Ellery Mountain 3 - The Carpenter and the Actor (8 page)

case he felt sick, Kieran slumped into the chair at the end of the bed. Everyone was entitled to
drink too much on occasion if they needed to. However, Jason struck him as the kind of man
who liked to keep control.
He’d heard enough to put it all together. Jason’s brother Ben had clearly left him a year
ago. Died. That is what Daniel had said. In a car accident. Memories and anniversaries were
always impossibly hard. He should know. The Christmas after his mom had died, he and his
dad had been lost souls. It was only Brenda having them over for dinner with her friends
that had helped them through. Daniel hadn’t been home then—he’d been away at a football
camp. Christmas had been the hardest time, then her birthday, the summer, the first day of
fall… He understood.
Finn came by two hours into Kieran’s self-imposed vigil over Jason.
“He doing okay?”
“It’s been a year since his brother died,” Kieran summarised.
“He tell you that?”
“In a way.”
“Do you need the doc, or is this just a case of sleep it off?”
“Sleep it off,” Kieran said with a nod. The door opened and this time it was Daniel who
came in.
“What happened to the big star?” he asked.
“Life.” Kieran wasn’t going to get into any kind of big discussion on why today had
happened. He had his theories and unless you had lost someone close to you, it would
always be difficult to understand.
“Mom called,” Daniel started. “Said your dad asked her to marry him.” “Cool,” Finn interjected.
Hell, his chat with his dad seemed a long time ago now. “What did she say?” Kieran
asked.
“Looks like we’re going to be stepbrothers,” Daniel smirked. “Course I’m the oldest, so
I get to be in charge. Also”—he tilted his head thoughtfully—“you’re a lot smaller.” “Fuck you, asshole,” Kieran said without heat. He stood from the chair and crossed to
Daniel, pulling him into a hug. “Good news,” he said. Daniel held him tight then released
him. There was a grin on his face.
“Took them long enough,” he said.
Finn joined in the congratulations and it was during this general backslapping and
teasing that Jason woke up with a curse and lunged for the bucket by the bed. Kieran was at
his side in a second and he didn’t even hear Daniel and Finn leave. With his stomach apparently now empty, Jason passed out again, curled up in a foetal position with the quilt
up and over his head and only a tuft of dark hair poking out.
If he hadn’t been so drunk and hung over, Kieran could even have described him as
cute.

Jason groaned and refused to open his eyes. The sun streamed in through a window, and he pulled the quilt farther up to cut out the glare. Every muscle in his body ached and his chest was tight. His throat burned and he recalled being violently sick on at least two occasions. He remembered a shower, Kieran getting wet. He recalled going into the bar and talking to the sexy bartender called…Alan, or Alex or something. The guy was tall and steady and if he hadn’t been so enamoured with Kieran then maybe he would have done something about the invitation in Alan or Alex’s eyes.

He’d got a bottle of whisky. A whole bottle. Half a bottle. He couldn’t remember that. He knew he’d emptied his wallet to get his own bottle and his own corner to nurse his memories and get a handle on his grief.

Being with Kieran had taken the edge off the approaching anniversary. But when he’d woken this morning on his own, he hadn’t been able to stop the memories flooding him. Then he’d phoned his mom and dad. Only his mom couldn’t come to the phone. His dad had said she had a headache, that she’d not got out of bed, that it was possibly a migraine. His dad was lying, Jason knew it. His mom was avoiding him on this day. Avoiding him because she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him.

Would it have been different if he had actually stayed with them these weeks? Could he have got his head around what had happened and actually come to terms with the fact that his parents didn’t blame him for Ben’s death, even if he blamed himself?

“Jason?” Kieran’s voice was soft and insistent and Jason contemplated ignoring his lover for a few more hours. Pretend to be asleep. “I have more tablets,” he said. “I know you’re awake. Take the meds and I’ll leave you alone.”

A combination of facing his embarrassment head on and the insistent need to use the bathroom forced him to push away his covers and swing his legs over the side of the bed.
“Here,” Kieran prised open Jason’s fingers and turned his hand palm up. Placing the small round tablets on his palm, he encouraged Jason to take them. He swallowed them then pushed himself to stand. Pain knifed through his head, but all he could think was that he had been bloody stupid. After stumbling into the bathroom, he emptied his bladder then scrubbed his teeth and used mouthwash to clear the fuzzy bottom of a birdcage taste from his mouth. Looking up, he peered into the mirror. He looked like shit.
His hair stuck up all over the place and his skin was blotchy. Running a hand over his skin, he wondered if he’d be capable of shaving. Eyeing his electric razor uncertainly, he decided against doing anything that needed concentration. Bed was where it was at.
Kieran stood at the bottom of the bed with his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. He looked thoughtful and like he wanted to ask questions. Jason wasn’t up to answering anything that was too deep.
“Sorry,” he said softly. The word spun in his head and he pressed fingers to his temples in an effort to release some of the pressure.
“No need to be sorry,” Kieran replied. He took his hands out of his pockets and moved to assist Jason into bed. “Are you hungry?”
Jason imagined food and his stomach protested. “Not yet. Later.”
Kieran pulled the covers around him then stood back. He smiled down at Jason. “Need a hug?”
Something snapped inside Jason at those simple words. He’d gone a long time since he’d been offered affection without strings and that was exactly what he knew Kieran was offering. The thought of the other man snuggling close and holding him tight was exactly what he needed at this moment.
“Yes,” he said. “Please.”
Kieran pushed down his jeans then, in boxers and a T-shirt, he climbed into the other side of the wide bed and struggled with the quilt and the blankets a little. The light in the room was dimming as it headed towards evening. Just a couple of hours’ more sleep wrapped in Kieran’s arms and he may well feel human again. Kieran wriggled closer and encouraged Jason to roll on his side so Jason became the little spoon. Being held gently and with a murmured ‘
sleep’
from Kieran, Jason did just that. He slept.

Jason blinked the sleep from his eyes. It was light, so that indicated they had both slept through the night. And by ‘they’ he meant Kieran as well. Well, that was if the heat of Kieran’s body behind him was any indication. He glanced at the clock next to the bed, which showed six a.m.

“How you feeling?” Kieran asked from behind him.
“Wiped out,” Jason answered honestly.
“You want to talk?”
Jason stiffened in Kieran’s hold. Did he want to talk? He’d known Kieran for less than a

week. Yes, they were good in bed. Explosive in bed. Yes, Kieran was a nice guy and Jason felt comfortable with him. Yes, he probably needed to talk to someone outside of his five hundred dollar an hour shrink. But did he want to. This morning? Now?

“I’m not sure,” he finally said. He relaxed back against Kieran again.
“That’s okay,” Kieran replied. He wasn’t pushing for Jason to spill his guts, or demanding that Jason explain why he’d lost it so spectacularly yesterday. He was possibly the perfect person to explain about yesterday. But then that would form a bond between them, one of secrets and guilt, that would make it so much harder for them to just part as nothing more than acquaintances at the end of his stay. Telling Kieran what was inside him would leave Jason very exposed, and he really wasn’t sure he could handle that on top of everything else. Then again, with him not being able to see Kieran, and just having him hold Jason in the peace of this bedroom, maybe now was a good time to say what needed saying.
“I don’t remember much about yesterday,” he started. “I do remember the guy at the bar. Alan or Alex or something.”
“Avery.”
“Right. Avery. Really nice guy, good-looking.” Kieran imperceptibly tightened his grip on Jason and he immediately felt guilty for summing up the barman in such glowing terms. “If you like your guys tall and dark-haired.” He hoped that would be enough to placate the insult. “We got talking,” he continued. “Yesterday was a year exactly since my brother died. In a car accident.”
“You said.”
“I did?”
“Well, you tried to say. I put two and two together from your slurred statements in the holding cell.”
Shame flooded Jason. He didn’t do drinking to excess, and he most certainly didn’t do being put in a cell, or a room with a bed and a lock, anyway. “I owe Avery an apology, and Finn. It was Finn, wasn’t it? Who came to get me, I mean.”
“Yep, Avery called him and Finn called me.”
“Fuck. Shit. Damn,” Jason cursed into the quilt. “I never drink like that, but it seemed like a good idea yesterday.”
“I can imagine.”
“So I conned Avery into selling me the bottle, said I was taking it home as a present after I’d sat in the corner with my beer. By the time he checked on me, all I remember is that everything was hazy and the ground wouldn’t stop moving. It wasn’t his fault.”
“I get being knocked sideways on an anniversary,” Kieran offered gently. “The first Christmas after Mom died, then her birthday—all really bad days.”
“This was the first one. But I know why I did it. I made a conscious decision to get myself so drunk that I couldn’t think about what happened that day.”
“Can you tell me what did happen?”
“It’s on the Internet. You only have to search.”
“What if I don’t want to do that? What if I want to hear it for myself?” Kieran rubbed his hand in regular soothing motions on his stomach and it was one of the most comforting feelings that Jason had ever had.
“He was driving a Pagani Zonda, a fast car. He wasn’t driving it to its capacity, but it had been raining. According to the police report, he hit a side flow on the road and hydroplaned. He hit a telegraph pole and died on impact. He was three days short of his thirtieth birthday.”
Kieran tightened his grip again then snuggled closer. “I’m so sorry,” he said.
Clearly Kieran thought that was the end of the story. That his brother had died and it was a tragedy and he had got drunk because grief flooded him and he couldn’t handle it. If only it was as simple and stark as that. What he would say next was likely to cause Kieran to think less of him, and selfishly he wanted more of the open and easy affection that Kieran gave him without baggage.
“I’d bought him the car. As a present for his birthday. It was the first time he’d driven it. He was so excited and I was so happy that my money could make someone I loved so happy. Then he crashed and he was killed, and it was my fault.”
Silence.
Kieran didn’t move. His hold didn’t loosen or tighten. He didn’t say a word. A weird fear shot through him. Kieran was going to agree with him, that, despite what he knew inside, it was his fault his brother had died.
“Are you saying that to challenge me into giving my opinion?” Kieran finally said. “Like a trap where you know and I know I can never say the right thing?”
“No,” Jason said immediately.
“So if I say no, it wasn’t your fault, these things happen, fate makes up the rules as it goes along then I could be seen not to understand the pain inside you. Or if I say yes, it was all your fault, then equally I can’t have any comprehension of the terrible stuff that is in your head?”
Suddenly, Jason needed to see Kieran’s eyes. Wrenching himself away from Kieran’s hold, he stumbled to the bathroom. Grabbing a toothbrush, he attempted to wash away the last of the post-sick fur inside his mouth then he turned off the water and held tight to the porcelain of the sink. He wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t ready for someone calling him on the confusion in his head.
Walking back into the bedroom, he saw that Kieran had pulled on his jeans and was sat cross-legged on the bed. He didn’t look angry, or sad, or accusing, or supportive…or anything. Hesitating momentarily, Jason considered what he was going to do or say here. Kieran was looking for answers he wasn’t sure he had to give.
With a sigh, he climbed onto the bed and sat opposite Kieran with crossed legs and a determination in him to talk this whole thing through, remembering the words of his shrink and taking care to see things clearly.
“I’m not trying to trap you in anything you say,” he finally said.
Kieran nodded. “I know. I guess my first instinct is to say it wasn’t your fault, that you gave your brother a gift and that what you have is most likely survivor’s guilt. I know something about that. Not from losing Mom, but from knowing Daniel and what he went through when he first came home.”
“Daniel?”
“Was a soldier, Afghanistan. Lost friends, suffered PTSD. Then he connected with Finn and me, and in a way we all helped each other. It’s why the project for the rehab house he’s working on is so important to us all.”
“The one he mentioned last Friday?” Jason recalled Daniel and Kieran arguing over staircases or something.
“Yes, and from seeing Daniel. Yes, it’s hard to be the one left behind, and Jeez, to be the one that got your brother the car, I can see that would screw with your head.”
“How old are you, Kieran?” Jason realised he didn’t know that much about Kieran.
Kieran smiled. “Just turned twenty-five.”
“How do you know just what to say?”
“I have mad skills.” Kieran’s smile turned into a grin.
That smile made Jason feel unaccountably better, and he winced when he smiled and his headache made itself known again.
“Anyway, if you need anyone to talk to, Daniel is a good guy, and I can’t believe I am pushing you his way because he is so your type.”
“My type?”
Kieran shrugged. “Daniel. Avery. Max. All tall and just ever so slightly macho.” He indicated himself and smiled wryly.
The action made Jason frown.
“Not at all,” he said swiftly. “I look at the menu all the time, but the only dish I want is five nine with blond, flicky hair, cornflower blue eyes and a mouth like a Hoover.”
Kieran pouted. “You only want me for my skills in sucking you off?”
Jason fell back on his pillow laughing and Kieran crawled over to cuddle next to him.
“Well, I’ve got to say,” Jason said, “the blow jobs certainly swayed the vote.”
Kieran poked him in the side. “Ass,” he murmured.
Jason felt lighter than he had in a while, but when he closed his eyes against the intruding sunlight, it was a picture of Ben he had in his head. He missed his brother every day and lived with the regrets of losing him every minute. But sharing that grief was something he could get used to doing.
Maybe he would have a chat with Daniel.