Page 106 of Studs Up
Capturing his chin with my fingers, I made him look at me.
“How long, Holden?” I asked again as gently as I could.
“Years,” he choked. “The first one came after I signed with the Rovers. I had started a relationship with a man, and whoever it is found out.” The tears started to fall—unstoppable streams of them.
“I was terrified and a coward, so I dumped him,” his eyes watered, and the tears clung to his lashes. “Every time I had anything more than a one night stand, the texts came. All like that one.” He nodded to the phone. “I can’t go to the police and come out. I can’t do anything.” More tears, rivers of them, streaming down his cheeks.
“It’s been so long since I let myself fall in love. And you came along, and I thought maybe it would be okay this time. Maybe they forgot about me and found someone else to torture.”
Sobbing, panic sucked the words right out of him. He shook and was only gasping in air. He was going to hyperventilate if I didn’t do something.
I couldn’t tell him it was okay because it wasn’t. But I could hold him. I tucked him into my chest, and he started to sob. His arms slid around me, and he clutched at my shirt. He could rip it, I didn’t care.
His body gave out on him, and he sagged. He played a full ninety, tried too hard to overcompensate, and this threat had been screaming at him the whole time. It was a miracle he made it home. I held him tight and would not let him fall.
I’m an angry man, but I’ve never wanted to kill anyone before. Fantasies of slicing whoever it was to shreds was a powerful vision as I listened to Holden come completely apart.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. And that was the truth. It only made him cry harder.
Pieces slotted into place. This was the real reason he didn’t sleep at night. Why he was so careful, why he was so scared, why everything in his garden had been grown for height and privacy.
His legs buckled. I steered him to the couch and grabbed a blanket to wrap around him before I lowered us down. I never wanted to see him like this again. Ever.
Stroking his back, I waited until he had cried himself out, and when he did, he fell asleep.
I seethed as I held him. I was torn between wanting to hunt this bastard down and staying with him and never letting him feel alone or scared again. The tension held tight in his face, and I carefully smoothed them out. He relaxed, nestled into me, and I pulled the blanket tighter around him.
I understood it all now. They were trying to get rid of me. But I wasn’t going anywhere.
Holden
I woke on the couch, curled in Nolan’s lap. He had fallen asleep with his head tipped back on the couch and snoring.
It was an oddly comforting sight. The thrill of seeing him surged and then plummeted to the devastation of him being pulled into this mess.
He didn’t understand the implications. I would have to make him see. I would have to end it. The idea of putting him through this, through the blackmail and the threats, I just couldn’t do it.
Carefully extracting myself without waking him, I went to the kitchen to get water and make the darkest pot of coffee ever. I perched on the counter and sagged, holding my face in my hands.
I couldn’t put Nolan through this. Who would even want to stay with me with the constant threat of being outed hanging over me? Nolan had his own career to protect and his own goals to achieve. He could go all the way, and I shouldn’t be the one to stop him.
“Nope,” his rough voice broke the silence, and I jumped.
“Jesus,” I gasped and sat up so fast my head smacked on the cupboard. “Ow. Fuck. What do you mean ‘nope’?” I rubbed the back of my head where it stung.
“You really shouldn’t play poker,” he growled. “You suck at keeping your face straight.”
“You can’t possibly know what I was thinking,” I said indignantly. He came directly at me, his determined walk and muscular body and all. He stopped right in front of me.
“I know exactly what you were thinking, and it’s bullshit.”
“Nolan,” I moaned and sat back. The coffee percolated and hissed, filling the kitchen with the rich scent of good coffee.
His hand slid around the back of my neck, pulling me close enough for our noses to touch. His eyes were dark and stern, daring me to argue.
“You’re scared,” he said. “And you are gonna try to push me away. Well, tough luck, sweetheart, I’m an asshole.”
He rested his forehead on mine.
