Guarding His Melody

by Victoria Sue

  Seb didn’t usually like pushy people, and Gray wasn’t just pushy; he was immovable. Seb guessed he was doing his job.

  Gray glanced back to the other room and walked out. Seb followed a step just to see what he was doing and saw the light on above the door. Gray must have heard someone knock. Seb’s legs were a little wobbly, but he quickly pulled on some shorts and sweats. Gray came back in just as he was adding a T-shirt and shivering.

  “Mrs. Pickering made the same smoothie as yesterday. She says just to call her when you’re ready for something else.”

  Seb smiled. She would be in heaven. He usually didn’t eat for two days after an episode. He looked at the glass Gray was holding and held out a shaky hand. Gray frowned, put it down, then picked up his robe and held it open. “You need to dry your hair.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Seb teased, but he was cold and felt really wobbly.

  Gray looked around and noticed the hairdryer on the floor under his desk. “Sit down.”

  Seb blinked. What?

  Gray pulled out the chair he had sat on for the head massage. “Sit,” he ordered.

  Seb sat.

  Gray pulled the towel off Seb’s head and gaped at the mass of hair that fell down. “Where did all that come from?” He chuckled and picked up the wide chunky comb from the dresser.

  Seb didn’t reply. He doubted if he could speak at all and wasn’t about to embarrass himself with any of the moans that wanted to escape his lips. This was as bad as the massage. No—it was a hundred times worse—because this time the pain Seb endured was in entirely a different place. Seb was just relieved his head was down. Gray hadn’t see his face, and he couldn’t see Gray’s. Not that their expressions would be the same. He knew the abject lust wouldn’t be reflected in Gray’s eyes, and he was so thankful Gray couldn’t see it in his.

  Would Gray go if he did know? The thought that Gray would leave was suddenly scary, which was all kinds of messed-up. Gray had only been here a few days, and Seb had no idea how long he would stay. Rawlings specialized in short-term contracts. Usually for a few weeks rather than months.

  And Seb honestly had no idea how he felt about that.

  Gray glanced at Seb in the mirror and took a breath. Seb focused on him when he recognized the reaction was to steady himself for something. For a second, hope flared that Gray might feel even a tiny amount of the attraction Seb felt.

  “I want to talk about your health going forward.”

  Disappointment stung his eyes, and he dipped them. Gray touched his arm, but it took a couple of seconds before he trusted himself to look back up.

  “Are you a hundred percent certain your dad wouldn’t stop the therapy and surgeries if you simply said you couldn’t cope with any more?”

  Tears sprang to Seb’s eyes, and he closed them even as he felt Gray pull the chair out and bend down to his level. It was too soon. He hadn’t built up any defense for this type of question after being sick. Gray squeezed his arms to get him to open his eyes, and Seb tried to push him away so he could get to his feet. It was like trying to move a wall.

  Then Gray thumbed the escaped moisture from his cheeks, and Seb froze. His hands slowly circled Seb’s shoulders and pulled him forward. Gray was so warm, so strong. Seb held himself together for what seemed like two gulps of air before they became sobs, and he simply lost it as he gave Gray all his weight. He seemed to cry forever. His throat was raw and his nose blocked. He was freezing, and as he shook, Gray wrapped him tighter and offered his heat.

  Seb swallowed but still didn’t open his eyes because he didn’t want Gray to step away. Gray did of course, eventually, but didn’t let go. He simply steered Seb to the bed and pushed him gently down. Seb went because Gray did too. He sniffed and swallowed and felt a wad of tissues put into his hand, then reluctantly—very reluctantly—opened his eyes. It took a moment before Gray’s face stopped swimming. “Sorry.”

  Gray smiled, and Seb basked in its warmth. For a second, he could almost pretend he was someone else. Someone important and not just a client.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, but I still need an answer because that’s going to determine the second question.”

  “No,” Seb acknowledged sadly. He had been fooling himself. “I think my dad is too convinced he knows best.”

  “Okay, then do you want me to find out if you have a choice? If the guardianship rules can be circumvented?”

  Hope flared. “How?”

  “Because I can get Rawlings to reach out to his contact in Florida. He knows the FBI team, and if anyone can help with the legal aspects, it would be them.”

  Seb sagged against Gray. So long as Gray wasn’t objecting, Seb needed the closeness, and this wasn’t in any way because he wished for a different sort of a relationship with Gray; he knew that would never happen. This was simply because for the first time in a lot of years, maybe he trusted that someone else could make him feel safe.

  Chapter Eleven

  SEB DECIDED to join his dad for breakfast. The weekend had been quiet. He’d finished his song and the translation. Apologized via email he hadn’t been able to do the translation his dad had refused, then said he was available for more. It was Monday morning, and he needed to talk to his dad. But carefully. Seb had decided he would give it one more try to make his dad see sense while Gray waited to hear if Rawlings had gotten any information from the enhanced unit in Florida.

  The shock on his dad’s face when he walked into the dining room was almost funny. He poured himself a coffee and sat down. Mrs. P bustled in, and Seb politely asked for an omelet. Seb had already had a smoothie, done his exercises with Gray, and Gray had said he was going to check in with his boss before taking a shower.

  Seb had left him to it.

  His dad leaned back and drained his own coffee, eyeing Seb and looking at his watch. “You look better this morning.”

  Seb nodded. “I feel better. Did Gray tell you we are going to see a nutritionist friend of his when he can set up an appointment?”

  His dad’s eyebrows lifted. “A nutritionist?”

  “Yeah, Gray says the guy has a lot of experience with cancer patients.”

  “What?” His dad looked aghast.

  “Not eating. Being sick after chemo, that sort of thing.”

  “That makes sense,” his dad said, nodding. “I’m sorry I never thought of it before.”

  Seb took a breath. He wanted to ask about his treatments, but there was also Arron’s funeral, which no one had mentioned. “And I was hoping you might have heard about Arron’s funeral?”

  “Sebastian,” his dad started.

  “Let me explain, please?”

  His dad remained impassive, which Seb found a little odd, but he took the opportunity to argue his case. “I don’t think the images they found were his, Dad. I knew the guy for three years. I’d bet a lot of money he wasn’t like that.”

  His father sighed. “You can never truly know a person, Sebastian.”

  “I’m not asking you to go, Dad, but no one knows me.”

  His dad sighed again and searched his face. “I’m sorry, but no.”

  Seb sucked in a breath, but his dad held up his hand. “And before you get annoyed, let me explain.” He glanced at the old-fashioned grandfather clock in the corner. “Smith’s memorial actually started twenty minutes ago.”

  “What?” Seb interrupted in disbelief.

  “Joseph only received the email notification this morning, and the family requested close friends and family only. They are very leery, understandably, of the press making a spectacle of the affair.”

  “But—” Seb clamped his mouth closed. He had been a close friend. He tried to breathe his anger away. “I don’t understand why you only found out this morning. It makes no sense. They must have decided this on Friday.” Funeral arrangements needed notice. You couldn’t just decide something like that and have it happen in an hour. “You’re lying.” The words were out before Seb even realized what he was saying,
and he was as horrified at them as the expression on his father’s face showed he was.

  “Sebastian.” His dad firmed his jaw. “I will overlook your rudeness because I know the weekend after your treatment is very hard for you, but may I point out that even if Keswick had checked that particular email account over the weekend, we would never have mentioned it to you anyway. We both know you are always too sick after Friday to ever rouse yourself earlier than late afternoon on a Monday anyway.”

  “Exactly,” Seb pounced on his dad’s words. “Which is why I’m not having any more of them.”

  His dad stared at Seb like he was speaking in tongues. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve had enough, Dad,” he said calmer now. “They’re ruining my life—”

  Seb jumped as his dad smacked the table with the flat of his hand. He couldn’t hear the sound, obviously, but it had been done with so much force the teacups rattled. Seb gazed at him, suddenly wary. His dad looked furious, and he usually never got angry.

  “What life, Sebastian? Tell me exactly what life I am ruining? You spend all day locked away in that bedroom with your ridiculous translations and your pathetic attempt at writing songs.”

  Seb hissed at the sting of hurt.

  “I’ve tried my best when other parents of enhanced would have had you shipped off to some foster home.” His dad rose from his chair and flung his napkin down just as Mrs. P brought in the omelet Seb now didn’t want. “Grow up, Sebastian.”

  After his father walked out, Seb counted to ten before he dared look at Mrs. P. “Try and eat something, Seb,” Mrs. P fussed, but gently. She had probably heard most of the conversation. Seb just nodded and waited until Mrs. P left and then spent the next five minutes staring at the congealing food.

  Why? Why had he even bothered? For a giddy second, Seb thought about leaving. And go where? He couldn’t disappear easily. The mark on his face just about made anonymity impossible. But he had some money saved, and he had a way of earning more. But then no diplomatic service would use someone on the run. Seb scrubbed a hand over his eyes. On the run? He nearly laughed. It made him sound like some sort of criminal. If he did run, would his dad still try to enforce the guardianship rules and get the police to find him? He wasn’t completely sure what—if anything—they could do. He could ask Gray. For a second, he felt the leaden weight in his gut lift, but then he remembered Gray was doing a job. Much as the man had seemed kind and certainly was trying to see if he could help him legally, helping him illegally was a whole other matter.

  He knew he had a few days. Thursday was a holiday, which gave him time to scope things out. Maybe Gray would have heard from his boss when he went back upstairs?

  Seb stood up, gathered the plates, including the ones his dad had left, and took them to the kitchen. Just as he got there, the small office door opened, and both Innes and Paula walked out. Innes looked furious, and Paula seemed resigned. Innes turned back and said something to Derwent, who stood behind the desk, but Seb couldn’t read what he said.

  Seb walked straight past them and into the kitchen and managed to rinse the plates before Mrs. P came back. “What’s going on with Innes and Paula?”

  Mrs. P shook her head. “Andrew told me he was letting Scott and Paula go.”

  Seb was surprised and showed it. “Why?”

  “Because he says with the cameras, neither of them are needed. Between him and Gray, you are both okay.”

  Seb considered her words. He couldn’t say he was sorry. “Paula’s probably pleased, though, right? Someone told me she has to look after her dad.”

  Mrs. P stopped putting away the bottles she had gotten from the wine cellar and glanced at Seb. “Seb, it’s a month before Christmas. Paula’s dad has Alzheimer’s. Yes, she does what she can, but the cost of his care is astronomical. She’s barely keeping her head above water, and she left the Army because of him.”

  Seb reddened. The reproach was obvious in her words even if he couldn’t hear it. He dropped an apologetic kiss on Mrs. P’s cheek and went back upstairs. Gray wasn’t there, so Seb assumed he was still in the shower. He quickly logged on to the computer. He had an attorney already. He was getting organized in case he had any trouble later, and he considered the astronomical retainer he paid to be totally worth it. He quickly emailed an instruction letter with as much information as he had on Paula to arrange a wire transfer. He could cover the ten thousand-dollar amount because he never spent anything, and it would make all the difference to Paula. It wouldn’t even clear him out. He had regular work, and his agent was always clamoring for new songs. If he wasn’t as picky about who he sold them to, he would be able to earn a lot more money. Not long now. This time next year, he would be in his own place.

  Then, on a whim, he googled Rawlings Security and sent a recommendation should they be looking for someone to hire. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the hand on his shoulder and spun around.

  “Sorry, sorry.” But Gray didn’t look sorry; he looked amused. Then he glanced at the computer, and his eyebrows rose. “Looking to replace me?” He put the smoothie down carefully next to the computer.

  Seb wished he could hear sarcasm, because he was sure it would have been there.

  “Did you know Scott and Paula have been let go?”

  “Yes,” Gray said. “Keswick told me when I went downstairs this morning.”

  Seb shrugged, feeling a little silly now. “I emailed your boss and told him about Paula and said I could recommend her.”

  Gray smiled. “He already knows.”

  Because you did exactly the same thing. Seb knew he had.

  “How did it go with your dad?”

  Seb shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

  “And I’m sorry. I just found out it was Arron’s funeral this morning.”

  “I know,” he mouthed. He cleared his throat. “Did you speak to Rawlings?”

  Gray nodded. “Yes, and his friend is asking a lawyer, unofficially,” he added. “I hope he may have some news tomorrow or Wednesday.” Gray chewed his lip for a second. “How about if we get out of here? Would you be willing to come and see a friend of mine? He’s working on the stage for the Ethan Devlin concert tonight.”

  “Ethan Devlin?” Seb repeated in complete shock. Ethan Devlin was huge. The man regularly had a top ten single and more.

  “They have a sound check happening today. I can’t guarantee Devlin will be there, but I thought you’d like to see everything.”

  Seb clutched his arm. “I would kill to see him.” His new song. He had written that with exactly Ethan Devlin in mind.

  “Okay,” Gray said and glanced at the smoothie. “After you drink that.”

  Seb gaped at Gray. How the fuck did Gray know he hadn’t eaten the omelet?

  Gray’s lips twitched. “Mrs. Pickering said any argument puts you straight off your food.” Seb sighed and eyed the glass. “I’m sorry you missed the funeral,” Gray added. His smile was gentle, sympathetic.

  Seb reached out a determined hand for the glass and gulped the smoothie quickly. Gray picked up his jacket and held it out.

  “No way. Give me five,” Seb croaked out and shot into his bedroom to get changed. He knew if he could hear, his ears would be full of Gray’s laughter.

  AN HOUR later because of traffic, Gray’s car—he’d insisted they went in his—rolled down West Peachtree Street and slowed, signaling he was going to turn left. Seb watched as they pulled into the parking deck belonging to Center Stage. He knew the indoor arena held a thousand people, but Ethan Devlin could command many more than that. “Why this venue?”

  “Smaller, you mean?” Gray asked, catching on straightaway. “It’s a thank-you exclusive. Fan club, competition winners, etcetera. One night only.”

  “I’ve never been anywhere like this.” Seb tried to sit on his jittery hands, then pulled one out and gestured to his face. “Does your friend know?”

  Gray nodded. “It’s no problem.”

>   Seb tried to breathe unobtrusively deeper as they walked from the car. His insides were doing summersaults, and he almost felt light-headed, but not in a sick giddy way—in a “so excited he was having an out-of-body experience” way. Seb wore an Adidas hoodie and kept the hood pulled as far over his head as it would go. Gray’s smile seemed confident, and while Seb’s dad’s money had shielded him over the years from a lot of reactions to his mark, when he was seen, he still had some.

  Arron had once taken him to the clinic, and they had gotten into a minor scrape at a stop sign. Some woman with a car full of five overexcited kids got distracted and didn’t stop in time as Arron braked in front of her. The cops were there in five minutes. Arron had jumped out and tried to distract the cop, but the guy must have sensed something because Arron had his documents in his hand, away from the car. Seb thought afterward that it was pretty dumb. The cop came over to the car to look at Seb, and that’s when the shit hit the proverbial fan. The cop took one look at Seb and pulled his gun.

  In seconds Seb was out of the car and facedown on the sidewalk. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Arron hadn’t done anything wrong, but Seb had thought he was going to die. Within seconds, it was a circus—eight cop cars in total and a big SWAT-type truck with some scary-ass dudes arrived. And all that time, Seb had lain with his face down in the dirt and wished he had the ability to disappear.

  Finally his dad and Derwent arrived, showed guardianship papers, and generally threatened to sue the fuck out of the APD. Only then were the guns holstered and Seb allowed to get to his feet. Seb had been a mess. He wanted to crawl into a hole. He had barely held it together because no one seemed to care he couldn’t hear them, and just barking instructions when he couldn’t see their lips properly didn’t help.

  Derwent had bundled him into his dad’s limo as soon as he was released and driven them home. It took nearly six weeks before Seb left the house again.

  SEB LOOKED into Gray’s worried eyes automatically as he felt the touch on his arm.