When the truth of that revelation hit him, he stopped drinking long enough to start raging. What he had to show for it? Walls that resembled a drywall version of Swiss cheese, destroying all hope of resale value, enough broken enough bones in his hands to put the ER doctor’s four-year-old through private school, and even worse, he was slipping into that place again. That place where he was ruled by anger. The one that could ruin his life and get him locked up.
So, back to the bottle it was. If for no other reason than to try to drink his temper into a stupor. He may have had to admit Erika wasn’t solely to blame, but he didn’t have to like it, or accept it. The anger he directed at himself was tenfold what he directed at her, and that just pissed him the hell off.
Tori had been calling for better than a week, but he ignored his sister, ignored everyone. The guys were oblivious to his feelings toward Erika and what happened that night, but Tori? Tori was like a dog with a fucking bone, she wouldn’t let it go until she got to the marrow and sucked it dry. The few messages he actually listened to without just auto-deleting before he blocked all voicemail, lead him to believe she knew Erika had planned to talk to him that night, even about how she felt. Of course she would; Tori was Erika’s best friend. They would have gabbed about it.
Did Tori know the truth, that Erika was mar…? God, he still couldn’t stomach the thought. The fact his sister probably knew and didn’t tell him was just insult to fucking injury. How could his sister keep that from him when she knew he loved Erika? Not that he’d ever came out and told her, but she knew all the same, and her loyalty should lie with her brother.
Shit, was this the decade of “fuck Walker Reid?” It sure felt like it. Would every woman with a place in his heart line up and kick him in the nuts? Well, step up to the plate Mom for the grand slam, he thought to himself before he put another hole in the wall.
One thing was sure, if he didn’t get himself under control—the rage, the drinking, his emotions—he would destroy his entire future. Erika may have been the catalyst, but this was all him. The future, his future, depended on him, no one else. Walker could let this destroy him, or strengthen him. The ball was in his court. Destruction or strength? It was time to make a choice, and he would…after another drink.
CHAPTER FIVE
EARLY JUNE
ERIKA
It took Erika two weeks to get to Minot. Two whole weeks, averaging just a few hours a day of dedicated drive time, but that didn’t tell the whole story.
She didn’t actually drive two hours a day. Some days she didn’t drive at all. There were days when she just stayed in a questionable hotel bed, wrapped in a hideously patterned industrial polyester comforter—that offered none at all—and cried. Others, she found a local zoo or other attraction and just wandered around aimlessly, not taking in the sights, eating one fattening thing or another, and you guessed it, crying.
It was all part of the process. She’d lived it enough times to condense it from her childhood/young adult average of forty-two days to a solid, but respectable, twenty-one. Just seven more to go. Grieving for potential adoptive homes that never quite panned out, suffering though abuse, breaking up with boyfriends. Different types of loss; same healing process. Shit, Erika had this down to a science.
Walker was different though. How would that affect her equation? She’d been in lust, even believed a few past relationships were love, and they probably were, but none like Walker. The connection they shared, with or without the sex, was deeper than any other. She realized she’d grieve the loss of the connection they shared before that night almost more than she would the future that would never be.
Kicking into analytical mode was comforting, it put some distance between her and the pain.
Fourteen days? Just fourteen days had passed, and she was only this far along in the “process?” Shit. Well, twenty-one days just wouldn’t cut it, not for the loss of future and past Walker. Re-evaluating the process, this time she would need to factor that in.
After some mental emotional equations and editing her list of steps, she settled on a number. The absolute minimum remaining mourning days for this situation—nineteen. That sounded about right, nineteen more. Now she was at a minimum of thirty-three. Thank God she’d have Andy, she wouldn't survive it without him.
Speaking of which, here she was.
Pulling up to their sprawling country home—which she never lived in—she threw the car in park. Erika reached for her purse on the passenger's seat when her attention returned to the log and stone structure looming in front of her. There he was, her knight in shining armor, or at least lounge pants and fitted white tee. Standing on the stoop, arms extended, a box of tissues in one hand and a pint of Cherry Garcia in the other, she burst into tears instantly at the sight of her savior. His unconditional love was the balm she needed to sooth her fractured soul. He was family, her family.
Andy was an amazing example of what a man should strive to be. A caring individual who valued family, a self-made man who owed no one anything, with a mature version of Abercrombie & Fitch good looks, but graying just enough at thirty-five to be experienced sexy. Rich, good looking, body of a Greek god, compassionate, funny, and fiercely protective of those he loved. God, she loved that man beyond measure. Andy was one of the most amazing people she knew, and she had the privilege to call him family. Everyone he met instantly fell in love with him, they couldn’t help themselves. An extraordinary human being, who, just happens to be, one hundred percent, certifiably, undeniably gay.
***
ANDY
Abandoning her purse, Erika ran from the car and leapt into Andy’s open arms. Dropping his offerings and wrapping her in a much-needed embrace, he soothed her as only he could. “Shh, there now Cinderika, I got you love. I’ve got you now.”
Hugging her tight while she blubbered, he carried her into the house with the toes of her shoes dragging on the ground. Whispering to Marco to get her stuff out of the car, he made a beeline for her bedroom.
Erika’s sniffling stopped halfway across the living room as she finally succumbed to exhaustion. Andy wanted to kill this Walker fellow. Of all the crap he’d seen her endure all these years, the pain that now marred her face eclipsed every bit of it.
Every.
Single.
Bit.
When she confessed her love for Walker a few years back, he knew it was real. Witnessing the immensity of her pain now, Andy could see the depths of that love. By the time he tucked her into bed, he was crying too. The tears flowed for the heartache of his best friend, the only woman he’d ever loved, other than his mother.
As much as Erika liked to claim he rescued her all those years ago, she rescued him too. More than she’d ever know, more than he’d ever be able to repay. Apparently he wasn’t as adept at hiding his sexuality in school as he thought, nor was he as comfortable with it as he tried to be back then.
When the jocks caught the idea he might be gay, they decided a lesson was in order. They actually thought they could teach someone to not be gay. Idiots. What started out as a typical beating—which he could handle, had handled on more than one occasion from various groups of boys since third grade—had quickly descended into something much darker. The difference was, his gay bashing had always taken place privately; this was very public.
Andy couldn’t bear to think where that day would have lead if not for Erika and her outrageous Academy-worthy performance. Having heard their words and taunts as they beat the living shit out of him after school, Erika came raging into that clearing, bawling and screaming about how he’d knocked her up and then jumped into someone else’s bed.
No fear, and with all the logic of a pregnant teen out of options. Begging the ring leader to stop so Andy could get together the money for her to “take care of the problem.” Adding, they could beat the shit out him all day long for all she cared, after he paid for her abortion. It was ridiculous, but it worked like a charm. They never touched him again, they were too bus
y worshiping him for being the biggest stud in school.
Later, other girls came forward to validate his prowess in order to climb the social ladder. All liars, but they wanted to be thought of as a conquest of the richest kid in town and he needed the reputation, so none involved pointed a finger at anyone else. It was a win-win situation. The unexpected bonus of Erika’s spur of the moment plan to save his ass was he didn’t have to tell his father he was gay. He and Erika have been inseparable ever since. To this day, his mom still tells their tale as a love story for the ages.
Erika had agreed to “date” him after that day in the clearing. Her idea. Every boyfriend—that wasn’t really the right word for it, but a more appropriate, non-vulgar one doesn’t come to mind—she’d had was an asshole. They’d only dated her because they thought they were taking something from the “king of the school.” No good guy would ask her out because she was with Andy; only assholes asked out another guy’s girl.
Even through all that, she’d refused to “break up” with him. Assuming it had something to do with the abuse she had suffered through—needing a steady and safe relationship—he never questioned it. He should have, but his own selfishness hadn’t really pushed him to seek the root of it. She seemed happy enough, so he put on blinders, not realizing the reach of his unintentional cruelty until she threw herself into his arms on the stoop and he felt her pain like a living, breathing entity through their embrace.
Even when he thought to marry her and give her the family, the love that she never had, he really did it for himself. Deep down, he knew his mother would accept and love him for who he was, but it’d become a comfortable lie, his marriage. Colleagues just thought his wife traveled a lot for business, and no one questioned it. Not to have to wonder if he was skipped over for promotions or lost clients because of his sexuality was as freeing as not being able to be himself was imprisoning.
A true contradiction.
Erika had given up every shot for a serious relationship that could lead anywhere real, until Walker. The realization she’d done all that for him was humbling. As she slept, Andy looked down at her puffy face that had shed way too many tears in the last two weeks, and saw truths and revelations he should've seen before. The staggering scope of what she willingly surrendered over the last twenty years to keep him in the closet broke his heart.
Brushing her hair from her face, Andy made her another promise. “No more Cinderika. You’ve given up too much for me. No more. I’ll see to it that you get your happily ever after, or I’ll die trying.”
Andy gently closed the door, making his way down the hall, his thoughts jumbled together. He came to a halt in front of Marco, and immediately began talking and pacing. “Saved her my ass! I’ve never saved her Marco, not from anything, especially not from myself. But I will. I vow it. Erika’s the one person I swore to protect and I’ve caused her more pain unintentionally than anyone else ever has on purpose. If this Walker can make her happy, then by God, I’ll see to it that he does. However, if it turns out he’s just another asshole, I’ll use everything at my disposal to destroy him and guarantee he never touches her again.”
Calming breath in, cleansing breath out. Or is it the other way around?
Andy ceased his pacing and came forehead to forehead with one of the three people in this world he truly loved. Lazily stroking his hands up and down Marco’s taught arms, he lowered his voice and spoke. “First things first, I need to divorce Erika. It's a gift that is long overdue, one that I should never have put her in the position to need in the first place. Then, I have to fix this whole Walker mess. Next, I come out to my Mom before she passes. I missed that chance with my dad, but I need my Mom to know the real me before she dies.”
“Ah, my love, your mother knows the real you, she just doesn’t know you’re gay, but that doesn’t define the real you. The real you is the man whose heart is breaking for his best friend, who is trying to comfort me, when what he really needs is someone to comfort him. The man I love with every fiber of my being, who even now is more concerned with everyone else than with himself.”
Marco brought his arms around Andy, dropping a quick kiss on his tear-wet lips. “You did not do her wrong, and I won’t stand for you punishing yourself for some imagined crime. You were both young and you did what you thought was best, you always do. She loves you for it, and so do I. But cariño, you can’t protect her from everything, and you shouldn’t. She has to find her own way through this pain, you can’t just order it or intimidate it away.”
Ceasing his lazy strokes, he placed his hands on Marco’s cheeks and backed up enough to drown in the love that was pooled in Marco’s warm chocolate eyes. “You’re right, I can’t, but I can push her in the right direction and give her the freedom she deserves. After that, I’ll be free to make an honest man out of you.” Placing a gentle kiss on his waiting mouth, Andy continued without leaving Marco’s lips. “That is if you can handle being married to a man who will be singularly occupied with another? At least until I know if he’s her Prince Charming or just another toad. Seeing to my soon to be ex-wife and future surrogate mother of our children’s happiness is as essential to my own as yours is. If you can shoulder all the Samsonite I come with, I would be honored if you’d marry me.”
CHAPTER SIX
MID JULY
ANDY
“Andy, I’m concerned about Erika. She’s not eating enough to keep a fly alive, she hasn’t left the house in weeks, and I’m positive it’s been at least that long since she bathed.” Marco brushed a kiss on Andy’s cheek as he passed by to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Want one?” he asked, raising his mug.
“Sure.” Andy flipped the pancakes and accepted the elixir of life, turning his back on the bubbling batter in the pan. “I know. It’s killing me. I don’t know how to help her. She doesn’t want me involved. Won’t even let me encourage the jerk to take her phone calls. The fact she’s scared enough to hold up the divorce speak volumes. It was her who thought you and me getting married and starting our family sooner rather than later was the best idea ever. Of course, that was before this whole Walker fiasco. Erika wouldn’t keep us apart unless she were terrified, but she refuses to tell me the whole damn story."
Pancakes burning, coffee cups abandoned, Marco pulled Andy into his arms. “Oh cariño, I know you love me, I don’t need a piece of paper to consider us married. In my heart, I knew we would be one since the day you nervously asked me out.”
Pulling away to remove the smoking pan off the flames, Andy spoke low. “That was Erika too. I was so comfortable playing straight, I would have let you walk right out of that coffee shop again and again.”
After dropping the pan in the sink with a sizzle, Andy fondly reminisced. “Did I ever tell you what she said to me that day? She pointed to you sitting in the corner and said, ‘That Spanish God over there, the one you’ve been gooey eyed over every morning for sixteen days? He looks like fun wrapped in happiness, and you deserve both. You should grow a pair and go ask him out.’ Then she did that goofy thing with her eyebrows as I listed one ‘what if’ after another to justify why I shouldn’t ask you out. Erika shut me down forcefully with her next words. ‘But what if he says yes? If you can’t be true to yourself and just ask a man out, you’ll never be happy, not completely anyway. Isn’t that what you want Andy? To be happy? I want it for you, even if you don’t. And I’m telling you, he’ll make you happy at the least for a night, and at the most for the rest of your life.’”
After a reflective pause, he continued, “She was so serious and sincere until she did that God-awful exaggerated wink thing that she does.” Andy chuckled at the absurdity of her gestures, but his sullen mood didn’t lift. “You know, I threw those same words back in her face when she was backing away from her friends because of her feelings for Walker. I told her the whole ‘what if’ part and look where that got us?”
“I know love, I’ll never be able to repay her for forcing the stupid out of you that day.” Ta
king a sip of coffee, Marco tried futilely to latch on to the wisp of humor Andy threw out, but he couldn’t.
Moving to his briefcase, Andy removed a manila folder. “My PI got back to me. This is the entire history and present of Walker Aaron Reid. I don’t know what to do, Marco,” Andy cried with a combination of frustrated anger and heart-wrenching pain as he flung the folder on the table.
“She’s hurting so damn much. I need to make a move, I need to do something to help her, but I’m lost. I’m scared. I’m terrified of what’s in the back of that folder. The stuff that has happened in the last ten weeks. I don't have the guts to read it, much less give it to Erika. We already know most of his past, but it’s the here and now that will upset her. If it’s good, and he’s moved on or doing semi-well, it will break her if he continues to ignore her. But if it’s bad, and he’s slipped into his old habits, it will destroy her to think she put him there. Broken or destroyed, I just don’t see a win coming out of that knowledge,” he finished, indicating the folder with a nod of his head.
Dropping into a chair, Andy thumped his elbows down on the dining table and lowered his head to his hands in defeat. “I knee jerked when I saw her, Marco. Something snapped. I thought having these answers would help, legally speaking at least, but I was wrong. I feel helpless, and that’s not a sensation I’m used to. I don’t know what to do or say.”
Marco took the chair next to him, placing a hand on his head and caressing his hair. “Oh, baby, you’re breaking my heart here. I don’t know what you need right now, or I’d damn sure move heaven and earth to give it to you, but I don’t think you know either. I know one thing you do need my shiny armor wearing knight, and that’s to see the fair maiden happy. We can’t fix this for her, but we also can’t let her stay up in that room sinking further into depression, it’s not good for her or the baby.”
Indelible You (Imagine Ink) Page 5