Bonds of Denial (Wicked Play #5)

by Lynda Aicher

  “Why?” The pathetic question was out, so he dug the hole deeper, showing his real fear. “You don’t need me anymore. You’re out of the closet. I’ve served my purpose.”

  “You’re wrong.” Rock’s declaration was firm and curt. “But you have to believe that.”

  “I have nothing to offer you.”

  “All I need is you.”

  Carter shook his head, the denial ringing strong within him. “No. You don’t.”

  “Damn it, Carter. What happened to the confident man who knew who he was? Who took a closeted man so far in denial about his sexuality that he couldn’t breathe and showed him how great it felt to be himself? Huh? Where did that guy go?”

  “He met you.”

  Rock reared back like he’d been slapped. “What?”

  His reaction came around to punch Carter in the gut. The soft reply had been an honest response, but he hadn’t intended to hurt Rock. He’d never meant to hurt him. “I’m a great escort,” he mumbled. “The perfect man for a night. But you wanted more. You made me want more. And that’s fine until you wake up one day and realize you’re with a whore. You can’t want that forever. No one does.”

  “You’re right,” Rock agreed, and Carter’s legs almost buckled. “I don’t want a whore. I want you. When are you going to trust that?”

  Trust that? His head was swimming and he swayed on his feet. “I don’t know if I can.”

  Rock took the final step forward, bringing him so close. Carter could lean forward and fall into those strong arms and solid chest. They’d catch him, he was pretty certain of that. But would they hold him?

  Big hands with lean fingers came up to frame Carter’s face. Rock’s pale eyes were full of words that neither of them said. Finally he leaned to press their foreheads together.

  Carter closed his eyes, his lip clamped between his teeth. He had to hold on. He couldn’t crumble, not in front of Rock.

  “I love you.”

  The quiet declaration floated over Carter on a wave of warm breath and quiet beginnings. Oh, God. How can I believe that? He started to shake. The burn killed his throat and prickled at his eyes until he squeezed them closed. His heart pounded against his ribs, demanding he respond to the words he’d longed to hear, but his lips were glued shut.

  The empty hole within him opened up to suck in the light that was Rock. He wanted this man too much. Seconds before he broke down and fell into Rock, the man stepped back, taking Carter’s courage with him. He sucked in a breath, his eyes fluttering open. He couldn’t hug himself tight enough to hold back the ache that grew in his chest.

  Rock rubbed a hand over his cheek and pulled a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his coat. He unfolded it. “This was in my mail when I got back.” He looked up. “I submitted one of the pictures you took of me to Army Family Magazine’s photo contest. It turns out an organization pushing for full rights for gay military personnel and their families saw it. They want to use it for their national campaign.”

  He flipped the paper around to show the picture he was talking about. The subject change was so abrupt, Carter barely kept up. But his smile was automatic. It was a great image. He’d faded out the city background a bit and pulled the focus onto Rock’s statement and the strength he portrayed in the pose. “That’s one of my favorite shots.”

  “This right here is proof that you’re more than an escort.” Rock swung it back to look at it again. “What do you think?”

  Carter’s smile dropped away. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s your photo. I submitted it with you as the copyright owner. It’s up to you if you want to let them use it.” Rock held the paper out, and Carter slowly took it.

  He scanned the letter, the paper shaking slightly in hand. He got the basics but glossed over the details. Someone really wanted to buy the rights to use his photo? The money would be nice and it would be fantastic for his photography career. “No. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Do what?”

  “Expose you like that.” He handed the paper back and wrapped his arms around himself once again. Why in the hell had he worn pants without pockets? “It’s your photo. I only clicked the camera.”

  Rock folded the paper up and put it back in his pocket. “What if I don’t care?”

  “What about your family? Your friends? Are you ready to come out to everyone?”

  “I told my parents when I was home last week. My friends who count all know.”

  “Really?” Carter let his surprise show. “I didn’t know…How’d it go? Is that why you went home?” He belatedly remembered that Rock had gone home for an emergency. He’d been so deep in his own wallowing he hadn’t even asked if everything was all right.

  Rock shook his head, a half smile curling his lips. “My dad had a mild heart attack that led to double bypass surgery.”

  Now Carter felt like an even bigger shit. “Is he okay?”

  “He will be.” He shifted and tucked his hands into his pockets. “They both dismissed my big declaration. They adhere to the ‘don’t say it and it won’t be true’ policy. It’s not perfect, but it could be worse. I don’t know if I’ll ever bring you home to meet them, but my sister wants to know everything about you.”

  Bring him home… “You’d really want to do that?”

  “You’re my boyfriend.” His smile softened in that way that had Carter almost tumbling into his arms. “If they were accepting, I definitely would.”

  His pulse was going too fast, his thoughts frazzled. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Declarations of love. Rock coming out to the world. Forgiveness. How was he supposed to process it all? He was emotionally stripped and raw inside.

  He shuffled back a few steps and sank onto a bar stool by the counter before his legs gave out. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “All of this. The gallery show, the campaign, you—it’s too much. It’ll never work. Something will go wrong.” It always does.

  Rock stepped between Carter’s knees until he was forced to spread his legs and let the man in. Those strong arms came around him and he was helpless to do anything but fall into Rock, finally. His arms seemed to move on their own, wrapping around Rock to hold him tight.

  He pressed his forehead to Rock’s chest, that perfect scent flowing over him. Did he dare believe in this? Them? Being held, holding on to Rock was still so right despite everything that had happened.

  “What gallery show?” Rock’s voice rumbled low in his chest, his hands stroking over Carter’s back with gentle comfort.

  In the easy security of Rock’s warmth, Carter told him about the upcoming art show weekend and the offer from the gallery to spotlight his Lost Opportunity series.

  “That sounds great,” Rock said.

  “Then why am I terrified?”

  “My dad always said if you weren’t terrified then you weren’t trying hard enough.” He leaned back and tilted Carter’s chin up until he was forced to look at him. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re a great photographer. Stop doubting everything.”

  “I want to.” He really did. “But I need some time, and you need to be sure I’m what you want.”

  “I am sure,” Rock insisted, frowning. “You’re the one who’s still pushing me away.”

  It was true—he was the one still doubting, pushing, not trusting. Yet he couldn’t change that, not that second. Years of habit were hard to break.

  “I’m the first man you’ve ever been with. How do you know its love?”

  “The same way I’ve known since the beginning that we’ve never fucked.”

  Carter winced. “Until the last time.”

  “Which is in the past.” Rock smoothed his thumb over Carter’s lips in a gentle caress. “Let it go. I have.”

  Carter ran his hands up Rock’s chest then pulled him down to consume his mouth in a kiss that was both tender and more than a bit frantic. “I’m trying,” he said between kisses.

&
nbsp; “Good.” Rock returned the kiss with a fever that Carter met. In it was the love he couldn’t say and the hope he could no longer hide. Eventually, the passion turned to soft nips and easy glides of tongue and lips. It was a gentle confirmation that they weren’t done. Everything wasn’t fixed, but they still had a chance.

  It ended with him back in the warmth of Rock’s arms, his pulse racing once again. He held on, taking what he could. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

  “For what?”

  “Holding me.”

  “Anytime,” Rock said, his arms cinching tighter. “Anytime.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Rock tossed his phone on the couch cushion and glanced down at the notes he’d made. The contract was coming together, but there were still a few details to work out regarding usage and reprint rights. He wanted to run them past Carter, but the man had refused to talk about it.

  The last week had passed in a blur of phone calls, meetings with the gallery owner and catching up on his army and club work. Hanging over all of it was his worry for Carter. The man had asked for some space and that meant not seeing each other. It was torture for him when his arms ached to hold the man until he finally accepted that Rock wasn’t going anywhere.

  The buzz of his phone had him grabbing for it, pulse increasing with hope before he remembered Carter still didn’t have a phone. Stubborn man.

  The text was from his sister. I got my ticket.

  Great. U need a ride?

  No. I’ll get a rental. U will b busy.

  Not for u.

  I got a hotel room too.

  Why?

  Hopefully u will b busy after the show too. ;-)

  He chuckled at her optimism, but he wanted her to be right. For a good reason. Not because Carter wasn’t speaking to him.

  Ur the best. Thx.

  Carter still avoiding u?

  Avoiding was a strong word, but it was basically true. The man had been working all week to get the photos enlarged, matted and framed for the gallery show. Email was their only means of communication and that had been sparse.

  He’s focused on getting his photos finalized for the show.

  I’m here for u.

  I know. Email me your flight schedule.

  Ok. Luv u.

  His sister’s support was great. All of his friends were behind him on this, which still stunned him somewhat. It made his years of self-imposed denial seem foolish and wasteful.

  Damn, he missed Carter.

  Fuck. What if his plan backfired? What if Carter resented him for what he was doing? It was the risk he’d decided to take when he agreed to put his face on a national campaign for gay rights.

  Would Carter understand? Would he get why Rock was doing it?

  He hoped so. He hadn’t come this far to lose the man who’d gotten him there.

  * * *

  Carter dropped his head back, closed his eyes and released a slow breath. It was done. The pictures were delivered to the gallery. Leslie, the gallery owner, had been very complimentary of the final products. He’d selected dark gray mats and simple black metal frames to keep the focus on the images.

  The squeal of tires grinding around a turn echoed through the parking structure. It was a reminder that he should start his car and head home.

  He reached for his phone, only to remember that he hadn’t replaced his broken one. The instinct to text Rock and share the good news was still there though. He’d lost count of how many times he’d done that same thing since Rock had come back. He should go right now and get a new one, but he wasn’t ready.

  Relying on Rock was too easy.

  Carter smiled. It was a weak one, but the best he’d managed in weeks. It would be so easy to lean on Rock and let the man push him to where he should go. If only he had Rock’s confidence in his photos.

  Even the praise of the gallery owner hadn’t dispelled the knot of nerves that sat in his stomach. The words were nice, but it didn’t mean the public would think his work was worth paying for.

  How in the hell was he going to support himself on a random income that might or might not come from his photos?

  Shit. He wasn’t going to answer that question. The only way he’d know was if he tried. But every time he’d paid for the mats and frames and prints and everything else, he was reminded that his guaranteed income was no longer there.

  Hank had held true on his promise to let his current contract go, but it hadn’t stopped him from resending a new one in the mail, just in case Carter had lost the first one. It had arrived yesterday. Ironically, it’d been one of the few pieces of mail he’d been compelled to open.

  He should’ve shredded it instantly, he knew that. But doing it…yeah.

  The show was still five days away. That was a lot of time to think and even more time to second-guess himself.

  Chapter Thirty

  Rock pulled on his collar, stretching his neck to alleviate the choking sensation that threatened to cut off his air supply. The suit and shirt were tailored to fit him perfectly, so it wasn’t the clothing that was the issue. Just like the last time he’d worn them. The night he’d met Carter.

  “Are you sure Mr. Montgomery is going to be here?”

  He dropped his hand and turned to Leslie Sherwood, the diminutive owner of the Open Eye Gallery. Her sleek black dress was understated, like the tight bun that held her brown hair back, making her appear older than the thirty-odd years he guessed her to be. In the two weeks he’d been working with her, she’d more than proven that her quiet nature covered a brilliant mind that knew the art world and how to market the work her gallery consigned.

  “I’m positive.” He plastered on a smile that felt false but seemed to work on her. His backup plan to ensure that Carter attended the show’s opening was already in motion.

  She glanced at her watch then looked around the spacious gallery before her gaze settled on the large covered piece on the small stage set up at the far end. “Mr. Thompson should be here soon.”

  “Good.” Rock stared at the black cloth and forced the rise of nerves back down. He’d been unable to eat all day, so there was no chance of a meal returning but that didn’t stop his stomach from posing the threat anyway.

  “I need to check a few more things,” she said. “Thank you again for arranging everything so quickly. This is going to be a big night. I can feel it.” She gave him a brief smile before she moved away, her heels clicking on the floor as her hips swayed with each step.

  Rock waited for her to disappear behind the door to the back area before he pulled out his phone and called Tyler. He paced to the wide windows that looked out at the street.

  “Hey,” Tyler said as he picked up, his voice coming across winded. “I’m running late, sorry. But we’re almost at the condo.”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  “Seth’s going to bring the girls there.” There was a faint ‘I’m not a girl’ in the background that Rock recognized as Allie’s voice. Tyler sighed. “Fine. The women to the gallery. I’ve got Deklan and Jake going with me as backup.”

  Rock nodded, cross-checking the plan in his head. “He has to be here.”

  “I know. Trust me, okay? We’ll get him there.”

  “Okay. Right.” He did trust them. The night was too important for so many reasons.

  “I’ll let you know when we’re on our way.”

  Rock glanced at the time. It was almost five. The gallery would open soon, starting the weekend-long art festival. “The reveal is at seven. He has to be here before that.”

  “I’ve got it.” Tyler mumbled something to someone then came back on. “We’re pulling into the complex now. Stop worrying. Your man will be there, dressed and looking hot, in plenty of time. I promise. I’ll talk to you later.”

  He hung up before Rock could say anything more. The sidewalks were busy with people loitering outside the various galleries, waiting for them to open. The May weather had cooperated, giving them a day that was both sunny and pleasantly w
arm. It would attract more people to wander through the open galleries, which was good and bad.

  For the hundredth time he wished like hell he’d gotten a new phone for Carter. The man had been a stubborn ass about getting a replacement. But then, he’d been a stubborn ass over just about everything the last two weeks.

  Rock had done a frantic amount of cajoling, persuading and flat-out begging to get the licensing agreements finalized and signed for the campaign to use the picture of him. Fortunately, Leslie had been on his side to get the rest of the details in place for tonight. He owed that woman big time when this was done.

  Now Carter just had to get there.

  He didn’t know if he could do this if Carter wasn’t with him. There was no going back from this next move and if Carter didn’t understand that, then Rock doubted if the man ever would. And he couldn’t think about that option.

  Carter was in a slump, that was all. He had no doubt that the confident, poised man he’d met and fell in love with was still there. He just had to be reminded of that so he could stop denying his future. Their future. And they had one, Rock was positive of that.

  He just hoped that the one he wanted was the same one Carter did.

  * * *

  He needed to shower. He should’ve been dressed and there already. His suit was laid out on the bed, his shirt crisp from the dry cleaners. And here he sat, unable to move.

  Carter stared at the suit, the black material popping against the lighter color of the duvet cover. He’d worn it many times for his job. It was his best one. But tonight was different. It was the start of a new life—if he dared to take it.

  He dropped his head into his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs as the panic set in once again. His skin was chilled, yet there was an inferno burning within him. His stomach was kinked so tight he doubted it’d ever go back to normal.

  He couldn’t do it but he had to. It was the same battle he’d waged with himself for weeks. God, he didn’t want to let Rock down. He didn’t want to lose him or hurt him. Not again.