Like Heaven on Earth Page 9

  “Don’t come back!” Cobalt snarled.

  “I will always come back, Cobalt,” Preston vowed. “Every time.”

  Cobalt glared over his shoulder at him. His cheeks were flushed and tearstained. His chin trembled and his shoulders hunched in, forming a bony, angled cage for his precious dog and his own fragility. He bit his lower lip. “I don’t need you.”

  Preston smiled at him. “You don’t need anyone,” he agreed.

  “I don’t.”

  “I’ll see you in one hour.” He practically had to push Azure out the door and drag him to the car.

  “It isn’t good to leave him,” Azure insisted.

  “His dog. His house. His broken heart. There is nothing we can do for him until he lets us.”

  “Broken heart?” At the car, Azure stopped and turned on Preston. “Over that asshole?”

  “I didn’t say I understood it. But I know it. He broke a lot of shit when he stopped dancing.” He pushed a coat sleeve up to reveal a thick rope of scar tissue on the back his left wrist, hand, and forearm. “You remember the vase you gave him from your parents’ place that first Christmas?”

  “He did that to you?” Azure asked, voice going breathy as he ran fingers over the old injury.

  “Twenty-three stitches and a convincing lie about Kya to you to keep you from worrying too much.”

  “He did that?”

  “Not on purpose. It was bad luck I walked into the wrong room at the wrong time, and quick reflexes that kept my skull intact. If it’s any consolation, it was the last thing he threw. And he felt really bad. I haven’t seen him lose it that bad since. But he’s close now, and I don’t want you in the line of fire.”

  “He threw tantrums when he was young.”

  Preston shrugged and pulled open the passenger door. “He doesn’t like being out of control.”

  “Then he shouldn’t fly off the handle!”

  “He doesn’t do it on purpose. But no one can control his emotions for him. Chance helps, but he needs space to pull himself together. Just not a lot of space, or for too long, so if you would, please, sir.”

  “How about you stop calling me sir and we go back to that thing we had once. You remember being friends?”

  Preston pursed his lips.

  “Coby’s in trouble, Prest. I need a friend on my side here. On his side. Please. That has to be more important than who has more money or who drives the damn car.”

  Preston swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.” Did he even remember, though, what it was like? He’d spent much of the past few years serving both brothers, almost to the exclusion of every other thing in his life. When was the last time he’d called anyone friend?

  “Please,” Azure said.

  Preston pursed his lips. It wasn’t that he didn’t want that.

  Azure frowned, but he got in the car, and Preston hurried around to the driver’s door, got in, and got them out of the drive.

  “Do you love him?” Azure asked as Preston left Cobalt’s dodgy neighborhood behind.

  “Do I—what?” Preston snapped a look at him. “I’m sorry, sir?” Heat flushed up into his face.

  “There, you see?” Azure gave him a vindictive look. “How the hell are you going to manage to court my brother if you feel you have to be so proper with me?”

  “Court?” Was he serious?

  “An old-fashioned word, maybe, but not so far-fetched for you. You’re a very proper, old-fashioned sort of guy.”

  “I’m sure I have no—”

  “—idea what I mean. Yes, yes. Stop it, Preston. Be straight with me. Like you used to when I was overworking a horse or studying too hard or a thousand other things you called me on because we were friends and you were worried. Well. We’re still friends, as far as I’m concerned, and I’m worried.”

  “About your brother.”

  “About you. About how you feel about him. It’s my turn to call you out. I know how he’ll react to you because he has an asshole of a boyfriend who doesn’t deserve him. I want you for him, and I want him to see how much better you are than—”

  “That isn’t your call, Az,” Preston said, belatedly recognizing both the shortened form of his employer’s name and Azure’s triumphant little smirk. “It isn’t my call either,” he went on, quickly covering the moment so Azure couldn’t make a thing of it. “He chose Cal and I have to respect that, no matter what I think of the scumbag.” He flushed hot again. “I don’t like his choice, but I have to honor it.”

  “Whatever his choice was, that asshole got violent today, and if he thinks he’s coming back, getting anywhere near Coby, he’s got another think coming.” He curled a lip, bringing out the viciously sharp gleam in his brilliant blue eyes. “Cobalt should be pressing charges. I would do it myself if I could.”

  “He won’t.”

  “I know that!”

  Preston clamped his mouth shut.

  A moment later Azure sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be snapping at you.”

  “I understand the frustration.”

  Azure offered him a grim smile. “Because we love him. We know what’s good for him. And he won’t let us help.”

  Preston shook his head. “You think you know what’s good for him, but making decisions for him is the exact thing that will push him away the fastest and the furthest. You need to support him making his own decisions.”

  “Because that’s gone so well so far. First Cal. Then ignoring his health until it almost killed him. And stopping dancing. Isolating himself in that crappy neighborhood in that falling-apart house. Every decision he makes is worse than the last one.”

  “When he first started seeing Cal, you were proud of him for sticking to one guy.”

  “I didn’t know what a douche bag that one guy was going to turn out to be, did I?”

  “Not the point. That’s what you wanted him to do. He did it. And when he was struggling with injury and depression, you encouraged him not to give up. To work harder. And then when he got sick, you wanted him to slow down and take better care of himself. To get out from under Cal’s shadow. You were happy for him to find his own way. He bought a house on his own. Exactly what and where he could afford.”

  “You’re not suggesting this is all my fault?”

  “No. Just reminding you that he wants to please people. Not just people. You. You matter to him, and he wants to feel like he’s doing the right thing in your eyes. And I know everything you want for him is only what’s best. For him to be happy and healthy and strong.”

  “But I should back off.”

  “Back him up. Stand with him. Without making any suggestions or ordering him around or trying to fix anything.”

  Azure snorted. “Because that will be so easy for me.”

  “You think I’ll be able to do better? Of course I want to make everything right for him. Bury that son of a bitch where they never find the body, and just for what he did today. And probably did while we were gone. Never mind what he’s been doing for the past who knows how long.” His hands ached again. This time, before he could get them loose from the wheel, Azure covered the closest one with his own. He said nothing, and Preston managed to pull in a calming breath. “But I can’t. Obviously. I can’t even speak against him, because he is who Cobalt wants.”

  “Maybe.” Azure brought his comforting hand back into his own space to fiddle with a cuff link. “Maybe not so much anymore. Don’t give up on him, Prest.”

  Preston shook his head. “He isn’t mine.”

  “He should be.”

  Unable to stop the bitter snort, Preston glanced at his employer. “Don’t,” he said quietly.

  “Why not?”

  “Not your place. Or mine. Only his. If he wants me. I—”

  “Try.”

  Preston shook his head. “I can’t. I’m not even his type. Even if I did think he would look when he’s with someone else, it wouldn’t be in my direction. First of all, he isn’t built that way, and I wouldn’t want
him to be. Second, I’m no Calvin Denvers.” He patted his paunch and darted his tongue over the scar that twisted his mouth into an ever-present sneer.

  “If you think Calvin’s behavior doesn’t outweigh his looks, you’re an idiot. I know my brother hates what he and Cal have become. And maybe he thinks he can’t do better, but you and I both know he can. He can have the very thing he wants and needs. All he has to do is realize it’s available. That’s down to you.”

  “I can’t fix him, Az.” Preston used his friend’s nickname on purpose this time. “He has to do the hard work. Cal is an easy reason for him not to try. Until he rids himself of that cancer, what do you want me to do?”

  Azure grinned, but it was a sad grin. “Back him up?”

  Preston grimaced. “Yeah.”

  “I just wish he could see how destructive it all is. That man, the house, the neighborhood…. Sequestering himself like that.”

  “Give him some credit. He reached out to Conrad. He visits every week, at the very least, with Peridot. He’s teaching, and the teaching has him dancing again, even if it is when no one else is around for now. Those are good, positive things. Chance is a positive thing. And the neighborhood isn’t all bad. He’s close to some of his students, and they’re good, solid men. That house is his sanctuary, and he feels safe there. Especially with Chance.”

  “Cal will make a stink about that dog.”

  “He can try.” Preston’s knuckles ached once more, and he forced himself to release his grip on the steering wheel. “If he has ruined that house for Cobalt, I will kill him. You have good lawyers, right?”

  Azure grinned, a real expression this time. “I do. I’ll bring a shovel.”

  The silence that settled around and between them was comforting. It warmed Preston to know his feelings of helplessness were not unique. He couldn’t fix Cobalt’s life. But he didn’t have to worry alone, and maybe, if he was brave enough, he could help Cobalt with some of the heavy lifting.

  Chapter 14

  PRESTON DID not linger when he dropped Azure off. He assured his boss—his friend—he would keep him posted, and only returned to his own apartment to change, feed the cat, and retrieve a wooden crate for his tools before he hurried back toward Cobalt. He was sure it had been the right thing to do to leave him alone to calm down. But he was just as sure he couldn’t leave him alone for very long. He would risk another scar or two if it meant making sure Cobalt was okay.

  When he arrived outside Cobalt’s door, he could hear through the broken window. The dog’s nails clicked, sounding like the animal was pacing back and forth through the kitchen. An occasional low whimper tracked the animal across the room, and he could hear a soft muttering but no clear words.

  “Hello?” He knocked softly on the door, keeping his voice even and calm. “Cobalt? Chance?”

  The dog yipped at the sound of his name, and the clickety-click of his nails ventured toward the door.

  Preston tried the handle. It wasn’t locked. Gently he turned it and pushed the door open. “Cobalt?”

  The muttering had ceased, but Chance’s greeting was subdued. He pushed his nose into Preston’s palm but turned away before Preston had much opportunity to acknowledge him. Head low, he led Preston to the far side of the kitchen and the alcove housing the washer and dryer.

  Cobalt sat on the floor, back against the washer, something orange and fuzzy on his lap.

  “Hey?” Preston tried softly.

  Cobalt stared at him, eyes blank, face slack.

  Chance whined again.

  “Cobalt.” Slowly Preston crouched in front of him, close enough now to recognize the sweater-vest he had worn on their aborted shopping trip. It was soaked, its soft nap crushed and matted. With slow deliberation, Preston eased the garment from Cobalt’s hands. “What’s this?”

  “Ruined,” Cobalt spat, petulance and anger bubbling through the word. “Like everything that asshole touches.” He scudded a reddened hand over his cheek. The small cut had opened up, been irritated and torn further, indicating this was not the first time Cobalt had worried at it. “Like me.”

  “No.” Preston took the hand and held on to it firmly. “I will not hear that, you understand me? Calvin cannot ruin you. He can try. He can hurt you, yes, and even toss you aside and tell you he doesn’t think you’re worth anything, but those are his actions, his words, and his opinions. They are not fact. Do you hear me?”

  Cobalt stared at him.

  “Cobalt.”

  “What?”

  “Do you hear me? What I’m saying? Calvin—”

  “Don’t. Don’t say his name.”

  Preston bit his lip, caging the anger Cobalt did not deserve to deal with behind clenched teeth and jaw. “Okay.” He shook himself a bit, loosening and letting go of the useless emotion. “Can you get up?”

  “I’m good here.”

  “The floor is cold.” A draft coming in under the door fluttered along the tiles, skipping over the broken ones just enough to stir up a chill that hit Preston in the back where he crouched. If Cobalt had been sitting there any length of time, he had to be frozen. Moving carefully, Preston pushed a hand through the thick layer of don’t touch surrounding Cobalt and laid it on his exposed chest.

  His skin, chill and damp, made Preston shudder. The nightgown and robe he wore bore spreading splotches of damp and soap from the sweater he had been trying to clean. “You’re freezing.”

  Cobalt whimpered, sounding much like the dog.

  “Okay,” Preston soothed, moving his hand to cup it around the back of Cobalt’s neck. Even there, the skin was icy. He slid it round to cup his chin so he could lift his face. He wanted to look into his eyes. “Off the floor. Now.”

  Cobalt’s stare softened, darkened, allowing the fear to creep through the bitter anger. “Why did you come back?”

  Preston smiled at him. “This is where you are.” He eased a hand under Cobalt’s elbow and began to encourage him upward. “You need me to be here. Where you are. So you don’t get lost.”

  Cobalt nodded, though whether it was in agreement with the statement or with the idea of getting to his feet, Preston wasn’t sure. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Cobalt was trying to heave himself upright.

  He was stiff and slow, and he tilted to one side once he was vertical, but Preston stepped into his space and shared it enough for Cobalt to lean. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.

  Cobalt collapsed into him, all his weight and sadness releasing into Preston’s grasp.

  “I’ve got you.” Without bothering to ask or worry if it was appropriate, he scooped Cobalt into his arms. In Preston’s memory, Cobalt was slender, willowy and muscled. He knew all about the dancer’s physique and how the look of fragility could be deceiving. This body cradled against his chest was not the body he remembered.

  Protrusions of bone, elbows and shoulder blades too prominent, poked at Preston’s ribs. He’d expected something more substantial. What he held was waif-thin. Wasted. Still, the grip with which Cobalt clung to Preston’s coat and sweater belied the evidence of frailty in his arms. There was strength yet hidden under the bruises and insubstantial frame. There had to be just as much tenacity buried under the current despair, and Preston would help him find it. Cobalt hadn’t come this far to falter now. He needed time to recover from this most recent of Cal’s blows. Preston would make sure he got what he needed.

  He carried Cobalt from the chilly kitchen into the slightly warmer living room, where he set him on the couch. Carefully he arranged the filmy gown to cover Cobalt’s otherwise still-bare body. “I’m going upstairs to get you dry clothes. You need to warm up.”

  Cobalt stared into space, neither nodding agreement nor arguing.

  Preston hurried off, taking the stairs two at a time. He found sleep pants on the bed, but they didn’t strike Preston as something Cobalt would wear. Opening dresser drawers one after another finally revealed one bursting with clouds of material, some frothy with lace,
some sleek and shimmering, and he quickly decided on a seafoam blue ankle-length affair with a thigh-high slit and frilly short sleeves.

  It wasn’t much, but it looked to be about the warmest thing in the drawer, so he took it and a thin robe with flowers in the same color, and hoped Cobalt would be pleased he’d at least tried to find things that matched. He tried not to dwell on how sexy Cobalt would actually look in the garment. Now wasn’t the time for such ideas.

  “Here we go,” he declared as he reentered the living room. “Something dry to put on.”

  Cobalt was still on the couch, staring into space, fingers of one hand buried in Chance’s ruff, the others wrapped around his phone. He blinked at Preston, at the clothes in his hand, and suddenly there were tears scrolling down his cheeks.

  “What?” Preston glanced at his handful of pretty blue satin. “You don’t like this one? I can—”

  “There were sleep pants right on the bed,” Cobalt sputtered. “Right there in plain sight. And you dug through my stuff to find that?”

  Perplexed, Preston let his hands drop, almost hiding the gown behind himself he was so embarrassed. To think he’d imagined how delicious Cobalt would look, long legs peeking from that daring slash in the material. How inappropriate was that?

  I’m an idiot. No better than Calvin fucking Denvers.

  “I’m so sorry.” Preston hurried to his side and plopped onto the couch, dropping the gown next to him.

  “No, no.” Cobalt gave him a shaky smile and touched his cheek. “Calvin would have made me put the pants on.”

  “Made you?”

  Cobalt snorted. “Been an ass about it, anyway.” He reached around Preston to take the crinkled satins from him. “I like this one.” Another wavering smile. “Covers my knobby knees. I’ll be right back.” He handed Preston his phone. “Had to get Perry to cover my class.” He sniffled again, then hurried away.

  He was gone less than five minutes, and when he returned, he wore the clean, shimmering blue smoothed down over his broad torso and flat stomach. “Everything you hoped?” he asked, like the answer actually mattered.