason. But the liberty of living on his own wasn’t worth the emotional and physical abuse. Not anymore. Leaving had been the hardest thing Henry had ever done, and he was still struggling to pull his life together, hence moving back home.

  “I’ll be down in a second, mother.”

  “Good boy.” She turned on her heels and left the room. As she went, Henry heard the sharp click of her shoes echo down the hall.

  He closed his eyes and flopped back onto the bed, drained. He’d gone soft. After the confrontation with his mother, Henry expected nothing less. To say the relationship with his parents was strained was an understatement, but he’d take it over spending another day with Pritchard any day of the week.

  Slowly but surely, his confidence was returning. The hollow shell of a man he had once been was filling out again.

  With his body sticky with sweat, Henry headed to the bathroom to shower before attempting to go downstairs for breakfast. The water was refreshing, and he let it wash away the discomfort of being interrupted. One day soon, he’d be on his own two feet and living on his own again. Until then, he had to take each day as it came. There was no other way around it.

  Freshly showered, Henry dressed and headed down to the dining room. Breakfast was already served at his place, a silver lid set over the plate to trap in the heat. No other spot at the table was set for breakfast. Henry’s mother and father had already eaten. It didn’t stop his mother from sitting at the table, hands clasped together on her lap.

  Henry slid into his seat and looked at her. She stared back. Silence lapsed between them, during which Henry lifted the lid and set it aside. Eggs and bacon waited beneath set beside a generous serving of carved fruit. The chef had done a great job, as usual.

  “How are you doing today, Henry?” Gloria asked. The question was stiff, and it made Henry feel uncomfortable. He sensed that whatever her true intention was, it wasn’t to find out how well he was.

  “I’m fine,” he said. He picked up his fork and prodded at the eggs on his plate. “I don’t work until late this afternoon, so I figured that I would sleep in a little. I’m going in at three o’clock, and they want me until midnight.”

  “Midnight?” Gloria asked, aghast. “That’s unacceptable.”

  “Well, no, not really.” Henry lowered his gaze and prodded at his eggs harder. “It’s eight hours. That’s pretty respectable.”

  “The most productive hours are early,” Gloria declared. “Going in to work so late isn’t doing you any favors. I wish you would see that.” The tone of her voice wasn’t harsh, but it edged on dismissive. Henry’s spirits sank. Already in a fragile emotional state after what Pritchard had done to him, it didn’t take much to deflate his self-esteem.

  “I know. You’ve told me before.”

  “Then you’ll know what I’m about to say next.”

  Henry lifted his chin and looked at her from across the table. Tension twitched in her lips and expectation glinted in her eyes.

  Yeah, I know exactly what you’re about to say.

  Since he’d returned to his parents’ home, he’d heard the same thing over and over again.

  “You’re going to ask me when I’m going to work for father.” He said, his voice flat.

  “There’s no shame in it,” Gloria said. She parted her hands and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Your father started working there while his father was president, and worked beneath him until he was eligible to take over. The same is expected of you, Henry. Whether you finished college or not won’t factor into it — not now. I’m sure once you’re settled in the office, you’ll have more than enough time to take night classes to finish your degree.”

  Henry blinked and stared at his plate. Thinking about all of it made his head hurt. Right now, he needed to focus on getting himself back on track. For the three years they’d lived together, Pritchard had taken away his independence and convinced him he was worthless. Henry’s dependency on him
had trapped him in a relationship that had almost killed him.

  Dependency was something he never wanted to experience again.

  “I’m just not comfortable with it right now,” he replied, softly. “I know that you and father mean well, but I’m not ready for something like that. Right now, working part-time is what I need.”

  “I know you’re delicate right now, but you need to think about your future.” With tender affection, she reached across the table and patted his arm. She ran hot and cold, and Henry never knew what to expect. “I want what’s best for you. Your father does, too. You’re twenty-four years old, and you need to start thinking about the future. There’s retirement to worry about, and children, and—”

  “It’s okay.” Henry dropped his hand over hers and squeezed. “Thank you for looking out for me, but right now, I need to look out for myself.”

  “And working for your father will help you look out for you. Money fixes everything, sweetheart. He’s willing to give you a salary you can live on more than comfortably, even with your lack of education. You’re not going to find anything else like that. Ever.”

  Henry hadn’t even taken a bite of breakfast, but he found he had suddenly lost his appetite. The uncomfortable conversation stole his hunger.

  Back when his relationship with Pritchard had been new and the love between them was so intense it was all Henry could think about, dropping out of school after Pritchard suggested it had seemed like a perfectly logical decision. He’d made a lot of stupid mistakes over the last three years, and Henry still wasn’t confident enough to know if he was making the right choice now.

  As much as he wanted to be independent, working part-time wasn’t going to get him anywhere. More than anything, he needed to get out of his parents’ house and strike out on his own. The few hundred dollars he made a week weren’t going to get him there.

  “Well,” Henry relented. “He’s been offering me the same deal since I dropped out of college, right? So it’s not like it’s going away. Let me try things my way for a little while longer. If I can’t make things work in the next thirty days, I’ll take the deal and go work for him.”

  Gloria’s eyes brightened and she clapped her hands together. “Henry! That’s wonderful news.”

  “It means I still have thirty days to get back on my feet and find something for myself,” Henry said. He sat up a little straighter in his chair. This was his one chance to make something of himself, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

  “Of course, of course.” Gloria waved him off, but the way her lips curled showed she was more invested than she let on. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Henry hoped he could say the same thing about himself at the end of the month.

  Caleb

  Caleb’s cell phone rang. It sat on the coffee table by the couch, jittering on the polished wood as it vibrated. Caleb glanced over at it and frowned. Kota was calling. Again. It was the third time he’d tried to call today.

  “Give it a rest,” Caleb murmured. He flopped back on the couch and tucked his arms behind his head, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. A week had passed since he’d arrived back in Blue Mountain and parted ways from Kota, and he’d been dodging Kota’s calls ever since.

  It wasn’t like Kota didn’t know where he lived. If it were anything urgent, nothing was stopping him from dropping by. In fact, when they were younger, Kota had often stopped by the house unannounced. Now that they were older, personal and professional obligations made it more difficult, but not impossible. Caleb felt guilty, but he did his best not to let it eat at him.

  Integrating himself back into Blue Mountain society wasn’t something he was looking forward to doing, and he knew Kota was looking to get him out and about on the town.

  The rumors were already starting to spread. With as little time as he spent out, Caleb had already heard it. People whispered when he passed by, and he knew they were talking about him behind his back. More than once, he’d seen a car slow as it drove by the Anders’ house.

  Everyone wants to get a look at the freak.

  All of the mirrors from his old apartment back in Johnson City remained wrapped and stowed. For the most part, Caleb’s other possessions were unpacked. Since his parents had moved to Florida, the old family house had been left empty. Most of the furniture from Caleb’s childhood had been sold or shipped down south. Seeing his furniture from Texas set up in its place was strange.

  Everything about the situation was strange.

  Caleb never thought his life would turn out the way it had.

  Noon arrived. Caleb picked himself up from the couch and stretched his arms out. His doctor back in Texas suggested he exercise moderately each day in order to improve his lung function and promote healing, and so Caleb had been walking to Crossroads Diner and back every day. Mrs. Turner always had a lunchbox made for him, and even though he hated the attention he got when he left his house, he couldn’t resist her cooking. It was a part of home that never changed.

  He dressed, shrugged into his jacket, then headed out the door. It was a straight shot to Crossroads Diner, and Caleb lifted the hood of his jacket and slid his hands into his pockets as he walked it. Blue Mountain was small enough that there wasn’t much foot traffic at this time of day, and the cars that passed didn’t seem to slow in order to gawk. Beneath his hood, he was safe. When warmer weather arrived, he’d need to re-evaluate.

  Luckily, that wouldn’t be for a while.

  The residential street the Anders’ house was located on intersected with the main street. Blue Mountain was small, but it attracted tons of niche shops that catered to the influx of tourists every summer and standing amidst the artisan shops and trinket boutiques with their elegant, manicured displays was the Crossroads Diner. As Caleb approached, he pulled open the door and let himself in. Old, worn tile met his boots, exactly the same as it had been during his high school days.

  The diner was modestly busy for a Wednesday, but there was only one man there that Caleb was dismayed to see. Leaning against the cash counter immediately to the left of the door was Kota, dressed in his uniform.

  Caleb was about to turn when Kota saw him and lifted a hand in greeting. “Hey. Long time no see. I was just getting ready to come over and see that everything was okay. Have you been getting my texts?”

  “Yeah.” With a friendship like theirs, Caleb knew that if he lied, Kota would see through him. It was best to tell the truth, even if he didn’t want to. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you. Guess I’m still getting used to settling in.”

  “Five years away is a long time,” Kota said with a nod. “It’s normal to feel lost, even if you’re settling back into a place you’ve known all your life. Don’t feel discouraged.”

  Kota was too nice for his own good, and he had been all his life. Caleb felt worse about ignoring him, and he stared at his feet.

  “Mrs. Turner was just telling me she was going to throw your lunchbox together,” Kota continued when Caleb was silent. “She says you’ve been coming to see her every day since you got back, and that she’s been putting together a meal for you to take home since she’s sure you’re not cooking for yourself. I asked her if I could get in some VIP treatment too but she gave me the stink eye. Think maybe you could talk some sense into her?” The humor was plain in Kota’s voice, and when Caleb looked up, he saw him grinning.

  “You know Mrs. Turner,” Caleb said stiffly. “She’ll know what I’m up to if I ask on your behalf, and she’ll call me out on it. That woman has eyes on the back of her head.”

  “And ears all over,” Mrs. Turner said as she swept out through the swinging doors of the kitchen. She carried a plastic bag weighed down by a Styrofoam container with whatever food she’d made today. By the smell of it, it was roast chicken. “Dakota Owens, I swear, if you try to pull one over on me, I’ll see to it your mother knows.”

  “Oh no,” Kota’s grin grew. “Maybe she’ll call the cops. Please, Mrs. Turner, anything but that!”r />
  Despite himself, Caleb laughed. The sound caught in his throat and hit something raw, and he doubled over coughing as his lungs and throat burned. Immediately Kota was at his side, setting a hand on his back.

  “Whoa, Caleb, it’s okay. You’re fine. Just ride it out.”

  Easy for you to say.

  “Have some water, dear,” Mrs. Turner insisted as she shoved a plastic tumbler into his hand. Caleb found the strength to correct his posture and take a drink. The water soothed some of the irritation, but not all of it. His wounds were more complex than that.

  Sputtering and clearing his throat, Caleb shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “Of course you are.” Mrs. Turner patted his arm. She set the bag of food on the front counter. “I’d love to stay and chat, but you boys are enough trouble without a victim, and I’m short on kitchen staff today. Be good and don’t make me come out here, you hear?”

  “Oh, we hear,” Kota said with a laugh. “Whether we listen or not, well…”

  Mrs. Turner shook her head, then shot Caleb a final glance. “If you need anything, you tell me or one of the girls. And if this scoundrel Dakota is giving you any trouble, you tell him where to shove it.”

  Caleb snorted back a laugh, trying hard not to let it devolve into a coughing fit all over again. “Okay.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Turner brushed her hands on her apron, then headed back for the swinging doors. “Take care, you two.”

  When they were alone, Kota poked a finger at the plastic bag on the counter and lifted an eyebrow. “So, are you taking care of yourself? It’s safe to say Mrs. Turner isn’t the only one worried.”

  That was something Caleb wasn’t comfortable saying. Wasn’t it all objective, anyway? So far he hadn’t managed to starve himself to death or light the house on fire. In fact, Caleb had made some modifications around the house to help protect it from burning. The smoke detectors looked like they hadn’t had their batteries changed since he’d left for Texas, and there was no way he was going to let that slide after so many years spent as a firefighter. The old fire extinguisher in the kitchen was likely a bigger fire hazard than it was a fire stopper. A few clicks of the mouse had solved that problem. Caleb was expecting a delivery today.