“Um, Aunt Beatrice? She mentioned it once, I don’t even remember why, but she said you told her that during your interview.”
He tried to keep a hold on his temper. It wasn’t Emmett’s fault, and it wasn’t really Beatrice’s either. During his employment interview, she’d said she asked all potential staff about their musical abilities, because she encouraged them to participate during karaoke or open mike. He’d admitted to playing the classical guitar as a teen, and that he’d given it up. Thankfully, she hadn’t pressed him about why.
“You should play for us,” Joshua said, all hopeful smiles.
“I don’t play anymore.”
“Aw, come on. One song? Please?”
Ugly memories swam in the back of Van’s mind, a cesspool of grief and pain, and he wasn’t going back there again. Especially not with a guy he craved standing only a few feet away. He wouldn’t risk it. “I said no,” he snapped.
The damned house didn’t have a back door, so he had to wade through a lot of people to slam his way outside, sucking in deep lungs full of fresh, night air.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Fuck!” he shouted at the starry sky.
TEN
Van’sangry reaction alarmed Joshua enough that he counted to ten in his head, and then followed Van outside.
He found Van halfway down the street, sitting on the curb between two parallel-parked cars, knees pulled tight to his chest. Arms around his legs, face pressed down. Joshua’s heart thundered with real worry as he approached.
“Van?”
“Go away,” was the muffled response.
“I’m sorry.”
“Go. Away.”
He should. He really, really ought to go back to the party and let Van stew over whatever Joshua’s begging had stirred up. Except if this was his fault, then he needed to fix it somehow. “Sorry, pal.” Joshua plunked down next to him on the curb, keeping a few inches of distance between them.
Van looked up, his face creased in a frown that seemed more grief-stricken than furious. “You’re a stubborn little shit, aren’t you?”
“I feel responsible for this. Whatever this is. You said no, I pushed, and I of all people should understand that no means no.”
Something flared in Van’s eyes. “What do you mean, you of all people?”
Joshua took a fortifying breath. “When I was ten, my uncle molested me twice. It fucked up my relationship with my family.”
Van’s hands jerked, as if he wanted to reach out and touch Joshua. Or lash out at the ex-uncle who’d hurt him. Both thoughts only endeared him more.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Van said softly. He seemed poised to ask something, but also hesitant to dig.
Joshua was enjoying this quiet moment too much to end it, so he offered a bit more. “No one believed me when it happened. Not my parents or the sister who was married to the guy. I was the youngest, so everyone thought I was acting out to get attention.”
“Jesus.” Van looked angry enough to spit nails. “Did they ever believe you?”
“Yeah. Five years later, when they caught the piece of shit touching one of his own kids. Everyone tried to apologize and make it up to me, but the trust was gone, you know? I don’t see them much. When I was in the accident last year, they begged to be able to help me, but I didn’t want their charity, so I stayed with Benji’s parents.”
“You’re lucky to have Benji.”
“I know.” He was so fucking lucky his chest ached sometimes. “Van?—”
“If you thank me one more time for getting you two back together, I will deck you, I swear.”
Joshua smiled, and that seemed to soften some of the anger in Van’s eyes. “Sorry. And I’m sorry for upsetting you earlier.”
