Read on for Chapter Two
Holden’s hiding from the press
after his agent stole all his money.
Tyler’s just hiding from
life after Afghanistan stole his leg.
There’s twenty-two years and a wealth of hurt and bitterness between them. It doesn’t stop them wanting each other.
Holden’s been leading a
shadowy existence all his life and his secret is way too explosive to share
with anyone. He can’t talk about the things he needs and craves on a daily
basis.
Tyler’s down on his luck and battling just to stay afloat in a world of pain, flashbacks and nightmares. The two of them are worlds apart, but thrown together by circumstances that have them questioning what’s most important to them.
Themes: hurt/comfort, age
gap, PTSD, disabilities
Warnings: PTSD, mental
health issues, addiction, drug use, mentions of past abuse and rape, homophobia
CHAPTER TWO
Tyler
He heard a car crunching the gravel behind
him. It drew alongside him and the window buzzed down.
“Get in the car, Tyler,” Holden said with
a sigh.
He drove a five-year-old red Hyundai.
Tyler guessed the agent had run off with the Lamborghini too. If he hadn’t have
felt so ill, he might have managed a mean smirk. “Go to hell.” Tyler carried on
walking.
“Come on. Just get in. I don’t want you
struggling home.”
Tyler stopped, bent, and hissed in the
window. “I don’t need you to feel fucking sorry for me, thanks.”
“I’m not feeling sorry for you, I’m
anticipating having to call an ambulance because you’ve collapsed in the dust
and the vultures have started to eat you.”
“Fuck off!”
Still Holden crawled alongside him. “Get
in the car or I’ll call the sheriff back here and tell him you tried to
blackmail me.”
Tyler’s gaze shot to his. Holden’s dark eyes were calm and steady. Trustworthy eyes even though nothing so far had made him inclined to trust this man. He staggered to the car and almost fell as he grabbed the handle. Somehow he got himself in and slammed the door. Then he slumped back, eyes shut, breathing hard. The ice cold air-con was heaven. He wanted to wrench the prosthesis off and throw it from the fucking window. Maybe have Holden reverse over it a few times for good measure.
Holden set off at a slow pace. “You’re in
a bad way, man. Do you want me to call a doctor?”
Tyler shook his head, gritting his teeth.
“What happened?” It was almost a whisper,
as though if he said it quietly enough, it wouldn’t hurt as much.
“Afghanistan happened,” Tyler said.
Holden said nothing else. He drew up
outside his house and switched off the engine. Tyler started to sweat the
minute the air-con went off. He grabbed the door handle and found Holden had
already come around to his side as though intending to help him out. Fuck that.
Glaring at him, Tyler swung his good foot
out and used the roof of the car to steady himself while he dragged the prosthesis
out like some sort of wounded animal.
He hobbled over to the annex, rooting in
the pocket of his shorts for his key. Holden followed him. “Let me…” he said,
reaching for the key as though Tyler had lost the use of his arms as well as
his legs.
“Leave me the fuck alone, I’m not dead
yet!” It was a broken cry, wrenched from Tyler knew not where and it made
Holden step back, wide-eyed. Tyler fumbled the key in the lock and turned it.
He shoved the door open and almost fell inside. He didn’t have the energy to
even close the door. He stumbled down the hall, making his way to the bedroom.
Perching on the edge of the bed, he yanked at the prosthesis, almost howling
with pain and relief when it came free. Tyler hurled it across the room, pulled
off the socks and rolled off the liner before he crawled onto his bed and
collapsed face down, burying his face in the pillow.
****
Holden
Tyler’s whole body was heaving. Holden
stood there watching him, unseen and unheard. Was he crying? Holden was deeply
unsettled. He longed to help and didn’t know what to do for the best. He felt
that he should call a doctor, despite what Tyler had said. He glanced down at
the discarded prosthesis, then fixed his gaze on the reddened stump. A shocking
sight. He couldn’t help his reaction to it when he had entered the diner and
seen his tenant with the false leg removed. He was squeamish and shouldn’t be, not
when this man was suffering more than Holden would ever be able to comprehend.
He felt guilty beyond measure because he
had caused this whole sorry mess, hadn’t he? He’d seen the pain on his tenant’s
face when he’d opened the door to him. And instead of going easy on the poor
guy, he’d told him to get out. Then he’d seen him limping down the road into
town and cursed himself. Following had been a bad idea. Those words they had
exchanged even worse. You look like you
need the charity. Fuck’s sake, what’s
wrong with you? He’s just a kid, down
on his luck, a fucking veteran, and you come out with that shit? Fucking shame
on you.
Holden backed out of the room. He closed
the door to the apartment on his way out.
****
Tyler
Tyler woke groggily to see the lengthening
shadows spreading over his bed. The agony in his leg had receded to a dull ache
and now he felt his toes and wanted to flex his non-existent ankle because it
felt sore and stiff. He’d had these days before. It spelled being unable to
wear his prosthesis until the stump was better. Why didn’t he take better care
of himself and use the socks as he was supposed to? Looks like I’ll have to take a break from my hectic social calendar.
He tried to smile and failed. He sat up, looking out the window to the main
house. From his bedroom he could see the kitchen. If Holden stood at the sink
washing the dishes, Tyler would see him. He cringed when he thought of the
people he’d met at the diner, spectating on his misery.
Still, that Finn was a good guy. Just the
kind of friend he needed, if Tyler did friends. As if. He’d had friends enough
in the military. They had all vanished after his accident. Still serving their
country, or dead, while he was discharged, no use to anybody.
He was thirsty and his head ached. He
shifted to the edge of the bed and froze as he saw Holden enter the kitchen
across the driveway separating them. The guy hadn’t seen him. He ran some water
in a glass and stood there drinking it. Then his gaze focused on Tyler. Tyler
looked at him for a moment before moving out of sight, dragging himself to the
end of the bed. Two crutches stood propped against the wall there for the times
he found himself sans leg.
He pushed his arms into them and hobbled
to the kitchen. Like he had seen Holden do, he ran a glass of water at the sink
and drank deeply. He glanced back out into the hallway then. He hadn’t shut the
door, had he? It was closed now. Had Holden been in his home? Had he followed
him in and stood there watching Tyler face down on the bed? What a pathetic
freak he was. The guy must have had a good laugh at his expense.
He should eat. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but the idea of food turned his stomach. Tyler made his way into the small living room and lowered himself onto the couch, pointing the remote at the TV. If in doubt, lose yourself in mindless entertainment.
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