Page 41 of After the Rain
It was quicker and surprisingly lessdramatic than I was expecting – being kidnapped, that is. Dan laid out in simple terms that if Corey and I didn’t immediately get our shoes on and get in the car, then Dom would cut Pax’s throat before they made us get in the car by any means necessary.
It was a simple choice, in the end. I would not, in any situation, do anything that might risk further harm to that gorgeous, gentle dog. Not only would Aidan never recover, but Pax is just the goodest boy. And he doesn’t deserve to be in pain even for a second because of shitty choicesImade when I was young and stupid.
And so, I walked over to the hallway, Corey following behind me, keeping a vacant eye on Pax as he walked. We put our shoes on, grabbed our coats, and followed Dan out to the car. Through the open door, I saw Dom get up from the sofa and, in an uncharacteristically gentle move, lay Pax down on the floor between the coffee table and the sofa before he followed us out, closing the door behind him. I fastened both my own and Corey’s seatbelts, refusing to die in a car crash if Dan lost control of the black BMW – such a basic bitch car for a wannabe gangster – and took hold of Corey’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He didn’t respond. Just sat staring into space with a constant stream of tears running down his face. It was his lack of reaction that worried me morethan anything. But I could deal with that later. I just needed us to get away from Aidan and his family so they would be safe.
A little over three hours later, Corey and I are locked in the spare room at Dan’s apartment. It seems like years have passed since I crept out of here like a thief in the night, barely holding my broken body together. The place looks and smells exactly the same. Well, at least this room does. But then, nobody ever stayed in here because Dan never had enough friends to come over and stay. It’s almost as though he’s a deeply abhorrent individual who nobody would spend time with if they weren’t under threat of violence, or related to him.
Corey still hasn’t said a word. He’s just sitting on the bed looking out the window, his tears having dried now, but the salt tracks still lining his face. He’d only just started to feel safe with us, and I’m worried that his recovery this time – because I swear to all that is holy, I will get us out of this – will be slower and more painful. I won’t let him keep putting off counselling this time.
I make my way over to him. We’re both free to walk around in this room. I realise that Dan and Dom are not, in fact, actual movie villains, and so they don’t have random restraints lying in wait for their kidnap victims, but the door islocked with its internal lock. I also heard what sounded suspiciously like a bolt and padlock being locked when the two of them left us in here about twenty minutes ago.
I sit on the bed beside Corey and lean over, using the sleeve of Aidan’s hoodie to wipe the tears from his cheeks. At my touch, initially he flinches away, but then seems to come back to himself and recognises me through his fog of dissociation.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
“Hey,” he replies in a shaky voice.
“How’re you doing?”
His tears begin again, and he shakes his head in defeat. “I really thought I’d got away. You know?”
I swallow my own lump of tears and wrap my arm around his narrow shoulders, pulling him to me. It’s unusual for me to feel like the bigger person, physically, in any given situation, but Corey is genuinely fragile. He’s only about five feet six inches or so but more so than his height, he is diminutive in all areas – willowy and thin like fine bone china, his now rich auburn hair brings out the icy blue colour of his eyes and the pale freckles that adorn his porcelain skin stand out more when his face is so pale with anxiety. I feel protective of Corey, always have.
“You did, babe. You did get away. And we are going to again if I have to die trying. And this time, we’re going to the police. They might not believe us, they might say bullshit like it’s a hazard of a gay relationship, or our reports may sit idly in an in-tray for months or whatever, but we will tell them. And we will do what we can to protect ourselves from having to deal with this shit again.” As I speak, I squeeze his shoulders to reinforce my point.
His voice is quiet when, after a few minutes, he says, “I was really looking forward to showing Nancy that painting I did.” He looks up at me then with his huge, watery, doe eyes, and the sadness in them tears a little piece of my heart away. I had no idea that the prospect of seeing Nancy’s reaction to the, quite frankly, beautiful mural he had painted in her room was weighing on him.
“Did you show Nash?” I say, my tone only mildly suggestive in an effort to change the mood in the room. It works. He looks at me incredulously, and his eyebrows raise so high they almost reach his hairline.
“Of course. Well, I finished it and then left, and then he texted me later when he went in there. I didn’t like, do a Carol Smillie onChanging Roomsbig reveal moment or anything.” I laugh at his retro-as-fuck TV reference and wonder not for the first time, how many reincarnations in lifethis old soul has had.
“Whyever not? He’d probably havethankedyou very nicely.” He scoffs.
“Nash has a lot going on right now. I thought maybe we could... but...” He sounds so defeated. The secret plan we'd been working on together in the last couple of weeks had been working, I was sure of it. But Corey just seems resigned. "Anyway, he hasn't done anything except give me a physical after we put out that bloody fire!"
“Yeah, I’ll bet he wants to give you more than a physical.” We look at each other and burst out laughing before we both glance at the door and shush each other. I hadn’t even pinged the slightest signal on my gaydar about Nash until the day he met Corey. And then it was like,ping ping ping, pinging all over the place. The way Nash looks at Corey when he isn’t paying attention is borderline obscene in as much as his fucking heart is basically pulsing out of his eyes like some Warner Bros cartoon. I’m not even sure if Nash realises he’s attracted to Corey. But he definitely is.
Now, I just need – no,weneed – to get the hell out of here so Corey can get back to Nash and tempt him out of the closet he doesn’t realise he’s living in.
“OK, babe. Are you with me now?” Coreylooks at me again, and I see the determination fall into place on his face.
“Yes. I’m with you. What’s the plan.”
Thirty
Aidan
Wren and I climb out of the Land Rover back at my house, and when we round the front of the car, I wrap my arm around her as we walk back to the house.
We had a good long chat in the treehouse. She told me all about how, after their first disaster of a date a while back, Sam had texted her and asked her out again, but she didn’t tell anyone because of how much of a fuss everyone made after the first one. They talked the whole night about anything and everything. It made me think of the few nights that Rain and I had done the same thing, and I was so hopeful for her. Wren has had some absolute shockers for boyfriends in the past, and Sam is a good guy, I know this. But I had to ask Wren for more since the last we knew, his fucking wife just turned up at the pub a few days ago. Nobody even knew he had a fucking wife!
Wren explained that she basically fell in love with Sam that night, and they slept together, as well as a few more times since then. She said he never sold her any promises, but he did tell her he was in love with her, too – had been since school apparently. Sam had disappeared for a few years after we went to uni and then just rocked up again a few years ago, buying the village pub that had been closed for about two years prior. Since then, he’s done an amazing job turning it around. Wren found out about Sam’s wife at the exact same time we did, which was why she was so upset and walked out. She said he’d basically ghosted her a couple of weeks before then and never given her an explanation. And that’s as much as she knows. I tried to reassure her that, knowing Sam, there has to be more to this story. He really isn’t the kind of guy to treat people this way. Especially someone he cares about.
I managed to talk her down off the proverbial ledge and convince her that she needs to talk to him. She agreed, eventually, but said that she’s not ready just yet, and so we decided that joining Rain and Corey for movie night was a far better plan.
We detoured for pizza and popcorn on the way home – and Maltesers, and Dulce du Leche Haagen Dazs, and red wine because apparently these are all essential components of movienight. I questioned the risk of indigestion and was swiftly encouraged to just go along with it when I was almost castrated by a single glare from my sister.
I push open the door and we divest ourselves of our bulky coats and boots. I’m very much looking forward to snuggling under a blanket with my love and indulging in some mildly inappropriate touching beneath said blanket.
