With or Without Him (45 page)

The words had never come out of Haris’s mouth and now he knew they never would. He’d only imagined he’d seen love in the man’s words and actions. He’d been wrong. He didn’t have what it took to make Haris want to keep him. None of it meant anything and the pain of that was almost too much to bear. He picked up his bag and guitar and left quietly, wondering if hearts could actually break because his felt about to.

The other members of the band had gone out that night to celebrate finalizing the recording contract. The agent they’d finally signed with had almost instantly got them a deal with a major record company, but they’d spent weeks arguing about all sorts of points, and Tyler had been dragged into every discussion because he was the lead.

He was sick of hearing his voice, sick of talking through points of law. He deliberately hadn’t told Haris about it because he didn’t want the contract to dominate his leisure time too. Now the relief of signing the thing today, the pleasure that it was done, had been wrecked. The band asked Tyler to join them but he’d preferred to celebrate with Haris. He’d even bought a bottle of his favorite champagne. It was chilling in the fridge and Tyler hoped the damn stuff choked him.

He hurried to the Tube and made his way to The Plume of Feathers in Greenwich. The band members greeted him with a loud cheer when he walked in.

Newt rushed over and threw his arms around him. “I love you.”

Tyler gave a tight smile. “Only because you’re drunk.”

And pretty soon, he hoped to be drunk too because then he’d stop thinking.

“Where’s Haris?” Des asked.

Tyler slung his bag on the floor and propped his guitar in the corner. “We’re d-done.”
Oh God. Don’t choke up.

“Shit,” Newt said. “I thought you and he…”

“What are you all drinking?” Tyler asked.

He took the orders and headed for the bar. He hadn’t been in a pub for ages. Haris didn’t like them and Tyler had never been that keen, partly because he couldn’t afford the prices. He wasn’t a big drinker, though he intended to rectify that tonight. But not before he’d convinced one of the band to let him stay with them until he’d figured out what to do.

In the end, they all offered, but Tyler decided to go with Des who lived closest to the college.

“It’s a small room,” Des said. “It’s not really a bedroom. We’ll have to shift some stuff out of it.”

Tyler wanted to go there now, but he had to wait until they’d drunk as much as they could hold—or not, in the case of Newt, who threw up twice in the washroom. Tyler remained distressingly sober. After the second pint, he felt sick and stopped drinking. He made sure he wore his game face, not a hint of the anguish inside. He tried to follow the conversation but said very little. Mostly it was a succession of ‘yeah, amazing’, ‘I can’t fucking believe it’, ‘we are so going to rock.’

While the others celebrated, he deleted Haris’s number from his phone and blocked it. He’d post the iPhone back to him once he’d charged his old pay-as-you-go. The other thing he’d do tomorrow was tell his bank not to accept a transfer of money from Haris. He’d already forked out that amount at the museum, and once Tyler had his first big paycheck, he’d pay him back, plus the ten thousand, but he needed that for the time being. He couldn’t do anything about the ninety thousand Haris had given Jeremy for flying school but if he’d had the money, he would have. In an ideal world, Tyler would have obliterated any ties between him and Haris and made it as if they’d never met.

Oh God.

He and Des walked down Trafalgar Road toward the house that Des shared with three others.

“How come you and Haris split up?” Des asked.

“I guess it had run its course.”
Four fucking months.

“Bummer though.”

Tyler snorted. “Yeah. By the way, if he should try and contact me, I don’t want to see him, okay?”

“Sure. Hey, it’s going to be cool having you around. You can help me revise. Though I don’t suppose it matters about the degree now, does it? We’re on the way up regardless.”

“The public might hate us.”

Des chuckled. “No, they won’t. Girls’ll pin your picture on their walls even though you’re gay, you lucky bastard. We’re good, especially when Newt sings in tune, and our songs are different.
Your
songs. The rest of us might fall, but you’re going to be a star.”

Tyler didn’t care.

Des unlocked the front door and Tyler followed him in.

“Shhh. The others’ll be asleep. Come on upstairs.”

When Des pushed open a door and put on the light, they both winced.

“Shit, it’s full of stuff. You better sleep on the floor in my room.”

“This is fine. I can kip in here.”

Des scratched his head. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Tyler
had
to be on his own.

After Des disappeared, Tyler quietly shifted boxes and suitcases and other crap until he’d revealed enough space to lie on. He set out three cushions that looked as if they’d come off an old couch and made a pillow out of his bag and a sweater. When the noises ceased in the bathroom, he went to clean his teeth and wash his face. He had to dry it with his shirt. After he’d flicked off the light, he realized the streetlamp shone straight through the curtainless window, though he doubted he’d sleep anyway.

Tyler curled up on the cushions fully dressed, apart from his shoes. Tears slipped down his cheeks and silent sobs wracked his body as he returned to trying to figure out why Haris had dumped him. Had he always intended to or had something happened and he was using the contract as an excuse?

Was Haris jealous he’d found success? Maybe
he
had to be the one with the money, position and power. Tyler already knew that in a pissing contest, Haris was more alpha than him and he didn’t care. He’d thought he would, but he didn’t. They worked as a couple so why had Haris thrown it all away? Had he done something wrong, said something to upset him?

He reran the last few days and found nothing. They’d laughed and fooled around just as they always did. Tyler had made a salad and burned the Halloumi cheese and Haris had still eaten it despite Wilson’s longwinded lecture about the perils of cancer from charred food.

Cancer?

Was Haris sick?
Christ.
The idiot might have pushed him away if he was ill but then that last fuck hadn’t been…
ah God.
Had Haris wanted him to protest, wanted him to ask what the hell he was doing? In lying there and taking it, hadn’t he just proved that he was nothing but a guy to fuck in whatever way Haris wanted?

Maybe Haris thought Tyler was going to break up with him once he was famous and had dumped him first.
I haven’t done anything to make him think that. I love him.

Loved him.

Perhaps he should stop driving himself crazy and settle on the obvious. Haris had already given him the reason. He’d paid to fuck him for four months and the four months were up. And that final rough fuck had been a wakeup call, a reminder of why they’d gotten together in the first place.

Whatever the explanation, it was over. But it hurt. Haris had pursued him, seduced him and now betrayed his trust by breaking his fucking heart. His breathing grew more rapid and his pulse pounded faster and faster. Tyler was afraid he’d cry out and he pushed his fingers into his mouth. Haris had taken something from him he could never get back. He’d stolen his capacity to love because Tyler couldn’t go through this again. His heart couldn’t take it.

When Haris’s alarm went off the next morning, he waited a split second for Tyler to get it as he usually did before he remembered. He thought about going to talk to him and reminded himself of what he’d heard and seen.
Let him go.

He walked into the kitchen to find places set for him and Tyler, and a lump erupted in his throat. How long before he didn’t miss the smile on Tyler’s face, the sound of his laugh, the feel of his hair brushing his skin, the touch of his hand? The hollow feeling in his gut wasn’t hunger, it was because Tyler wasn’t there. A few minutes ago, Haris had instructed his bank to transfer the money to Tyler’s account and as soon as Tyler gave him an address, he’d have the piano delivered. He wasn’t sure he could go in that room again until it had gone.

“Are you both ready to eat, sir?” Wilson asked.

“Tyler…won’t be eating. He’s left.”

“Left? Without breakfast. Is he feeling unwell?”

“He’s gone. He won’t be coming back.”

Wilson gasped and the damn dog growled.

“Gone?” Wilson asked. “Gone where?”

“I don’t know.” Haris sat at the table. “I told him it was over and he left. He must have signed for one of those flats he was looking at on the Internet.”

Wilson slammed Haris’s coffee down on the table and it sloshed over the side. “What did you say to him?”

Haris bristled. What did it matter?

“Tyler
was
looking for flats but not for himself,” Wilson snapped. “Jeremy contacted him to tell him he needed a place for him and his new boyfriend to stay when they were on break from flight school. He sent links to Tyler and asked him to check them out. I helped.”

Haris closed his eyes and groaned.

“Call him,” Wilson said. “Talk to him. Explain that you’ve been an idiot.”

Haris opened his eyes. “It wasn’t just that. We had an…arrangement and now it’s over.”

“Arrangement?”

“A contract. Payment for his time but it has nothing to do with you.”

Wilson scowled. “A contract? Payment? Are you mad? He wasn’t an employee.”

Haris clenched his fists. “Actually, he was. It’s just that his duties included sleeping in my bed.”

Wilson exhaled so loudly Haris looked up at him.

“That was not well done, sir. Not well done at all. Tyler cared for you.”

“He was being well paid to care. Just as you are. Be careful what you say.”

“Did he walk out on you?”

“No, I told him to go.”

Wilson stamped away from him and then stamped back to the table. “So whatever this arrangement was, Tyler didn’t consider it finished.”

“Yes, he did. I overheard him talking on the phone. He said he was glad the contract was over, that it had sucked up his time and he could get on with his life now. That seems pretty clear to me. So I told him to leave.”

Wilson wrenched open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Cristal. He banged it on the table. “Tyler bought that yesterday. He wanted to celebrate with you. He finalized the recording contract with the lawyers. He’s been occupied with it for weeks. He didn’t want to bother you about it because he said you’d had enough of business at work and needed to relax when you got home, as did he.”

A thick snake coiled in Haris’s throat. He tried to speak but his jaw appeared to be wired shut.

“You’ve made a bad mistake,” Wilson said. “Put it right.
Sir
.”

Haris pushed away from the table and took his phone from his pocket as he walked out of the room. A moment later, he sagged. A recorded message told him Tyler had blocked his calls. He phoned the office, told them he wouldn’t be in that day and as he ended the call an email came from his bank telling him that the transfer he’d requested had been rejected by the recipient. Haris groaned.
Oh hell.

He straightened and went back into the kitchen. “Call Tyler on your phone. He’s blocked mine.”

“No.”

Haris stared at Wilson in shock. “Why not?”

“Because he clearly doesn’t want to talk you. If you use my phone, he’ll hang up on you and in future won’t speak to me. It’s not the way to win him back. You do want him back?”

Alcide growled and Haris let out a strangled laugh. “Can that dog understand what we’re saying?”

“Of course not. He’s picking up on the negative energy. This house has been full of light and laughter since Tyler moved in. You’ve been happier. More balanced. You’ve finally seen that work isn’t all there is to life. It’s people who are important and you’ve just pushed away the man who’s given you his heart. I’m ashamed of you, sir. You know better. And if you now wish me to leave as well, I will of course pack my bags and depart. With Alcide. I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone else to do my job. There are plenty of other homeless people out there. And of course, there will be another man to share your bed, but never one like Tyler.”

Haris sucked in his cheeks and then exhaled. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Don’t leave. I’ll put this right.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tyler lay on his makeshift bed, mountains of suitcases and boxes towering either side of him, trying to revise for his music technology exam. He heard the doorbell ring and someone clattered down the stairs to answer it. When he’d worked up enough energy, he’d go out and buy a few essentials, like a towel, a pillow, a sleeping bag, food. At least he wasn’t causing many problems by sleeping in this box room. Hopefully no one would want him out before he’d found a flat.

He froze at the knock on his door. “What?” he called.

The door opened to reveal Des and Haris. Tyler’s stomach lurched.

“He wants to talk to you,” Des said. “Say the word and I’ll throw him out.”