Worth Keeping (5 page)

Owen snorted. “That’s one helluva disapproving look right there. But you asked. So I was at a pretty low ebb, it all caught up with me and I decided I’d had enough. The water looked inviting and I decided to take a swim.” His voice was challenging.

“But your family will be missing you.” said Nick quietly. “They’ll be thinking you drowned out there. Is that what you wanted?” He was leading into his admission with care.

Owen’s face twisted in pain. “I remember I sent my folks a text saying I was going to kill myself. Then I threw my phone into the water.” He picked at his food with his chopsticks. “So I called home from town earlier this morning, left a message on the answer machine to tell them not to worry about me, that I’d been in an accident and you’d rescued me.”

Relieved, Nick saw his opportunity. “No one’s looking for you. I called the Coastguard this morning. They were just getting ready to send out a search party. I called it off, told them you were safe, with me. They were just happy you were alive and promised to tell the people who’d reported you missing.”

He wasn’t prepared for the violent reaction he got. Owen shot to his feet, slamming his fists down on the table. Socks went scuttling to the safety of the top of the kitchen window as Owen ranted. “You fucking interfering bastard! I didn’t want anyone to know where I was. Now the bloody Coastguard will tell everyone and sooner or later everyone will know I’m here. Why did you have to do that?”

Nick stood up, his anger surging. “Because, you self-centred twat, I’m friends with some of the men in the search parties. I didn’t want their valuable time and assets spent looking for some mixed-up bloke who decided to leave his drink-and-coke pity party to throw himself in the fucking sea. I respect those men even if you don’t.”

Owen’s face whitened as he stared at Nick who stared back, his chest heaving. Owen turned, storming out of the cottage. Nick was in two minds as to whether to follow him but he decided against it. He wasn’t the man’s keeper. But a few hours later, he was like an anxious father waiting for a daughter to come home from prom night. It was close to six p.m. and there was still no sign of Owen. Nick muttered as he paced the cottage floor. Socks sat on his shoulder, fiddling with his hair. Even the monkey was a little subdued.

“Christ, Socks, what if he went to the top of the cliff? What if he’s in the bloody sea again? God, he’s an annoying prick. And I’ve only known the man a day. How in hell’s name am I supposed to live with the bugger? What the bloody hell was I thinking, telling him he could stay here for a while?”

He looked both guiltily and hopefully at the closed front door. Hopefully in case Owen came in, guiltily in case he was there and had heard any of his remarks. Socks twittered softly in his ear and tugged gently at his hair. Nick stroked him gently. “I know. I’m worried too.”

The door flung open and Nick’s body relaxed in relief. Owen stood framed in the doorway. He came in, shutting the door softly behind him. He looked tired, washed out, his face even paler than usual as he stared at Nick. Nick held his gaze for a second or two then moved away to the stove. He took off the lid and stirred his Bolognese.

“Are you hungry, Owen?” he asked. “I want to put the spaghetti on.”

“I’m hungry,” was the soft reply. “Thanks.” Owen sat down at the kitchen table, tapping his fingers nervously. Socks jumped off Nick’s shoulder and went to sit with Owen. Owen smiled as his fingers stroked the monkey’s head. Then he spoke softly. “Nick, I’m sorry I yelled at you. You were right. I was a selfish prat.”

Nick turned. Owen’s face was shadowed, his eyes tired. That sparkle had gone and Nick wanted more than anything else to see it come back. He shrugged. “It’s all right. Just forget it.” Nick snapped hard spaghetti in half, lowering it into the boiling water. Owen came up beside him, his breath ghosting softly in Nick’s right ear. He thought Owen whispered something but he couldn’t hear. Nick turned to Owen with an apologetic smile. “I have no hearing in that ear. So I didn’t catch what you said.”

Owen’s eyes widened. “You can’t hear? How did that happen?”

Nick didn’t want to tell him that his ex-lover had hit him so hard he’d burst his eardrum. He wasn’t ready for that conversation now, if ever. He shrugged. “An accident. It stuffed up my eardrum. So you need to bear it in mind.”

Owen nodded. “I just said I was sorry again and I was an arsehole.” Nick wanted to reach over and run his thumb over Owen’s full and trembling lips but he held back. Instead he turned back to the stove. “I said it was fine.”

“Can I still stay here? Or do you want me to go?” The quiver in Owen’s voice was more evident now and Nick turned around to see a single tear slide down Owen’s cheek. His eyes glittered but it wasn’t the spark Nick wanted to see. He put the wooden spoon he held down, pulling Owen to him as the man cried, his body shaking with sobs. Nick rubbed his back as his shirt turned a darker shade of green from tears. “Shush,” he soothed as he pressed Owen close to him. “It’s okay, Owen. I’m not mad with you. You can stay as long as you need.”

Owen’s voice was muffled. Nick felt his lips move against his chest. “I jumped because I miss him so much. They killed him, Nick.”

Nick felt a chill down his spine. “Who, Owen? Who did they kill?”

“My boyfriend Jules. Two years ago. I held him while he died and I couldn’t save him.” Owen raised his face, his eyes searching Nick’s face. “We were in a supermarket buying booze and there was a robbery. Jules got in the way and the bastards shot him. Then the cops arrived outside and they scarpered.” He heaved great shuddering breaths. “I tried to stop the bleeding but it just kept coming out. By the time the paramedics got there he was dead.”

“Christ, Owen,” Nick pulled him into his arms, stroking his hair, kissing his ear, anything to tell the shaking man in his arms that he wasn’t alone.

“Jules and I were together a year. I loved him and they took him away from me.” Owen’s voice sounded dead. “That night you found me, I was on the boat his family owned with his parents and his brothers and they were talking about him all the damn time. They seemed to think it would bring him back if they kept mentioning his name. It got too much. I went below and found an old jersey he used to wear tucked behind the bunk we’d shared. It still smelt of him.” His voice was anguished. “I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted to see him again.”

Nick’s tears prickled in his own eyes at the grief in Owen’s voice. Nick had been abused, beaten and left for dead but he’d never had someone he loved die in his arms.

Owen carried on. “The boat wasn’t too far from the shore, I saw the shoreline. I took off my shoes and just jumped in. It was fucking cold and I lost my breath. I don’t know how long I was in the water then I started feeling drowsy. After that I don’t remember what happened then until I found myself on the beach and saw you.” He shivered with remembrance.

“You were lucky that was where you ended up. It was a bloody miracle something brought you to shore—and so soon—or the hypothermia could have been much worse.” Nick held Owen’s shaking body, feeling helpless. Finally the man hiccupped, drawing shuddering breaths and moved away. Owen’s face was rosy from crying, his eyes swollen and puffy.

“I’m sorry I fell apart, Nick,” he whispered as he took a piece of paper kitchen towel and wiped his eyes. “I was sitting out on the shore thinking about what an idiot I’d been and it all came flooding back.” He smiled faintly. “Jules always used to tell me I was my own worst enemy. ‘Too bloody stubborn’ were the words he used. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted me to leave.”

Nick reached out and took Owen’s hand. “Come with me.” He led Owen to the bedroom he’d prepared for him. It was small but clean and the single bed would be all Owen needed. “This is your room.” He waved at the homely little space. “You stay as long as you need. If you get to be too much I’ll tell you, I promise.”

Owen snuffled and nodded. “I think I might just go to bed,” he whispered. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

Nick nodded. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

“No. Stay with me, please, at least until I fall asleep. Please, Nick.”

Nick took a deep breath. “Okay. Get changed and into bed and I’ll be in soon. “Owen nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. Nick left hurriedly, not wanting to watch the man’s striptease.

He busied himself testing the spaghetti and, realising it was done, he drained it and left it. When he went to check on Owen he was already half asleep under the covers, spiky black hair stark against the white pillowslips. He nodded sleepily as Nick came in and sat down awkwardly on the bed. Nick reached out a hand and stroked hair back from Owen’s forehead. Owen smiled and snuggled into his pillow. “That feels good,” he said with a yawn like a kitten’s, showing white teeth. Nick kept up the soft stroking and waited until he heard the deeper breathing that signified Owen was asleep.

As he sat there he wondered again what the hell he was getting into. He’d only known this man a day or so and Owen had gotten under his skin like no one else ever had. He supposed it was their mutual circumstances. A shared desire to be dead, attempts at failed suicides, past tragedies and the fact Nick had saved his life.

No one else had ever kissed Nick’s scars or caused mayhem to his body like the man lying sleeping in the bed before him. Brad hadn’t liked the tapestry that marked Nick’s skin, seeing it only as fodder for his constant verbal abuse.

Even now Nick wanted to draw down the covers and see Owen’s body, run his tongue along the lines of his abdomen, kiss his lips and take his cock in his mouth, taste him. The erotic thoughts he was having made Nick feel like a pervert so he stood up and turned out the bedside light. Owen murmured something but then turned and went back to sleep. Nick left the room, back to the kitchen where he regarded the Bolognese with distaste. He was no longer hungry either. Not for food anyway. The thought made him remember he’d agreed to meet Daniel tonight at nine p.m. for one of their “letting off steam” sessions.

Christ, in all the excitement he’d forgotten all about that arrangement.

He glanced at his watch. Seven p.m. He still had time to cancel. He really needed to see Daniel to alleviate some of the sexual tension in his body but Nick didn’t want to leave Owen alone or wake him up now. Nick sighed. He supposed he’d be wanking off his hard-on in bed later rather than receiving a blowjob from Daniel. He sent a quick text to his friend apologising for his cancelling and promising to make it up to him. Immediately there was a text back.

Believe you’ve got a real hottie staying with you. I understand completely :)

Nick frowned. Hell, word travelled fast here, probably via the taxi man. He supposed it was to be expected. It was a small, intimate fishing village and everyone knew everyone else. He sighed as he pottered in the kitchen, cleaning up dishes and putting things away. He tended to be a messy cook. Finally he poured himself a glass of wine and sat down at the kitchen table. Socks was nowhere to be seen. Nick frowned as he went in search of the errant capuchin. He found him in Owen’s room, curled up on his pillow, slowly stroking the man’s sooty hair. He looked at Nick as he entered, chattering softly.

“Looks like I’ve been usurped in your affections, pal,” Nick said softly. “Is he your new best friend then?” Socks scarpered over the bed, launching himself onto Nick’s shoulder.

He seemed to know the right one to sit on every time, always choosing his left. He nuzzled Nick’s hair softly, little paws caressing the strands of bronze hair that covered Nick’s ear. Then he shot back to Owen and resumed his position on the pillow. Nick nodded in amusement.

“I get it. He needs you more than I do at the moment, just like I did when I first got you.” The little capuchin had been a lifesaver when Nick had first arrived on the island. His adoptive father, Don, had bought him as a companion for him, saying that it would get very lonely out here and he needed someone else to keep him company. Nick knew it had been a subtle hint to him to stay alive because if he didn’t the monkey would suffer. He knew how Don’s mind worked after fifteen years together. “Well, you take care of him for me. I’m going to finish my wine and go read in bed. Night, Socks.”

Nick turned and went back into the kitchen. He hoped tiredly that tonight there would be no more nightmares. Having another lost and troubled man in his home didn’t help. He sighed. He’d need to keep Owen at a distance, made sure the man didn’t get too close. No point starting something that couldn’t be fulfilled. Nick had a feeling there were going to be some interesting times ahead.

Chapter 4

Owen huffed in frustration as he stalked around the small living room. Nick stood and watched him, arms folded across his broad chest.

“I really don’t know why you won’t let me pay something toward the fact I’m staying here,” Owen muttered sulkily. “You so get up my nose with your high horse attitude. All I want to do is contribute, for God’s sake, not feel like a kept man.”

Nick regarded him narrowly, saying nothing. On the windowsill Socks chattered softly.

Owen flung a hand around the air. “All I want to do is pay my bloody way, Nick.”

Nick’s lips thinned. “Owen, I told you. There’s no need. I’d be paying it anyway. And it’s not like you eat a lot. Christ, sometimes I have to force you to remember to eat.”

Owen scowled. “I’ve never been a big eater. It’s a highly overrated pastime. I’m used to getting something on the run when I’m hungry. God, you are so bloody stubborn.” His eyes glittered. “And you won’t even let me pay you in kind either, even though we both want it.”

Nick’s nostrils flared. “That’s not going to happen. Once was a mistake. Getting involved like that is a bad idea.”

Owen snorted. “Uh-huh. Says you. Hell, Nick, you even lock your bedroom door at night.” His tone was indignant. “It’s not like I’m going to ravage you while you bloody sleep, for God’s sake. I can’t even help you when you have those bloody nightmares you have.”

Owen had heard Nick cry out in the night, frantic cries followed by bouts of soft sobbing but to his frustration he couldn’t even get in to comfort him.