Maxwell: Not Without Guilt (Phoenix Club) (6 page)

Before Max and Horatio had ventured into the courtroom, Carl had come over to the bench and sat down about halfway between Seth and the aisle end. He’d seemed anxious at first, as if he hadn’t been sure what to say, leaning forward on his knees, staring at the floor. He had actually startled Seth when he’d suddenly turned to him, leaned over, and thrust out his hand. “We haven’t been formally introduced.” His voice had had a slight glitch to it. “I’m Carl. The bartender at the club.”

Seth had shaken his hand, and brief casual words had passed between them before they had both fallen silent again, each lost in his own thoughts. Though neither had voiced it aloud, the same understanding had floated in both men’s eyes:
We’re fucked. We don’t stand a chance.

Again, Seth had considered the documents back at the penthouse suite. Carl had no idea how “fucked” they truly were.

After speaking with Abel, Horatio had come over and sat with Seth at the end of the bench, his arm around his shoulder. But it had seemed an effort for the man to keep his eyes off Max. And when his gaze had jumped in that direction, even lingered a time or two, Seth knew it hadn’t been intentional. Horatio was trying hard to just “be” with Seth and convince himself that if he moved far enough away, he could let Max go and move on. In Seth’s heart, he ached for that to be true. But in his head, he knew it would never happen. Already, Seth was slowly and systematically trying to condition himself to let Horatio go. But it was so hard to do when the man was still clinging to him, insisting that Seth was who he wanted. And Horatio’s touch wasn’t a touch to be denied. How Max had managed to hold Horatio at a distance for twenty years was something Seth would never understand, even in light of their situation. Right or wrong, Seth couldn’t have done it.

When Max had come over to sit with Carl, Samuel and Caleb had followed. Moving down to make room, Max had taken the spot next to Horatio. Seth had felt him tense instantly, even sworn he could feel the man’s heartbeat quicken in his chest.

And even now, as they waited for Abel to take the stand, Horatio retained a measure of tension. He sat with his back partially towards Max as his arm remained around Seth’s shoulder, and he leaned close now and then to murmur something to him. But there was no mistaking his full awareness of Max sitting right next to him. Seth allowed himself to rest against Horatio and memorize the feel of his body.

Too soon, he feared – memories would be all that he had left of the man.

♦

S
amuel waited for Abel to take the stand and glanced at Caleb. He had yet to tell him that there was talk of Brock Coulson withdrawing his plea of guilty and waging a court battle. Samuel was distressed by the news, but not entirely surprised. Brock himself was an aggressive attorney and not used to losing. And if he was going to prison anyway, the man wouldn’t go quietly. His initial offer to plead guilty had been right after his assault; he’d been in extreme pain and vulnerable. But now that he had come back to his “senses,” his ego was regaining control. And even if the man had no real chance of coming out of a court battle without prison time – he would drag Caleb through hell before he was done.

He combed his fingers through Caleb’s hair at the back of his neck, and the young man glanced at him and smiled. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

Samuel nodded, and Caleb turned his attention forward again. Before Brock had offered to plead guilty, Caleb had expressed his anxiety about having the videos Brock recorded shown in court. But if Brock chose to face off with them, the videos would be their greatest asset. Brock couldn’t have them deemed inadmissible because he had taken the videos himself and had been fully aware he was being recorded. Without the videos, it would have been Caleb’s word against Brock’s. And considering who Brock Coulson was – and Caleb’s profession at the time – they would have been up shit creek without a paddle.

But nothing was concrete as of yet. Brock could still plead guilty without a fight. Until Samuel knew one way or the other for certain, he would not mention it to Caleb. The guy had been through enough; he didn’t need to stress about what might never even come about. In the meantime, Samuel and Nolan Emery were quietly building Caleb’s case in the event that things took a turn for the worst and they had to go toe to toe with Brock and his attorneys.

Samuel didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want Caleb to have to endure as brutal a court battle as that one would surely turn into. He had suffered enough at the hands of Brock Coulson.

♦

W
hy had he opted to sit next to Horatio? Max realized he should have kept Carl between him and the other man. Though he tried not to let their bodies touch, it was inevitable as the bench became more crowded. His thigh and hip were pressed snuggly against Horatio, and he could feel the tension in the other man as their skin seemed to burn into each other through their clothes.

Just focus on Abel. Don’t think about Horatio
. But as the judge had yet to enter the courtroom and get things underway, the heat of Horatio’s body began to consume him. Max stretched his arm across the back of the bench behind Carl and rested his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Carl seemed distracted himself, and Max was pretty sure he knew why.
You can’t do this to him. You can’t give him the green light to fall for you – then become consumed by Horatio all over again the moment he steps into view
.

Max leaned close to Carl and kissed his ear. “I’m really glad you came with me today,” he whispered.

Carl nodded and smiled, but there was a strain to it. He cast a quick glance past Max, then murmured low, “Where did Horatio say he met Seth?”

“Cancun.”

“How long has he known him?”

Max shook his head. “Not long.”

“Do you think it’s serious?”

His lips tight, Max nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so.”

Carl looked at him. “Are you okay with that?” he whispered.

Max smiled and slid his fingers through Carl’s hair as he leaned closer. “I have you,” he said softly. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”

“And if you didn’t have me,” Carl wondered, “would you still be okay with it?”

Lifting an eyebrow, Max asked with mock wariness, “Why? Are you planning on dumping me so soon?”

Carl chuckled low. “No, of course not.”

Max brushed his lips across Carl’s ear. “Trust me, I’m used to Horatio being with other men. He’s rarely
not
with another man at some time or another. It’s nothing new to me.” Guilt pressed at his heart; Max was the only man Horatio truly wanted to be with. Max had always known this. And he didn’t like wording things in such a way that passed Horatio off as a player, or someone who was just out for as much sex as he could get. Had they been together from the start, Max knew without a doubt that Horatio would have never strayed, never even looked at another man. But how could he tell Carl that the only reason Horatio jumped from one man to another – was his attempt to fill the void inside him that Max had left behind?

Horatio shifted beside him, and the man seemed to be having a difficult time figuring out where to rest his right arm without openly touching Max.

Just stop touching me!
The words from their long ago past slammed into Max’s mind suddenly and without warning. The previous night’s dream rushed back in, and Max trembled beneath a wave of pain that washed over him at the memory of the last night he’d spoken to Horatio before he’d walked away.

Run
away – wasn’t that what he had really done? Fled from the feelings he had for Horatio, from the love he was no longer allowed to acknowledge?

* *

“D
id you tell him?’

Max sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He looked up slowly when Xavier stepped in the door and shook his head.

“Max...”

“Tell me what?” Horatio appeared in the doorway behind his father, his eyes still troubled from earlier. He glanced from his dad to Max, then entered the room and walked to the bed. “Tell me what?” His voice was strained.

Shifting his feet, Xavier rubbed the back of his neck. “Horatio...” He glanced at Max, and Max pleaded with him not to do it, not on this day. Xavier cleared his throat. “I just...” he shrugged and smiled. “I just wanted to make sure Max didn’t tell you what your surprise gift was.”

“Why would he tell me?” Horatio glanced at Max. “He never does.”

“Well,” Xavier said, a waver to his voice. “This one is extra-special, so I was just double checking.” He looked at Max, then at Horatio. He stepped forward, cupped the back of Horatio’s neck, and kissed his head. “Try to have a good time tonight, son.”

“I hate the kids from school, Dad.”

“Give them a chance,” Xavier said. “I’m sure they’re not as bad as you think.”

“Yeah,” Horatio mumbled sourly.

Xavier nodded slowly, then stepped to the door. “Don’t be too long. You are the man of the hour.”

“Sure, Dad,” Horatio whispered. “I’ll be right down.”

When Max glanced up, Xavier cast him one last look before leaving the room.

“Thanks for deserting me,” Horatio dropped down on the bed next to Max. “You’re going to come back down, right?”

“I don’t feel very good,” Max whispered thickly.

Silence dropped down on them, and the heat of Horatio’s body brushing against Max burned into him. He ached to hold him, to lay him down on the bed and make love to him again.

“Max...” Horatio murmured, “what’s wrong? Why were you so upset earlier?” He ducked his head and looked at Max uncertainly. “Are you mad at me about something? If I did something wrong-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Horatio.” Max choked and stood up, brushing his hand through his hair, his back to the boy. “I’m not...” His throat clenched so tight he could barely breathe. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then what is it?” Horatio left the bed. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“I will,” Max whispered. “Just...not tonight. I told you, I don’t feel good.”

He flinched when Horatio touched his back then stepped around in front of him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I could stay up here with you,” Horatio suggested and hugged him, kissing his neck. “I might know a thing or two that would make you feel better.” He brushed his lips against Max’s ear. “I promise to be quiet this time, so my dad won’t hear.”

Max stared blankly over his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter,” he murmured dully. “He knows about us.”

“What?” Horatio jerked back. “He...” A frown pinched his forehead. “How...?”

“He saw me kiss you the other day,” Max told him, avoiding his stare.

“He told you that?”

Max nodded.

“What...what did he say?” Horatio swallowed thickly. “Is that why you’re upset? Did he get mad at you?”

Max shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” He finally met Horatio’s troubled eyes. “You should go back to your party.”

“I’d rather stay up here with you.” Horatio went to kiss him, but Max turned away. “Max...”

“I said I was sick,” Max whispered unsteadily. “I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“Fuck that. Like I care.” Max pulled away when he tried to kiss him again. “What the fuck, Max?” he choked. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

“Go back to your party, Horatio.” Max trembled.

“Did...did my dad tell you that we couldn’t be together?” he asked. “Is that why you’re acting this way?” He stepped closer and touched Max. “I don’t care what he thinks, he can’t keep us apart.” He rubbed his hand up Max’s arm and over his shoulder. “He can’t-”

“Just stop touching me!” Max cried suddenly and pushed him away. “Go back to your fucking party and leave me alone!”

Horatio stared at him in shock, tears rising fast. “Max...what the hell is going on?”

Turning his back to the guy, Max hugged himself and squeezed his eyes shut, tears rushing out. “Just leave, Horatio.”

“Max...” Horatio was crying, but Max refused to face him. If he saw his tears, saw the pain in his eyes – he would break completely.

“Just go.”

And he did, but not back to the party. He ran from the bedroom, and Max could hear his footfalls as he raced down the rear stairs, and moments later, the back door slammed as he rushed out into the night.

Max couldn’t move. His body shook with sobs. Somehow he ended up on the bed but didn’t remember lying down. He grabbed his pillow and shoved his face into the softness and screamed until his throat was raw and exhaustion dragged him into a troubled sleep.

* *

“M
ax? Are you okay?” Carl was speaking to him, low and with concern.

Max swallowed hard and felt the dampness in his eyes, the tightness in his throat. He blinked back the tears and nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped. The heat of Horatio’s body touching his was searing him. He wanted to leave the courtroom and crawl into a hole and cry himself into oblivion. He’d hurt Horatio so bad that night...but even more so the next day, when he’d left while Horatio was at school.

The need to turn around and pull Horatio into his arms and beg his forgiveness was so strong; in twenty years, he had never really apologized to the man for leaving the way he had. Maybe it was too late to apologize, after all this time.
Or maybe it’s just too dangerous
. What would happen if he admitted to Horatio that he hadn’t wanted to leave that way? That it was Horatio’s dad who had pushed him to go while Horatio was at school? What would Horatio say if he knew that – for one quick moment – Max had considered overlooking reality, had contemplated staying with Horatio? If Xavier Kaplan hadn’t been there to push him in the other direction...
would
he have stayed?

He wasn’t forced to answer his own question, as the judge emerged from his quarters and all thoughts of the past were temporarily buried, his sole focus now Abel.

♦

O
ne arm wrapped around Savannah’s shoulder securely when the prosecutor, Bronson Tate, addressed the jury with his opening statement. When he began to paint a picture of Abel that depicted the boy as “troubled,” “unstable,” “bitter,” “angry,” and “without remorse” – Cole’s nails dug into Gabe’s palm as he squeezed his hand, eyes burning as he longed to vault over the short wall and beat the fuck out of the man. Gabe’s fingers closed tightly around his hand – whether to calm Cole or simply anchor himself, Cole couldn’t be certain. But Gabe grew rigid with tension and fury right along with Cole when the prosecutor shifted focus to Craig Grant and told the story of a generous man who gave of his time and his heart to help the “lost children” of our country.