Heart's Price (MxM)

Chapter 49

At the end of Julian's long gravel driveway, where the narrow lane rejoins the main road, I stop my car, shut off the engine, and sit in the sudden stillness, staring through the windshield at the patch of ground illuminated by the headlights' dim beams.

My whole future seems to be lit and visible in that wash of weak light, and just as limited.

I know that what I'm doing is the definition of stupid—self-destructive, even—and that if Thom doesn't end up killing me, Dane probably will.

Only hours earlier I'd promised him I'd stay out of danger, and now I'm about to drive right into it.

As I listen to my heartbeat in my ears, I try to convince myself that I'm not just being reckless, and that I have a good reason for what I'm about to do.

It isn't just for Ambrose, or Dane, or the case, I remind myself. It's for me, too. One way or another, I will break Thom's hold on me once and for all, and I will be free of him; because if he thinks a few naked photos are enough to scare me, he's wrong.

Sure, no one wants naked photos of themselves floating around on the internet, but neither Dane nor Freya are in any kind of position that would be seriously damaged by such a thing. The pictures could be misconstrued, of course, but they weren't incriminating. If anything, they just make Thom look like a creep for taking them in the first place.

If it wasn't for the fact that the photos of that night—the night Brutus died—might hold something far more valuable, I'd have told Thom to do what he liked with the pictures, and fuck himself on the way.

Of course, it's possible that the photos contain nothing, and that I'm doing this for nothing—but if there's a chance I might do some real good, I can't let that chance go.

Taking a deep breath, I pull my phone from my pocket and make one final call—a call I know won't be answered, but which I have to make nonetheless.

When it goes to voicemail, I don't give myself time to think, and just force myself to speak, and to say what needs to be said.

"Ambrose...it's Noah. I... I'm going to meet Thom tonight. I know you told me not to see him again, but... well, if you still care, I think he has some important evidence, and..."

I stop myself and take another deep breath.

"Anyway. I know you might not hear this. Maybe you'll delete it without even listening. Maybe you did make a mistake, and maybe your feelings have changed. I don't know. All I know is that mine haven't. You made me love you, and I love you still."

Pausing once more, I shut my eyes and say the last of it.

"I love you. But I need the people I love to stop hurting me. So... one way or another, I think this is goodbye, Ambrose Thorne."

Then I end the call, restart my car, pull out onto the empty, moonlit road, and drive east towards the pass.

~ ☾ ~

Thom's is the only car parked at the overlook, which isn't surprising, given it's nearly midnight.

I park my own on the opposite side of the pullout and study him through the glass before getting out.

Leaning against the hood of his car, on which rests a large manila envelope, he's wearing one of the cable-knit sweaters he favors—maybe even one of the nice Irish wool ones I'd given him for Christmas last year—and smoking a cigarette.

Thom only ever smoked when he was stressed out of his mind about something, which isn't a good sign.

There are plenty of times and places he might've chosen to meet and discuss how he intends to blackmail me, after all—midmorning at a park bench, afternoon at a nice café. That he's chosen the middle of the night at a great place to dump a body tells me he intends to ensure, one way or another, that things go his way.