“So you plan on drinking yourself into an early grave, losing your job and quite possibly your friends along the way?” Drew placed a hand on his arm. “I don’t think Keith would expect you to mourn him forever.”
“I didn’t expect to have to mourn him at all. He was supposed to be here, with me.” The tears, always threatening below the surface, spilled over, coursing hot and fierce down his cheeks. It seemed he hadn’t stopped crying since Keith had been murdered. “I can’t get past it. No matter what I do, he’s always there with me, and I can’t let him go.” All the fight and anger left him then, like a balloon deflated of all its air. An ineffable weariness stole through him, and he laid his head on his arms on top of the table. “Go home, you two. Leave me alone.”
To his surprise, Ash found the broom and dustpan and began to clean up the broken glass while Drew remained next to him at the table.
“Look, I understand what you’re feeling. But destroying yourself isn’t going to bring him back. We know you miss him.”
“You don’t understand.” Jordan shook off Drew’s attempt to comfort him. “I’m beginning to forget him. Not only his voice, but also the way his arms held me. The way the sound of his breathing calmed me, so I could fall asleep every night.” His breath caught in his throat, and a shudder racked his body.
Jordan couldn’t reveal the worst—that he could no longer recall the press of Keith’s lips on his or the sweet sweep of Keith’s tongue in his mouth. The warmth and smoothness of Keith’s skin, once as familiar as Jordan’s own, had begun fading to a cold and distant memory. How fucking disloyal a love was he? It had only been nine months, yet Keith’s touch, something he’d longed for every day of his life and sworn he’d never forget, had slipped away like fog in the summer wind. Gentle and swift, leaving no trace behind that it had ever existed.
“Shouldn’t I remember? I lived with him and loved him with my life.” He lifted his head to stare into Drew’s eyes, seeing the sympathy and pain that had resided there since Keith had died. Hating Drew for that. He didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him, perceiving him as weak. He preferred the way Ash treated him, with stark truth and harsh reality. At least with that he could get angry and curse Ash But when Drew treated Jordan with kid gloves, all sweet and sympathetic, he couldn’t strike back.
“It has nothing to do with loyalty, Jordy. It’s merely the way the passage of time allows us to accept what’s happened. After my parents died, I raged over not saving their voice mails.” Drew’s green eyes glimmered with tears. Though his parents had been gone now over ten years, killed in a horrific car crash, Jordan knew Drew still mourned their senseless deaths. “To be able to listen to their voices might’ve brought me some comfort. I knew they were really gone when I couldn’t hear their voices in my head anymore. But in a way, it finally allowed me to move on with my life.”
Jordan watched as Ash placed his hands on Drew’s shoulders, bending down to brush a quick kiss on his cheek. That was what he missed. The support, the small gestures letting him know someone loved him enough to care.
“What if I don’t want to move on?” His laugh rang bitter in the silent house. Forcing a deep breath, he pushed himself up from the table and took the broom out of Ash’s hands. “There’s nothing you or anyone can do. I’m doing the best I can, so leave me alone. Go bother someone else.”
“You’re such a bad liar.” Ash leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. “This”—his hand swept at the debris littering the floor—“is the best you can do? Day-old takeout food and empty liquor bottles? Where’s the Dr. Jordan Peterson I knew—stylish, arrogant, and always in control?” Ash quirked a brow. “Even before you met Keith, you were a proud bastard. This is far, far from your best.”
A knot twisted in Jordan’s stomach. That was the point. He didn’t want to go back to the way he’d been before. There’d been other relationships, but none had mattered. Only Keith had seen through him right from the start. No one knew how badly Jordan needed Keith to anchor him. Jordan knew he could be that proud bastard, as Ash called him, to the outside world, because he had Keith at home, loving him, flaws and all. Now with Keith gone, the soft part of Jordan, vulnerable and needy for comfort and love, was dying.
“Go away, both of you, and leave me alone.” He continued to sweep up the floor, unwilling and unable to meet his friends’ eyes. Thethunkof the mail falling through the slot gave him the perfect excuse to leave them. As he made his way to the front door, the bell rang.
Christ, was he to get no peace today? The weekend was supposed to be for resting.
He answered the door to see his mailman on the stoop. “Hey, Bill. You have something for me?” Jordan and his mailman were on a friendly basis since Jordan had operated on the man’s knee last year with excellent results.
“Yes, Dr. Peterson. I have a certified letter you need to sign for.” He held out the green card, which Jordan signed and returned. “Thanks, Doc.”
“See you in a few months for your checkup.” Jordan smiled at the mailman and watched him walk away, noting with a professional eye the even gait and freedom of movement of the Bill’s knee as he descended the steps of the brownstone. Jordan turned away and closed the door behind him. As he scanned the letter, he saw with a sinking heart it was from Lambert and North, the financial consulting firm Keith had used to set up his accounts.
Most people hadn’t known how wealthy Keith was. The man had truly had a Midas touch when it came to having his money make money, and he’d been intimately involved in how that money was invested. When Keith died, Jordan was his main beneficiary, although Keith had set aside some money in trust for charities dedicated to LGBT youth.
Upon the reading of the will a month or so after Keith’s death, Jordan learned Keith had created a foundation to prevent gun violence among the city’s youth population. He’d coordinated it with the police department so that the teens would be taken to Riker’s Island to see what happened to men and women who chose to get involved with crime and illegal guns—a sort ofBeyond Scared Straightprogram. But there was much more to it. There were after-school sports programs to be set up, music lessons for kids, computers, anything to keep them off the street. Though it was mainly centered around Keith’s precinct and the schools in the area, Keith had arranged for several corporate sponsors to keep the money coming, but the hope was that more private funding would flow into it once they heard about the idea.
Jordan had been named the president of the foundation and administrator of the trust, but had been putting off meeting the financial adviser since the reading of the will. He didn’t have the heart or strength to get entangled in this endeavor, even if Keith had wanted him to. He was so tired of it all and wanted only for people to leave him alone.
“Who was that?” Drew asked. He and Ash both looked up from the floor, where they had recommenced cleaning. All the glass had been swept up and put in the garbage, Jordan noticed, and Drew was wiping the tile floor with some wet paper towels. He really did have some good friends, even if they came with pain-in-the-ass boyfriends.
“It was the mailman. Nothing important.” Jordan knew better than to tell these two how he’d been blowing off meeting the foundation’s financial adviser. Drew’s own cause, the medical clinic he’d set up for abused teens, was his whole life, and his and Ash’s dedication to it was extraordinary. He knew they wouldn’t take kindly to him dodging his responsibility. For a brief moment, shame coursed through him, and he decided he’d call Monday morning to set up an appointment.
“Don’t think you have to babysit me. I’m going to take a shower and run some errands.” He needed to refill his liquor cabinet and some prescriptions, but they didn’t have to know that.
Ash shot him a hard look, while Drew merely shook his head. “Is that what you think we’re doing? You’re my best friend, yet I barely see you anymore.” Drew’s inscrutable expression unnerved Jordan. Usually his friend was an open book, but now, seeing Drew so guarded and hurt, shame again pricked Jordan’s conscience. Keith had been his lover, but Drew and their other friend Mike were his brothers in every sense of the word. He’d never hidden anything from them. Until now.
One thing he’d learned how to do very well in the past few months was to mask his feelings. So with a smile he hoped didn’t look too fake or forced, he slapped Drew on the back, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re right. And I promise to make an effort to get out more and get a handle on my life.” With a small prayer of thanks, he watched as his two friends prepared to leave.
“Don’t be a stranger. My grandmother misses you.” Drew hugged him, whispering into his ear, “I miss you.” Once again unfamiliar guilt cramped in his stomach.
“Seriously, Jordan. Come by for dinner this week. Maybe you can distract that cat from attacking my ankles every time I walk by.” Ash grimaced, but his eyes crinkled with amusement.
Even Jordan laughed at Ash’s running battle with Drew’s cat, Domino. Seemed the cat resented Ash’s place in Drew’s life and took out his displeasure every chance he got.
“I can’t help it if the cat has good taste, Davis.” Jordan smirked and ducked Ash’s friendly punch before the man headed off after Drew.
Jordan couldn’t help but notice how, when they were halfway down the block, Ash stopped, grasped Drew around the neck, and kissed him hard. They continued to walk, and Ash put his arm around Drew’s shoulders to tug him close. That simple act of love sent a pain so sharp and deep within Jordan, he gasped. There was no one left to hold him. Not anymore.
