With Or Without Him Part 20

"No, it's fine. Sorry. I'm full. It's that Marmite sandwich and er-what came after." That was the most pathetic excuse he'd ever made and judging by Haris's snort, he thought that too.

The auctioneer sold the first ten lots after they'd finished the starter. Tyler mentally laughed at the idea of bidding for anything. No item started at less than a hundred pounds, even a c.r.a.ppy drawing the size of a postcard that looked like a kid had done it. Then he felt bad when he realized a kid had done it. A sick kid.

He could feel Gerald's eyes boring into his back and was determined not to look at him. But concentrating on the conversation going around the table was almost impossible. He did his best to smile in the right places, and he made enough of a mess of his main course to make it look as though he'd eaten some of it but every now and again, Haris's hand settled on his knee and squeezed. Tyler wished it rea.s.sured him, but he felt like he was waiting for lightning to strike.

When the auctioneer started on the last group of items, the sinking sensation in his stomach cemented him to his seat. What if Gerald bid for him? He wrapped his hands around the edge of his chair. d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n.

"What's wrong?" Haris whispered.

"No one's going to bid and I'll feel an idiot," he lied.

"I'll bid."

Tyler shot him a glance. "No, don't." Because Gerald would see there was a connection between them other than them sitting at the same table. Oh G.o.d. Maybe it's too late anyway.

"Now I have an additional lot," called the auctioneer. "After your day at the races, madam, perhaps you'd like some entertainment for a dinner party? Tyler Bellamy, a final year music student and a talented pianist, is offering his services for two hours on a mutually acceptable evening. Who'd like to start me at a hundred pounds?"

"A hundred," Gerald called behind him.

Tyler chewed the inside of his cheeks. How could he have even considered Gerald not bidding? The amounts went up and up. Bidders came and went but Gerald stayed.

Haris bent his head and whispered in Tyler's ear, "What the h.e.l.l is the matter with you? You're white as this table cloth."

"I don't want him to win." Tyler hadn't meant to let the words slip past his lips but they were out now.

"Look at me," Haris said.

Tyler turned.

"Five thousand pounds," Haris called out.

The breath froze in Tyler's throat. The last bid had been one thousand.

"Six thousand," Gerald shouted.

I'm going to throw up. "P-please," spurted from his mouth.

Haris waved his hand to the auctioneer. "Twenty thousand."

Tyler's lungs locked and the noise that filled his head sounded as if the whole room had gasped in astonishment. Everything swam in his vision, he heard a roaring in his ears and realized it was applause. When it died away, he wasn't sure what had happened.

"You must have exceptional talent," said the doctor at his side.

Haris had a smile on his face. Did that mean he'd won? Tyler risked a glance at Gerald and saw him scowling.

"You can thank me later," Haris whispered.

He'd just cost Haris twenty thousand pounds and ruined everything. Even if he made it to the end of the four months, now he wouldn't be able to take the money. He couldn't expect him to pay twice. There would be no twenty thousand toward his debts. They'd still be there. Oh f.u.c.k.

The auction ended and Tyler slumped as people began to get up from the table.

"For a guy who just made more for this charity than most of the other lots, you don't look very happy," Haris said.

"Too much," Tyler managed to say.

Haris shrugged. "I had to bid on something. Why not you?"

Tyler caught sight of Gerald advancing, and it was as if he were watching a car careening toward him, knowing the collision was going to happen and unable to do anything about it.

Gerald put his hand on the back of Haris's chair and leaned over. "He's a good f.u.c.k," he said quietly, "but he's not that good."

He smirked at Tyler and walked away.

"Ah," Haris said quietly. He stared at Tyler and waited, his face blank.

"He was the man who raped my friend," Tyler blurted.

Haris's beautiful eyes widened. "How the h.e.l.l do you know him?"

"Don't ask me." He pushed to his feet, grateful he managed to stand without staggering.

Haris stood too.

"Thank you for b-buying me." Then he did stagger.

Haris caught his arm. "Right, we're leaving. Come on."

Tyler didn't take another breath until they stood outside. He inhaled the cold, crisp night air and released an audible sigh. Haris called Wilson and then tapped out a text. Even in Tyler's confused state of mind, he wondered who he'd texted. Haris took hold of his hand, wrapped his strong fingers around his and pulled him down the lit path past the ice rink. Tyler didn't remember when anyone had ever held his hand like this. It wasn't sensible to draw attention and he knew he ought to pull away, but he didn't want to because he drew comfort from the contact.

Once outside the museum grounds, they set off down the road and Haris didn't let go of him.

"It's too cold to stand around," Haris said. "We'll walk until Wilson has time to get here."

Tyler knew Haris expected him to talk about Gerald, but how could he without revealing his sordid past? Then again, he had to say something.

"He's not a nice guy," he muttered.

"Since he raped your friend, I'd guessed that much," Haris said. "So you and he were..."

Were what? We were nothing.

"He f.u.c.ked me a few times." More than a few. "He's a s.a.d.i.s.tic b.a.s.t.a.r.d." He likes to strangle me.

"Then why the h.e.l.l...? Did he ever rape you?" Haris tightened his grip on his hand.

"No." Though he'd been rough, his hands far too tight around Tyler's neck, shoving his c.o.c.k into him without sufficient preparation and Tyler had considered saying no, but then thought of the money and kept his mouth shut. He suspected Gerald liked to hear the guy he was f.u.c.king say no though he'd only ignore it, which was why he'd warned Jeremy to take care. Maybe if he'd been with Jeremy on Sat.u.r.day, Gerald wouldn't have...oh Christ, I'm not going down that path. It's not my fault Gerald raped him. Except...

"You ought to persuade your friend to go to the police."

I can't talk about this.

Tyler stopped walking and turned to face Haris. "That was a lot of money to bid when you've already got me."

"It was for a worthy cause."

"I'm not worthy."

"For the cancer charity, you idiot."

But when Haris brushed Tyler's hair from his eyes and rubbed his thumb along the line of his jaw, Tyler knew that was only part of it. Haris had bid because he'd asked him to. He'd still offer him the twenty thousand at the end of four months, except Tyler wouldn't take it. Part of him had decided not to take it anyway, even before tonight. Oh G.o.d, I'm in too deep already.

"When did your brother die?" Haris asked.

Tyler chewed his lip. Maybe Haris thought he was letting him off the hook by changing the subject and instead, he was driving the barb deeper.

"Fourteen years ago. He was thirteen."

"Was he in care with you?"

"No." Tyler began to breathe more rapidly. I was on my own. I had no one. I didn't need anyone. I don't need anyone. I don't- "Hey." Haris pulled him into his arms and held him tight and in the warmth and strength of his embrace, Tyler let himself dissolve against him.

"f.u.c.king queers," a voice hissed behind them, and Tyler spun around, arms flailing, panic swelling in his chest.

Haris grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. Five men stood close by. s.h.i.+t. This was why he didn't do public displays of affection. Too many w.a.n.kers like this spoiling for a fight.

"Perverts," said a shaven-headed man in his late twenties.

"Shut your f.u.c.king mouth," Tyler snarled.

Haris tugged at his arm. "That's not helping."

"Make me," the man said with a sneer. "On second thoughts, don't touch me. I don't want to catch anything."

Tyler wrenched to get free but Haris didn't let him go.

The group laughed as Tyler fought to get loose.

"Ooh, the girls are fighting," someone called.

"Go f.u.c.k yourself," Tyler shouted.

Haris dragged him away down the path. "Stop struggling. You want to take on all those idiots? Look, Wilson's across the road. Come on."

He hustled him over and pushed him into the back of the car. Tyler slumped against the door as the vehicle pulled away.

"Well..." Haris exhaled. "That was an eventful evening."

"I'm sorry," Tyler muttered.

"Come here."

Tyler turned to look at him.

"Come here," he repeated and opened his arms.

Tyler slid across the seat into them.

"What the h.e.l.l was all that about?" Haris pressed his face against Tyler's hair.

Tyler didn't know where to start or even if he should start. His heart pounded so hard he could feel it all over his body. He had an opportunity now to tell Haris about Prescott, and get it all out in the open. But then Haris wouldn't hold him like this anymore, as if he was something special, someone he cared about.

"You know, tonight was the first time I've ever walked along holding a man's hand," Haris said.

"You hugged me too," Tyler mumbled.

"I don't know what came over me."

Tyler snorted into his chest. After a shuddering exhalation, he sat up straight. "And I almost got us beaten up. I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

No, it wasn't. As usual, he'd been an idiot. He hadn't thought about the consequences. He already knew the consequences of telling Haris what he usually did on a Sat.u.r.day night. He could picture the look of disgust on his face. But would Haris understand him better if he told him what had happened when he'd been a kid? Would he understand why paying off his debt was so f.u.c.king important? Tyler didn't want Haris to feel sorry for him, and if he told the truth, he would.

He wanted to tell him but there were words he'd banned from his head because they brought intense pain-mother, father, brother, sister, love, home-and every time he let himself think about that night, his world fell apart all over again. The pain never lessened.

Tyler raised his gaze to his and knew Haris was waiting for him to speak. He also knew Haris wouldn't push him if he didn't.

"Once upon a time, I was part of a loving family. I had an older brother and sister and I wors.h.i.+pped them." Tyler clenched his fists on his knees. "We lived in a big house in the country and I had everything I wanted." He swallowed hard. "Better warn you. No happy ending to this fairy story."

Haris stroked his fists and when Tyler didn't uncurl his fingers, he laid his hands over his. "What happened?"

"Claire died when she was twelve. She and Noel died and I didn't." His voice cracked. "I never talk about this."

Haris stayed silent.

"When I was seven years old, my father shot and killed my brother and sister and my mother. He'd have shot me too but he couldn't find me so he turned the gun on himself. The police said I was lucky." He gave a short laugh. "Yeah, lucky my family had been wiped out and I survived. Imagine how f.u.c.king lucky I felt."

"Oh G.o.d," Haris whispered.

"Until tonight, I'd forgotten Noel had cancer. What sort of brother does that make me?"

"You were a little boy. A traumatized one. It's forgivable."

Tyler gulped. "I can't remember what they look like. I thought about them every hour of every day for months after it had happened until it finally sunk into my thick skull that they weren't coming back, that no one was coming to take me home, that home didn't exist anymore, and it never would again. What I had was the only life I'd get. Then, one day, I realized their faces were no longer in my head. I couldn't remember what they looked like." The pain of that made his heart hurt. "It was like losing them all over again."

"No photos?"

"There had been. A care worker made me an alb.u.m with pictures of us. She thought she was being kind, but I took out all those of my dad, cut them into tiny pieces and ate them." He let out a strangled laugh. "I have no idea why I did that. Then I cut up all the other photos too because I was so angry they'd left me." He sucked in a breath. "My dad pulled the trigger, but I blamed my mother for not seeing what was coming. My stupid brother and sister could have hidden like me and they didn't. Irrational fury."