Twice Shy

by Sally Malcolm

  Joel remained frozen for several beats of his racing heart and then followed. He had no idea what he’d just witnessed, but one thing was very clear: his suspicion had been right. There was something going on between Ollie and Luca Moretti.

  ∞∞∞

  Ollie was so nervous he could hardly breathe as he followed Luca out of the kitchen and into the frigid night air. Maybe he was being stupid, but it felt like everything hung on the outcome of this conversation and he wished Joel were with him. His fingers flexed in the cold, as if they knew what it would be like to face this hand-in-hand with Joel.

  Luca stalked along the back of the house and around the corner. A frigid wind blew straight off the sea and Ollie cursed himself for not grabbing his coat before he left. From inside the house he could hear the muffled sounds of music and chatter, but outside all was silent. A handful of icy stars scattered the sky, hazy clouds racing over a new moon. The grass gleamed frostily, the air around him misty with his own breath.

  Not that Ollie was really looking; his eyes were fixed on the man who’d come to a halt at the edge of the driveway at the front of the house. Luca had his back to him, but he turned when Ollie’s footsteps crunched in the gravel and their eyes met glancingly. He wasn’t wearing his coat either and he wasn’t smiling.

  Ollie hugged himself against the cold as he walked closer on shaky legs. “Thanks for this. I’m sorry I kinda ambushed you. Again.”

  Luca looked strained and grim. “Listen,” he said, “I’m just gonna come out and say this.” He cleared his throat. Ollie’s stomach cramped hard. He wished he hadn’t eaten so much at the buffet. “I know what my dad was, and he caused me and my mom nothing but pain. I haven’t seen him since I was a kid, and I’ve no desire to. When he walked out, he left us behind like trash.” His shoulders hunched in a shrug. “I don’t want anything to do with him. And, I’m sorry, but that includes you. It’s just—part of my life I’ve got no interest in revisiting.”

  Breath froze in Ollie’s throat, a hard lump of air lodged there. “I see,” he managed to scrape out. His fingers were clenched so hard they hurt. “I’m sorry if I…” His voice cracked, and he couldn’t carry on. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Luca stared down at his shoes. “Look, it’s not personal. It’s nothing against you. I just— I can’t see this being part of my life. I don’t want to have to—” He cut himself off. “I grieved my dad when I was a kid. I don’t want to get to know the family he abandoned mine to create.”

  “He didn’t stay,” Ollie rasped. “He’s married to another woman now. I never even knew him.”

  A flash of pain crossed Luca’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I just can’t do this.” And with that he walked away, crossing the driveway in front of the house.

  Ollie didn’t follow, couldn’t drag air past the ache in his throat. Turning away, he retreated the way they’d come. When he blinked, he felt hot tears on his face, his vision blurring so badly that he didn’t see the man standing at the corner of the house until he almost bumped into him.

  “Joel…?” The relief was so overwhelming Ollie couldn’t say anything more. He just stood there immobile as he gazed at him. It felt like rescue. Maybe that’s why he didn’t register the expression on Joel’s face.

  “The hell was that about?”

  “What?” Ollie scrubbed his eyes. “Nothing. It’s—”

  “Nothing?” Joel growled. “Don’t lie to me, Ollie. I know what I saw. You—” He was pale, the only color in his face two bright spots of anger in his cheeks. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Did he dump you, is that what this is? Christ, Ollie. Moretti’s engaged, he’s—”

  “That’s what you think?” Ollie lurched back a step, his crushing grief and humiliation of moments earlier roaring out as rage. He wiped at his wet face. “You think I’m fucking him?”

  Joel retreated a step but didn’t backdown. “Look at you. You’re crying, for God’s sake. You expect me to believe there’s nothing going on here? That you don’t know this guy—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you believe. You obviously don’t trust me. That’s all I need to know.”

  “But you lied!”

  “Screw you,” Ollie snarled. “The only liar here is you.”

  Unable to listen to more, he pushed past him and stalked blindly back to the house.

  Fuck.

  Fuck it all to hell.

  ∞∞∞

  Joel felt the ground falling away beneath his feet.

  Ollie had lied.

  He’d seen him talking to Moretti, seen them arguing. Nobody could have mistaken the emotions radiating from them: hurt, anger, heartbreak. He felt them too, sinking their claws into his damaged, stumbling heart.

  Chest aching, lungs laboring, he headed around to the front of the house. He’d call a cab from there. No way could he go back inside now, not like this. He needed the cold night air on his flushed face, needed to hide in the ice-bright darkness. Slowing as he reached the driveway, he sucked in a shivery breath and tried to calm himself enough to call a cab.

  He’d known this would happen. Known it. So why the hell had he let Amy convince him otherwise? Why the hell had he let himself hope—?

  “Um, excuse me. Joel?”

  The clipped British accent jerked him out of his thoughts. Theo Wishart, Luca’s fiancé, stood on the front doorstep looking cold and uncertain. Joel’s stomach pitched queasily. He was the last person Joel wanted to talk to tonight. Well, almost the last. “What do you want?”

  Theo frowned, taken aback by his tone perhaps. “I, er… I’m looking for Luca. I wondered whether you’d seen him?” His uncertain gaze flitted to Joel’s eyes and away. “I’m afraid he’s about to do something really bloody stupid.”

  Joel blew out a breath. None of this was Theo’s fault, and Joel couldn’t hide the truth from him. Theo deserved to hear it. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I think he’s already done something stupid.”

  “Shit.” Theo’s gaze jerked back to him. “Really?”

  He nodded miserably. “I saw them together.”

  “Them being Luca and Oliver Snow?”

  “I think it’s been going on for a while.”

  Theo blinked at him. “What has?”

  “Their…fling? I think maybe Ollie knew him before he came here, or—”

  “Wait. Stop.” Theo looked bewildered. “They’re not…involved. Is that what you’re suggesting?”

  “I’m sorry. I know it must be painful, but I saw them. It looked like they’d had a fight or… I don’t know. There’s definitely something going on between them.” To his surprise, Theo’s mouth ticked up in a weird kind of smile. Shock, perhaps? People responded in odd ways to shock. “If it’s any consolation, it looked like Luca was trying to end it or—”

  “Oh yes,” Theo cut in, his smile fading. “Trying to end it before it begins. But, Joel, they’re not having an affair. It’s nothing like that.”

  A beat of doubt thumped in Joel’s chest, hard like a punch. “What?”

  Theo took a step closer, lowered his voice. “I’m not sure whether I should… Luca only told me this a couple days ago, but…” His gaze flickered to Joel and away. “Oliver Snow claims to be Luca’s half-brother, the son of the woman Luca’s father abandoned him for.”

  Joel’s heart stopped beating, the world went silent save a high-pitched whine in his ears. “What?” he said stupidly.

  “I think Oliver hoped he and Luca could be…well, family I suppose. But Luca…” He sighed. “His family relationships have been…let’s say, tense, these past few years. I tried to persuade him to think about it, but I’m afraid he may have just told Oliver to, er, bugger off.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “And I’m afraid that’s something Luca’s going to regret.”

  Joel only heard every other word, his mind groping to understand. “Brother?” he managed at last. “Ollie’s his brother?”


  “Half-brother.”

  Joel shoved his fingers into his hair, clenching both fists. His chest was tight, he couldn’t breathe. When he remembered the accusations he’d just flung at Ollie…

  “Are you alright? You’ve gone very pale.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  Theo’s gaze fixed on him, startlingly astute. “Ah. So you and he are…? I wasn’t sure.”

  “I don’t know what we are,” Joel said bitterly. Not if Ollie couldn’t confide something this significant to him.

  Theo looked concerned, but then his attention flashed to the other side of the drive and his whole body came alert. When Joel looked, he saw Moretti watching them, shoulders hunched and hands deep in his pockets, where he lurked among the parked cars. “Luca,” Theo said softly, and with such compassion Joel’s throat burned.

  Why the hell hadn’t Ollie told him? Why had he let him say those things without telling him the damned truth?

  “Are you sure you’re alright?” Theo glanced his way again, but his attention was all for Luca.

  “Yeah.” Joel cleared his throat, trying to sound calm. “I’m fine. Go speak to Luca, I’m… I’m fine.”

  “Listen.” Theo grabbed his arm, lowering his voice. “Let’s keep in touch about this. I think Luca— He’s made a mistake. I’m going to try and talk him around, but it might take a while.” His grip tightened. “Tell Oliver that?”

  “If he’s still speaking to me.”

  Theo’s face softened. “Well, good luck, then.”

  Joel nodded, but he’d need a lot more than luck to untangle this mess.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Ollie didn’t want Nia to see him crying, so he sat in the car outside his apartment for several minutes before he went inside. He wiped his eyes, dried his face, slapped his cheeks to snap himself out of the dark mood threatening to overwhelm him.

  Luca had told him to fuck off.

  Joel thought he was a lying cheat.

  Of the two, Joel’s betrayal hurt the worst. Joel knew him. Ollie had thought they were friends. More than friends, he’d thought they had potential to become…

  Well. He’d been wrong. The last thing he needed in his life was a guy who thought he was fickle and untrustworthy. He’d had to endure those kinds of accusations in court, he didn’t have to put up with them anywhere else.

  Not that his righteous anger helped ease the gaping hole in his chest. Only now, when it was over, did he realize how central Joel had become to his hopes for the future. And with that gone, he didn’t know where to look for courage in a life that was crashing down around his ears. A week ago—just last Saturday—he’d fallen asleep in Joel’s arms imagining a future where Joel could be his boyfriend, where Luca and Theo could be his brothers, and uncles to the boys. Then, his worst troubles had been funding a replacement car and coping with Luis’s teething.

  In retrospect, last week felt like a halcyon past. Now, he saw it for what it had been: the universe teasing him with hope before pulling the rug out from beneath his feet with the same callous cruelty it had shown when it snatched Jules away.

  Luck, good fortune, happiness: none of those were real. Life was shit, but it could always get worse. And when it did, disaster struck from a clear blue sky leaving you sprawling.

  Time to pick himself up. Again. Only this time, it was worse. He’d had a taste of partnership, and that hope, dashed, made it a hundred times harder to return to his lonely life as a single parent.

  And it had been lonely. It was lonely. Because he was alone.

  Alone in a car that didn’t belong to him, a car he couldn’t use after today. Even if Joel let him—and why would he, thinking what he thought?—Ollie couldn’t bear it. Hard enough to take charity from a friend; he refused to take it from a man who thought so little of him.

  But without the car he’d lose his job and without his job he’d lose the apartment. He was out of options and out of hope. No Joel, no Luca. His reasons for staying in New Milton were evaporating, the new life he’d dreamed lay in ruins, and only one viable alternative remained: go back to Woodbury and move in with the Palmers. Perhaps it’s what he should have done all along. Maybe he could find a way to go back to school and finish his master’s. The thought of giving up his life with the boys pierced him, but everything was folding in on itself and he was struggling to see another way through.

  He stared at himself in the rearview mirror, face drawn, lips thin. With effort, he made his mouth smile. Whatever happened, he had to hide his turmoil from the boys. They couldn’t know how he felt, or what he was thinking about doing. Not now, not right before Christmas.

  Climbing out of the car was an act of will and glimpsing the kids’ seats in the backseat made his spirits sink further; they’d have to come out before he returned it to Joel. He let himself into the apartment quietly and climbed the stairs to find Nia curled up on the sofa watching TV.

  She looked up, surprised to see him. “You’re back early.”

  “Yeah.” He forced the mask of his face to smile. “Everything okay here?”

  Everything was fine, and he let Nia go home, paying her the full amount even though he’d come home early. The strain of showing a happy face while everything was falling apart killed him, and he slumped in relief when she left and he was finally alone.

  Mechanically, he pulled out his bed, undressed and brushed his teeth. His phone lay on the table next to the bed, the screen dark. He looked at it for a while, wondering whether Joel would message or call, wondering whether he wanted to talk to him. In the end, he decided that he didn’t. Not tonight. He switched off the phone, switched off the lamp, and lay down staring up into the moonlight bleeding through the blinds and striping the ceiling.

  He was afraid he wouldn’t cope tomorrow, that he’d snap and snarl at the boys, say something unforgivable to Rory. Make him cry.

  But what else could he do but get up in the morning and carry on?

  Maybe he’d take them all for a walk on the beach. Get out of the stifling apartment. If it was windy enough on the beach, nobody would hear him scream.

  ∞∞∞

  When the cab arrived, Joel dithered before asking the driver to take him home. Although he wanted to go straight to Ollie’s and confront him with what he knew, that would be a mistake. He couldn’t do it tonight, not with his emotions so disturbed. The champagne impairing his judgment wouldn’t help, either.

  No, he had to be sensible. And, being sensible, he knew it would be better to sort everything out in the morning. Unfortunately, that meant spending long fretful hours pacing his dark house, insomnia dogging his heels. When the night eventually retreated, it left Joel slumped, gritty-eyed on his sofa, staring at the long morning shadows in his untended yard, body aching with fatigue and mind helplessly churning over his argument with Ollie.

  He still couldn’t figure out why Ollie hadn’t defended himself with the truth. Did he trust Joel so little?

  After he’d choked down his oatmeal, Joel headed outside to clear his head and figure out a strategy. Ollie wasn’t responding to his texts, they weren’t even being delivered, which meant he’d switched off his phone to avoid them. Joel briefly considered turning up on his doorstep anyway, but if Ollie needed space then Joel wanted to respect that. Besides, he refused to make a scene around the boys. Instead, he found himself walking along the cliffs towards the Majestic, and from there down the steps onto the sand—the same route he and Ollie had taken that glorious night they’d spent together. The memory thickened his throat as he plowed along the beach, the wind in his face, boots sinking into the sand and legs burning with effort.

  The tide was out, the bay vast and empty, scudding clouds racing ashore driven by a brisk easterly straight off the Atlantic. He bent his steps toward the surf, leaving the houses crouching around the edge of the bay far behind. He craved space and solitude. It had saved him in the aftermath of Helen. Perhaps it could save him now as he tried to sort through the
cacophony of questions yelling for answers.

  Why had Ollie cut him out? Hadn’t he trusted him enough to tell him the truth? Those were the thoughts that preoccupied him. If Ollie was willing to lie about this, what else? Helen’s affair had lasted a year before she finally left, she’d hidden so much from him: her infidelity, her feelings about his sexuality. The idea that Ollie was capable of the same duplicity shook him deeply. And yet his heart ached when he remembered the distress in Ollie’s eyes, his furious hurt anger.

  Breathless, Joel came to a halt and stared out over the waves. The on-shore wind was flattening the surf and the waves rolled in crouched like chastised dogs. The roar in his ears helped drown out his thoughts and he closed his eyes, letting the cold blow through him. Blow him away.

  He stood there listening to the snap of his coat whipping in the wind and had the strange thought that, if he didn’t move, if he just stood there, the sea would rise and swallow him whole. Washing all the confusion and anxiety away.

  Into that noisy windblown silence intruded a voice, the high piping cries of an excited child calling his name. “Mr. Morgan!”

  Eyes opening, he turned, blinking into the brightness of the gray sky reflecting off the water, to see Rory Palmer running down the beach toward him. Joel’s heart leaped because Ollie was following behind with Luis, hands deep in his coat pockets, hair flying about in the wind.

  He wasn’t wearing a hat. He must be freezing.

  “Mr. Morgan!” Rory shouted again, running full tilt at him.

  Joel had no choice but to crouch and catch him, and in other circumstances he would have laughed at Rory’s wild enthusiasm. Today, his eyes burned. “Hey Rory,” he said, setting the boy on his feet. “What are you doing here?”