by Lynn VanDorn
“Yeah. Mr. Chadwick.” It was said with a wisp of humor. “Knowing he's not my father should help, but it doesn't. I’ve been sitting here, thinking about him in that hospital, wanting to want his death and not quite making it. I think part of me thinks that if I leave and go back home, he'll die as soon as I get on that airplane, which makes no sense. I shouldn't care one way or the other. Josh, what the hell is wrong with me?”
Josh brought his hand up to stroke Tyler’s hair. “He raised you. You thought he was your father. Love and hate can't be turned on or off like a spigot.”
“I don't love him. I don't think I ever loved him. I used to think that maybe I was a changeling, you know, like in fairy tales, and one day I'd find out that I was really a fairy prince and not his child at all. And now it’s all come true, except that instead of being a fairy prince, it turns out I’m just another Irish kid from suburban Chicago.” He huffed, and Josh was amused to realize that Tyler was upset at finding out he was common as muck. He was, despite all his protesting, a bit of a snob. Like his snoring, it was another thing about Tyler he shouldn't find endearing but did anyway.
“You’re my fairy prince,” Josh said, applying balm onto Tyler’s wounded sensibilities.
Tyler elbowed him. “Shut up. At some point in elementary school one of my teachers remarked how much I looked like my mother, and I saw how true that was. Same hair, same eyes. I knew I couldn't be a changeling. If I was my mother's son then I must be my father's as well, like it or not. Only now I've found I'm not, but I still can't let him go. Years of abuse didn't do it. Learning we're not at all related didn't do it. I just want to stop caring, Josh. It hurts too much.”
“I think you’re your father's son, like it or not, and you always will be. We're a product of our genes, yes, but also our environment. Peter Chadwick is your father. He hasn't been a particularly good one, but learning he doesn't share your DNA doesn't strip him of fatherhood. If it did, every person who ever adopted a kid wouldn’t be a ‘real’ parent, and every one of them is as real as it gets. Mike Connolly might be your biological father, but Peter Chadwick is your dad, for better or worse.”
Tyler banged his head several times against the thankfully well-padded back of the sofa. “How do I stop caring? How do I make him not matter?”
“I don't think you can. Or maybe it just takes time. I don't know.”
Tyler moved so that he was back on Josh’s lap, this time facing him. He grabbed Josh’s face and kissed him hard. “Then make me forget. Please.”
Josh took hold of Tyler’s shoulders and pulled him back. The look on his face was heartbreaking. Josh wanted to give Tyler everything, but not this, not now. It might be what he wanted, but it wasn't what he needed.
“I think you need to talk to someone about this,” he said.
“I was,” Tyler said. “I have been. You.”
“Not me. A…” Josh paused, then spit it out. “A therapist.” Tyler stiffened, but Josh plowed on. “I know it hasn't worked for you in the past, but I think you weren't ready before, and maybe now you are. Therapy isn't magic or voodoo. It's just someone impartial who can help you sort things out. I'm not impartial. I'm about as far from impartial as you can get.”
Tyler grunted.
“Does that grunt mean yes or no or maybe or fuck off?”
Tyler sagged on Josh’s lap, laying his head on Josh’s shoulder and melting his body into Josh’s so that there was no space between them. “Maybe,” he said. “But you'll likely have to bully me into it.”
How Josh was going to manage that from clear across the country was anyone's guess.
Tyler let out a deep sigh. “If you won't fuck me, you could at least have the decency to rub my back.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
Tyler yawned and tried to snuggle even closer into Josh, a feat that didn't seem possible.
Josh dipped his hands under Tyler’s soft sweater to stroke the softer skin underneath. Tyler hummed in appreciation but was otherwise silent.
After a while Josh noticed the change in Tyler’s breathing and he realized that Tyler had fallen asleep on him, wonder of wonders. It was still early. They hadn't eaten dinner yet and Josh was starting to get hungry. Even so, he sat still and held Tyler and let him sleep. Just like Tyler had predicted, Josh’s legs had gone numb, but he didn't care.
He wanted to protect Tyler like Ryan had protected him, sheltering him from every snub, cruelty, and humiliation that might come his way. That wasn't possible, though. Even if Tyler would tolerate it, which he inevitably wouldn't, he didn't need it. Tyler was more than capable of fighting his own battles and had been for a long time, even if he didn't always recognize that in himself.
Tyler needed a partner, not a parent. He already had three of those and he didn't need a fourth. Josh could suggest, he could facilitate, he could even cajole, but couldn't force Tyler to do anything. He found that he didn't really want to, either.
He'd promised Tyler that he wouldn't try to fix him. He hadn't promised not to try and help Tyler fix himself, though. That he could do, but again, not from two thousand miles away.
Josh looked around his home, the sanctuary he'd created for himself. His refuge, and if you listened to his sister, his self-imposed prison.
Maybe Tyler wasn't the only one in need of fixing. If Josh expected Tyler to take the first, uncomfortable steps toward fixing himself, maybe Josh needed to consider doing the same thing.
He weighed his options. On one hand was the safe, comfortable life he'd built around himself like a snug cocoon. On the other was a life where everything was new and unfamiliar except for the man he held in his arms. He couldn't have both, and it was past time for him to decide what he really wanted.
It's supposed to be a relationship, Josh, not a suicide pact.
Josh tightened his arms around Tyler. In his mind, he stood hand in hand with him on the edge of that damn cliff, wind whipping at their clothing.
Tyler’s eyes sparkled a dare at him. “Are you ready to jump? All you have to do is take my hand.”
“I thought we already did.”
Tyler shook his head and pointed up. The top of the cliff was maybe ten feet above their heads. Josh realized that they stood on a ledge. The chasm was still far below them.
“You can climb back up and get behind that railing or you can jump the rest of the way with me, but you have to choose. You can't stay here forever. What's it going to be?”
Josh looked first up, then down, and thought about it.
Chapter 37
Princess Tyler Rescues Himself
Monday, October 3rd, 10:47 a.m.
A poorly secured parking garage
Evanston, IL
Tyler was in his own world, his brain far too busy with his thoughts to pay much attention to his surroundings. He'd walked to Josh’s practice to get the Volvo so he could pick up Purvi at the airport. When he'd gone inside to snag the keys, Josh had whisked him into his office, locked the door, and kissed him senseless. Consequently, now he was running a little late.
Tyler was both nervous and excited to introduce Purvi to Josh. He thought they'd like each other. He needed them to like each other. He wasn't sure what he'd do if they didn't like each other. Purvi’s flight was due to touch down in thirty minutes and it would take at least that long to get to the airport with traffic, giving him plenty of time to brood about things, not that he hadn't been doing that all morning already.
Josh didn't want Tyler to stay. Tyler knew, at least in his head, that it wasn't a rejection. Josh didn't want to hold him back or stifle his career and ambitions. He was being noble, of course, and reasonable, which was worse.
“We’ll figure it out, I promise. Somehow,” he’d said. The words had comforted Tyler yesterday, but this morning he thought they sounded bleak, the sort of empty promise you give a child, telling them everything will be all right even when you know damn well it won't.
Tyler knew he wouldn't be satisfied with Skype a
nd vacation visits, not in the long run. He didn't want Josh in the abstract. He wanted him in his house, in his bed, and underfoot, likely scouring the house before Tyler’s cleaning service got the chance. He didn't want Josh halfway across the country and only seen over a computer screen.
Purvi said that she'd fix things, to leave it all to her. Tyler wasn’t sure what she had up her sleeve, but at this point he was willing to let her play fairy godmother if it got him what he wanted. Purvi had worked miracles for him before. Maybe she could pull another one out of her ass and straighten this mess out.
As occupied with his thoughts as he was, Tyler didn't hear anyone approach and was caught unawares when arms came around him from behind.
For a split second, he thought it had to be Josh, the figure featuring so prominently in his thoughts, but he knew almost at once it couldn't be. It didn't feel like Josh, and the smell of his aftershave was all wrong. He stiffened, frozen with shock and fear. It couldn't be. It couldn't.
“It’s me, baby. Did you miss me?”
It was. David held him tight. His breath tickled Tyler’s ear, and he shuddered. He was in a nightmare. That had to be it. One of his stupid nightmares, brought on as usual by stress, and any minute now he'd wake up from it, safe in Josh’s bed. Any minute now.
“Well?” David rasped at him.
“D-david,” Tyler stammered, his tongue thick. “I didn't expect… what are you doing here?” The restraining order wasn't up yet, wouldn't be up for almost a month, but a fat lot of good that did him now, held so that he couldn't get to his phone in the pocket of his coat. He tried to ease his hand backward and David tightened his grip.
“You've been a bad boy, baby,” David purred, and Tyler couldn't help his flinch. He knew that tone all too well. It always preceded pain. David would tell him how bad he was and then punish him, usually with his fists.
“No, I—” David’s hand cut off his air. Blackness crept in on the edge of his vision. No no no no nononononono.
David had done this to him before and Tyler knew that after he woke from the blackout David was inducing, he would be somewhere he didn't want to be. He fought, or tried to, but David was stronger and taller. Tyler remembered Ryan wanting him to take self-defense classes and how Tyler had ignored him. Stupid, so stupid. Typical of him. Just typ…
–—
Monday, October 3rd, 10:58 a.m.
Inside Ryan’s Volvo
Evanston, IL
Tyler came to, as he always had from David’s little choking incidents, with a splitting headache. He didn't want to open his eyes, but he did so anyway. He was in the driver's seat of Ryan's stupid Volvo, and he could almost believe that he'd passed out and David had been merely a dream or hallucination, except he could smell him: Axe and Dial and sweat.
“I know you're awake, Tyler. Let's go for a drive.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Um, David, you can't—”
Tyler’s head snapped back with the force of David’s blow, hitting then rebounding off the headrest. “Don't tell me what I can and can't do. I said drive.”
The car was already running. Tyler itched to turn the car off but didn't dare. He tried again. “David, what do you think you're doing? You know you won't get away with this. The restraining order is still active and this is a third violation. You'll be sent to prison this time. Just get out of the car now, walk away, and I won't say anything, I promise. We can both get on with our lives. No one ever has to know.”
David snorted. “I can't get on with my life. Not without you. Not anymore. I tried, you know. I did. But you just won't get out of my goddamned head.”
Tyler started counting. It was either that or scream. When he spoke, he tried to keep his voice level and calm. “No, Dave. I'm not—”
David smacked him again, hitting his ear and making it ring. “Shut up, Tyler. Shut that ever-loving mouth of yours for once in your life. This is what's going to happen. We're going to back out of this space, and then we’re going for a ride. I'll give you directions. If you're a good boy, I'll be nice to you and we'll do the things you like. If you're not a good boy, I'll have to punish you. If you're a very bad boy, I'll start with your face. There are things even the best plastic surgeon can't fix, Tyler. And then I'll come back here and have a little chat with your handsome doctor where I explain to him the consequences of taking what's mine. So, Tyler, are you going to be a good boy or not?”
White, hot, impotent rage filled Tyler, blinding him for a second. The panic that he'd felt from being at David’s mercy paled next to his fear of David coming back and hurting Josh. He struck out at David, trying to go for his eyes, but his wrist was caught almost at once in David’s hand. He'd forgotten how damn quick the man could move when he wanted. At one time that speed and dexterity had been arousing. Now it was just frightening.
“I could break your wrist so easily,” David said. “You always were delicate.” He squeezed, grinding the bones together in Tyler’s wrist. He moaned, but refused to scream.
“Are you going to be a good boy or not? I'm getting what I want either way. The choice is yours.”
Never letting go of Tyler’s hand, David used his other hand to grab something down by his leg. When he brought it up, nervous sweat prickled on Tyler’s temples. It was a gun. David had a gun. Tyler felt his breathing speed up and knew if he didn't do something he was going to hyperventilate, so he started to count slowly, breathing in on the odds and out with the evens.
“Are you going to shoot me?”
David gave him a sad, chiding look. “Baby, I don't want to hurt you. Don't make me have to.”
Tyler knew then he was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.
Stop. I can't panic. He wants me to panic. If I go along, maybe I can find my way through this. If I panic, he automatically wins, and fuck that. David does not get to win.
David placed Tyler’s hand on the steering wheel. “Remember what they told you in driving school,” he said with chilling cheer. “Both hands on the wheel at ten and two. Remove your hands from the wheel, Tyler, and I will make you regret it. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Tyler breathed.
“Yes, what?”
Tyler clenched his jaw. He knew what David wanted to hear and he didn't want to say it, but he wanted even less to provoke David. “Yes, sir.” He didn't trust himself to look at David in that moment. His eyes would give too much away. Tyler breathed in and out slowly and made himself fall back into that younger man who had loved and feared the man sitting beside him in equal measures.
Once he had control over his features, Tyler risked a glance at David. He was left-handed and held the gun low, so that if fired, the bullet would hit Tyler’s thigh. He wouldn't die, at least not right away, but he wouldn't be able to run, either. Tyler couldn't risk getting shot there. He needed to be able to run. While it was an activity he loathed, he was still in better shape than David, who had always emphasized strength training over aerobics. Tyler was sure he could outrun him, given the chance. He just needed to figure out how to turn things around in his favor.
“I'll be good,” he said, injecting the right amount of humility and meekness into his voice. “Wh-where do you want me to drive?”
David reached over to stroke his hair. Tyler made himself keep still under his hand. “I knew you’d be my good boy again,” he said. “Turn left out of the parking garage, then right onto Green Bay. That’ll do for now.”
Tyler automatically buckled his seatbelt, making David laugh. “Oh, I love that. You do want to live. I knew it. Yeah, you'll be my good boy, won't you? Of course, you will.”
Oh, yeah, I'll be your good boy. Right up until the moment when I get the chance to stomp on your face.
The car let out a warning, indicating that the front passenger needed to put on his seatbelt. The front passenger ignored the noise.
Oh, yeah, thought Tyler. That's not going to drive me insane. He wished there was a way to disable it. He sure as fuck wasn�
��t going to ask Mr. Mental Health to buckle up. Today, he'd be playing the role of broken and submissive boy, terrorized out of his mind, and incapable of doing anything but obeying. David had the upper hand, but only for now, and he would get complacent. Tyler needed to be patient. Not one of his better skills, but today he thought he could manage it. It was amazing how patient you could be with a gun pointed at you.
Carefully, Tyler backed out of the parking space, pulled out of the garage, and steered the Volvo into late-morning traffic.
“Watch your driving and that lead foot of yours,” David said. “The last thing we want is to get pulled over. Things could get unnecessarily messy.”
Tyler suppressed a shiver. His mind churned, going a million miles an hour but getting nowhere, trying to think of a way out of his situation. There had to be something he could do. Or maybe he could escape when they got to whatever destination David had in mind. He wanted Tyler to drive north on Green Bay. That would take him back home, or rather, back to the home he grew up in. The problem, though, was that Green Bay went north forever. Up into Wisconsin, all the way to the actual city of Green Bay, but Tyler didn't think they were on their way to see a Packers game. Tyler wished he knew where they were headed but was afraid to ask. Cowering, cowed Tyler should probably keep his mouth shut. He bit his lip and drove.
Out of nowhere, his phone rang with Purvi’s ringtone. Shit. He'd forgotten about her in all the excitement of being kidnapped. His hand left the steering wheel to grab for his phone and he felt the gun jam into his leg. Tyler flinched.
“Hands back on the wheel,” David barked.
Tyler grabbed the steering wheel tightly. His phone continued to ring. “She's not going to give up,” Tyler said, loath to speak but knowing that listening to his phone playing Katy Perry over and over would drive him insane even faster than the car’s persistent seatbelt alarm.