Found at the Library, page 12
part #1 of Found Series
“Oh good. Thanks. Is she okay? On her way home?”
“Yeah, she should be back in a couple of hours. I didn’t get any other information out of her, though.” Tommy took a deep breath. “She was too upset, because she had finished your new book.”
Mac frowned for a moment. Tommy could see the moment Mac got it, because his eyes widened, and he began shaking his head.
Tommy kept talking. “Yeah, she didn’t seem to take too kindly to you killing Thomas in the story.” Even saying that made Tommy short of breath. Why? He didn’t understand why. He waited for Mac to offer some sort of explanation, but the silence permeated the room.
Mac looked shell-shocked, like he didn’t know what to do. “I don’t know what to say. He does die, but that has nothing to do with you.”
Tommy couldn’t breathe. The pain in his chest was excruciating. “How can you say that, Mac? You’ve already told me our meeting inspired the book. Hell, you even gave him my name. I don’t understand it, but I do know that this awful feeling I have in my gut isn’t right. I shouldn’t be with someone that can make me feel this physically ill.”
Mac’s shoulders drooped.
Tommy paced away, not able to look at the pain on Mac’s face. He didn’t know what the right move was here, but Mac had killed that character. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Tommy steeled himself to do what he needed to, although he didn’t want to do this. “We’ve gone into this relationship really quickly, Mac. I think we should back off for a bit. You have your deadline, and the next two weeks are going to be crazy with Christmas and New Years.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Mac’s voice was quiet and somber. “You don’t want to see me anymore?”
“Not right now, Mac. I think we need to take a step back. I should be concentrating on what I can do to help Ryder get healthy, not in trying to skirt around the landmines of a new relationship. I’m sorry. I just can’t.” They’d jumped into this relationship so quickly when everything in Tommy’s life was in chaos. Maybe a little bit of time apart would give them both perspective.
“Tommy, please don’t...” Mac reached for Tommy’s arm, but Tommy shook him off.
Anything more and he’d break down right now. He couldn’t do that. First, he needed to think. And that needed to be done without Mac’s overwhelming presence influencing him.
“The store’s opening. I need to go help Franny.”
***
Five days later
Mac reached for his coffee cup as he pictured the interior of the bar for the next scene. Greyson would need to come in from the back while Kelser entered from the front. His fingers met air. He kept rifling through the cluttered space beside his laptop. Where the fuck was his cup? He didn’t have time to look away from his screen. Hmm, maybe he should add a coffee bar into the Magira system. That was a thought.
This book, The Final Destiny, ended the series for his barely legal adventurers, Kelser and Greyson, aboard their starship Mystique. But maybe he could create a spin-off series about a remote station, earning a reputation for its chicory brew.
Dammit. He needed his chicory brew. Finally breaking down and looking away from his laptop screen, he glanced over to where his coffee cup normally sat. Empty. In fact...what the fuck? His desk had been loaded down with trash and dirty coffee cups and now sat completely clean. Mac rubbed his eyes and looked up. Emily sat in the chair in front of him, frowning with concern.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts.”
“Emily?” His voice cracked from disuse. “When did you get here?”
“Save the document, Mac.”
He shrugged. “Okay.” That was probably a good idea. When he got into the zone, he forgot to save sometimes. So far, he’d never lost a huge chunk of manuscript, but it was only a matter of time, especially when he got to writing like this. He saved it and then sent himself a backup copy just in case before refocusing on Emily. “Done. Now, what’s up?”
She stood, strode over to his desk, and shut his laptop.
“Hey, I’m not through with that.”
“For the next thirty-six hours, you won’t touch it. Come on, Mac.” She tugged at his arm, and he stood and followed her, since that was obviously what she wanted.
“What happened to my slave driver? I had to dump everything I’d written before. It was all too emotional and crap, but I’ve recovered. The Final Destiny will make its deadline, Em. I only have forty thousand words to go, but I have to keep working on it. Now.” He pulled out of Emily’s grasp and turned to go back to the library. He couldn’t afford to stop. If he did, he wouldn’t make his deadline, and he’d have time to think. He couldn’t do that.
“Mac, stop.” Something in her tone cut through the haze of his writing obsession, and he looked back at her. “How many words do you have written on book number six?”
“Um...” He did a quick calculation in his head based upon what he remembered. He’d been in the zone when she’d interrupted him. “Somewhere around fifty-five thousand, I think.”
“And those are all new words this week? Because you trashed what you’d already written?”
He nodded. Instead of being excited about what he’d accomplished, she looked more and more concerned. “No wonder you look like death warmed over. When was the last time you ate something? And lacing your coffee with creamer when it starts to eat at your stomach lining doesn’t count.” She stood in the hallway, staring him down with her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know. I had some crackers.” Maybe. He couldn’t remember. Since he’d left Tommy’s place Monday morning, he’d immersed himself into the world of his book. He needed that fog to keep him numb.
“When was that?” Emily pressed.
“I don’t remember. What does it matter? I’ll eat when the book is done.” He tossed up his hands at her in frustration. “Just let me get back to it. Okay?”
“No, not okay. Look, I’m sorry you’re upset and hurting, but I’m not going to allow you to continue on this self-destructive path. It’s Christmas Eve. I’m guessing the last time you ate or showered was Monday. It’s Friday now.”
Wait. What? It couldn’t be Christmas Eve yet. That meant it had been five days since Tommy kicked him out. No, no thinking about that yet. He started back toward the library.
Emily jumped in front of him. “You are going to your bedroom. You are going to shower. You are going to shave. You are going to put on clean clothes and brush your hair. I am going to find you something to eat, and then you are going to Christmas Eve Mass with me. Non-negotiable.”
He could see the stubborn tilt of her head, and he didn’t have the energy to argue with her. Besides, he did need a shower. Even he could smell the stench. “Fine, give me fifteen minutes. I’d hate to offend your delicate sensibilities.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Too late.”
When Mac caught a glimpse of himself in his bathroom mirror, he understood a bit better why Emily had been so concerned. His hair stuck out in several different directions as a result of him running his hands through it repeatedly. He hadn’t been to sleep in a real bed in days. Instead he caught catnaps sitting at his desk, and that showed with the dark bags under his eyes and his hollowed cheeks.
Admittedly, exhaustion pulled at him. But whenever he dozed off, visions of Tommy filled his head, taunting him with all he’d lost. All he’d ruined. It was simply easier not to give into the allure of a peaceful, restful sleep, when it would end up being nothing but torturous.
He turned on the shower to hot and stripped off his dirty clothes while he waited for the water to warm up, eyeing the space warily. Normally, he loved taking showers because that was prime plotting time, prime thinking time. Today, he needed to not think. To that end, he hopped in and out of the shower in record time.
Toweling off just as quickly, he decided he could humor Emily. There was no reason to take out his pathetic issues on her. He didn’t want to do anything that would ruin her holiday. So he dressed in some nice wool pants and a cashmere sweater, even putting on some nicer hiking boots.
But he had no intention of going to Mass with her. He hadn’t set foot in a church since he’d been lectured at confessional about his evil, sinful desires because he lusted after men. Not even in the spirit of Christmas and friendship would he change or hide the issues he had with the organized church. That kind of judgmental, harsh God was not the same one he chose to believe in. He had his beliefs. They didn’t line up with the majority of organized religion, and he was okay with that. He wouldn’t be made to feel inferior because of it.
He found Emily in the kitchen, assembling some elaborate sandwiches. She’d dimmed most the lights in the house and had turned on the Christmas lights he hadn’t lit all week. Frank Sinatra and Doris Day sang old jazzy Christmas carols over his sound system.
“Look at you, behaving like one of Santa’s elves,” he joked with her tiredly.
“Yeah, don’t get used to it. Domesticity is not one of my virtues.” She pushed a sandwich toward him.
He took a bite of the sandwich and moaned at the explosion of flavor from the smoked turkey and Gouda cheese. He hadn’t realized he was even hungry, but this tasted amazing. “Thanks, Em. I’m sorry you had to come over here to put me back together, but I’m good now, so you can consider your good deed done. I understand that Christmas Eve Mass is a tradition for some, but I’d much rather stay here and get another couple thousand words written.”
“I know you would, but I’m not giving you the choice. I’ve confiscated your laptop. You may have it back the day after Christmas. Until that time, you have to function like a real human being and live and interact with other people.”
He shook his head in stunned disbelief. She wouldn’t actually do that, would she? He dropped his sandwich on his plate and took off to the library. A huge empty spot occupied the center of his desk where his laptop normally sat. He scrambled around to the other side of his desk, opening drawers, hoping to find it. Nothing. His gaze searched the room. He didn’t see it anywhere.
Back at the kitchen, he skidded to a halt to glare at Emily. She glanced at him blandly and ate her sandwich. She may look like an angel in her short holiday dress and flowing blonde hair, but he was pretty sure she was the devil instead. “Where is it, Emily?”
She began to shake her head.
“So help me God, I will fire your ass if you don’t give me my laptop.”
Her eyes hardened at the threat. “I’m doing this for your own good. Finish your sandwich and then we’re leaving. You’re staying at my house tonight, so pack an overnight bag, too.”
Mac stood in the middle of the kitchen so angry he wanted to hit something. He fisted his hands, reminding himself that he couldn’t get violent with her, no matter how much he wanted to right now.
As she went through the doorway, she leaned back in with her parting shot. “It’s Christmas Eve, Mac,” she whispered quietly. “I won’t let you punish yourself anymore, at least not for the next two days. This is my gift to you, because I love you. I think he loves you, too. But you have to still be alive when he realizes that.” And she walked away like she owned the place.
Mac’s chest seized with pain and grief and just the tiny flicker of hope. Please let Tommy still love him...
Chapter Ten
There’s nothing worse than finally deciding you’re going to seize the day and then finding all the stores are closed.
-Observations from Tommy
Tommy pulled up in front of Mac’s house. He should have called before he came over, but if he’d done that, then he couldn’t have changed his mind. Even as he put his truck into park, he still debated starting it right back up and continuing out of the circle drive. No. He eyed the wrapped package on the bench seat next to him. No matter what else happened, he still wanted Mac to have this gift for Christmas.
Peering up at the house, it didn’t look like Mac was home. The sparkle of the Christmas lights were the only illumination in the otherwise dark house. A few days before their blow-up, Mac had said he didn’t do anything besides relax at home by the fire on Christmas Eve, usually with a good book if no one came over. But that didn’t appear to be the case tonight.
Originally they’d planned to spend this evening together. Had Mac already moved on? Did people go on dates on Christmas Eve? Probably. There had to be other people out there like Tommy without family to spend the evening with.
Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out of the truck and went around to the other side to collect the present. The snow on the drive hadn’t been shoveled in several days. The grounds crews must have the holiday week off. Did that mean he’d given his housekeeper, David, the week off, too? Threads of jealousy spun through Tommy’s belly. Just let Mac be here so Tommy could stop imagining who he could be out with.
But when he rang the doorbell, no movement or sound came from inside. No one was here. A lump settled into Tommy’s throat. He sat the wrapped package so it leaned against the wall by the front door and strode back to his truck. The ball was in Mac’s court now. Mac could call if he still had anything to say.
***
Christmas morning, Tommy walked down Serendipity’s hallway toward Ryder’s room with his messenger’s bag slung across his body and a bag full of holiday treats in his hands. He planned to spend the entire day with Ryder. He’d actually hoped he could get a day pass for his brother, but his doctor wasn’t comfortable with that, yet. The hospital had relaxed the visitation hours because of the holiday, so he planned to spend as much of it here as Ryder would allow.
Tommy knocked on the door, and Ryder looked up from where he read his book on the couch and smiled. But as he got a better look at Tommy, his smile morphed to a frown of concern.
Crap, maybe he should have tried harder in his fight of his persistent insomnia last night.
“Merry Christmas, Ryder.” Tommy came in and hugged his brother, who didn’t even try to get up. Tommy glanced at the wheelchair sitting near the couch. His left side must be weak today. It seemed like lately his physical limitations were getting worse.
Concern radiated from Ryder as he brushed a thumb over the dark circle under Tommy’s eye. “I thought Mom cleared all that up for you when you were in high school. If you stay awake, Santa doesn’t come.”
“High school?”
“Well, you were maybe a little younger, but geez, you were always impossible on Christmas Eve, waking me up at all hours of the night so I could go see if Santa had come.” Ryder grinned.
God, but it was good to find his brother in a good mood. Tommy knew today could go either way for him, so to find him happy was a positive thing. After a week of huge, negative things, he needed this one little bit of happy. “So that was all me, huh? Strange, but that isn’t the way I remember it.”
“It’s a shame, isn’t it? They do say the memory is one of the first things to go. Well, actually,” Ryder tapped his chin and examined Tommy up and down, “it’s not the first thing, is it?” He looked pointedly at Tommy’s groin. “Is that why you’re so weird about Mac now?” Ryder looked at him wide-eyed and whispered, sounding horrified, “Shit, you can’t get it up anymore, can you?”
“Oh my God, you did not just say that.” Tommy shoved Ryder as his brother doubled over in laughter. Real laughter. Tommy hadn’t been sure he’d ever hear that from his brother again. “For that, I should take all my goodies and go.”
Ryder’s eyes lit up in interest. “You brought goodies?” He reached for the bag Tommy held in his hands. “What did you bring?”
Tommy lifted the bag out of his reach. “No way. After what you just said, why should I?”
Ryder appeared contrite. “Because you’re a good brother, and you love me no matter how much I screw up.”
“Luckily, you don’t screw up all that often, and yeah, I do love you.”
“So, gimme.” Ryder waggled his fingers at Tommy. “What did you bring? Tell me those delicious aromas are coming from that bag.”
“I don’t know. Does it smell like homemade cinnamon rolls?”
Ryder’s eyes widened and then they filled up with tears. “Just like Mom always did on Christmas morning.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said and turned away, his throat tight. This first Christmas without Mom was tough and having Ryder in the hospital made it feel even lonelier. He knew Ryder had to feel the same way. He pulled the containers out of the bag and arranged them on the desk.
He glanced back at Ryder. “You want me to bring you a plate? They’re still warm.”
“Yeah, that’d be good. The leg isn’t cooperating so well today.”
Tommy handed Ryder a paper plate, fork, and coffee from the carafe he’d brought in. He gestured to Ryder’s left side as he sat down with his own sugar-filled breakfast and hot tea. “Have you mentioned that to your doctor?”
“Yeah, I’ve talked to both doctors about it, my mental and physical one.” Ryder shrugged. “The weakness is going to come and go. We’ve always known that. I have to do what I can to stay healthy otherwise and it will do better. OD’ing didn’t help anything, and my left side is included in that. I’m actually researching a more vegetarian, holistic lifestyle to see if changing some of my eating habits can help with my physical strength. I’m also developing a new workout routine.” Ryder lifted his plate as he took a huge bite, dripping with frosting. “In other words, I need to enjoy this today, because I’m not going to get anything else like it for a while.”
His heart swelled with hope. Please let this be a permanent step toward Ryder getting better. “I’m proud of you, Ry. I know none of this has been easy, but you’re already doing so much better. That smile looks good on you. I hope I get to see it a hell of a lot more in the future.” He dug into his messenger bag and pulled out a tiny, gift-wrapped box. “And speaking of future, I think it’s time to pass this on to you.”
