The Alcove (Lavender Shores Book 7)

by Rosalind Abel

  It didn’t matter that I wasn’t going to act on my attraction to him again, didn’t matter the fucked-up little fantasies that played in my mind anytime he was near; it was more than that. Some core part of me responded to the man. And that part demanded I keep him safe from anything and everything.

  Whatever the cause, that basic instinct couldn’t be ignored.

  That fact only added to my anger at him.

  Not only had he been drunkenly stupid enough to nearly be abducted by his asshole ex, but he was just going to sit there and listen as those kids talked about their abuse? Then reprimand me for actually saying something?

  Jasper finally broke the silence as we entered the forested road, the tall pines forming a wall on either side and the fading blossoms of the California buckeyes creating weird clumpy shadows overhead. “There’s no need to feel bad, Russell. It’s okay.”

  I thought I’d misheard. “Feel bad?”

  “Yeah. I should’ve done a better job of explaining what the group was, and what the lives of these kids are like.” Tentatively, he reached out and put a hand on my knee. For the first time, his touch didn’t spark lust. “I know you’ve seen a lot of things during protection services and such, but I guess I just took it for granted that you could handle what the kids go through. It was totally my fault.”

  I slammed on the brakes, both of us shooting forward, stopped by the seatbelts. He let out a cry, and I realized I’d certainly hurt his already bruised body, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I twisted in the seat to glare at him. “You think I can’t handle what those kids go through?”

  Even in the dim moonlight filtering down through branches and the windshield, shock was evident on his face. And confusion. “I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

  I snorted. “How the hell else is someone supposed to take that?”

  Jasper’s mouth moved wordlessly, and then he blinked and found something to say, unfortunately. “Well, I know you’re strong and that you’re trained in protection, but you’ve kind of just bodyguarded stars and football players’ girlfriends and—” He gestured at himself.“—football players’ little brothers. It’s a lot different than what happens to kids. Even when horrible things happen to grown-ups, it’s awful, but when it happens to a kid, it’s a completely different thing.”

  “Really? I’m nothing more than a bodyguard to the stars? I’m Kevin Costner to your Whitney Houston or some shit?”

  From his flinch and the way his mouth dropped open, his answer was clear.

  “Oh my God, you’ve actually thought of that, haven’t you?”

  “Can anyone hear the word bodyguard without thinking of Whitney Houston?” His words were barely a whisper, and there was a hint of defiance in them, but also a touch of fear.

  And that sound caused my guilt to flare, but it only served to make me angrier. “And how the hell do you know what I have or haven’t done? What I am or am not prepared for?” Even as my volume increased, this conversation felt familiar.

  “Russell.” Jasper lifted the hand that had been on my knee mere moments before. “I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry. I’m explaining it wrong. I’m not trying to insult you being a bodyguard.”

  “I’m not a fucking bodyguard!” As I screamed, I punched the steering wheel, triggering a loud cutting blare from the horn.

  That sound permeated my fury, at least a little. When I looked over to see Jasper flat against the passenger door of the truck, his hand reaching for the door handle, that sight washed the rest away.

  “Wait.” I started to reach for him, then pulled my hand back as he flinched. “Please wait.”

  Though his hand didn’t lower from the door handle, neither did he pull it and rush out into the night.

  I took a few long, slow breaths. Not all of my anger was gone, but it was no longer directed at him. I knew where I’d had this conversation before, besides countless times in my own head. It wasn’t his fault. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Jasper.”

  He studied me warily, his expression slicing at my heart.

  “I know it didn’t look like it, but I swear to you, I will never hurt you. Ever.”

  After a few moments he dropped his hand, but kept his distance. Though his wariness continued to wound me, I was almost relieved to see that he didn’t let his guard down too quickly. He wasn’t weak. And he wasn’t stupid, regardless of the attraction he clearly had for me. I was a stranger to him. One who’d just had an outburst in front of a bunch of kids, then tried to break his own fist on a steering wheel.

  I debated what to do, how to make him feel at ease, then decided I should give him the choice. “Do you want me to keep going to the bookshop, or should I pull over and we can talk through this now?”

  He considered, but not for long. “So, you’re not really a bodyguard?”

  Pull over and talk then and there it seemed. I did that, as I tried to decide how much to say. I wasn’t going to lie to him, but he was a stranger to me too, no matter how much I wanted him.

  Once we were safely on the side of the road, I slid the truck into Park and turned to face him once more. I nearly took off my seat belt, but then left it attached on an impulse, in case he needed a barrier between the two of us. “I am a bodyguard. At least I am now, for the past… nearly seven years.” It seemed like lifetimes ago, and yet a heartbeat, since it had all come crashing down. I could see the obvious question in his eyes, so I kept going, still not sure how much I was going to share, but figured I’d wing it. “I’m only a bodyguard because I have to be. I was a cop before. A sergeant, actually. I was a cop for nearly twenty years. And I come from a long, long line of police officers and law enforcement. Literally every man in my family.”

  Jasper blinked a couple of times, nodded, but still seemed confused. Then he suddenly let out a soft comprehension-dawning breath and finally relaxed back into his seat. “So you have seen cases like my kids before.”

  I nearly laughed. “Yeah. Just a few.”

  “Oh.” He nodded again. “I wasn’t aware, obviously. I didn’t mean what I said before as an insult.”

  “I know that.” I tried to smile but had no idea whether I succeeded or not. “It was my own issues coming through. They had nothing to do with you. I’m not mad at you in the slightest.” Even as the words left my lips, I realized they weren’t actually true. And try though I might, I couldn’t keep the fact from showing. “Though I really don’t understand, Jasper. I really, really don’t understand how you could just sit and listen to what those kids go through and do nothing. I thought that place was supposed to be a safe haven for gay kids.”

  Once more I saw that flash of steel in Jasper, and despite my new ignited frustration with him, I loved that it was there. “Of course we don’t do nothing. Anytime we hear of abuse, we contact social services. We have a whole fleet of therapists who give their time. We have survivors of abuse come in and give talks every so often. But we also have to ride that balance of contacting the authorities and using judgment so we don’t make it where the kids aren’t allowed to come back. Many of them are there without their family knowing, and it’s imperative they don’t find out. But if we ever think a kid is actually in danger, of course we do something.”

  “That judgment call isn’t up to—”

  “I didn’t say that it was.” He cut me off, fiery anger I’d yet to observe in him blazing forward. “In fact, I said we always contact the authorities. And whether you’re a cop or not, doesn’t mean you understand how those groups work, how part of the magic in a setting like the one you witnessed tonight is that a kid is safe to say whatever they want. Whatever they want, and no one will judge it, either positively or negatively. They simply get to speak their truth, whatever it is. Any sort of response other than acknowledgment that they were heard can stifle the willingness to share what’s really going on. And of course we follow-up. And of course, the other members of the groups contact them when they’re at home or at some other time during the week. But in that moment, t
here is a sacred promise to honor their words simply for what they are.”

  I started to speak again, but Jasper made a cutting sweep of his hand through the air.

  “Wait.” He repeated the gesture. “Just wait.” He took a shaky breath, then met my gaze once more. “I’m not angry that you responded to Alex the way you did. I’m angry at myself. Like I said, I should’ve done a better job preparing you.” He lifted a finger. “Cop or not. However, what I do have a problem with is how you responded after. To you, I might just sell books and be some twink who needs protection, but I’m good with those kids. And I’m smart. You should’ve asked for clarification before jumping down my throat. In this situation, maybe I actually do know more about these kids and what they go through than you.”

  His words triggered such a range of emotions in me that I had to wait and sift through them. Finally, I nodded. “You’re right. I handled it wrong, and I was disrespectful to you in several ways.” I waited until his gaze lifted to mine. “And I don’t simply see you as someone who needs protection. It’s clear that you are both smart and capable. And just watching you with Xander in the bookshop shows how much love you have for him, and I’m sure for the rest of the kids.”

  He studied me, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Thank you.”

  I could’ve stopped there. I was tempted to stop there. But I wanted more. I simply wasn’t certain if that “more” was justification or having Jasper Getty know me past the bodyguard that he saw. “But I do get their situation, maybe not in a group therapy session, but I do know what might happen when Alex goes home.”

  “I get that, but still—”

  “Now you wait.” My voice had started to rise, so I took another breath and regained control. “I’m going to tell you a story. On one condition. You try out that therapy thing you just described. Where I speak, and you don’t respond. You just let me be heard, whether you agree with what I say or not.”

  Jasper just stared at me, wide-eyed.

  I really did want him to know me more, and though I wasn’t exactly sure the why of it all, I wanted the experience he’d described. If I didn’t get it, I wouldn’t be able to tell him. “Can you agree to that?”

  He hesitated just long enough that I was certain his response was genuine. “Sure. I can do that.”

  “It was my last night being a cop.” My words seemed to echo around in the cab of the truck, reverberating deep into my skull, and I caught myself.

  Was I really going to do this?

  No. I wasn’t. There was no reason to do it. No good one anyway.

  When Jasper reached out and slipped his hand into mine, I realized I’d been shaking my head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. But I’ll just listen if you decide you want to talk.”

  That was all it took. Maybe his words, maybe the touch of his hand, maybe just the gentle strength radiating from him beside me. “We brought a guy in for questioning. I was in the interrogation room with the officers who’d made the arrest. The man had beat up his son. Beat him so badly that the kid ended up spending the next three days in the hospital. He was thirteen.” I looked into Jasper’s eyes as I spoke, but the contact was too much suddenly, even in the dim starlit night. I refocused over his shoulder, through the window into the dark shapeless shadows of the forest. “He caught his son trying on his mother’s lipstick and eye shadow and stuff. I don’t know if the kid was trans or whatever like Alex, or had simply watched too many episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race. Not that the reason matters, the result was the same. The father lost his shit. The mom was the one to call the cops. Just like Alex’s mom did, supposedly.” I tried to look at Jasper again, but I couldn’t, just couldn’t. “During the interview, the father didn’t even try to deny anything. There was absolutely no remorse. He said that he did what any good father would do, that he was simply correcting his son. He was going to make him a man; he was going to beat the faggot out of him. Said that his son needed to be saved or he’d go to hell.”

  Jasper had stayed utterly silent, but as I forced my eyes to meet his, I saw horror over his face and understanding. I didn’t look away as I finished. “When the father said that he’d do it again, exactly that same way if that’s what it took to save his son, I lost my shit. I leaped across the table and started beating the brains out of the fucker. Took a bit for the other officers to pull me off. By the time they did, that asshole would have to spend over a week in the hospital. So at least longer than his kid.” Even then, pride filled me at the recollection.

  Jasper waited until I was done, nodded, and though he was clearly affected by the story, his eyes were dry, proving that there was a bit of police-hardness from all he’d seen in him after all. “So you lost your badge?”

  “Yeah.” I did laugh then, though it was dark and bitter. “I lost my badge. If it weren’t for all the connections in my family on the force, it would’ve been a lot worse than that. As it was, the man actually got a settlement from the city. A fucking settlement.”

  “Shit.” Jasper clearly wanted to say more, but he was holding true to his bargain.

  Maybe that meant I should’ve stopped there, but I couldn’t. Though this time I knew it was so he would be aware that I knew what I was talking about, not simply so he would know me more. “You want to hear what happened nine months later?”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I could see the knowledge dawn in his eyes, but he nodded, nonetheless.

  “He served his time, did some therapy and classes, convinced the judge and child services that he was a changed man. Enlightened and all that fucking shit. And of course they all went along with it, always so obsessed with keeping the biological family intact, not to mention that it saves a shit ton of money that way.” As I spoke, my anger continued to build, but I stayed aware of Jasper’s continued grip on my hand and made sure to not clench my fist around him. “And come to find out, just as predicted, his wife took him back. They had three whole nights of familial bliss, Jasper. Three whole nights before he beat his kid to death. So don’t tell me that I don’t know what might happen to Alex.”

  He simply nodded. And a tear rolled from behind his glasses and down his cheek.

  Once home, the alarm was set, and we said our goodnights in such a reserved, platonic manner there was no danger of either of us sneaking into the other’s room, and went to bed.

  Eleven

  Jasper

  “I can’t believe how many of these things you sell.” Joel lifted off the top copy of Lavender Love from the stack, turned to the right page by memory, and signed his name in permanent marker under the photo of him and his husband. “The book has been out for… what… four years now almost? I feel like every time we come in to sign, you make us autograph more and more of them.” He slid the open book across the counter toward Andrew, who automatically began to sign as well. “I still don’t get it. Who the hell buys these signed copies? They can buy the unmarked ones for forty bucks; here they’re laying down a hundred. It’s not like we’re famous.”

  “Says the man who just paid a hundred and fifty dollars for a baseball card signed by Stan Musical.” Andrew rolled his eyes and waited for Joel to finish signing the next book.

  “His name was Stan Musial. He played for the St. Louis Cardinals.” Joel didn’t look up from Lavender Love. “And Jack Weber comes into the store every Friday like clockwork asking if I have any new Stan Musial memorabilia. He’ll pay a lot more than that hundred and fifty bucks. That same profit can’t be said for our picture, honey.”

  “Well, whoever he is, I’m sure Jasper really drives home the point that the profits all go to charity.” He directed a long-suffering sigh in my direction. “By listening to my husband, you’d think he was the most unromantic person in the world. Luckily for me, the core of him is soft and gooey.”

  “Well, the two of you are about as adorable together as you possibly can be.” I almost added that they were as hot together as any porn stars could ever hope
to be, so that didn’t hurt sales either, but I kept that thought to myself. There were certain things you simply didn’t say to friends. “How long have you two been together now?”

  Andrew lifted his pen, pausing between his first and last name. “Well, Sandy is four, so….”

  “Seven years.” Joel remained focused on his copy of Lavender Love. “And no itch in sight.”

  “See, a soft and gooey center.” Andrew beamed and then bumped Joel’s shoulder affectionately, causing the marker to slide across the page.

  “Well, great, now we have to buy this one.”

  Andrew slid the heavy book over. “No, I’ll just use the mess-up as the line in my A. It’ll work.”

  The two continued to lovingly bicker as they worked their way through the stack of books. A few years before, another couple in town—Lamont, a writer, and his husband, Tyler, a photographer—joined forces and made a stunningly beautiful coffee-table book of all the couples in town and told their love stories. There was no other book in my shop I sold more of. When I ran low on the autographed copies, I’d order a large supply, send out an email to all who were pictured in the book, and they’d wander in over a week or two and sign their pages. First, it seemed like a lot of extra work, but I’d come to treasure each time the occasion rolled around. It helped me feel more and more connected to Lavender Shores, watching the ups and downs of the love stories that occurred in the little town. Every so often it left me with the sensation that I was missing out on a journey of my own, but I learned to simply be thankful that I got to take part in this small way.

  As Andrew and Joel continued to work their way through the stack, I dared to glance at Russell, who remained in his watchtower position by the window. I noticed he’d moved on to the second book in the Peridale series. Perhaps he’d stayed up late the night before finishing the first installment. It’d taken me hours to fall asleep, but I hadn’t heard any noises from his side of the wall. I’d wanted to go curl up in the alcove and get lost to a book by candlelight, as I normally did when sleep wouldn’t come, but hadn’t wanted to leave my room. Feared that if I did, I’d find myself knocking on his door.