Guarded

by L. A. Witt

  “I know this is rough, Jase.” He stroked my hair. “I wish I could offer a simple, magic solution, but at the very least, Renee and I are both here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Robert cleared his throat, but after a second, I realized the sound was much too soft to have come from him. And it had come from behind me. As I sat up and looked over my shoulder, Renee stepped in from the doorway.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I overheard your conversation.”

  I forced a smile. “It’s all right. I know nothing leaves this house.”

  “No, of course it doesn’t.” She stood beside me and ran her fingers through my hair, her long nails oddly soothing on my scalp. “And Robert’s right, you know. Whatever happens, we’re here.”

  The smile wasn’t quite so forced now. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Are you going to call him?”

  “I… I’m not sure what I’m going to do at this point.” I drummed my fingers beside my coffee cup, glancing back and forth from Renee to Robert. “Thing is, he booted me out. Threatened to call the cops and everything. He even used a safeword to end the conversation.”

  Renee grimaced.

  I stopped tapping and put my hand on my coffee cup just for something to do. “I think… I think he needs to be the one to make the move, you know?”

  She pursed her lips. Then she leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “You’re a tough cookie, baby, and so is he. Things’ll work out.”

  More than anything in the world, I wanted to believe she was right.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Jordan

  The intercom’s buzzing jolted me awake. “Jordan?” A familiar voice crackled over the line. A woman’s low, smoky alto. “Jordan, will you answer me? Let me know you’re all right? I wouldn’t want to have to call the police.”

  Oh fuck. Renee. But how the hell did she—?

  I grabbed onto the leg of Daniel’s bed to pull myself up—and nearly crumpled to the mattress. The room was pitching and rolling like a fucking rowboat in a storm.

  “Jordan? You there?” the intercom squawked again.

  Somehow I made it the handful of steps to the intercom, kicking over a bottle as I went. I heard a gurgle, inhaled the tang of blue agave—and came close to losing the banana I’d choked down this morning. “Wha’ d’you want?”

  “Would you mind buzzing me in?”

  “You’re—”

  “At your front gate. Where I’ll stay until I can confirm with my own eyes that you’re all right.” Spoken in her usual polite tone, with a steely undertone that reminded me of the night Jase had first taken me to the dungeon. Shit, I could practically feel her nails scraping over my skin. “Take your time,” she said.

  Ignore her. Turn the fucking intercom off and go upstairs, or...

  Daniel’s rumpled bed looked plenty inviting. I’d tried climbing into it last night, only my legs didn’t want to work, so I’d ended up conking out on the floor. Which explained why my back—not to mention my head—was screaming. And the hard-headed, tenacious Renee I remembered from the band’s last contract negotiations really would sit there at my front gate until I let her in—or until I eventually had to leave. Then she’d fucking follow me.

  Oh, to hell with it. “C’mon up,” I said, hitting the buzzer.

  I had to hold onto the wall to make it to the front door. When a willowy, black-clad figure appeared on the other side, I opened it before she could ring the bell. This fucking hangover was bad enough already. “Hey,” I said, without much enthusiasm.

  “Hello, my dear.” She hugged me briefly, brushing her lips across my cheek. Jesus, she was gorgeous—perfectly put together from her thick blonde ponytail to her power suit and matching black patent heels. Concern softened the intensity of her gaze as she looked me up and down. “When did you eat last?”

  “Um, I had breakfast.” If a banana and half a bottle of tequila qualifies.

  “What about dinner?”

  She had me there. I shrugged.

  “Let’s go fix you something, then. Which way to the kitchen?”

  I jerked my thumb at the stairs, and she walked on ahead of me, taking the steps two at a time. Without holding onto the bannister. In fucking five-inch heels.

  She stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead, staring at the collection of bottles on the counter. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

  “Jase poured those out.”

  “What about the ones over there?” She nodded at the kitchen table.

  “The grocery store down the hill delivers.”

  “Do they deliver food too?” She went over to the fridge, the sharp click-click of her heels like so many nails through my skull. There were a few leftover sandwiches from the catered lunch the other day, plus whatever Yolanda had delivered every week. Renee pulled out a carton of eggs. “Sit down. I’ll make us some dinner.”

  Was it really that late? The light streaming in through the sliding glass door was dimming, turning soft and purple around the edges. Jesus, I’d been down in Daniel’s room all fucking day.

  All day today, and most of yesterday too. The hours had started bleeding into each other. Morning gave way to afternoon, then to evening, with nothing to mark it except more empty bottles. A chill settled in my chest. I didn’t like losing track of time—didn’t used to, anyway. Now entire days were slipping away from me.

  I shoved aside a pair of empties and sat down, face buried in my hands. Was this how it was going to be from now on, me rattling around the house like a drunken ghost?

  My head throbbed. I couldn’t think. Felt like I might throw up…

  Which didn’t get any better when Renee set a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. My stomach heaved involuntarily, the sour tang of booze rising in my throat. “I, um, don’t think I can…”

  “One bite. That’s all I ask.” Renee set down her own plate, then pulled out the chair opposite me.

  I speared a morsel of egg and popped it between my lips, hoping I could swallow it without tasting it. The small, creamy glob floated over my tongue, leaving behind a faint hint of butter. Not bad. I took another bite, chewing slowly. Then another, and another.

  Renee smiled. “My mother used to make this for me when I was sick. Breakfast for dinner. Too much of a treat for anyone but a very sick child.”

  I stiffened, my shoulder muscles sending up a loud protest. “You think I’m sick?”

  “You’re grieving, which is a kind of sickness. The kind that’ll kill your soul if you let it.” The coffeemaker dinged. She got up to pour us some.

  “Um, how did you even know I was…” I caught a whiff of myself, my nose wrinkling. Grieving my heart out? Sitting here stewing in my own fucking stink?

  “Jase came over to talk to Robert this afternoon. I couldn’t help overhearing their conversation.”

  My head snapped up. “Did he ask you to—”

  “Jase has no idea I’m here.” She set a fresh, steaming cup in front of me before sinking into her seat again. “I lost someone very dear to me a few years ago, so I have an idea what you’re going through.”

  “Who was it?” I had no right to ask such a personal thing, and the half-startled look on her face told me she hadn’t expected me to. No taking it back now, though.

  She’d just picked up her fork again, but she set it back down. Took a breath. Licked her lips. “When you first met me, I didn’t look like I do now, though I’d just started hormone therapy. After spending my entire life agonizing over who I really was, I thought it would be a relief to leave the masculine side of my nature behind.” She took a small sip of coffee, setting her cup back down with a barely audible clink. “But it wasn’t that easy.”

  Blinking, I rubbed my gritty eyes. What did any of this have to do with me? And yet, her story had sunk its hooks in me. I wanted to hear the rest. “What happened?”

  “Every day I saw a little more of the only me I’d ever known disappearing. I didn’t recogn
ize my face in the mirror anymore. It was frightening and confusing, watching my old self melt away. Robert had a difficult time with it too. He fell for a man, not a woman. There were times I feared I might lose him. Times when I regretted my decision…” Her eyes drifted shut for a moment. “Don’t misunderstand—I’m very, very glad I transitioned. I doubt I’d be alive now if I hadn’t. But it exacted a considerable price. The death, basically, of the person I was before. Of an entire part of me.” She touched my hand, fingers settling over mine. “That’s what your friend Daniel was, wasn’t he? A part of you that’s now gone.”

  I gripped my fork until the metal bit into my palm, my vision hazing over. God, no. No more fucking crying. I couldn’t take anymore of that, or this empty, gnawing ache inside. Couldn’t face another breakdown. How many days now had I spent down in Daniel’s room, drowning myself in booze? Playing guitar until my fingers bled?

  What the hell are you trying to do—kill yourself?

  “No one expects you not to mourn him,” she said softly. “But don’t lose yourself in the process.”

  “H-how can I not? I mean, there’s nothing—”

  “You still have Jase. He loves you very much. This is tearing him apart—”

  “He left me. Twice.”

  “Really? From the way he talked, it sounded like you kicked him out the second time.” Hanging my head effectively answered that question. “Robert and I had ringside seats for most of the... unpleasantness with Eric. If you love Jase, you can’t honestly expect him to stand by and watch you self-destruct the way Eric did.”

  I put down my fork, my stomach sinking. My miserable gaze locked on Renee’s face. “That’s what he told me.”

  “Well, then…” She smiled. “You know what you need to do, don’t you?”

  * * *

  Yeah, I knew. Which made it twice as hard to go back down to Daniel’s room after Renee left. I stood in the doorway and flicked on the light, grimacing at the mess. Was this really how I wanted to remember him—by turning his room into a booze-soaked shrine? He deserved better.

  But what if I couldn’t let him go? He was my only family. My last tie to home. Get rid of that, and what was left?

  I slid to my knees, lip curling at the dampness seeping into my jeans, and crawled over to the bed. Picked up Daniel’s guitar and dragged it into my lap.

  “Why’d you go, Daniel? Why did you leave me here all by myself?” I whispered. “I could’ve helped if you’d just let me…”

  I hugged the guitar to my chest and started to shake like I was standing naked in a snowstorm.

  My stomach roiled, churned, the eggs and coffee Renee fixed me rising in my throat. If there was a rock bottom, I’d just hit it, kneeling here in that reeking puddle of tequila I’d spilled earlier. Was I really going to do this? Destroy myself, the way Daniel had?

  You think turning into him is any way to honor his memory? He wouldn’t want this. No one would.

  Slowly, I got to my feet. Smoothed the covers on Daniel’s bed and laid the guitar on it. Walked to the door, flicked off the light and shut it firmly behind me.

  Yeah, I knew what I needed to do. Sooner rather than later.

  * * *

  I called a cab to take me over to Jase’s. There was enough alcohol still buzzing in my veins to make me wary of getting behind the wheel, and I hadn’t paid very close attention the handful of times Jase had driven me there himself. The driver got me there pretty damn fast for a high-traffic Saturday evening. I paid the man, then took my time walking up the path leading to Jase’s apartment, smoothing down the front of the clean shirt I’d put on.

  Time to ring the bell before I lost my nerve. I hit the buzzer once, twice, my breath hitching at the soft pad of footsteps on the other side.

  The door creaked open on a familiar tall, solid figure who looked about as awful as I had before I’d jumped in the shower. Oh Jase. “Hi,” I said softly.

  “Um... hi.” He rubbed a hand over his stubbly face, blinking like he was trying to clear his vision. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  That makes two of us. “Could I come in? I was wondering if we could talk.”

  He seemed to weigh that for a few seconds, then stepped back and let me in. It was dark in here, one lone lamp in the living room giving off a pale, anemic glow. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for days,” he said. “What prompted this turnaround?”

  “Renee came to see me tonight. She, um, sort of put things in perspective.”

  Jase’s eyes widened. “Jordan, I didn’t ask her to—”

  “I know. She said you had nothing to do with it. But I’m glad she dropped by. It was just the kick in the ass I needed.” I swallowed, trying to figure out what to say next. Best to get to the fucking point. “Jase, I... I’m sorry about the other day. I-I lost it. Which I know is no excuse for kicking you out—”

  “I shouldn’t have flushed your meds. The booze was one thing, but not medicine you actually need—”

  “Medicine I was abusing. You were completely right to get rid of it. You were trying to take care of me. I get that now.” I dropped to my knees in front of him, right there on the cold kitchen floor. “Please come back, Jase. You can punish me any way you want…”

  “Jordan, don’t. Please.”

  “I just want to show you how sorry I am—”

  “And I believe you. But this is a talk we need to have as equals.” He hooked a hand under my arm and lifted me up. Smoothed my hair back. Kissed me gently on the forehead. “C’mon,” he whispered, leading me into the living room.

  His guitar was leaning up against the recliner, a pad of paper with words scrawled all over it and a pen laying nearby. Jase put everything on the coffee table and offered me the recliner, while he pulled up an ottoman. “I’m sorry, Jordan. I should’ve never left you alone in your—”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who threw you out.”

  “And I should’ve stayed, regardless. You were in no shape to be left on your own.”

  We reached for each other’s hands at the same time. The warm, strong feel of his fingers around mine forced a relieved sigh out of me. “I-I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Do what?”

  “Beat myself up. Feel like shit because I couldn’t save him.”

  “Jordan—”

  “I loved Daniel, but I can’t mourn him for the rest of my life. I need to move on.” Licking my lips, I looked up into Jase’s intense green gaze. “With you. If you still want me.”

  “Of course I do, but…” He took a breath. “We can’t go back to the way things were—”

  “No more drugs or booze, I promise.”

  “And no more treating me like drugs or booze, okay?” I gasped as his fingertips brushed my throat. He smiled. “Well, within reason.”

  I smiled back, my gaze drifting to his guitar, and the scratch pad he’d been scribbling on. “You’ve been composing?”

  “Just trying to work out the lyrics to that third verse you were having trouble with.”

  “May I?” I was already reaching for the pad.

  He shrugged, as if to say, Why not?

  I didn’t know Jase composed, but then I remembered those songs on his old band’s EP, and... well, I shouldn’t have been surprised. The man had the heart—and the pen—of a poet. He’d captured it all—the pain and longing between me and him, the conflict between him and Daniel.

  What was it Hemingway said about writing? “Just sit down and open a vein.” That’s what Jase had done with these lyrics, and it stunned me to my core. “This is amazing. Exactly what I would’ve wanted to say.”

  “I hoped you’d like it. And now…” He kissed me, fingers threading through my hair. “Would you like your collar back?”

  Hello, magic words. I smiled. “God, yes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Jase

  I pulled Jordan close to me and just held him for a moment. I was s
till guarded—it was easy to make promises now, but keeping them was another matter entirely—but relieved beyond words. Jordan was okay. Maybe we had a shot at being okay. The world was closer to its normal axis than it had been in a while.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “For not kicking me out.”

  “I’m just glad you came back.”

  He managed a slight smile, but it faded fast. “To be honest, I think being apart made me think about... about how things with us compare to things between me and Daniel. And I realized this was how it had gone down with Daniel a few times, and remembered what kind of hell it was whenever I’d had to walk away and eventually let him back in.” Shaking his head, he whispered, “I can’t put you through that. And I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” I gathered him into my arms again and kissed the top of his head. “You’ve still got some grieving to do. I don’t expect this to be a smooth ride.”

  Jordan released a breath. “To be honest, I think I’ve known for a long time that this was coming.” He looked up at me again. “I probably started grieving three or four years ago.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “Now I just want to move on. Try to heal.”

  “You will. I promise, it does get better with time.”

  He smiled weakly. “I know.”

  “And I’ll be here. If you need to break down, or just talk. I’m here.”

  “Thank you.” He pushed himself up and kissed me lightly. “I know things have been one-sided from the beginning. That’s going to change.”

  I caressed his face. “It’s been less one-sided than you think. I wouldn’t have stuck around if I hadn’t been getting something out of it.”

  His smile got a little brighter, but he didn’t say anything.

  “All of that said, I’m not putting the collar back on yet.” The disappointment in his eyes was palpable, but I kissed his forehead and brushed his hair behind his ear. “Just a few things first.”