“Don’t. I’m sorry for everything, Michael. I really am. I should have listened to my head and not got involved with you at all. I knew it was selfish and wrong and—” He bit his lip and clenched his fists. “I’ll understand if you don’t want me to work here anymore.”
Michael stared at him stupidly. “You’re… breaking up with me?” He’d anticipated this outcome, but now it was happening, he couldn’t take it in. He’d really believed that, faced with an ultimatum, Jag would cave in and choose him over his secrets. He’d been terribly wrong.
Jag nodded uncertainly. There’s no other choice, Michael.” His voice grated out of him, hoarse and trembling. “I can’t tell you why I have to go and you can’t accept that. Neither of those things is going to change, so what’s the point in pretending everything’s okay when it’s not?”
Michael had no answer to that.
“I’ll always be grateful to have met you, Michael, to have loved you. I didn’t think I was even capable of it. I thought I was too broken, but you proved me wrong.” He stepped forwards and lightly kissed Michael’s lips. “Thank you, for everything.”
He began to walk away. Michael wanted to stop him, to beg him to change his mind. He wanted to take back everything he’d said. Hell, he wanted to go back to earlier that day so he could undo the conversation he’d had with Mac. Losing Jag was a painful inevitability. He knew that now, but he didn’t want it to happen right at this instant. Not like this. But he couldn’t think of anything to say that would stop Jag from walking out. He’d put a cavernous rift between them, and there was no way to bridge it.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Jag paused and looked back at him.
“For work?” Michael’s throat was raw. His eyes stung.
“I’d like that,” Jag said quietly. “I really do like working here.” His eyes teared up again, and he turned and strode away.
Michael stared after him, unable to move. He’d gambled the time they had left in the hope that Jag would talk to him, and he’d lost. They’d both lost.
21Jag
Jag was angry at himself for being such a selfish jerk. Of course he’d been mad at Michael for asking him questions and going back on his promise, but he understood why those questions had come. He understood Michael’s desire to protect him because he wished Michael could do exactly that. That was why he’d told Michael about his rules; two of them, at least. Then he’d gone and told Michael he didn’t trust him enough to confide in him. The pain he’d seen in Michael’s eyes had almost crushed him. In that instant, he’d nearly crumbled and told Michael everything. He’d been so close, but his rules were so ingrained in his mind that the words hadn’t come. He’d backed himself into a corner and ruined everything. He hadn’t meant to end things with Michael. It had just happened. The words had tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, and once they were out, there was no forcing them back down his throat. He’d pushed away the best thing that had ever happened to him because he was a scared coward.
Fuck. Fuck Fuck.
He wanted to fix things, but he didn’t know how.
Michael was hurting, as was he, and it was his fault. He shouldn’t have agreed to keep seeing Michael once he’d known the man had feelings for him. It had been selfish and cruel. Michael’s heart had been torn in two once already. He didn’t need Jag jerking him around, toying with his emotions, and giving him hope, only to rip it away.
I never gave him hope, Jag thought bitterly.I told him I would leave.
But it hadn’t been enough. Because he couldn’t tell Michaelwhyhe had to leave, he’d obviously left Michael with a shred of hope that his mind could be changed by giving him a reason to stay. And fuck, Jag had gone and told him he loved him. The more he offered of himself, the more false hope he must have given Michael, which made him a terrible person.
The problem was, he’d wanted to keep giving more of himself to Michael. For once, he’d felt as if he was the centre of someone’s universe, and it had been more wonderful than he could have imagined. He’d never felt this way before. It scared and saddened him. He wanted to stay so badly and not just because of Michael. Heaven and Hell was the best club he’d ever worked in. He enjoyed spending time with the other dancers, loved that they were all friends rather than rivals. He adored the view from his bedsit. There were lots of reasons he could happily make a home here, although Michael was the most compelling of those reasons.
If only Michael could protect him. He curled his mouth into a bitter smile. He couldn’t even protect himself. Not that he’d ever really tried. All he’d done was run. He was pathetic. He clenched his fists. If he wanted any sort of life, he had to grow a spine and defend himself.
Sitting up, he grabbed his phone from his coat pocket. He dialled his parents’ home phone number, doubting they’d changed it. Once he placed this call, he knew he’d have to buy himself a new SIM card, but that wasn’t a huge deal. He got a new one every time he skipped town anyway. The biggest pain would be giving his new number to Michael, which would spark unwanted curiosity within his lover. What was one more oddity he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—explain? Especially now they weren’t even seeing each other anymore. He hit the call button and pressed the phone to his ear, trembling, as the ringtone sounded over and over.
“Gale residence, how can I help?” His father’s voice was formal, as always.
Jag couldn’t speak.
“Hello?”
His chest became tight.
“Who is this?” His father sounded impatient now, cross.
Jag sucked in a shuddering breath. It wasn’t the first time he’d called them. In the past, he’d hung up the moment he’d heard their voices. He couldn’t do that this time. He had to speak to them and stand up to them.
“Jeremy? Is that you?”
His name sounded alien, a hangover from the life he was desperately trying to leave behind. Tears stung his eyes, and he knew he should hang up. He wasn’t able to say the words he wanted to, because he was too much of a coward. His hand shook too much to even think about moving the phone, let alone hanging up.
“Jeremy?” It was the softest his father’s voice had ever been. “If it’s you, just say something, please. We’ve been so worried about you. We thought…” There was a sharp inhalation of breath. “Well, never mind that. Just tell us you’re all right, Jeremy.”
