Page 7 of Take My Hand

I can’t accept any of this.

Whipping my phone out of my pocket, I pull up his number, which, much to Daniel’s chagrin, I had saved. That was a fight when we first got here. We exchanged numbers with all the artists so that we could send photos and videos to them directly if requested. Daniel put up a fight about me having their numbers, but the logic won out and I kept them.

Me: I can’t accept this. Thank you so much but I really can’t.

Dots dance on the text thread immediately.

Hayden: Yes you can and I hope you do. It’s bullshit he took your stuff. You need it and we need a photographer

I hold off from telling him that they could find any photographer at the drop of a hat. All it would take is one social media post from them and they’d have people lining up the street.

Me: It’s too much. You didn’t have to do that

Hayden: I wanted to

Me: Then please at least let me pay you back for it. Next paycheck I’ll have enough to cover everything

He has to let me pay him back. I won’t allow myself to be caught in another situation where my livelihood could be taken away because of a revoked gift.

I wait one minute, then two, and still get no response from him.

Me: If you want the money now I can get it for you. Just give me a couple hours.

The text is barely shown as delivered before my phone is ringing, his name flashing across the screen.

“You’re not going to pay me back,” Hayden says the moment I pick up, his words strained, sounding out of breath.

“What are you doing? Are you okay?”

“I’m at the gym.”

Oh. Images of him—a sweaty Hayden, lifting weights, muscles straining underneath his tattoos—flash through my head, and I immediately shut them off.

“Sorry to interrupt you, I’ll let you get back to it.”

“I called you, remember? And I had to because I need to shut down any notion where you think you will ever be paying me back for that stuff. It’s a gift, and one I want to give you.”

“But why?” I can’t help but ask him. Why does he care so much that he would go out of his way to buy me not only a new camera, but an upgraded version to the one I had previously.

He pauses. “Because that was a dick move for him to take your stuff and try to sabotage you from doing your job. And you’re talented. I don’t like seeing talent wasted.”

I chew on his words, still not feeling settled. Although I don’t think he’d ever pull what Daniel did, I still don’t want to feel like I owe something to him. Owe something of my career to another man.

“Look, I’m going to give it to you straight here,” I say, throwing myself on the couch.

He laughs softly and says, “Please do.”

“Daniel gave me the last camera as a gift for my twentieth birthday. And I know that’s why he felt entitled to take it yesterday. Because while it’s been mine to use, he still viewed it as his. And I don’t want to end up in another situation like I am now months down the road.”

“Carter,” Hayden stutters for a moment, as if taken off guard. “I would never take it back from you. It’s a gift.”

I want to believe him, I really do. Thinking back to the way he talked me through my panic attack, his words calming and placative, his hands soft and warm, grounding my focus. I don’t think he’d be capable of the cruelty of rescinding on a gift like this, but if you would’ve asked me back at the start of my previous relationship, I wouldn't have thought Daniel would ever do something like that either.

“Well, so was the last one and you see how that turned out.” I sigh, the stress of the past few days weighing heavily on my chest.

“I promise you, I would never do that to you. And if it really makes you feel better, then fine, you can cut me a check for it.”

I know that if I write him a check, the second I turn my back, he’s ripping it to shreds and throwing the pieces in the wind. He’d never cash it.

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