Dissonance (17 page)

Galen didn’t budge. “It’s my business if you’re trying to kill yourself at my house.”

Cam laughed. “And whose idea was it to take me home with you like a stray dog? So you’re responsible for me now? Like my mother?”

“No.” Galen appeared genuinely mortified. “You’re not a stray dog. But I can’t ignore—”

“What the fuck do you know about it?” Cam demanded.

Galen took a deep breath, met his gaze unflinchingly, then pushed up the long sleeve of his T-shirt. It took Cam a moment to register the thin white line across the inside of Galen’s wrist.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I know because I’ve been where you are.”

C
AM
SHIVERED
and stared down at the cup of tea Galen had set for him on the coffee table. Chamomile, from the scent of it. Not his favorite, by any means, but strangely comforting. His grandmother had drunk chamomile tea. She’d been a kind woman.

Galen, who had been seated next to him on the couch, now rose and pulled a rainbow crocheted throw from off a nearby chair, then draped it over Cam’s shoulders. They’d been sitting for at least a half an hour. Galen hadn’t said anything, and Cam was perfectly all right with that. Better than the conversation he might imagine:

“Trying to kill yourself, were you?”

“No, of course not. I just thought a few more pills might help my runny nose.”

No. They both knew what he’d been trying to do. Worse, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t try it again if given the chance. And what about Galen? What did he think? Cam wondered how old the scars on his wrists were. He supposed he could ask—Galen had opened that door, after all—but he didn’t want to. He didn’t feel like asking, or listening, or anything right now. He wondered if Galen understood that, because he didn’t attempt to engage Cam in conversation.

A few more minutes passed in silence. Max hopped up on the couch where Galen had been sitting, then curled up with his hindquarters pressed against Cam’s thigh. Cam made no move to dislodge the dog. He pulled the throw tighter around him and shivered. The wind whistled outside and the farmhouse’s old windows rattled.

Galen pulled out the piano bench and opened the cover. It could have been the dim light in the living room playing tricks with his eyes, but Cam imagined panic flashing across Galen’s face, then disappearing as he rested his fingers on the keys and closed his eyes.

Chopin Prelude No. 4. Cam had played the piece when he’d been forced to take piano lessons as a child. He’d played it because it had been easy and because he’d never been much of a pianist. He knew now he’d never had the talent Miss Marquette had praised him for. Repeated chords in the left hand, a simple melody in the right. He’d thought it sad and pretty but not much more than that. But in Galen’s hands, it was nothing less than stunning. And when he finished, the room seemed to vibrate long after.

“That was beautiful,” Cam said after Galen finished. “Did you ever consider playing piano professionally?”

“Not really. I just enjoy playing through music from time to time. Sometimes I fill in as an accompanist for Miss Martin’s choir kids at the school.”

“You’re really good,” Cam pressed.

He found it easier to talk about anything but what had just happened. Galen must have known this, because he smiled at him and shrugged. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Galen’s expression hadn’t changed. “You just tried to kill yourself. Again.”

“I told you—”

“When are you going to stop bullshitting yourself?” Galen asked. “When you finally manage to pull it off?”

Cam shot up from the couch, dislodging Max in the process. Max looked up at him, then put his head back down on his paws. “Fuck you.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Galen was far too calm, and Cam was ready to explode because of it.

“We’re getting nowhere,” Cam snapped, “because you’re a pain in the arse.”

“Even better.”

“Oh, I can bloody well do better than
that
.” Cam gritted his teeth. Who the hell was Galen, anyhow? Some sort of new age freak who’d read too many pop psychology books?

“Please do.” Galen appeared entirely nonplussed, and the way the corners of his mouth edged oh so slightly upward made Cam wonder if he didn’t find the whole sordid affair amusing.

“You think you know?” Cam’s voice echoed against the high ceiling.

“I
don’t
know,” Galen admitted. “Not what you’re thinking right now. But I know the general stuff.”

Cam hadn’t expected that response. Galen had a way of saying things that set him off-balance. He’d figured Galen would just tell him what he should think or feel. The old “been there, done that” sort of condescending shit. Because why would Galen give a damn anyhow? No one else did. Cam ignored the voice in his head that said he was being an arse and feeling sorry for himself. Some people might care what happened to him. A few, at least.

“What are you running from?” Galen asked when Cam didn’t answer.

Cam tensed at the words. “What do you mean?”

“You’re obviously not used to sleeping in subways.”

“No.”

Galen shook his head as he said, “I’m not going to turn you in, Cam, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re safe here.”

“You don’t even know what I’ve done. Maybe I killed someone.”

“You haven’t.” Galen got up from the piano and walked over to Cam, then stood between Cam and the window. Forcing Cam to look at him.

“How do you know?” Cam countered as he tried to ignore the concern in Galen’s eyes. He knew Galen was trying to be supportive, but he didn’t need the man’s support. He wouldn’t understand anyhow. His universe was so far removed from Galen’s.

“The same way I knew you were a good person when I offered to put you up.”

“You’re naive.”

Galen smiled outright this time. “Maybe.”

“That’s it? Maybe?” The man was exasperating! Beating around the bush, pretending he didn’t think Cam should be committed.
Taking me home like a lost puppy.
The fact that his smile was so warm, so genuine, only made the entire situation worse. It made Cam feel
guilty
that he’d imposed on Galen.

“Yep. But I also did my homework.”

“Homework?” Cam’s exhausted brain couldn’t make sense of the word.

“Cameron Allen Sherrington. Only son of Ralph Michael Sherrington and Vanessa Baines Sherrington. Minor British noble. Thirty years old as of about three weeks ago. Chairman of the board of Sherrington Holdings.” Galen squeezed Cam’s shoulder. “Least that’s what Google had to say about you. But that’s about all I know.”

Cam scowled. He might have expected Galen would put the pieces together. In a way, he figured it was for the best. If he was still here and Galen knew who he was, Galen was probably telling the truth when he said he wouldn’t turn him in to the authorities.

“Fine,” he said. He’d tell Galen about the investigation, but he didn’t need to know anything more than that. “There’s a warrant for my arrest. FBI. They think I’m involved in something illegal.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“I believe you.” Galen’s expression of earnest concern hadn’t changed.

“You’re fucking crazy, you know?”

“I’ve been told that before. Nothing new.” Galen got up from the piano bench and sat down next to Cam. “So if you didn’t do anything wrong, why did you run?”

“I don’t know.” Cam rubbed his forehead with a few fingers and shook his head. “I panicked. I can’t explain it very well.”

“Try.”

“You really are a pain in the arse.”

Galen laughed and tucked a leg underneath him. “You aren’t the first person to tell me that, although I’ve never had it said with an English accent.”

“I’m not sure. I spoke to the FBI. I had nothing to hide. Then I got a call from our New York attorney telling me about an account in the Cayman Islands with millions of dollars. Turns out the account’s in my name, through a company we own here in New Jersey. The FBI thinks I’m laundering money for something. Drugs? Weapons? I honestly don’t even know what people launder money
for
.” The entire thing seemed so ludicrous when he explained it. Still, he knew
someone
was setting him up. Someone who had access to Raice Corp’s finances. And Duncan had more than enough motivation to want him out of the picture. “My uncle runs our family business. I’m just window dressing. He told me to cooperate. But….”

“But you’re wondering if you can trust him?” Galen asked.

Cam nodded. He’d really underestimated Galen. He also wasn’t sure why he was opening up to him. For all he knew, Galen could call the police and he’d be in jail faster than—

“I’m not going to turn you in, Cam.”

Cam eyed Galen warily, then let out a long breath. He hadn’t turned him in yet. Why did Cam still doubt Galen was telling the truth?

Because he has no reason to be kind to you.

Galen put a hand on his shoulder. It felt surprisingly good when Galen touched him.

“I like you, Cam.” Galen smiled and pressed his lips together.

“Not much to like.” Cam’s eyes burned as he thought of Aiden. Why the hell was he so fucking emotional all of a sudden?

“That bad?” Galen asked with the hint of a smile.

“Probably worse.”

“I burned a few bridges in my day.” Galen relaxed against the pillows. Max nudged him with his nose, and Galen tapped the couch. A moment later, Max was happily curled beside him. “Quite spectacularly, in fact.”

“The scar on your wrist?”

“Both wrists.” Galen sighed and released Cam’s shoulder. Cam wished he hadn’t. “That was the low point for me.”

“What happened?” Easy for him to ask. Not that he’d completely answered the question when Galen had been doing the asking.

“I got in over my head. I wanted to be a success to please everyone else, but I was miserable. I got this half-assed idea it’d be better if I just disappeared. So I tried. To disappear, I mean.” He lifted one of his hands and turned it over so the scar there was visible. “I spent a few months in the psych ward at a state hospital. I went back to school a few years later and got my teaching certificate. Started over again.”

“Parents?”

“They live in upstate New York. Good people.” Galen pulled one leg up onto the couch, reminding Cam of the handstand he’d found Galen in a few days before. “No childhood traumas.”

Cam looked away. He didn’t expect Galen to take his hand. What a strange man Galen was. Even with everything he’d told Cam, he was still an enigma. “I wanted to disappear,” Cam said softly, still unwilling to look Galen in the eyes but glad to feel Galen’s reassuring touch. He swallowed hard. “I deserve to disappear. I’m a horrible person.”

“No one deserves that, Cam.”

Cam looked at Galen. Fucking earnest Galen, who believed that. “I really am horrible.”

“Tell me what you’ve done that’s so horrible.”

Cam let out a long breath. “I’m a rat bastard and I don’t give a shit.” He waited for Galen to respond, but he didn’t. He kept holding Cam’s hand. “I treat people like shit. I lie. I cheat.” He dry-scrubbed his face, then added in a low voice, “I hurt people.” He wouldn’t tell him about Duncan. He
couldn’t
. He worried if he spoke the words, he’d just disappear.

“How?” Galen squeezed his hand.

How could he be so fucking supportive? “I take what I want. I don’t care what people think.” He sighed and said, “I told you, I cheat. I pushed away the only man who really loved me. Poor bugger. He loved
me
. So I fucked someone else on the most important day of his life and he found me doing it.” Cam laughed bitterly. “I think I wanted him to find me. He
deserved
to find me… find out who I really was.”

“And?”

“And he called me. Before all the other shit happened….” Cam closed his eyes and shook his head. “He’s getting married. The little fuckwit is getting married.”

“But he’s not a fuckwit, is he?”

How the hell did Galen manage to do that every time? Read his mind? Every fucking time? “No,” he answered softly. “He’s a good man. And he loved me.” Cam’s eyes burned. He wouldn’t cry in front of Galen. He fucking wouldn’t cry. But when Galen surprised him once again by taking him in his arms and holding him….

Cam held on to Galen for dear life. Clung to him. And if he hadn’t been so buggered, he’d have been able to hold on to the tears. Keep them to himself. But he couldn’t.

“Bollocks,” he hissed as the tears fell in spite of his resolve. Like a torrent. And damn if Galen didn’t hold him tighter and stroke his hair. And Cam kept on crying like a pathetic child. Shaking. Mewling. Pathetic. Lost. Everything blurred, everything combined into a swirling storm of emotion. He thought about his uncle. About Aiden. About the boys who’d used him. Telling himself he’d wanted it, but he hadn’t. The FBI. Riley’s betrayal. His mother. The loneliness he’d felt—that he
still
felt. The friends who hadn’t really been his friends.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as the tears finally abated.