Boyfriend Chronicles 02 - The Boyfriend Mandate, page 9
part #3 of Boyfriend Chronicles Series
Tyler’s hands slowed in the middle of smoothing down the sheet. “I already knew they’d talked about finding a surrogate and having a kid. The due date was a surprise, though.” He tucked the final corner of the fabric in and straightened. “Let’s go take care of that laceration,” he said, and then he turned on his heel and disappeared into the bathroom.
Hunh.
Memphis followed and leaned a shoulder against the door jamb, silently studying Tyler as he pulled towels from the bathroom closet and set them on the counter. There was definitely an underlying tension in the lean frame that hadn’t been there before, the broad shoulders stiff beneath the dress shirt.
Jesus, the guy was still hard to read. And Memphis needed those skills, because he’d decided it was time to come clean about why he’d left ten years ago.
He wasn’t letting Tyler leave this room until he did…
Memphis fought off the weight pressing down on his chest.
“You’re still pale and look like you’re ready to keel over.” Tyler opened the medicine cabinet over the sink and pulled out a first aid kit. “You should sit down before you fall down.”
The throbbing in Memphis’s head had dulled quite a bit but still left him feeling like a freaking slug, so he took a seat on the edge of the tub. Tyler pulled supplies from the kit and placed them on the counter. Memphis admired his economy of movements and his confidence, so different from how he used to be. Tyler turned and pressed thick gauze to Memphis’s wound, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. But the sting wasn’t near as bad as the pain in his skull.
Or the ten-year-old ache of regret.
Memphis searched the careful expression on Tyler’s face. “Living with someone as long as you and Alec did…well, relationships like that are hard to get over.”
And made it impossible to walk away without scars. He’d learned that the hard way.
Tyler hiked an eyebrow and looked down at him. “I’m well aware of that.”
A heavy pause stretched between them as Memphis wondered if he’d been referring to his relationship with Alec or someone else or…him. All of the above? None of the above? And why the hell was the answer so important?
He pushed the disturbing thoughts aside as Tyler went on.
“It took me a while to realize Alec was more focused on Tyler the potential husband than on Tyler the individual.” He unscrewed the lid to a bottle of antiseptic and picked up a cotton ball. “I left him because I finally figured out he cared more about getting married than he did about marrying me.”
Oh…
“I didn’t handle the realization so well at first,” Tyler said dryly. “But everything worked out okay in the end.” He met Memphis’s gaze, sincerity in his tone. “Alec loves Dylan. And I’m happy for him.”
“Then why has the news left you so tense?” Memphis asked.
A small line appeared between the man’s eyebrows. “I’m just wondering how they’ll handle the arrangement with the mother.”
Understanding arrived and left Memphis wanting to slap his forehead like the clueless fucking idiot he was. Tyler would certainly have a unique viewpoint about the situation, because, damn…
Memphis twisted his lips. He’d wanted to ask the question years ago. But at the time, bringing up the touchy subject hadn’t felt right. It was the only part of the story that the guy had never shared.
“How did you find out you were being given up for adoption?” Memphis asked.
Tyler stared at Memphis for a long moment before looking down at the supplies in his hand as if suddenly wondering why he was holding them and what he was supposed to be doing. And then he slowly set the bottle of antiseptic back on the counter.
“I knew something was up because my mom took me to the mall,” Tyler said.
The statement made absolutely no sense. Memphis shifted on the hard edge of the tub—his ass hurt, his head thumped, and the tile felt cold against his feet—but no way in hell was he breaking the momentum of the moment.
“The mall?” Memphis said.
Tyler turned and leaned his hip against the bathroom vanity. For a second, he seemed as if he was debating whether or not to go on.
“Whenever she wanted to cheer me up, we took the bus to the mall,” he said. “That day it was a little too early for lunch, but she bought me a soft drink and a slice of pizza anyway. Pepperoni and sausage.” He let out an amused huff. “My favorite.”
“I know. I was the college roommate who threw a shit-ton of those pizza boxes away.”
Tyler looked at Memphis. “Yeah,” he said with a faint smile on his lips. “I remember the whining well.”
A flash of shared amusement and understanding and happier times flared between them, making the ache in Memphis’s chest more acute. God, he’d really screwed things up back then. Tyler returned his gaze to the far wall, and, just when Memphis thought the man wouldn’t go on, he did.
“We were sitting in the food court when my mom told me she was going to quickly visit one of the stores. She said they wouldn’t let me in with my pizza,” he went on. “So she kissed me and told me to wait for her there.”
The hairs on the back of Memphis’s neck lifted, and he stared at Tyler’s profile. The air felt thick, and Memphis knew without a doubt he wouldn’t like what came next, but he suppressed the sudden urge to change the subject, no matter how much he didn’t want to learn the rest.
His voice rough, Memphis asked, “And…?”
Tyler’s expression remained calm. “And she never came back.”
The words hit like an airbag after a twenty-story free fall, punching the breath from Memphis’s chest.
Motherfucker.
A rock formed in his throat, threatening to cut off his air as he pictured a four-year-old Tyler sitting in a busy mall, people bustling past. Black curls and skinny legs and scared gray eyes scanning the crowd while he waited for his mom to return.
And waited and waited…
Jesus. Memphis fought the urge to weep for the boy he’d been and gripped the edge of the tub tightly, wishing the woman had lived just so he could hunt her down and ream her a new one.
“She was pretty young at the time.” Tyler turned and picked up his supplies, pressing the cotton to the opening of the bottle of antiseptic. “I’m not sure what prompted her decision to finally give me up. The HIV diagnosis, maybe? Losing our apartment? Or because I was old enough to start asking questions about the men coming and going…” He shrugged, the small movement a gesture of acceptance Memphis suspected had taken years to achieve. “I think she did the only thing she could, giving me up.”
And with those words, the guy tipped the container, soaking the cotton ball. But Memphis hated the freaking accepting tone in Tyler’s voice. He hated what she’d done to him. She hadn’t just given him up, she’d abandoned him.
Just like you did.
Oh…God.
The urge to vomit rose, and Memphis bit the inside of his cheek. And if he didn’t get this off his chest now, he was going to suffocate.
“I need to explain why I left,” he said.
The statement vaporized every molecule of oxygen in the room. The scent of antiseptic permeated the air, and Tyler paused, the soaked cotton ball gripped in his fingers. Until, finally…
“That was a long time ago.” Tyler’s words were deceptively mild. Emotionless, despite the underlying tension. “It’s not important anymore.”
He plopped the cotton ball against the cut, and the sharp sting made Memphis suck in a hissing breath. He gripped Tyler’s wrist and pulled the hand away, staring up at the guy who seemed determined not to have any conversations that dealt with their past.
Well, no fucking more.
“I got sick again,” he said.
Frozen, Tyler stared down at him, his wrist still caught in Memphis’s grip. He didn’t appear to be breathing.
Memphis pushed on. “That Friday you left for a field trip, I went in for my regular follow-up with the oncologist, and the routine workup brought…bad news.” He ignored the roll in his gut at the memory. “They told me my statistical chance of survival was twenty-five percent, at best. I had no idea if I would live or not. In fact,” he went on, trying to ease the words with a cynical grin, “the odds were stacked very much in not’s favor.”
“Shit,” Tyler whispered.
With his free hand, Tyler rubbed his fingers across his forehead, a maneuver that hid his eyes from view. And the only other sign of his agitation was the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The sight left him looking brittle. As if, with a single touch, he’d break apart.
One wrist still in Memphis’s grip, Tyler dropped his free hand.
“I’m sorry,” Tyler said, his voice sounding raw.
The sincere words came with a softening of his expression, and Memphis could barely restrain the hope the look brought. Unfortunately, the sympathy only increased the guilt constantly boiling inside Memphis by a million degrees, and he tensed for what he had to do next.
Jesus, he hoped Tyler decked him.
Memphis swallowed. “I know that doesn’t excuse what I did…”
Two pounding beats of Memphis’s heart later, Tyler pulled his wrist from Memphis’s grip.
“What you did?” Tyler said.
The words filled the air, and, as if by magic, Tyler’s expression shut down into that blank look that Memphis had come to recognize as a cover. But this time, there was no denying the emotion in his eyes. His gaze never left Memphis’s face.
“Christ.” The man’s harsh huff echoed in the marble bathroom. “We were happy. Everything was going great. And then I left for the weekend on a field trip only to return to find you gone.”
His tone made the sick feeling in Memphis’s gut swell.
Tyler went on, the words low and tight, brutal but true. “You’d removed your stuff from our apartment, Memphis.” A muscle bunched in his cheek. “From our bedroom.”
“I know, I―”
“You left,” he said again, and the silence that followed felt louder than any yelling could have been. “You left without a phone call or a letter of explanation.” With more force than necessary, he threw the cotton ball in the trash. “Not even a friggin’ Post-It note to say good-bye.”
Jesus Fuck-Me Christ.
Memphis fought the urge to close his eyes. All the apologies in the world could never undo what he’d done. But the words were all he had left.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“After fifteen months together, one day you were there, and the next you weren’t. You even changed your cellular number, so clearly you didn’t want me contacting you,” Tyler said. “And I had no idea why.”
Memphis cleared his throat, hoping to silence the hundred curse words clamoring to be the first one out.
Looking back, he wondered if he’d expected Tyler to track him down, to come after him for an explanation. In truth, he’d known the man too well. In college, Tyler had lacked the self-confidence to seek Memphis out, not when he’d so obviously been left behind. It had been a shitty move on Memphis’s part.
But, goddammit, he hadn’t known what to do other than run.
Despite Tyler’s controlled expression, the words grated. “Why didn’t you just explain?”
“What was I supposed to say?” The old bitterness rose, surprising him with the intensity. “I’m off to die; have a nice life?”
Jesus, he’d been so angry when he’d heard the news his cancer had come back. He’d fought so hard in high school, and he’d thought he’d won. The odds had been on his side. For anyone else, a ninety-seven percent cure rate earned them a get-out-of-death-free card. But the surgeon had cut out Memphis’s nut, and then they’d poured toxins into his veins. And when he’d finally recovered from the bodily assault, Memphis had exercised and eaten right and done everything he could to lead a healthy life. But the bitch known as cancer had returned anyway. Memphis hadn’t asked for much.
All he’d wanted was to exist.
He slowly sucked in a breath, reining in the emotion. He was here. He’d lived. And he had the opportunity to make things right. It was past time to try.
Memphis felt wiped out as he watched Tyler place a bandage on the cut and smooth the edges of the tape with a slight shake in his hands—but Memphis couldn’t tell if that was because he was upset about the cancer news or from trying to control his anger. Tyler was so close Memphis could see the pores in his clear skin, the gold flecks in his gray eyes. Although his fingers were gentle, the set to his square jaw was firm.
Task complete, Tyler began to put the first aid supplies back into the medicine cabinet. When the last item was stowed in its proper place, he closed the cabinet door, his back to Memphis.
“You look exhausted,” Tyler said, his voice hollow. “You should get some rest. Let me know if your headache gets worse.”
That was it? Discussion over, time to move on?
Memphis studied the back of the black head of hair. “Ty―”
“I’ll be back to check on you in two hours, so―”
“Tyler.”
The man slowly straightened his shoulders. After several seconds, he turned to face Memphis again, a trace of sadness in his eyes. The colorless gaze landed on Memphis, and just for a moment, no more than a second or two, Tyler’s expression changed. Something almost too painful to look at. Tyler recovered so fast Memphis wondered if he’d imagined it.
“You have no idea how sorry I am that you got sick again,” Tyler said, his tone sincere, and Memphis had no doubt he meant the words. “But if being sick doesn’t give Patrick the right to be rude, then it doesn’t give you the right to walk out without a good-bye.”
Memphis’s heart pounded, and he took his time inhaling, hoping to ease the thumping in his chest.
“You’re right,” he said, drawing out the words. “It doesn’t.”
Tyler stared at him a moment more. “Just tell me one thing.”
The request set Memphis on edge, and he cautiously cocked his head. Every moment they engaged in conversation, no matter how much it sucked, gave him one more chance to put things right.
Tyler went on. “What’s the real reason you didn’t tell me the truth before you left?”
Shit.
Memphis turned to stare out at the now-dark sky and the headlights streaming across the Golden Gate Bridge. There was no way to cushion the words.
He slowly filled his lungs and then delivered the blunt news. “Because you’d already suffered through watching someone you care about die,” he said, his gaze steady on Tyler’s. “And I didn’t think you were strong enough to survive a second go-round.”
~~~***~~~
An hour and a half after learning Memphis’s reasons for leaving, Tyler stood in the dim light of the guest bedroom in Noah’s condo, staring down at his sleeping ex. Mind spinning, he still couldn’t wrap his head around it all.
That Memphis’s cancer had returned.
That he hadn’t thought Tyler could handle the news.
And he’d left because he’d wanted to spare him.
Too many emotions vied for Tyler’s attention: shock and a deep sadness, regret and a profound relief. For some absurd reason, he’d spent ten years believing that learning the truth about Memphis’s departure would make him feel better.
He let out a self-directed scoff. How stupid could he get?
In reality, all the emotions left him feeling gutted. Imagining Memphis being dragged through cancer treatments for a second time was incredibly painful. And his reason for bolting?
Well…
From the beginning of their relationship, Memphis had gone into protector mode. Tyler supposed it was only natural that role would have extended into a time of crisis and played a part in his decisions. And now that Tyler had had time to process Memphis’s side of the story, remaining resentful would just be mean-spirited.
Petty.
But…Christ, for the second time in his life, Tyler had been left waiting for someone who would never return. Waiting and wishing and hoping, yet utterly, utterly alone. Again.
Shit.
His throat tight, Tyler leaned back against the wall and tried to rub the burn from his eyes as he forced those particular memories away. Instead, he focused on the positive. Memphis had gotten sick again, but he’d survived. Not only that, he hadn’t left because he’d stopped caring about him.
The news brought a huge swell of relief and filled an age-old hole, easing the ache. Unfortunately, it also came with a price, because another part of him was left wondering what would have happened if Memphis had decided to stay and tell the truth? What would have happened if he’d let Tyler stick by his side? They’d never know, because Tyler hadn’t been given a choice. Why had Memphis taken away his choice?
Judas Priest, how was he supposed to reconcile all these conflicting feelings?
He shut the thoughts down and tugged on the sleeve of his button-down shirt, focusing on the reason he was here. Doctor. Patient. Ensuring Memphis made it through the night and the risk was gone. Falling back on his training, burying himself in the familiar was the way to go.
Tyler studied the rise and fall of Memphis’s chest, assessing his condition. When Memphis had left for bed, his color had been a little better. At the time, Tyler could tell Memphis was still in pain, mostly because he wasn’t his usual mouthy self. He also seemed tired, because the endless energy he seemed to exude wasn’t as evident.
But, even asleep, his presence was disturbing.
The sheet had slipped down to Memphis’s thighs, and he lay on his back, one arm bent with his hand tucked beneath the pillow and the other arm extended out to the side. His only clothes were the same kind of designer briefs he’d worn at the photo shoot. The well-defined muscles of his chest and abdomen produced intriguing ridges and furrows. And then there was that damn victory V…
Heat pooled low in Tyler’s gut.
He’d always been fond of the V created by the toned-to-the-max edge of the abdominal muscles located just above Memphis’s hips. The narrow channels cut a path that naturally lured the eyes downward toward the groin. Despite his best intentions, Tyler allowed his gaze to wander to the elastic band slung low across Memphis’s hips, the victory V disappearing into his underwear.
