His phone chimed when he was settling on the sofa, debating on a movie or a game, and he immediately checked the message. He raised an eyebrow at the single-word text from Jasper.
No
He tossed his phone aside so he didn’t immediately respond, letting his head fall against the back of the sofa. It didn’t mean anything, even if itfeltlike Jasper was pushing him away. It didn’t have to be a bad sign. Maybe he was trying not to be clingy. He let out a slow breath, but then he was up and moving before he’d fully decided on what to do.
Two and a half hours later, he found himself knocking on Jasper’s door, a large bowl of hot homemade chicken noodle soup in hand.
Keith answered the door mid-yawn, still in a T-shirt and boxers, and squinted at Vincent in confusion. “What happened?”
“Jasper said he was sick,” he replied, lifting the bowl a bit.
A long, drawn-out silence followed that. “Huh,” Keith finally said, turning and motioning Vincent to follow. He bypassed the kitchen and headed upstairs, where he knocked on the second door. “Jas, you in there?” he asked, glancing at Vincent and pointing for him to stop where he’d be out of sight of the door.
That wasn’t foreboding in the least. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and shifted his hold on the soup as the door cracked open.
“What?”
“You sick?”
“No, why?”
Vincent tensed and somehow kept himself from stalking forward.
Keith raised an eyebrow at Jasper with a frown. “You sure? Why aren’t you with Vincent?”
“Fuck off,” Jasper snapped. “It’s none of your business.”
“But it is mine,” Vincent said, managing to keep his voice steady. Why Jasper had felt the need to lie to him was something that would need to be addressed, but that wasn’t the bigger issue right now. He breathed through the anger twisting his stomach, the silence from the other side of the door speaking volumes.
Keith shot Jasper a look that clearly saidGood luck digging yourself out of this oneand stepped back.
Jasper sucked in an audible breath, then stepped out of his room. His eyes landed on the bowl, and he glanced up in confusion, though he quickly turned his attention to the floor. “I said I didn’t need anything.”
Vincent fought down an incredulous laugh. “That’s what you’re going with?” He waited a moment for Jasper to offer anything else, an excuse or explanation—anything—but Jasper stared at the floor with a stubborn set to his shoulders.
He was well-versed in the signs of someone who wasn’t willing to talk, but he couldn’t understand what had happened. He’d been sure things were going well, that they’d settled their misunderstandings and moved on, but maybe he’d missed something.
It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
He stepped closer to hand over the soup at the same time another door opened down the hall. He glanced up and met Matt’s eyes with the same sinking dread he felt every time they met.
“The fuck?”
“I’m leaving,” Vincent said, not at all willing to stick around an openly hostile environment. Jasper could reach out to him when he was ready to talk. Or not. He didn’t like the thought of Jasper cutting things off without even an explanation, but if that was how he wanted to play this, they wouldn’t have made it past a second contract anyway.
Before he could even get to the stairs, Keith poked his head out of his room, where he’d obviously been listening. “Or maybe you two could finally put this shit behind you.”
Vincent hesitated and glanced at Matt. He’d offered an apology years ago, and Matt had made it abundantly clear he would never forgive or forget.
“You’re a fucking cuntass bitch,” Matt snarled at Keith. Then he turned his attention to Vincent, his gaze snagging on Jasper. His expression shifted with sadistic delight, and Vincent braced himself to have the entire story laid out for everyone. “But sure.Jasdeserves to know what he’s getting into.”
“Matt,” Vincent said tightly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you what you wanted—”
“You think I give a fucking shit about that?” Matt yelled, slamming his fist against the wall hard enough a picture frame fell and shattered on the floor. “You fucking. Left. Me,” he snarled. “I let you tie me up, and then youleft methere. Did you really think no one would find me like that?”
“I—What?” No, that wasn’t what happened. “I untied you.”
Matt laughed and stepped forward, the broken glass crunching beneath his socked feet. “No you fucking did not.” He stopped in front of Vincent, leaning close and pitching his voice low enough Vincent could barely hear him. “Do you know how many guys found me like that? Three. And they were all too happy to do what you were too fucking chickenshit to do.”
