It was on the tip of Brix’s tongue to ask Calum to help, then the reason they were huddled on the couch in wet clothes returned to him. Calum had never admitted that he’d stayed in Porthkennack to hide from Rob, but Brix knew it was true, and now Rob had found him . . .
The possibility of Calum moving on left Brix sick to his stomach, and more than a little ashamed, because wanting Calum to stay in a place that wasn’t where he wanted to be made him no better than Rob, right?
“I’ll miss Lena,” Calum said when Brix failed to respond. “Sounds like her and Kim have a complicated relationship, though.”
“Not really. Kim’s bi and Lena’s a free spirit. She never wanted to settle, and now Kim’s with someone else . . .” Brix didn’t feel like explaining how much Kim needed the stability and longevity Lena couldn’t give him. “They love each other, but they’ve always had room for more.”
Calum said nothing, apparently lost in his own thoughts, and reminding Brix that Kim and Lena’s eclectic way of life was the least of their worries. He put his cake down and closed his hands around his tea mug, though Calum’s skin held the warmth he truly craved. “Tell me about Rob.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Whatever you want to tell me.”
Calum let out a heavy sigh. “It’s hard to put into words without feeling like a complete twat. You can tell me it’s not my fault as much as you like, but it has to be to some degree. He didn’t make me a fucking doormat.”
“Was it your idea to put the shop in his name?”
“No.”
“Or your phone? And what about your flat? Whose name was that in?”
“His. He didn’t live there, but the rent came from the business account, which was his too.”
“Harsh.”
Calum sighed again. “And that’s not the worst of it. I can’t even explain the spell he cast on me. I took out a massive loan a month after we met, gave it to him to set up his accountancy business, but he never made the payments. Black Star paid some of it off when I didn’t take a wage, but I’m way behind.”
“How big was the loan?”
“Thirty grand.”
“What? How the fuck did you secure it?”
“On my own place. I bought a bedsit in Hampstead not long after you left.”
Brix braced himself. “What happened to it?”
“I sold it at a loss. Rob didn’t like me having something that was just mine.”
“Rob’s a cunt.”
Calum snorted. “I know that now. At the time, I thought he wanted to buy a flat together, close to the shop, and maybe buy that premises too. We had plans, you see. It took me a long time to realise he’d made them all up, and by then . . . by then I was in so fucking deep I couldn’t see how badly I needed to get out.”
“What enlightened you in the end?”
“I caught him getting slammed in my bed.”
Brix whistled. “Bastard.”
“You say that, but according to him, it was my fault. Didn’t fuck him well enough, apparently. Stifled him too.”
Brix couldn’t imagine ever feeling smothered by Calum, ever feeling anything less than privileged to have it, but he swallowed his protests. Calum had more to say, and he needed Brix to let him speak.
“Not that he wanted me to fuck him much, or the other way around,” Calum went on, his gaze absent. “He liked to keep me dangling—in my place. His favourite trick was to promise me a quiet night in, then piss off into town with his mates without telling me. Then he knew I’d be sat at home while he did whatever the fuck he wanted. Win-win for him.”
“I don’t get it. Why not just tell you he wanted to go out in the first place? Or invite you along?”
Calum shrugged. “I wasn’t cool enough to hang out with Rob’s friends. He latched on to me because of the ink, but I didn’t turn out to be as interesting as he thought, so he quit inviting me out after a while. It hurt, but in the grand scheme of things—when I imagine what you and Lee have been through, it doesn’t mean anything.”
