“Night, Newt!” Kylee called, raising her drink in salute.
“Kylee,” he said. “Dee.” And he couldn’t just ignore Finn, even if they hadn’t spoken a single word all night. He risked a quick glance and muttered “Finn” as he started walking away.
After a couple steps he heard “Josh” in Finn’s gruff voice and the shock sent him stumbling into one of the myriad chairs dotting the patio. Embarrassed, he disentangled himself and hoped his klutziness explained the heat in his cheeks.
Glancing around, he saw Finn talking to Sean, too quiet for Joshua to make out, and then Sean called, “Hey! You good to drive?”
“Yes. I, um...”
Finn stood next to his brother, his back turned as he gazed at something on the dark horizon.
Sean said, “You want me to call a cab, man?”
“No, thank you, I’m fine. I was going to walk. If it’s okay, I’ll pick up my car in the morning?”
“Sure, no problem.”
And with another nod, Joshua was out of there. His head spun, and not just from the beer. Finn had spoken to him, he’d said his name. And if Joshua wasn’t mistaken, he’d asked Sean to check that he wasn’t driving home.
When he reached the front of the house he stopped and leaned back against the wall. His heart beat loud against his ribs and he felt something knot in his throat. He got it now. Finn was still angry, he hadn’t forgiven him, but something must linger—some residue of what they once were—because he cared enough to want to make sure he was okay.
Joshua sniffed, wiped at his stupid eyes, and cleared his throat. His heart yawned wide but he told himself it was okay. It was okay because Finn was still the good man he’d always been—Joshua’s mistake hadn’t taken that from him.
And that was enough. It had to be, because it was the only comfort he could find.
* * *
Goddamn sonofabitch.
It was too dark to go far along the cliff-top path, but Finn walked a little way from the house before he stopped and glared out over the black ocean. The night had grown cold, a nor’easter blowing down the coast and chasing clouds across a waning moon. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing there, but he’d just had to get out of the house. That fucking house. Tonight had been too much, worse than he’d feared, with Josh and that goddamn leather jacket and his fucked-up beautiful hair. And those eyes that just—
“Sonofabitch.” He hurled the curse into the face of the wind, felt it rip raw from his throat. “Sonofabitch, Josh.”
I will not want you again. You hear me? I will not want you, you asshole!
Eight years he’d spent locking down the memories of that summer. Eight long fucking years when he’d built a life, a career, had gotten everything he wanted—
Almost everything.
“Fuck it.” The words choked out on the back end of a sob, all knotted up in his chest. The booze was to blame, probably—he should’ve known better than to drink tonight. But he hadn’t expected this. He’d thought he was over Joshua Newton. He’d thought he was past all this crap. So past it.
But then he’d seen Josh standing uncertainly in the shadows of the house, the slender lines of him that Finn had tried to forget, the intent focus and distracted confusion that had drawn him in all those years ago. And suddenly no time had passed since they were up on the cliffs that sultry summer’s night, alone together with the house standing dark behind them.
Here, Josh had said with a wicked curl of his lips. Right here, under the stars.
The daring of it had left Finn breathless—and hard as a rock as Josh tugged his T-shirt over his head and drew Finn down into the cool grass. Above them, the house had loomed black against the night sky. What about your dad...?
But Josh had only smiled. Screw him. I don’t care. Just fuck me, Finn. Right now.
And so he had, with the waves booming at the base of the cliff and Josh’s head thrown back, his skin glistening pale and sweaty in the moonlight, the beautiful arc of his back flexing with every thrust until he came with a wild cry.
Oh, God, Finn. I love you.
With a shout of his own, Finn had followed, collapsing into the long grass with Josh in his arms. They’d lain there together for a long time, wrapped up in each other and kissing with such reverence Finn had felt tears prick his eyes.
Fuck.
He hadn’t thought about that night in years, not outside the dreams he couldn’t control. But even eight years on, the memory was powerful enough to leave him taut with want and frustration.
“Sonofabitch.” He drained his beer and cast the bottle out over the cliff top, into the choppy waters below. “Son of a goddamn fucking bitch.”
Chapter Seven
Sunday dawned bright and cold, with a strong wind blowing down from the north.
But Joshua didn’t mind the cold when he ran, so long as it wasn’t raining. This, however, was a perfect fall morning, frosty and clear, and his fuzzy head only made the idea of a run more appealing.
He had a tenuous relationship with sleep these days. It had been years (possibly eight) since he’d slept really well—the kind of deep sleep that left you refreshed and sated. Now sleep was a sketchy affair and last night had been worse than usual. A run would help clear the cobwebs and the bright sunlight would prompt his sleep-deprived body to wake up.
His usual route took him down Sandy Lane toward the cove, then up to Gorse Point and back again. It wasn’t far, maybe five miles, but enough to make his lungs burn and to keep the pounds off. Today, though, he needed to collect his car from Sean’s so he decided to run past Gorse Point and along the cliffs to Hanworth Hall instead. He doubted Sean would mind if he let himself in through the bottom of the garden and cut across the lawn to the drive at the front of the house. Probably, they’d still be asleep this early.
Finn would be, at any rate, which was the most important thing.
The low winter sun meant he needed his sunglasses, as well as a hat to keep his ears from freezing, but as soon as he stepped outside he was glad he did. The cold air zinged through him, across his skin, lifting his mood immediately. Setting off at a steady pace he jogged down Sandy Lane toward the cove—he tried not to remember walking down there with Finn in the languorous heat of midsummer—where he turned right onto the path that headed up around the rocky headland of Gorse Point. Heart pumping and legs burning, the cold made it harder to catch his breath. By the time he reached the top, he was breathing hard and dropped to a walk as he gazed out across the white-capped ocean.
This was one of his favorite places in the world. In the summer it was silent save the boom-crash of the waves and the hum of insects in the tough coastal grass. In the winter it was bleak and windswept; this morning it had all the glory of fall in the purple heathers that scattered the grass and the crisp blue sky and choppy ocean. Why his brother chose New York over this was something he’d never really understand.
Shaking out his arms, he jumped up and down to keep the blood flowing and then squinted up to where Hanworth Hall peeked over the rise of the cliff in the distance. He could see the roof of the house from where he stood and it felt strange to think that Finn was inside, that Finn’s brother owned the place that represented such a dark weight in Joshua’s life.
But perhaps it was karma? Some cosmic punishment for his lack of faith in life’s grand plan—in Finn’s grand plan. Had things been different, had he followed his heart instead of his duty, then maybe he’d be inside that house right now, curled up with Finn in bed.
Well. It was pointless speculation. The summer they’d spent together had been charmed, and Joshua knew it only grew rosier in his memory. It was too easy to imagine that the past eight years could have been just like that magical summer. Had he gone with Finn to LA, things might still have fallen apart. Maybe they’d have even been worse.
As Ruth had pointed ou
t at the time, twenty-first century or not, a young actor like Finn—with no industry connections and nothing but his looks and talent to trade on—could certainly do without a boyfriend muddying the waters. And maybe a year into it, Finn would have realized that too and then... Well, it would have been messy. Finn was loyal to a fault and the last thing Joshua ever would have wanted was to be a hindrance to Finn’s dreams. And if Finn had been forced to choose between Joshua and his career it could only have ended in resentment and heartbreak.
I mean it, Joshua, Ruth had said, you’re doing what’s right for Finn just as much as you’re doing what’s right for you. And for both your futures.
He didn’t think his aunt had been right about his own life (in fact, he knew she’d been wrong) but he wasn’t so sure about Finn’s. The string of women Finn had dated since arriving in Hollywood suggested that Ruth had been right about the impact of a boyfriend on Finn’s career—he’d certainly chosen to appear entirely straight in public. That gave Joshua some degree of comfort; in the long run, he’d probably saved them from worse pain. Being Finn’s dirty little secret would have been agonizing for them both.
These thoughts occupied him as he ran along the cliff path, the wind at his back helping his pace. It was a couple more miles to the house and he was glad when he saw the wooden gate ahead; the sleepless night had left him with less energy than usual and he’d run far enough.
He slowed, sucking in a couple of deep breaths as he opened the gate marked “Private” and slipped into the garden. The house was quiet—it was still only seven-thirty—and the detritus from the previous night was all over the patio. It reminded him anew of Finn saying his name and he felt a harsh pang of loss.
Closing it off, he headed for the corner of the house and the driveway where he’d left his car. The windshield was icy and the engine would probably take a couple of goes to start in the cold. He hoped he didn’t disturb anyone revving the engine.
Although it sounded like somebody was already awake because he could hear footsteps pacing across the gravel. When he rounded the corner of the house he found Finn standing in the middle of the driveway, staring at Joshua’s car.
Joshua stopped, not sure what to do, but Finn had obviously heard something because he turned around. And froze.
No more than ten feet separated them and there was no one else around to ease the tension. Joshua was still breathless from his run, but his pulse felt like it was doubling every second they stood staring at each other.
And then Finn turned to go.
“Finn, wait.”
He stopped.
“I—” Joshua ran out of words. What could he say? I’m sorry? He wasn’t even sure that he was; he’d done what he did for good reasons, he’d thought he was doing the right thing. His regrets were his own business. “We don’t have to ignore each other,” he said at last.
He could only see the edge of Finn’s face, watched his gaze dip to the gravel, the muscle in his jaw jump. “Why not? Works for me.”
A catch of anger hurt Joshua’s throat, his belly. “You really hate me that much?”
Finn’s shoulders flexed. “It’s not hate,” he said, and gave Joshua a look so flat it could have been a mask. “It’s just indifference. I’ve got nothing to say to you, that’s all.”
And then he walked away and Joshua felt like his feet were rooting into the dirt, fixing him there, spiked to the ground by something that went straight through his heart.
Indifference? He’d never realized Finn Callaghan could be so cruel.
When he started moving he had to work hard to keep it all in, the pressure in his chest threatening to burst out as a shout. His hands shook as he fished the keys out of his pocket and tried to get them into the lock.
Once he got inside he just sat there, staring out through the frosty windshield. He didn’t believe that Finn was indifferent, but the idea that he’d say that just to hurt him was worse.
Over the years, he’d shed a lot of tears for Finn Callaghan but that didn’t stop his eyes filming over now and he cursed out loud as he rammed the key into the ignition and tried to start the engine. It took five tries before it caught and he shoved his foot hard on the gas and didn’t care who the noise disturbed.
Finn wasn’t the only one who got to be pissed.
* * *
Two days later, when Liz called to collect Matt from his piano lesson, Joshua found out that Finn had already flown back to the west coast.
“Filming,” Liz said with a secret kind of smile that made Joshua suspect she and Finn were still in touch.
He nodded, cleared the lump from his throat. “I imagine it’s a very demanding schedule.”
“He said they take a break over the holidays, so...” Another smile. “I know he’s famous and all that, but he’s a nice guy too. You know?”
“Yeah,” Joshua said and busied himself with tidying the music on the piano. “So I’ve heard.”
After a beat of silence in which, perhaps, Liz had hoped for more, she said, “Well, I gotta go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow. We’re planning to do some rehearsals at lunch.”
He fixed on a smile and said, “I’ll be there,” even though it hadn’t really been a question.
Joshua was always there, this was his life now.
That weekend—after he’d confirmed with a forlorn Lexa and Ali that Finn really had left New Milton—Joshua took Sean up on his offer to visit Hanworth Hall. It wasn’t exactly a social call because he still had to deal with the list of personal effects that the court had mandated the family sell. Most of them were in storage, but there were a couple of things up at the house that he needed to deal with.
He’d been putting it off, but now Finn had gone he had no more excuses and so, next time he saw Sean at Dee’s, he’d made an appointment to go up to the house and take inventory.
“Hey, man,” Sean said as he opened the imposing front door.
Joshua was mildly surprised to see him standing there, but of course Sean would never employ “staff.” “Hello, Sean,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for letting me do this.”
“Don’t thank me, come on in. You want some coffee or something?”
His instinct was to decline, but this was Sean trying to undermine the inherent awkwardness of the situation and so Joshua made himself relax and say, “Thank you, yes. Coffee, please.”
“I don’t make it as well as you,” Sean warned as he led Joshua into the kitchen, the back wall of which was all window, looking out over the ocean.
Joshua had spent a lot of time in the kitchen as a child, with Maya, their cook—much to his father’s irritation. Maya had given him cookies and ruffled his hair and looked at him with a fond expression he realized, now, was probably sad. She’d had her own children and he suspected she’d taken pity on Joshua, lonely little rich boy that he’d been.
Still, he had warm memories of the kitchen and perhaps Sean could see something of them in his face because he nudged Joshua and smiled as he handed over the coffee. “It’s a beautiful room.” He sounded almost apologetic. Like it was his fault he owned it now.
“I always loved this view,” Joshua said by way of a reply. “All year round, it never gets old.”
Sean nodded, his gaze drifting out through the window. “Do you—?” He cleared his throat. “Do you, uh, have a view now? Where you live?”
Where he lived now was a vacation cottage he’d rented from Dee two years ago. He’d intended it to be temporary, but here he was... “Not really, but it’s close to the beach. I like to run there in the morning, so I get my fix that way.”
“Yeah?” Sean smiled. “Me too. I’m a runner. I haven’t really scoped out the best routes yet, though.” He gave Joshua a hopeful look. “Maybe we could run together sometime? You could show me the area.”
Joshua had been wary about making friends with Sean, feel
ing it was inappropriate given the situation with Finn. But if Finn was indifferent to Joshua, then why should he be so considerate? He liked Sean, he was certain they could be friends. Finn would just have to live with that.
“There’s a nice run from the gate at the bottom of your garden,” he said, pointing it out. “Along the cliffs, around Gorse Point, and down around the back of the bay, then in along Sandy Lane into New Milton and back along the road up to the house. It’s about seven miles, probably. I’d be happy to show you sometime.”
“You bet,” Sean said. “That sounds perfect.”
After a pause, and in the spirit of friendship, Joshua added, “I haven’t lived in this house for years, Sean. My father threw me out—cut me off—when my life didn’t go the way he wanted. And before that, it was...” He sighed. This was an old, familiar pain. “My mother died when I was young and my father was always distant. I was a lonely child here.” He looked at Sean and offered a smile. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t feel any regret that the house was sold. My father—Well, you know what he did. I’m glad he lost the house. I’m glad someone like you bought it and I don’t miss it. You shouldn’t worry about that.”
Sean shook his head. “Hey, I’m sorry. My mom died when I was a kid too.”
Joshua nodded. He already knew that, of course. “It leaves a mark,” he said. “Something like that.”
“No kidding. I mean, I think it’s worse for Finn, though. I was too young, but Finn—Well, like you, I guess, our dad wasn’t exactly there for us, and Finn pretty much took it all on.” Sean shook his head, stuffed his hands into his pockets. “He was eight years old and felt like he had to look after me from that point on.”
Joshua’s chest tightened, even though he’d already heard Finn’s half of the story. It had been fresh then, just a couple months after his father’s death, and the emotions had been raw. Sometimes, Joshua wondered whether that was why their connection that summer had been so intense, so sudden and profound. Had they had just been cresting a wave of Finn’s grief together? “It’s a terrible burden for a child to bear,” he said at last. “For both of you.”
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