Page 24 of Always You

“You think?”

“I know.”

I paused for a moment. “There was no way teenage me was letting him do that. And jeez, listen to me say that, as if I had a right to tell him what to do with his life. I was in love with him; therefore, I told myself I could decide for him.” I huffed a self-deprecating laugh. “I was so fucked up, self-righteous, and hell, I thought I’d dissuaded him, promising him a shared future funded by the enormous inheritance I was due when I turned twenty-one.”

“A lot of money,” Marcus murmured, and yeah, it had been. Millions. More than enough to buy this property, set up Guardian Hall, plus five more places like it in other cities. Back then, though, I only wanted a mansion, foreign travel, flashy cars, and a world of excess.

“I had these plans for Jazz and me to rule the world together, but what I wasreallydoing was squashing his dreams and deciding his life for him. I never saw that.”

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“We all have the worst dreams at that age. I wanted to be a pop star.”

I snorted a laugh. “I’ve heard you sing, and no offense, but you make caterwauling cats sound good.”

“Ouch,” he faked shock, and we smiled at each other—somehow, he was making this easy for me. “So, what happened next?”

“I fucked up. I made all these plans, told my dad in one petulant shouting match that not only was I skipping college, because I had a ton of money and needed no more school, but also that I was gay and marrying Jazz, and I told him there was nothing he could do. Out of nowhere, my father started throwing papers at me, and I was completely caught off guard when I realized they were legal documents being prepared that could change my inheritance age to thirty. Not only that, but my monthly allowance was almost eliminated. The condition for him not to file was that I ended my involvement with Jazz and focused on heading to college.”.

“Okay?”

“That wasmymoney, and I was pissed, but when faced with this ultimatum, I made a decision I’m so fucking ashamed of. You have to understand that, at eighteen, forever seemed an expanse, stretching out eighty years or more. Going to college until my money came in and choosing to pretend my love for Jazz didn’t exist, felt like a solution, but I couldn’t tell Jazz because Dad threatened to get him thrown out of the school, block all college applications. He even implied that he’d get Jazzhurt and told me how easy it was to claim a hate crime killed someone.”

Marcus inhaled sharply. “Your dad threatened Jazz?”

“You know my dad.”

“Unfortunately.” Most of the US knew the asshole who’d, five years ago, murdered a young co-ed in a sex game gone wrong, complete with heroin and two other guys in the same room. His downfall had been the biggest firework—unexpected, explosive—destroying his life and his precious family name, and bankrupting him almost overnight. But he’d hurt people in the past, a hateful, bigoted man who deserved what karma threw at him.

“He said he had people who wouldchangeJazz’s life, and by change, I didn’t know what he meant, but it was paralyzing.” I sipped some coffee just to give myself time to think—it wasn’t so hot anymore—still, it was caffeine, and I needed it.

“So, he threatens Jazz, threatens your inheritance, you send Jazz away, and you end up in college.”

“I barely lasted a semester.” The pain of those days was still fresh. “Jazz wouldn’t speak to me. I assumed he was just being an asshole, but it wasn’t like I could tell him to wait, or sneak shit past my dad or my security team.” I paused because that was a lie, and Marcus didn’t deserve me lying to him. “I could have done those things, but I didn’t, because my seventy--million--dollar trust fund was out of reach, and I wanted that money so bad. I fucked up. I got into drugs, drinking. I messed up college. I nearly OD’d, ending up in rehab three times. The last time was when I met you.”

We exchanged glances—a lot of time had passed since the two of us had first met. So much time, trauma, and life experience. I reached over and gripped his hand, squeezing it through his gloves.

He smiled at me and leaned in, his question gentle, but probing. “And Jazz joined the Army?”

“Yeah,” I sighed, the word heavy with regret. “He did. And I saw photos of him with another guy. He had someone new, and I didn’t even question the image. I just… believed the intel because it was easier than to face what I’d done.”

“And these photos came from yourdad’ssecurity team, right?” Marcus asked, piecing together the story I’d seldom shared.

I nodded, bitterness creeping into my tone. “Took me too long to realize they’d been lying to me all along because I’d lost my ability to think so deep in using narcotics and booze.”

Marcus’s gaze was sympathetic, understanding. “So, when you got your head straight after that last rehab, did you still think you had time to fix things?”

“I did,” I admitted, feeling naïve. “I thought I’d have forever to fix everything, but the two letters I sent, and the emails, he just replied with brief messages asking me to leave him alone. And by the time I realized my mistakes, everything had changed. I was twenty-one, my grandparents’ money was mine, and it was too late for Jazz and me.”

Marcus was silent for a moment, digesting the story.

“I can’t find the words, and now isn’t the right time to tell him this—he’s in a terrible place, and even if there has been a miracle at work for him to end up here, it’s not my place to wreck his world.”

“As his doctor, hold off. As your friend… If he carried anything for you, long-lost love or whatever, then hell, you both lost a lot because of it.”

I breathed in frozen air and coughed. “Imadehim leave. If it wasn’t for me sending him away, telling him I didn’t love him, all for money, then he might not have enlisted, and then…”

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