by Kyle Baxter
“We have to keep going,” he said, pulling the taller man along. They ran down an alley toward his Aunt’s shelter and flew through the back door. They entered the dining hall only to find that they were late—too late. Dead bodies and blood were everywhere. Two gunmen in skull masks looked up at them.
Joel grabbed his arm. “Come on.” They ran into the back and up a flight of stairs in a warehouse. Gunmen chased after them, firing as they came. Dropping to a knee, Freddie quickly fired behind them.
“Come on,” Joel shouted, climbing up a flight of stairs to the roof. Chancing a look upward, Freddie saw a dark shape waiting in the doorway to the roof. Noah!
“Come on, you cockwobble,” his oppo shouted. Joel stood up there with Noah. They grabbed his arms, pulling him up into the light.
He rolled onto the roof, breathing deep. It was hot. Why was it so hot? Altstadt was never this hot. After getting up, he ran to the edge of the roof and jumped off, landing on the next building.
“Joel, jump. Then Noah.” He waved at them. Noah fired at the men pursuing them. Joel stood still on the other roof; he wouldn’t follow. “Joel!”
Gunfire came from behind him. Spinning around, he fell to one knee and then fired at the figure on the next roof. It was the figure that was always on the next roof, wavering like a heat mirage.
“Push forward,” Noah yelled behind him. “We gotta go. We gotta move.”
Freddie shouted, “He’s got a rocket launcher!” The enemy moved closer, and Freddie shot at him as he fired.
There was a flash in the barrel. “No!” Freddie jumped to one side, desperately reaching for the rocket as it flew past him.
“Freddie!”
An explosion of dust and dirt shook the world as the rocket hit a building. The structure shuddered and collapsed under Joel and Noah. With a yell, Freddie jumped down to the building and frantically dug through the rubble. He dug and dug but he couldn’t get to the bottom of the pile. He couldn’t find Noah. He couldn’t find Joel. And he was sobbing as he heard a voice.
“Freddie, it’s Joel. You’re hurting me.”
❖
Frederick’s eyes darted around the dark room. Where am I? His heart pounded in his chest.
“It’s okay.” Joel’s strained voice broke through the fog. “You’re in the Sonne Hotel, in my room. You’re with me, Joel . . . Joey Baby. It’s okay.”
Oh my God. Looking down, he saw that he was on top of Joel, his hands at his lover’s throat. No! He was digging for rubble. This can’t be happening. He rolled off of Joel and onto the bed. After a couple of deep breaths, he tumbled off the bed and staggered to his feet.
This can’t be happening. What have I done? Blood pumped loudly in his ears. Panic threatened to rise into his chest and seize him as he looked at Joel. Sweet Joel.
“Are you okay?” Joel asked, his eyes wide. He was frightened.
Freddie inched closer tentatively. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
Joel grabbed Freddie’s hands and held them tight. “I’m fine. You just surprised me.”
“Let me see.” He turned on the light and carefully examined Joel’s body, his neck. “Okay, it’s a little red. You might have a bruise.” Frederick laid a tentative kiss where Joel’s shoulder turned into his neck, where his own hands were.
“See? A bruise. No biggie,” Joel reassured him. “Was it the same dream you’ve had before?”
“Similar, yeah. We’re on a mission—you and I, actually. But then I see you and my oppo Noah get buried in the rubble as a rocket hits the building you’re on. I tried to dig you out of the rubble, but instead . . .” he stammered as his eyes watered. What have I done? “I need to go.”
His heart thundered in his chest. I can’t do this. I almost hurt him. First they were attacked at the shelter and now this. It’s too much. It’s too much to ask.
He scoured the floor, looking for his underwear, then gave up. After grabbing his trousers, he pulled them on. I have to get out of here.
“Why are you rushing out?” Joel asked, pulling on his own underwear.
Frederick avoided Joel’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have come here. I should have sent Luc to check on you.”
“Freddie, stop,” Joel demanded. “What is wrong?”
He froze. He was frightening Joel even more, and that was not his intent. “I almost hurt you,” he said flatly. “When I have nightmares, sometimes I lose control. They call them night terrors for a reason.”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
Freddie reached into the closet and yanked his sweater off of the hanger. “Joel, my hands were on your neck.” He heard ragged breathing and, with a start, realized it was his own.
“But you didn’t. God, you are so pigheaded. That was my fault. You were thrashing and I rubbed your shoulder to comfort you, just like you told me not to do.”
Freddie put his hands on either side of Joel’s face. He was so kind, so beautiful. Joel was everything he wanted, and he almost hurt him. He fought back the tears. He needed to get away. “After the attack today, and now this? I never want to hurt you, Joey.”
“Today was not your fault,” he protested.
“The only reason you were even there is because I took you. I showed it to you,” Freddie said and went poker-faced. “I was showing off and it could have gotten you killed.”
“No, no, no. What happened today is not on you.” Joel’s eyes watered. “Why are you like this?”
As he sat on the bed, Freddie pulled on his boots. “Besides, you leave in the morning, and saying goodbye won’t be any easier then.” That was very true. There was no way his father or his family would happily allow him to continue seeing Joel. Until Fredrick got that sorted permanently, they would keep throwing up roadblocks.
He stood up and straightened his sweater and stared at Joel. “If I stayed and had another nightmare, I might hurt you for real this time. I can’t let that happen. I will not let that happen.”
“What if, what if, what if,” Joel mumbled. He sat at the table and took a drink of the hefeweizen from earlier.
“Security is outside, they’ll make sure you and your family get off safely in the morning.” He saw his boxers at the door to the water closet and shoved them in a pocket.
Joel’s brow creased. “You know, I really think you’re overreacting.”
Freddie snorted. “Says the drama queen who loves storming out of rooms.”
“That’s rich coming from the bisexual disaster,” Joel snarked. Something crossed over his face suddenly, and Joel’s jaw set. It was followed by a look of fierce determination that Freddie had only seen once before: today at the shelter during the attack. What brought it on? Joel nodded and said, “It probably is for the best anyway.”
That took Frederick by surprise. “What does that mean?”
“It’s like you said before. This?” Joel gestured between the two of them. “This can’t go anywhere. I’m not a part of your world, and I don’t fit into any part of it—not with your friends or your family.” Joel finished the beer and set the glass on the table. “Nowhere.”
Freddie wanted to argue the point. He hated Joel’s tendency to denigrate himself. But if this would get Joel out of Etreustein, away from him, away from danger, Freddie would keep his mouth shut.
But there was something else going on. Joel loved to argue; it was how they met. Frederick expected more resistance from him. The something that passed over the taller man’s face, what was it? Was it the same something from earlier?
Freddie looked down at his feet. “Yes, and you’re leaving tomorrow. You’re just here on vacation with your parents. And anyway, you don’t do long distance anymore.” Frederick tried to sound as sharp as he could by throwing Joel’s own words back in his face.
“Exactly, your life’s complicated.” Joel’s voice dripped with scorn. “And this was where it was headed anyway. Your friend Denis was right. I really don’t belong here, do I?”
Fucking Denis. That was defi
nitely a sore spot with Joel. If that was what it took, so be it. Frederick went to the door and stopped there with a hand on the latch. He looked back at his lover and put on his game face. “Yes, he was right. You really don’t belong here.”
Joel had to go away, no matter how much it hurt him. He had to go—he had to be safe. Freddie could put up with anything else as long as he knew Joel was safe. He turned the handle and walked out of the hotel room. I will protect him from anything, anyone . . . even myself.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Too Good at Goodbyes
“This is the first time I’ve been escorted out of a country,” Dad said as they walked through the tiny train station. He sounded almost gleeful. The Crown had not promised anything in regard to his fracking proposal other than due consideration and the promise of more meetings. Dad took it as a win; it was certainly more than they arrived here with.
At least someone’s happy.
A stock dove appeared outside his hotel window this morning. Hearing the bird’s song was horrible after he spent the night crying. It felt like a knife to his heart.
Joel looked up at the castle on the hill, and a groan escaped his chest. Was Frederick up there? How was he doing today? Joel wanted to call him or text him. He longed for a stupid photo from the prince even as he feared it.
He knew what happened last night. Frederick panicked after waking up with his hand on Joel’s neck. Justifiable. Joel rubbed his sore neck. Though no bruise appeared, it was red. He wore a scarf and a high-collared shirt. No need to alarm the parental units.
He knew as sure as he could that Freddie didn’t mean what he said. That wasn’t him. It was a shock, and it hurt, no doubt about it, but it also made him fighting mad. Repeating Denis’s words was done to drive him away. Well, I’m a good Southern boy and we’re more stubborn than that. WWSD? He’d persevere.
Joel was confident they could work through Freddie’s fears together. He could get therapy, if that was all there was. But Karl’s threat to his father’s business still hung over Joel’s head. He never had the chance to discuss it with Frederick, and now he was glad of it.
Freddie would have blustered and gone straight to Karl and thrown it in his face. And where would that get his father and his company? It would have made the whole thing even more complicated.
No. Joel kept this knowledge to himself. He’d stay away and let Karl think what he would. Joel would not see Freddie anymore. He owed his dad that much. The man sacrificed so much for their family.
Besides, this was where it was heading anyway. You really don’t belong there. The words haunted him. They cut to the core and hit all his insecurities. And here he’d just started to believe things could be different. No matter where you go, there you are!
After Seth, he promised himself he’d make different choices and wouldn’t jump feet-first. And he did anyway; he jumped in and fell for Frederick von Etreustein. I’d do it again. I love him.
One of the aides from the castle gestured for him to keep moving. One of the lesser gremlins, she was a pasty-faced girl. Her skin color all but bled into her light hair. They really were escorting them out of the country.
Climbing onto the train, he took a last look at the castle. His vision blurred and he fought back tears. Dammit. He found a seat facing away from Altstadt and looked at the television on the forward wall. Someone thoughtfully found a channel with English closed-captioning.
The news reports were ablaze with yesterday’s event, but his and Freddie’s names were mercifully absent. Frau Müller already planned to reopen. Good. Joel knew Freddie would be heartbroken if the shelter closed.
“Is Frederick or Astrid coming to see us off?” Mariah looked around. She sounded disappointed.
“No,” Joel choked out. “They’re not. Freddie and I . . . aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
“What happened?” his mother asked, her face twisted in confusion.
“Mom,” Caty snapped. She gave him a quick glance. Her room was right next to his. How much had she heard last night? She continued softly. “Now’s really not the time.”
His mother nodded. She got it immediately, but his father turned to look at him and asked, “What were you even doing down there?”
Mom shushed him and patted her husband’s arm. “Not now, dear.”
Joel hoped Dad wouldn’t ask again; he didn’t want to get into it. He’d only cry again.
Booked in the first-class car, they found it all to themselves. More influence of the Crown, he assumed. His father took it as a singular honor accorded to them. Joel thought they were trying to make sure they—he—was gone.
Once settled in, Dad pulled out his briefcase and set it on the table in front of him. “Whatever else, it looks like the Crown is looking favorably on my proposal.”
Joel thought that was saying a lot but kept his mouth shut. He gritted his teeth, refusing to speak up, afraid to do anything to jeopardize his father’s deal.
Besides, if Frederick’s family didn’t want them together, did he want to come between them? No, he would not make anyone choose between him and their family. Joel could not do that. It was all too much. It was better that it was over.
Keep telling yourself that. Say it until you believe it . . . Something move through him, a thought that started in the back of his mind and ran through him to his toes. I will never believe it. I will never get over him.
He rested his head against the window, sobbing quietly until the vibration of the train lulled him to sleep. And he found himself back in the shelter, hiding from the gunmen. Freddie was there, hands on the table. He mouthed a one, two, three . . . and Joel’s leg jerked. He awoke with a start and looked around the car in a panic.
The whole family stared at him. His mother got up and came to sit on his left. She took his hand in hers and rubbed his arm.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled. She bobbed her head; she knew when he was lying better than anyone. Mom put her arm around him, pulled him in close, and soothed him into a dozing slumber.
She roused him when they were pulling into Paris. A car waited to take them to their lodgings. Etreustein security changed their original reservations and they were now staying at a private, anonymous residence on the Champs-Élysées. Joel wondered at this. Was it really security that made them go to such lengths or was it something more? Was this some kind of payoff from Karl to his father in return for Joel staying away from Frederick? He huffed at that. He knew nothing about Karl, really, but somehow would not put it past the older prince.
When he settled into his room, he turned on the TV to find it buzzing with the news that King Leopold was planning to retire in the new year. He would be stepping down from all public engagements. Though he’d finish the ones already made, there would be no new ones.
Freddie is going to be king. Joel was slack-jawed as he watched. He knew that, of course, but to see it on TV? It made it more real somehow. Though Freddie was never far from his thoughts, everything that happened in Etreustein felt more and more like a faraway dream. Then he saw the man himself appear on the screen, and it all came back home.
The entire royal family stood assembled at the press conference. Freddie looked humble but serious. Even Karl was there. Now that his diagnosis was public, he resumed limited public appearances. His abdication of the crown was controversial in some quarters, with calls of ableism from some. Joel read a few think pieces on it and couldn’t fault their sentiment, but he knew that Karl had made the decision himself. That could not have been easy.
God, Freddie looks so good. He longed to reach out to him, to talk to him, to hear his voice. But he would not. He could not anyway; they took Frederick’s phone away and Joel didn’t have the new number. They were well and truly separated.
He looked up again at the image of the entire royal family on stage. Duchess Julia stood with him, her arm on Freddie’s—the family friend.
He was grateful she was there for him. Someone needed to be. But I want to be the one
standing beside him. There had to be some way to work this out, some way for Freddie and him to be together.
He remembered Freddie’s comment about taking his hand and running off to a museum. He’d give everything he owned for that future, but not his family.
With a start, he realized he’d gone completely incommunicado with all of his friends. He hadn’t looked at his phone in days, and that was not like him. He quickly texted his roommate.
Joel: Hey.
Larry replied immediately.
Larry: It’s ALIVE. How are you?
Joel quickly gave Larry the short version.
Larry: HOLY SHIT! And how are you? RLY?
Joel: Is I have NO idea a proper response?
Larry: Maybe the only appropriate one. That is A LOT.
Joel: Yeah, it’s been a helluva vacation. Tell me about you.
❖
The gunmen marched through the building, their faces obscured by skull masks, taking out one person after another. Joel hid behind the table, scared and unable to move. The pop, pop, pop of the guns echoed through the building. He cowered, shivering. It was almost his turn. They came closer and closer. Looking over, he found Freddie lying on the ground, his eyes blank and unmoving. And so much blood.
Screaming, he woke up in a cold sweat. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was: at the house on the Champs-Élysées. They’d been here for three days so far, and every night he had a dream about the attack at the shelter. A quick glance at his phone told him it was early yet, not even midnight. And there was a call from Seth. What the hell did he want?
He ignored it, put the phone back on its charger, and stood up. Running a hand through his wild hair, he grunted and then stretched his arms out. Hungry suddenly, he decided a snack was in order. He crept down the hall and to the stairs. The house was asleep, and he did not want to wake anyone.
Joel found his mother in the kitchen, eating ice cream from the tub. She held her hand over her mouth and giggled when he interrupted her.
“You didn’t see this,” she said. “Grab a spoon.”