Long Way Home by Carolyn Gray (23 page)

Lee climbed the stairs, looking back at the parking lot as the kid got into the orange Beetle

and drove off. Lee closed the door, glad to put a barrier between himself and the outside again.

Whoever was behind the murders could be anywhere. Nick had all but threatened to send Mutt

down to watch over them and had barely calmed down enough not to make Mutt pack right that

second. Lee still figured on Mutt showing up sometime or other. Frankly, it wouldn’t disturb him

if he did.

His booted feet rang through the empty hallway. Formless music drifted from somewhere.

He paused, looking about at the dingy, industrial brown walls, the scuffed-up linoleum that,

though clean, was cracked and peeling. Inside the building wasn’t much of an improvement to

the outside. Dusty pictures and ballet posters, faded except for the most recent, lined the wall,

brightening the place a little, but a flickering light overhead suddenly spluttered and went out.

There didn’t seem to be anyone around.

He wondered how much it would cost to fix the studio up.

Farther down the hallway, he reached an intersection, realizing the music he’d heard had

taken on more solid form. It was coming through an open door to his left. The last one, as the kid

had said.

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Carolyn Gray

As he approached, Lee slowed down so his boots wouldn’t make too much noise. A wall

lined with a mirror appeared in his vision, and he realized that a couple danced to the music. He

stopped where he was, hoping he was out of their line of sight. It was Gev, dressed in tight black

pants and a chest-hugging red shirt, with one of the female dancers he thought he recognized

from backstage after the performance. She also wore black and red, as if they’d purposely

coordinated their outfits. They were locked in a pose, not moving, every muscle straining, the

music building in an almost overpowering crescendo led by violins and clarinet.

Lee held his breath as they suddenly burst into movement. Fascination mingled with an

unexpected desire as the couple turned into a blur of black and red. He couldn’t stop watching,

but he pulled back so he wouldn’t be seen. They whirled in and out of his vision via the mirror,

the concentration on Gev’s face as he pushed himself through the steps softening into a beautiful

smile as his partner whooped at him after a complicated move.

They seemed to be having fun.

Envy stabbed through Lee as Gev and his partner slowed their movements, Gev pulling her

to him, their bodies swaying together for a moment. He murmured something in her ear, and they

exchanged a look of intimacy that made Lee’s heart race. A moment later, they had moved on,

but the thought wouldn’t leave Lee that she was important to Gev. He hadn’t been wrong about

Gev being gay; he knew that. But still, doubt crept in, and then he pulled himself up short.

What the fuck? Why do you care?

But he did. Fucking hell, he did. He couldn’t take his eyes off Gev, the flurry of arms and

legs, bodies pressed tightly together as they moved around the floor. For a moment, he fancied

himself dancing with Gev like that, melding against him, feeling the heat and the power beneath

his hands. Lee cleared his throat. Gev released his partner and spun into a series of small leaps,

which grew into bigger leaps. The woman had stopped dancing and stood watching him, her

hands clasped to her chest as she caught her breath.

Lee was trying to catch his own. Hunger ripped through him as Gev danced alone. The

music swelled and Gev’s movements along with it, his grace and power, so tangible, mere feet

from where Lee hid like a schoolboy spying on the girls’ locker room. Fuck, his jeans were tight,

his cock hard and aching. An almost unstoppable desire to tear into the room and slam Gev

against the wall, take him hard and fast, ripped through him, leaving him reeling.

He closed his eyes briefly and took a step back, forcing himself to calm. Or at least tried.

But he couldn’t stop watching. Nor, he realized, could he stop wanting.

He wanted Gev.
This is why you stayed
. He’s
why you stayed.

The music had changed, and Gev slowed, his movements gentle but no less dynamic. The

woman had moved over to the wall, hands behind her, one foot braced against it as she watched

Gev dance.

She looked up and saw Lee. His instinct was to jerk back, but he couldn’t move. She

turned her attention back to Gev, ignoring Lee. He hoped she didn’t know who he was.

Gev owned the dance floor now, his body moving effortlessly to the music, a creature of

perfection as the music filled the room, filled him. Light from the windows played over his body;

his skin glistened. This room, at least, wasn’t faded and gray. It was positively dazzling.

He was one with the music in a way Lee could only barely understand. Yes, he knew a

similar kind of connection, but he was a maker of music, not a transformer of it into a form that

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called to him so deeply, a physical language that he as a mere mortal could never hope to

achieve.

This was who Gevan Sinclair was. Who he had become.

He was, as far as Lee could tell, a genius. Raw, untapped, but a genius nonetheless.

He was beautiful.

Lee’s eyes caught the female dancer’s again. She dipped her head once, acknowledging the

recognition of what Lee saw in Gev. As the music came to an end, Lee felt like an interloper,

presence accepted or not, and backed away from the room. He would talk to Gev, but later.

He clearly had some thinking to do.

Finally, when every muscle in Gev’s body hummed with satiation, that delicious ache that

came after being well used, Francesca called their practice to a halt.

She tossed a towel at him. “You did well,” she said as he ran the towel over his face and

hair.

“Thank you,” he said, feeling somewhat shy. Which was ridiculous.

“Have you ever thought about leaving Dallas? Trying out for another company?”

Francesca asked as she started to pack her things.

Sitting on the floor beside her, he paused while taking off his dance shoes, then pulled

them off and stuffed them into his bag.
A better company
, he knew she meant. “Sometimes.” All

the time. “There are a lot of dancers, though. I’m not sure where I’d want to go, anyway.”

“You’re the best dancer here, Gev.” She touched his foot lightly, then hopped to her feet.

“This is a small, underfinanced company. You’re not challenged here, not like you should be.”

Gev hesitated. “I can’t leave here, not yet.”

“Because of your family?”

“My sister.” He grabbed his towel and rubbed it over his head. “I promised myself I’d look

after her.”

Fran eyed him quizzically. “Doesn’t she have a husband to do that?”

Mason. He rubbed the towel over his face. “She needs me here,” he said stubbornly.

“Does she know you’re sticking around for her?”

He wanted to get up and walk out, but his desire not to be rude to Francesca—of all

people, never her—kept him put. She cocked her head to the side, one eyebrow raised.

“No,” he finally admitted.

Francesca’s lips quirked. “You’re very protective of her. That’s understandable. But from

what you’ve told me, her husband and the kids sound pretty terrific.” She poked him gently.

“Right?”

“Okay, I know you’re right. It’s just, without them, I—” He had nothing. He’d been happy

here. He really had. But now… “I don’t know what to do.”

She leaned forward, her delicate face lit with amusement. “You know what you
want
to do,

I think.”

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Carolyn Gray

Lee shot to his mind, along with a fierce, almost overpowering need to have the life he’d

never thought he would—studying dance with the greatest, building a life with Lee. He didn’t

know what to say.

“Come home with me for dinner. Jared’s making fish tacos.”

He made a face. “There’s something inherently wrong with fish tacos.”

“They’re wonderful. He’d love to have someone else to eat his food.”

“Okay. I’d like that. I guess.”

“Oh, by the way, while you were dancing, some guy—” She stopped as the door opened.

“Visitors.”

Gev turned, and his heart slammed. Margot, with Chad’s father. “Oh fuck,” he whispered

as he stood, dread filling him.

“Who is it?” Fran asked.

“Chad’s dad.”

Margot said something to the silver-haired man next to her, then looked up at Gev as he

approached. Guilt slammed through him, coupling with dread at the look on Chad’s father’s face.

He faltered.

“Francesca, would you excuse us, please?” Margot said.

Francesca glided past Gev. “Later, Gev,” she said, her voice unsure. “Six o’clock, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Margot closed the door behind her. “Gev, this is—”

“Hello, Mr. Hill.” Gev put his hand out, but the man didn’t take it. Awkward. He dropped

his hand. “I’m so, so—”

“I’d like to talk to Gev alone,” Mr. Hill interrupted.

Margot’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Of course. Would you like my office?”

“No. This is fine. I won’t be long.”

Once Margot was gone, Mr. Hill turned back to Gev. The indifferent look fell from his

face, hatred and disgust marring his features. Alarm ripped through Gev; instinct kicked in, but

not fast enough. The fist came hard and fast toward his face. He tried to duck, but the blow

connected well enough. Pain exploded in his head, and he tripped back, shouts and Francesca’s

scream barely penetrating the agony as he fell backward, smacking his skull hard on the wooden

floor.

* * * *

mind was a jumble; he didn’t know what to think. Not anymore. All his life, he’d carefully

hidden who he was so no one could get hurt again because of him. He should leave Dallas

behind, get on the next plane and out of here. Gev was better off without him.

Gev.

Fuck.

He checked his watch. If he left right now, he might make it to Love Field, pick up the

three o’clock flight, and be back in Durango at a reasonable hour. He could be at Nick and

Brandon’s tonight, eating steak, talking about anything but Gevan Sinclair.

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But, of course, he didn’t head for the airport. He realized the continual argument he was

having with himself about staying or leaving was pretty ridiculous anyway. Instead he found

himself aimlessly driving around with no clear destination. His brain finally caught up to where

his subconscious was taking him—the one person in the city who he knew could help him sort

things out, whether he wanted to do so or not. She would also likely ream him out for not coming

by before, but he would take it. She would be right, of course. He needed to talk to someone who

wasn’t law enforcement and who didn’t have reason to judge him for his past.

And who wasn’t Gev.

As he parked the rental car outside Ruby’s house, he tried to push Gev’s image out of his

mind. This really wasn’t about Gev or…anything. He wasn’t sure what he would tell Ruby.

Could
tell her. He wasn’t sure himself what was going on in his head, though he knew his

fascination with Gev was growing.

“Dammit,” he muttered as thoughts he didn’t want to entertain filtered through his mind.

Stefan. Gev. Their parents—Irini’s conviction he knew something he couldn’t remember. Or

refused to remember. And Chad and his friend, dead. Hell.

The front door to the house opened, and there was Ruby, standing on the porch, waving at

him to come inside. She was blocking the entrance, but a furry head poked around her legs—a

husky. She’d finally bought one. He was glad to see that; she’d always wanted one. She pushed

the dog back, waving at Lee again to come inside.

She disappeared inside the house, and he got out of his car and headed dutifully up the

sidewalk. He pushed the door open and was greeted by the husky, the biggest one he’d ever seen.

The dog whined at him, wagging his tail. Lee rubbed his head, scratching behind his ears. The

dog licked his hand and jumped up slightly, but Lee pushed him down with a laugh. “Hey, big

fella. Stay down.”

The dog trotted off, tail waving. All was quiet except for the clicking of his nails and the

sound of a television playing somewhere deep in the recesses of the house.

“Close the door, son, before you let out Qannik,” Ruby’s voice called out

from…somewhere.

“Yes, ma’am.” He did as instructed. “Where are you?” he asked as he walked into the main

living area. He looked around; this was the first time he’d been in the new house, and a sense of

wonder filled him. It was beautiful, even more beautiful than the pictures he’d seen. Now there

was more than dark wooden floors, camel-colored leather furniture, a massive stone fireplace,

and wide passageways for Ruby’s sons’ wheelchairs. Now it was a home.