Give Yourself Away

by Barbara Elsborg

  One guy intent on caution. One an adrenaline junkie. Love could be one risk too many.

  March is determined to lose the numbness that accompanies a history of loss and blame. Desperate to feel something—anything—the adrenaline junkie base jumps off cliffs, soars on hang gliders, and embarks on dangerous sea-borne rescue missions. But any release he feels is fleeting, and when you play Russian roulette with fate, eventually you come crashing down.

  No matter how hard Caleb tries to forget his past, a dark shadow is always behind him. When a bizarre turn of events results in him being trapped in a sea cave, Caleb wonders how his mantra—safety at all costs—could have failed him. On the point of drowning, he’s stunned when March surfaces in the cave.

  March’s disregard for the rules saves Caleb’s life but gets March into a heap of trouble. Not least of which is the guy shivering in the boat next to him. March tries to ignore Caleb but it’s already too late. Together, they take small, awkward steps toward love. But Caleb’s past is waiting to sink in its claws…and this time, it could drag him to his death.

  Warning: This book contains difficult flashbacks of child abduction and sexual violence, but also the incredible perseverance of two men who never give up on love—or each other. Bring your tissues and a heart that believes in the resilience of the human spirit.

  Give Yourself Away

  Barbara Elsborg

  Dedication

  To my faithful, patient and keen-eyed beta readers—Arlene, Rita, Pam and Shelley. Thank you so much for the time you spent helping me.

  And for my editor, Christa, who continues to believe in me and cheers me up when life grinds me down. And for all those professionals who worked on the book. More thanks!

  And for the music of Hozier and the dancing of Polunin, who wormed their way into this story and into my heart.

  And to my husband who hasn’t read this and never will because he likes seafaring historicals with no sex whatsoever. But he helps in other ways!

  Chapter One

  Fifteen Years Ago

  “Hurry up,” Baxter pleaded.

  He was cycling ahead of Tye on the track that led down to the beach and kept looking over his shoulder to check if Tye was following. Tye didn’t want to hurry. He didn’t even want to be there. It was getting dark and he was cold, but Baxter was his friend, his only friend, and where Baxter led, Tye followed.

  “I see his van,” Baxter called. “Come on. I don’t want him to leave.”

  Baxter lifted his backside off the seat and pedaled furiously, whooping as he skidded at breakneck speed around a bend. Until Baxter arrived at high school, transferred in from another county, Tye had resigned himself to years of not fitting in, but the moment the tall, dark-eyed, dark-haired boy stepped in front of a bully in the playground and stopped Tye getting beaten, Tye had fallen in love. Baxter was popular, clever and brave.

  No one liked Tye. He wasn’t brave or clever. He wasn’t good at anything except identifying birds and dancing. Although no one knew about the dancing, not even Baxter, and maybe Tye wasn’t good at it but just thought he was. Even though Baxter was three years older than he was, Tye couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Except that Baxter treated him like a younger brother and Tye didn’t want to be his younger brother. He wanted to be his boyfriend.

  Tye cycled up to the van, his wheels spraying gravel as he skidded to a halt. There was no sign of Liam or of Baxter and his bike. They’d met Liam a week ago when he was sea angling, and they’d stopped to look at the fish he’d caught—well, Baxter had stopped, so Tye had too—and started to talk to him. They’d stayed for ages. Liam had shared his sandwiches, given them beer to drink—Tye didn’t like it but Baxter did—and promised them fishing rods he no longer used. Tye didn’t think he’d like fishing. He didn’t fancy putting a hook through something that was alive, let alone the thought of that hook sliding into a fish’s mouth, but Baxter had persuaded him to give it a try.

  “Baxter?” Tye got off his bike and laid it on the ground.

  There was a muffled noise from the van and then the back door opened and Liam emerged smiling, his shaggy blond hair looking even messier than last time. Tye wondered what that sound had been.

  “Where’s Baxter?”

  “In the van, picking the best rod for himself. You better take a look before you end up with a fishing net.”

  Tye stepped forward and Liam clapped a vile-smelling cloth against his face. As Tye began to struggle, he only had time to register he’d made a terrible mistake before the world disappeared.

  * * *

  Present Day

  Caleb headed up Victor’s drive carrying a bottle of wine he’d bought from the local supermarket. He didn’t feel like going to a party, even Victor’s, which were usually fun. For the last month, Caleb had been driving forty miles to work and back, six days a week, and he’d promised himself he’d never accept work that far away again. Finally the job was done, leaving him with no enthusiasm for anything other than slumping in front of the TV with his head resting on his boyfriend’s lap. And not even facedown. But Mike had texted to say he was going to the party whether Caleb was or not, so hoping to stave off Mike’s inevitable post-party sulk, Caleb had showered and headed straight out again.

  Victor’s door was ajar, light and music spilling onto the drive. When Caleb heard the sound of splashing, he wondered if Mike was in the hot tub. He wasn’t slow to take advantage of an opportunity to put his body on display, though Caleb wasn’t complaining, not when he got to sleep next to him every night.

  Until he’d pushed his way to the kitchen, Caleb didn’t spot anyone in the crowd he recognized. Mike hadn’t been in any of the downstairs rooms or outside. Victor stood by the fridge, glass of wine in one hand, cigarette in the other. He was dressed in white, his tanned face shining like polished wood, veneers dazzling, a rapt audience hanging on to his every word as he name-dropped with abandon. Caleb wondered if Victor really had met all those famous people or was making it up.

  When Victor spotted him, Caleb thought for a moment alarm flashed across his face before the smile returned. Caleb waved the bottle in Victor’s direction.

  “Hide it, dear boy,” Victor called. “If it cost more than five pounds, it’ll it be wasted on these philistines.”

  Caleb laughed and added it to the others on the countertop. When Mike had introduced Caleb to Victor four months ago, they’d immediately clicked. Victor listened when Caleb talked, and laughed at his jokes. Caleb liked the camp middle-aged actor, especially his sharp wit, though not enough to accept his regular offers of “my slightly saggy arse, a spectacular blowjob or a better-than-average hand job”.

  Victor fought his way across the kitchen. “I didn’t think you were going to come, my darling.”

  “Who has a party on a Thursday night? If I’d had to drive forty miles to work tomorrow morning, I don’t think I could have, but today was my last day. Where’s Mike?”

  “Somewhere around. Don’t rush off. Standing next to you makes me feel young again.” He bent his head to whisper, “And gives me a chance to have a quick feel of your arse. I promise not to squeeze too hard. Well, not unless you beg. Please beg.”

  Caleb chuckled and lifted Victor’s hand away from where it was making a tickly journey up his thigh. “You want Mike to rearrange your lovely face?”

  Jealousy was another of Mike’s failings, along with his vanity. He didn’t like it if Caleb even chatted to another guy, though Mike wasn’t the type to resort to violence, just vitriol or massive drawn-out sulks.

  When Victor didn’t smile quite as broadly as Caleb had expected,
a sliver of discomfort pricked his stomach.

  “It might be worth it,” Victor said. “My motto, as far as sex is concerned, is Never Give Up. Not even when they put me in the coffin, which I’d like you to make for me, sweetheart. You have such talented hands. I’d like huge cocks carved all the way around the sides. Based on—” Victor pressed his lips together.

  Caleb could guess what he was going to say. “Where is Mike?”

  “Forget him. Come and meet Paul and tell me what you think. I have no idea where he came from but he’s big and butch and…” Victor fanned his face.

  But Caleb was worried about Mike now. He slipped outside, and although the hot tub contained three naked men, Mike wasn’t among them. The sliver of discomfort morphed into something much bigger as Caleb walked back through the kitchen to the hall. He caught sight of Victor standing by the fridge, watching him, a look of anguish on his face, and Caleb’s feet grew heavier as he climbed the stairs. When he spotted a group of guys gathered around an open bedroom door, Caleb guessed what he might see before he walked over.

  The guy who’d been his boyfriend for just over four months, the guy who’d thrilled him when he asked him to move in two months ago, the guy who only last week had told Caleb he thought he was falling for him big-time, had his eyes closed and an expression of bliss on his face as he jerked himself off while riding some wanker’s massive cock. It looked even bigger than Mike’s. That wouldn’t have gone down well with Mike. But it obviously wasn’t irritating enough to stop Mike cheating on him.

  “Twenty-two minutes,” a man shouted and looked around as he felt Caleb at his shoulder. His eyes widened and he nudged the guy standing next to him, who wet his lips in anticipation.

  They wouldn’t get a scene. Mike did scenes. Caleb did the opposite. He backed away before Mike looked up and revealed he didn’t give a fuck that his boyfriend was watching him perform in some sex marathon, or, even worse, asked Caleb to join them. Quite telling that Caleb didn’t expect Mike to burst into tears of shame and regret. He hated to think what Mike would have done if the situation had been reversed. Not that Caleb would have cheated.

  Oh shit. We’re over.

  Disappointment warred with anger. Disappointment won. Just.

  “Twenty-three minutes,” someone called.

  Caleb staggered down the stairs. Seemed you could take the guy out of the porn industry but not the porn industry out of the guy. Had Mike ever had that expression on his face when we were fucking? Caleb’s heart began to beat so fast he imagined it sprinting out of control and bursting from his chest, running away faster than his feet could manage. How was it that the things you first liked about someone ended up being what broke you apart?

  He’d fallen for Mike’s exuberant sexiness, his gregarious nature, his cheeky smile, his ability to get on with everyone, his perfectly honed, perfectly beautiful body, and even his filthy mouth because it made Caleb laugh when Mike wasn’t yelling at him. Everyone loved Mike. Maybe that was the problem. He was too good for Caleb and yet nowhere near good enough.

  Victor caught his arm as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t let it get to you, angel. He’s not right for you.”

  You think? Caleb couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe. There’s my heart racing out the door. Go after it.

  “He can’t help himself,” Victor said. “Too long spent fucking for a living. He won’t even see what he’s done wrong. He’ll tell you it’s you he loves and that’s all that matters.”

  Caleb suspected Mike had said that to Victor after he cheated on him. Hadn’t that been warning enough? Mike hadn’t cheated on Victor with Caleb. It had been some random guy in a club a year before while Mike was still fucking for a living. But Victor was right. Mike would likely tell him what he’d just seen didn’t mean anything. Caleb wouldn’t give him the chance.

  “It isn’t all that matters.” Victor gave him a small smile. “He’ll always be an exhibitionist. I’d probably be just like him if I had a body like his to flaunt. I used to go hard at the mere thought of seeing his abs. Lordy, I still do. I have all his videos on a hard drive. I didn’t mind what he did. It was his job, but…” Victor stroked Caleb’s wrist with his thumb, “…he’s damaged, sunshine. He hides it well, but he’s fucked up and he fucks others up.”

  The bleak look in Victor’s eyes told Caleb what he’d missed. Victor still loved Mike. Shit.

  As for being damaged, no one here would score higher than Caleb.

  “Come into the kitchen,” Victor said. “Have a drink. Meet some new people. Cop a quick feel of the rather marvelous Paul before Jamie drags him home. Little Jamie can’t believe his luck. Not his type at all. Looks like he’s coming out of his shell.”

  Unable to speak, Caleb pulled free of Victor’s hold and bolted through the front door. He tried to inhale the cool night air, and nothing went into his lungs. Oh fuck. Not now. He hadn’t had a panic attack for months.

  When he reached the road, still not having taken a breath, he thumped himself in the stomach, which restarted his breathing although he was doing it far too fast, frantically sucking at the air as if he’d run a marathon. Caleb tried to slow his respiration and take long, deep breaths, but his vision blurred and his hands were sticky with sweat.

  In this state, he’d collapse before he made it to the bus stop. A short way along the street from Victor’s, Caleb stumbled into the front garden of an unlit house and crouched behind a car. All he needed now was someone to think that he was a thief or a peeping Tom, or that he was taking a piss, and call the police. Caleb tried to concentrate on his breathing. In. Out.

  Mike’s face. That look. Oh fuck.

  Breathe, not think.

  But the pain of what he’d seen pierced Caleb’s chest as effectively as a knife. It wouldn’t have surprised him to see blood on his shirt. Did boyfriend mean something different to Mike?

  Caleb longed for someone to hold him, to brush the floppy hair from his eyes, tell him everything was going to be all right, and for it to really be all right. But everyone who’d ever done that for him had either died or lied to him, left or hurt him. So it had to be his fault, didn’t it? He was the common denominator. There had to be something about him that was inherently unlovable. Fine to fuck, but beyond that, he was undesirable.

  He buried his face in his hands. Caleb knew he ought to go back and confront Mike, tell him how he felt. But what was the point in confrontation? He didn’t want to be with someone who cared so little about him. Caleb didn’t do the baring-your-soul bit, but Mike didn’t care. He’d not only cheated on him, but done it publicly.

  Even if Caleb hadn’t gone to the party, one of their mutual friends would have been unable to resist gossiping. Most likely Jamie, who always seemed to know everything that happened, sometimes before it happened. The gay grapevine was notoriously efficient and reliably vicious.

  “No one will ever care for you as much as me.”

  The voice from the past in his head made panic surge again. Caleb was so messed up. Maybe he’d never be right. He clenched and unclenched his fists as anxiety began to eat him up. The pain in his heart increased to the point that it began to overwhelm him. He shook as though racked with fever. His stomach churned and his chest tightened as if some medieval torture device were screwing his ribs together.

  Oh fuck. Maybe it was more than anxiety. Maybe he was having a heart attack. This was it. He was going to die. The pain in his heart grew worse.

  Don’t be stupid. You’re not having a heart attack. In. Out. In. Out. Don’t think of anything else. Remember what the doctor said. Just breathe and count. Slow. Steady.

  Gradually the pain faded and his breathing eased. Now he could get up and walk away, though being aware of the requirement to do it and actually doing it were two entirely different things. It distressed him to have fallen apart so easily. All this time spent thinking he was gett
ing stronger and stronger. He couldn’t let what happened when he was a kid wreck his life.

  It already has.

  Caleb clenched his fists and his jaw. No, it fucking hadn’t. He wouldn’t let it.

  When he felt calmer and his breathing had eased, he made his way back onto the street and headed in the direction of the main road. Home. That was all he needed to keep in his head, except he couldn’t call it home anymore. What he’d just seen had destroyed that. Home was somewhere you wanted to be—a safe, happy place.

  He heard footsteps behind him, a whisper of his name, and adrenaline flooded his body. He didn’t want to talk to Mike. But after he’d psyched himself up to confront him, he turned to see an empty path. Somehow that was worse than spotting Mike or some shadowy figure on his tail.

  But as Caleb continued along the road, the sound of footsteps returned and his mouth went dry. Not Mike. Not his style. Mike was the in-your-face type. Nothing was secret with him. He was the opposite of Caleb.

  The footsteps stopped when Caleb did, started when he set off again. He told himself it was his imagination, yet wasn’t convinced. His past was always on his shoulder, ready and waiting to wreck his present and his future. He sped up.

  By the time Caleb reached the main road, he was sprinting like a frightened animal, his heartbeat pounding like a jackhammer in his ears. He turned left and leapt onto a bus as it pulled away from the stop, which earned him a telling-off from the driver.

  Caleb dropped into a seat. That frantic jump showed his desperation. Caleb wasn’t a risk taker. He was so cautious he annoyed everyone, particularly Mike. But then that wasn’t going to be a problem anymore.

  His gaze slid to the window and he scanned the road he’d run up as the bus passed it. Was that someone lurking in a shop doorway? Caleb forced himself to face forward. For fuck’s sake. There was no one there.

  He couldn’t go through this again. Last time he’d been convinced he was being followed, after his boyfriend Simon died, Caleb had become so consumed with paranoia he’d been admitted to a psych ward. They’d wanted him to talk and he couldn’t, but at least he’d felt safe there.