Maxwell: Not Without Guilt (Phoenix Club) (9 page)

“I know.” Horatio pulled his tears back, blinking them away. “But I have to leave.”

“With Seth?” Max murmured.

“Yes.”

Closing his eyes briefly, tears dampened his lashes as he asked quietly, “Do you love him?”

Horatio hesitated. “I care about him very much,” he said. “But it could become love.”

Extend your best wishes and leave it at that. Let him go
. But Horatio’s confession that he could possibly fall in love with Seth punched hard at Max’s heart. Horatio had been with a lot of men, but never once had he been serious, or even come close to claiming “love” for any of them – other than Abel. And though Max knew he should be happy for him, that there was actually someone else he could see himself making a life with, he couldn’t find the joy in it. Rather, it hurt like hell. From the moment they’d met, Horatio had had eyes only for him; his heart had beat for Max. And now, the thought of someone taking that away...

You are a selfish bastard, Maxwell Raines. You push him away for twenty years – and now you want to begrudge him finding someone who will let him love them? Even if you could have him, you don’t fucking deserve him
.

“That’s good,” Max forced out. “That he means that much to you.”

The tears were back in Horatio’s eyes. “Do you love Carl?”

“We just started dating,” Max whispered.

The look that crept into Horatio’s eyes ripped at Max’s heart. “Do you still love me?”

Had he actually asked that? “Horatio...”

“Do you, Max?”

Max squeezed the back of his neck and looked at the floor. “Why are you doing this, Horatio?”

“I just want to know.” The shadow of desperation in his voice pulled Max’s eyes back to his face.

“Why?” he asked thickly, heart aching. “What does it matter anymore?”

Horatio’s brow pinched. “It matters,” he whispered unsteadily, “to me. It used to matter to you, too. Don’t you remember...any of it?”

I remember, God dammit! I remember too fucking well! I wish I didn’t!
Tears knotted Max’s throat. “That was another lifetime, Horatio,” he said thickly. “Things were different. We can’t be held accountable for what we said...promises we made...back then.”

Horatio nodded slowly, a vacant look creeping into his eyes. “Right,” he murmured. “Of course not.” He took a deep breath and somehow pulled himself back together – outwardly, anyway. “After Abel’s trial, I’ll be leaving for good. I wish you and Carl the best.”

He walked back to the courtroom before Max could reply. A numbness spread through Max’s body, permeating his heart.
It’s best if he leaves. All you do is add to the hurt you started twenty years ago when you walked out on him. He died that day.

Tears rose and slid down Max’s face. He stared blankly down the corridor. “I died too.”

*  *

“A
re you packed?”

Max stared at the sports bag sitting on the bed. His throat hurt when he spoke. “You didn’t have to say anything,” he whispered, tears burning. “You could have just let us be together. We didn’t have to know.”

“I couldn’t do that, Max.”

“Why?” Max choked and looked at him. “You’re the only one who knew.”

Xavier just shook his head slowly.

Max gripped the edges of the sports bag, face tight. “How can you make me leave like this?” He swallowed thickly. “Just let me tell him goodbye.”

“You know how he would react to you leaving,” Xavier said. “No, it’s better this way. I’ll tell him everything once you’re gone. But I think it’s best if you’re not here when I do.”

Max closed his eyes, the hurt coursing through him; when Horatio came home and found him gone...

“Horatio will never have a clear head in this matter, Max,” Xavier said. “You have to be the one to think rationally. To face the reality of the situation. It will always have to be you. Horatio will never see past his love for you.” The man entered the room. “Horatio has always looked up to you, Max. He trusts you to look out for him, and right now – whether he understands it or not – he needs you to do what’s best for him...and walk away from this. You’ve always been the stronger one.”

I’m not strong. I want to die. Tears formed thick in his eyes. “What if we just-”

“No,” Xavier spoke firmly and gripped Max’s shoulder. “You do what’s right, Max. Do it for Horatio, and do it for yourself.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to have to say this, but I will. If you try to be with Horatio...I will cut him off, remove him from my will. Right now, he is set for life. The world at his fingertips. Once he graduates, he can do anything he wants, be anything he wants to be. The sky is the limit, and his future is bright. But whether it remains that way – is up to you, Max.”

Max looked at him, throat tight. “You would...disown him?”

“This isn’t right, Max,” Xavier said. “And you know it. Horatio isn’t capable of making the right decision. You have to be the one to make it for him. If you really love him, and I know you do...then do what’s right. He will be upset at first, that’s to be expected. But he will get it over, and so will you. You will both move on, make good lives for yourselves, find other people to fall in love with. But it all starts right here, with you.” He squeezed Max’s shoulder gently. “More than ever before, Horatio needs you to be strong for him now. Finish packing, get on that plane, and go to Harvard. Start your future.” He squeezed his shoulder again, and Max had the urge to slap his hand away. “It’s time for Horatio to stand on his own two feet. He will be okay, Max.”

No he won’t. You don’t know him like I do. He won’t be okay.

“I’ll leave,” Max whispered thickly and jerked closed the zipper on the bag. “But I’m not going to Harvard. I’m just...going.”

“Max,” Xavier shook his head. “Don’t throw away your future over this. I’m offering you the world as well.”

“No,” Max choked and shouldered the bag then looked at the man through a wall of tears. “You just took it away.”

*  *

A
slight tremor shook Max’s hand when he reached up and wiped the tears from his face. What the hell was happening to him? He’d managed to make it this far in life without those memories crushing him. Why were they weighing on him so heavily now? Why couldn’t he resist them anymore, refuse to think about them? He turned, his eyes bleary with tears, and stopped short. Carl stood outside the courtroom door. The man just stared at him, a myriad of emotions in his eyes.

“Carl...” he faltered. “I...I was just on my way back in.”

Shaking his head slowly, Carl murmured, “It’s okay. I get it.”

“Carl...” Max’s throat knotted tighter. “It isn’t what it looks like.” Who exactly was he trying to convince? Carl? Or himself?

Hurt and sadness darkened his gaze, but he said nothing as he opened the door to the courtroom.

Max walked towards him. “Carl...Horatio and I, we’re not...”

“We can talk about it later,” Carl murmured, then glanced towards the courtroom. “The proceedings are about to get underway again.”

Max nodded and followed Carl back inside, all the while wondering how he had become “that” man, the one who always ended up hurting those who cared for him the most.

♦

“D
on’t let Bronson Tate’s opening statement bother you,” Jensen told Abel. “Nothing he said is going to matter if he can’t back it up with evidence. And all he has are a few character witnesses from the places where Craig Grant volunteered. People who only
thought
they knew him. Offenders like Craig hide from friends and family all the time, creating a clever disguise. This is actually very common. But we,” he touched Abel’s shoulder. “We are going to rip off that mask. Are you with me?” A shadow of a smile touched his lips.

Abel nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered. Something about this man gave him total confidence that they could win this with their hands tied behind their backs.

“All right then,” Jensen said. “Let me go debunk his fabricated tale, then we’ll get this day done and over with.”

“Sounds good to me,” Abel murmured, so ready for it to be over.

Jensen Taylor stood up, his very presence demanding the full and undivided attention of every person in the room. Abel glanced at Bronson Tate. The man sat comfortably at his table, yet his eyes locked onto Jensen, watching him warily as prey watches a predator. Abel was certain that Jensen Taylor’s reputation preceded him; Horatio Kaplan would have none but the very best representing him.

Approaching the jury box, Jensen took care to meet the eyes of each and every juror. He rested his hands on the polished wood rail and ducked his head a moment, as if contemplating what he would say. But he knew exactly what to say, Abel was aware of that much. Abel didn’t know the specifics of what his speech would be, though. Jensen hadn’t recited it to him beforehand.

“Before I talk about Jesse Evers or Craig Grant,” Jensen raised his head, “I want to tell you about another man. Aiden Drover. Some of you may remember his story. Aidan was an upstanding young man in his community. Most who knew him described him as warm and generous. Some called him a good friend. Others, the perfect neighbor. The women found him charming, even sweet.  He was always there to lend a helping hand. He never caused trouble for anyone. He was the perfect citizen,” Jensen began to pop up one finger at a time, “The perfect neighbor, the perfect friend, even the perfect boyfriend according to some of the ladies.” He looked at each of the jurors. “He was the perfect man in the eyes of his small hometown community.”

Tension held Abel still in his chair as he listened intently, heart pounding.

“The perfect
boy next door
.” Jensen spoke low, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. He looked down and gripped the wood railing, shaking his head slowly. “Until he brutally raped and murdered eleven-year-old Steven Shaw.” Jensen looked up slowly. “A young boy who looked up to Aiden and trusted him. And only then did the folks of his community understand that they had a monster in their midst. And the deeper they peered into this perfect young man’s life...the more dark secrets they found. Steven wasn’t his first victim.”

Abel’s arms curled around his waist as his back pressed against the chair. It made him feel sick to know there were so many monsters like Craig still loose in the world.

“Aiden Drover,” Jensen said, “hid in plain sight. He took great care to create an image that would protect him from suspicion. He burrowed into the heart of his community...and took their children right out from under their noses. And no one once thought to look his way, because no one wants to believe that some monsters wear the mask of a beloved friend, or colleague, or spouse. They want to believe that all the monsters out there are easy to spot, and wouldn’t dare venture into their safe little communities because they would be seen for what they are. It
scares
folks to know that not all the monsters lurk in the dark, but in fact walk around in the light of day and look like everyone else.” He paused and took a moment to look into each face of each person who would take part in deciding Abel’s fate. “And folks don’t like to be scared. They don’t like to feel vulnerable. And sometimes it’s just easier, and safer, to find reasons
not
to believe the monster exists. To embrace a stereotype that is more comfortable, and less threatening.”

Jensen turned slowly and looked at Abel, his back to the jurors. Abel stared at him.

“And for those who knew Craig Grant...” Jensen spoke evenly. “Jesse Evers was that stereotype. A
troubled
kid from a broken home. It made sense that he would lash out against a figure of authority, it wasn’t uncommon. It made much more sense that he should be the culprit – than their beloved Craig Grant. But,” he turned and faced the jurors once more. “
But
, like Aiden Drover, Craig Grant was the monster hiding in plain sight. Building the façade of a generous, loving young man who cared deeply for our lost children. Burrowing into trusting hearts, and then stealing away the innocence of our youth.”

♦

“T
hat was a smart move.” Though his eyes were facing forward, Devlin’s ears shifted focus to what Samuel was telling the others in the row behind him. “The Aiden Drover case was big deal. Getting the jurors to associate Craig Grant with Aiden Drover will put them in the right mindset to see Craig for what he was. And once that seed is planted, it can’t be uprooted. So now, even if Tate tries to play on Craig’s reputation, the jurors will be more consciously aware that Aiden Drover had an excellent reputation as well and that those around him knew nothing of what he was.”

Devlin rubbed his hand over his mouth. His elbows ground into his legs as he leaned forward. Samuel continued to speak quietly to those sitting with him. Whether it was his imagination or not, Devlin felt as if they were trying to keep him from hearing their words. He felt far too conspicuous in the courtroom, being the brother of the murdered child rapist. All of his friends seemed hesitant to say anything to him directly about Craig, as if he might take offense or feel they were somehow transferring the guilt onto him. He shifted his eyes from Jensen to Abel, the love of his life – whom Craig had raped for two years.

Jensen was right about Craig – he had hidden in plain sight. Carefully inserted himself into the very walk of life that would offer him kids for the taking. And troubled kids, at that. Even if they had tried to tell what was being done to them, who would have taken their word over Craig’s? Devlin’s throat knotted; he hadn’t. He had called Abel a liar. And not just a “liar” but a
lying whore
. Tears rose as he stared at Abel; what if the jury saw him the same way? The boy was scared. He knew – like everyone else – that one’s innocence didn’t always guarantee a “not guilty” verdict. It was all in how the jurors interpreted the evidence. Something could go wrong, and Abel could be put away.

His head lowered into his hands. Craig had destroyed enough of Abel’s life. He prayed he wouldn’t continue to do so from the grave.