Into the Gloaming

by Mercy Celeste

  “Fine.” The word so soft and ragged, Austin barely heard Rory. He’d been looking at Heath the whole time. “You don’t have to beat me over the head with it. I’m an idiot.” The words burbled out with some leftover sobs.

  “You’re not an idiot. You’re a workaholic. But you’re not an idiot. The pub is a success. And if you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be around to reap the reward of that.” Again, Heath with his oh-so-casual-chatty voice. “Why don’t we get you into the bedroom and bed. It’s still very early. Surely you don’t have to be in the kitchen at six in the morning? Catch a few hours. See how you feel. Austin can stay if you’d like. He’s still looking a bit peaked. Maybe we’ll all just take the morning off. Meet for a late lunch… how does that sound?”

  “You’d let your boyfriend sleep with another man? Dude, you’re… fucking crazy.” Rory pushed Austin, not hard enough to unseat him, but enough to give him warning that he wasn’t happy being sat on.

  “Well, first, Austin isn’t my boyfriend. Not yet. We’re… waiting… trying to figure things out before we take any serious steps toward a relationship. And second, even if he was my boyfriend, he’s not my property. And third, I’ve spent the last year in a bad relationship. It took me a while to figure out I have trust issues. And I… would never come between you and Austin. What you have. It’s special, Rory. And I trust you both when you say you’re like brothers.”

  Austin’s stomach did a weird little flippy thing. Could have been hunger. Could be Rory pushing his stomach trying to get him to get off. But he couldn’t take his eyes off Heath. “Who are you and what have you done with Heath Cortlandt?” He threw Heath’s words back at him.

  “Heath Cortlandt is a jerk. An uptight jerk at that. A product of his cold, lonely upbringing. He knows better… now. And, honey, you need to get off Rory before he hurts you. You’re still a walking bruise.”

  “I’m getting better. It’s been nearly two weeks. I’m fine.” But he crawled off Rory and helped him into a sitting position, anyway. “Besides, he’s not exactly in fighting shape. I could take him.”

  “You did take him,” Heath smiled, this time the smile seemed real, and filled with love and understanding. “He’s the one lying on his back.”

  “Oh… true. I did take him.” Austin cast a glance at his friend, hoping the gloating he was feeling wasn’t obvious on his face. “And now I’m going to use my manly powers to take him to bed… and… that sounded wrong didn’t it?”

  “Kinda, yeah, but… practice for when you’re ready to use your manly powers to take me to bed.” Heath surprised him by reaching out a hand for Rory. “Come on, Rory, buddy, let’s get you off the floor. I know from experience it’s way too cold and smells faintly of horse. Not a good place to be.”

  Rory reached out and allowed Heath to pull him to his feet. He swayed, his knees seemed to want to buckle, but he stayed on his feet and Austin followed Heath and his friend into his bedroom where Heath helped Rory land, gently, on the bed. Rory curled up on his side, exhaustion taking over as Austin watched. “Let’s get you undressed before you fall asleep. Your clothes smell like yesterday’s grease.”

  Austin tried to pull off Rory’s shirt, but Rory didn’t make it easy on him, his body gone limp as his eyes fluttered closed from just a couple of seconds of being on a soft surface. “Okay, so… Heath, could you give me a hand, please?”

  “In stripping your would-be boyfriend? Sure. I’m an understanding, also a would-be boyfriend, who isn’t jealous at all… but…” he lifted Rory’s shoulders off the bed far enough for Austin to slide off his shirt. “That thing reeks. Maybe it should go into the fire instead of the wash.”

  Rory’s clothes smelled of more than day-old pub food and sweat. The stench of sex nearly choked Austin. Because he knew… it was all too insane to think about. Or Rory lied about his night spent with Jemma. Not that it was his business what two grown consenting adults did with their bodies.

  He closed his mind to the images stirring in his head. The stocky man he’d mistaken for a bouncer starring in vivid, brutal, sex fantasies involving his best friend… as his punching bag. “He’s covered in bruises.”

  Austin closed his eyes as Heath’s words broke his heart. Heath had stopped teasing now… or pretending to be upbeat about all of this. “And god, he’s so thin. I’ve never seen him this thin. Back in college when he was tall and lanky… god, he was gorgeous, like something out of a rock video. He’s never messed with drugs. He’s never starved himself. He worked as a bouncer back then. He was deceptively strong. This isn’t… my Rory.”

  “Austin?” Heath’s voice went flat as they pulled off Rory’s jeans stripping him to his skin. The bruises getting worse as they revealed more skin. Especially around his hips. Lots of bruising. Like… fingerprints. “Maybe we should call an ambulance. He looks like he’s been beaten to hell and back, and… he wasn’t this thin even a week ago. That is not normal.”

  Rory opened his eyes, terror filling them as he grabbed Heath’s hand before he could pull out his. “No… no… just… he’ll… he won’t understand. You’ll make it worse. I won’t go. I… need to get back… now.”

  Rory collapsed on the bed, panting, tears welling up in his eyes. “Austin… just let me sleep. I just need to sleep.”

  “We’re going to sleep, babe, just going to sleep. Then get a shower and some breakfast. And everything will be fine.” Austin finished pulling Rory’s feet out of his jeans and tossing them away. They landed with a rattle of keys and a thud of the phone.

  “I should have probably checked his pockets. Hope I didn’t break his phone.” Austin sighed and lifted Rory’s feet onto the bed. He didn’t lift a finger to help now that he was all wrung out. Trying so hard not to let the bruises freak him out, Austin pulled the quilts over Rory’s nude body and turned to lean over the side of the bed, his elbows on his knees. Shaken. That’s the only word he could use to describe himself right then. Shaken.

  Heath gathered up the clothes on the floor and stood facing Austin. His expression inscrutable. Knowing Heath judged his friend, Austin tried not to hate him just a little at that moment.

  “I’m going to wash a load of laundry today. I’m out of clean clothes again. I’ll wash these and return them if that’s okay.” Heath seemed at a loss for words now. Discomfort setting in. Austin didn’t blame him one bit. None of this was normal.

  “Yeah. That would be nice. Or maybe you could go upstairs to his flat and get some of his things. Maybe some warmer clothes. And let… I could call in a few hours, I guess. I think they’re opening for lunch today. So… the cooks will be in around nine to start the stews and stuff. I think. I’m not sure what today even is.”

  “Thursday, January 4th,” Heath answered, pulling keys, phone, some cash, and a condom out of Rory’s pockets. “At least he practices safe sex.”

  Austin’s laugh sounded hysterical to his own ears. Rory and the leprechaun ghost having safe sex. Ahahahahahaha.

  “On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… eleven untreatable phantom STDs.”

  He could hear Heath retreating into his overly polished uptight shell. He didn’t need to look up to see the judgment in his eyes. He could taste it.

  “Should I leave the condom, then?”

  And there it was… the accusing tone he’d been missing all this time.

  “There’s a ton in the side table drawer. And lube. We’re good here,” he answered… like an asshole. Because he was so tired of playing this game. Either the man trusted him, or he didn’t. He was… done. Just done.

  “Austin?”

  “I’ll see you later this afternoon, okay. Maybe… I don’t know right now. Maybe Rory has the right idea. We just quit… and go back to Savannah. Less heartache that way.”

  Heath said nothing, but he didn’t leave either. He stood there dangling Rory’s keys until Austin looked up and met his gaze.

  “Is that what you want?” There was caution, and m
aybe some hurt in his voice when he finally spoke. “To… be with Rory in Savannah?”

  Austin dragged in a deep, ragged breath and let it out. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders… he excelled at sending mixed signals it seemed.

  “I don’t know, Heath. I want you to trust me. You don’t. I want Rory to be happy… he’s not happy here. I’m not happy here. And… you don’t belong here. I’m just… seriously confused right now. And there’s a storm coming… and I’m giving you my two-week notice. I think. I… I can’t stay here. I don’t think I will survive this job.”

  And the silence was back. The keys jangled and Heath… bristled. Becoming stiff and oh-so-very-proper Heath as Austin watched. “I’ll expect a written letter of resignation by morning. So… I guess. I’ll just go…”

  And he left. Without saying another word. Austin watched him turn tail, square his shoulders, and saunter out of his room. Because Heath Cortlandt wouldn’t flee, yelling and screaming, with tears in his eyes. He’d calmly and coldly, just walk the hell away. Like he did from his marriage. And—

  Austin jumped when he heard the outer door slam, hard enough to shake the rafters. There was no fucking way to just casually slam that fucking door. It was way too fucking heavy to slam.

  He felt a smile tug at the edge of his mouth… maybe there was some hope for stodgy old Heath Cortlandt after all.

  “He loves you, Aus,” he heard whispered from behind him. Rory’s voice thick with exhaustion.

  “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. Not right now.” Because even if it mattered, he’d made his bed… and there was another man in it.

  Austin peeled off his clothes, all the way down to bare skin, and climbed over his friend to his side of the bed. He eased himself beneath the covers and pressing his body to Rory’s, he reached over Rory to turn off the lamp. And for a moment his hand hovered over the drawer pull, he opened it and pulled out supplies. Because if he was going to be accused of it… he was damn well going to experience it, at least once. Because… how the hell did he know Rory wasn’t the one… if he’d never given him the chance.

  Rory turned in his arms and nuzzled his neck. A name whispered in the dark… that wasn’t Austin’s. “Hold me? Like you love me. Just once.”

  Austin shoved the condoms and lube under his pillow and… held his friend, while he cried himself to sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Where is everyone?” Britney was the first to show up for work. She leaned against the door frame to Austin’s office, looking as chipper as she always did.

  “Jemma is taking a sick day. And Austin is with Rory, who… well, he’s in bad shape,” Heath answered, his jaw clenched. God, he was such an asshole. “Where’s your partner in crime?”

  “She’s on her way. There’s only one bathroom, you know. Sometimes it takes longer with two people sharing.” Britney didn’t wait to be invited in, she strolled in and flounced into a chair in front of Austin’s desk. “We would have opened tonight.”

  “That was the plan, yes.” Heath busied himself on his tablet, scrolling through unread email. Most of it regarding that very subject.

  “Are there any new plans?” Britney tried, lord love her, but his mad-on wasn’t going away anytime soon.

  “Right now… no. The board is not happy that I delayed the opening. I told them the recent weather had set the project back many days. I also told them that since I’ve been on-site, I’ve reconsidered what to do with the project. So, right now, the museum plan is being put on hold indefinitely. It’s for the best. Even if I have to use my money to buy out the company’s interest in this project.”

  “I thought you owned the property.” Britney wasn’t ready to take his lack of attention as a signal that he didn’t want to discuss anything personal. He sighed and closed his tablet. She could be digging into his love life. So maybe that topic was safer than the other.

  “I do… did. It was family property passed down from my father when he passed two years ago. I borrowed from the company to do the renovations, giving them controlling interest in the project. Which, I fear, was a mistake.” But he had no real choice in the matter. He could continue to pay taxes on a derelict property, or demolish all of it and sell the land for pennies on the dollar. Or… try to revive a piece of history.

  “And telling them the place is crawling with ghosts will make you sound batshit crazy?” She smiled, a twinkle in her eyes. “I get it. So… we have another week here, with not much to do, but go through that stuff you’re pulling out of the attic. And start taking down the Christmas decorations. And then what? You’ll hang around here with Austin and chase ghosts.”

  If only it were that simple. “I’m due back in Manhattan in a week. I’ve been granted an extended leave until my post-divorce drama dies down… then it’s back to the grind.”

  “That’s too bad. Poor Austin will be left here all alone, in this evil house, with Rory right across the street. And Mrs. Henley’s scones.” Britney turned her nose up and sniffed the air. “Where is Mrs. Henley? I don’t hear The Twelve Days of Christmas, and there aren’t any delicious smells coming from the kitchen.”

  “There’s a storm headed this way. We decided to close for the day. There’s a chance it may turn into a blizzard at the back end. Or tornados on the front end. I don’t know a thing about tornados. We rarely have those in New York.”

  “And Jemma and Austin are taking sick days? So, it’s just us today?” She never lost the happy-go-cheerleader voice, but Heath had the sneaking suspicion that she was a first-class snooper.

  “I’m mired in a week’s worth of email and dealing with the fallout from that TMZ thing yesterday. So… why don’t you and Donna take the day off. Go out, catch a movie or something. I think we’re meeting for dinner in Austin’s apartment later. I’ll order dinner.” He wasn’t thinking about the storm anymore. Or why he’d sent Mrs. Henley home when she’d come in. The prospect of putting the woman out of a job just after Christmas wasn’t sitting well with him. He couldn’t very well close the house with a fairly prosperous business in residence. The board would have a fucking fit. But he couldn’t leave those ladies in this evil house, as Britney called it, if he scrapped the entire project.

  “We could pick up something and meet back before the rains start. You never tried the gravy last night,” she said, a teasing light in her eyes.

  He wrinkled his nose, his stomach turning at the very thought of that mess, they insisted was food. “I think I’ll pass. I’ll run across the street when the pub opens and place a large order of whatever the special of the day is. Until then, you and Donna go enjoy the day. Get off property. Explore the city. Have a girls’ day out.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Britney unflounced herself from the chair and rounded Austin’s desk. Heath looked up, startled when she wrapped him in a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Austin loves you. And Rory could be a good friend to you if you let him. He’s hurting. But it’s not because he thinks he’s losing Austin. He’s homesick, and… not what he seems. So… something to think about. See ya, later, alligator,” she sang out and clip-clopped out of the room before he could catch his breath.

  When he did, he shouted… “Lock the door behind you, I don’t need any unexpected visitors today.” Not that locking the door would keep the visitors he feared out since they were already inside with him.

  “Sure thing, Big Boss. Don’t mope all day.” And the door closed behind her. He heard the locks tumble into place, locking in the dead quiet of the old house.

  Emphasis on dead.

  A chill raced down Heath’s spine.

  There was nothing in the house. It is just a house. Just a house. One he’d been inside of with no real issues for more than a week now. Except for the night he saw the woman on the top floor and woke up with no memory of going to bed. With Austin. And… yesterday, when Amelia Cortlandt stared out of Jemma’s body, her anger and sorrow overwhelming him.

  Her baby, she’d
said. She’d asked him… uh… great-grandfather Heath, to look after her baby. Not their baby… as if he’d accepted the idea that he was the reincarnated soul of his great-grandfather. Which implied that he’d accepted that any of this was even real.

  Maybe Mrs. Henley really was drugging the scones.

  The clock clicked over to nine, and the radio in the workroom came on as if it had been set to go off.

  And Heath grabbed his coat and got the hell out of… hell… before he lost his damn mind.

  Outside, the day was overcast and cold, but not as cold as it had been most of the week. With nothing that would indicate a huge storm system would move through. It looked like winter to Heath. With the familiar pewter skies and blustery winds, he’d experienced every winter in New York.

  He stood on the walk outside the north entrance. The path splits off into several directions, one through the courtyard back to the apartments. He almost called them the servant’s quarters. His mind reeling with too much… and not enough… of everything until he felt lost and useless. He could hear the music blasting from the workroom windows not far away. One window must be open for the music to be that loud. And then all was quiet.

  He walked around the back of the house to the row of windows the stretched that entire wall, from about waist high, spanning at least ten feet up the wall. But none were open.

  The music started again while he stood there looking in. His reflection staring back at him… the sun, shining brightly behind him, turning the glass into a mirror. Every hair on his body stood on end… and he couldn’t move… only stand there and watch the mirror-world come to life behind him, like some movie he wasn’t a part of. Yet—

  Horses walked past the window behind him, his clothing changed from the gray overcoat he wore to a collarless, blue, chambray shirt, suspenders, and tan pants… he was so much younger, and he smiled, his gaze catching another reflection in the window. One that made his heart soar and his stomach flip flop.