Page 66 of Brought By the Storm

Stefan started to turn his face and the phone away from me, but I pulled his chin back in my direction. His cheeks were flushed, fear in his eyes. “Mateo…”

“Dude, I’m sorry. I thought you two were struggling models. You both seemed to have no clue how to ignite your careers. I figured there was no harm in sending myself the photo of Carrington. It was just a shirtless picture that every male model has in their portfolio. I knew Eric took the photo because I recognized the background studio. It was a great picture and I thought I could help you all. How was I to know Carrington’s the fucking president of Belarus?”

“Jesus,” Stefan muttered, putting his face in his free hand. I wondered if he did so to hide from my death glare.

“I told Eric how I got the photo, and he wanted to know how you got it. He told me he didn’t give it to you,” Mateo continued.

“Shit,” Stefan answered.

“Never mind. You know what, I don’t care,” Mateo cut in. “I know you guys are all pissed about the scandal and all that bullshit, but what I care about is Eric. He’s a mess, man.”

I lurched forward and pulled the phone from Stefan’s hand. “Mateo, it’s Carrington. Where’s Eric?”

“Dude, he’s going to do something stupid. You need to help him,” Mateo pleaded.

“Mateo, where is he?” I pressed, growing worried.

“He’s hurt, Carrington. He was crying and I couldn’t understand everything he was saying. It was something about how you wouldn’t believe him, even though he was telling you the truth about everything. Then he started going on about how you had left him just like his mother did, abandoning him in the city with nothing but a look of hatred.”

“Oh God.” I swallowed. Acid rose in my chest.

“Carrington, what the fuck man? How could you re-traumatize him like that? He kept sobbing, saying he loved you but he realized that he’s not somebody worth loving back.”

I wanted to beg Mateo to stop. Every word was ripping me like an eagle with its prey. “Mateo, where is he?” I pushed.

“He’s still in the city,” he answered. “I’m on my way down there to try to find him. He told me he’s going to Manny’s.”

“Who is that?” I asked, ready to rush there as soon as I disconnected from Mateo.

“It’s a gay bar. More like a nightclub, I guess. He and I used to go there a lot, until Eric started getting a reputation as the guy who wouldn’t put out. People started harassing him, calling him a cock tease and shit. They didn’t get that he’s kind of broken, you know? He’s been waiting for some knight in shining armor, and I tried telling him that those are characters in fairy tales for a reason—they don’t exist.”

“Mateo, focus,” I pleaded.

“Eric told me that what I used to say was right, that white knights don’t exist. He said he’s going to do what he should have done a long time ago. He said he was going to Manny’s to, as he put it, get hammered and nailed by everyone who gives him a second look because there’s no such thing as love—just men who want to use him, and he was going to let them. I was like, dude, what are you talking about? You’ll let guys—plural—have you? This is Eric we’re talking about. He’s screwed up bad.”

“God.” The word came out strangled.

“Carrington, I asked him to please not do this. I reminded him that he’s upset and not thinking straight. I told him he could get hurt, and he replied that’s what he wants. Can you believe that? He said he’s hoping they will hurt him because he’d rather feel the physical pain than what he’s feeling now. Carrington, you need to go to Manny’s to stop him. I’m driving down, but I’m still a long way away.”

“Give me his number, Mateo!” I had intended to ask Eric for his phone number before we had parted, but with the way things had ended, I never had. “I’ll call him.”

“I’ll text you the number, but, dude, it won’t do any good. He told me to leave him alone and that he was shutting off the phone. I’ve been trying to call him back, but it just keeps rolling to voicemail.”

I put my thumb and forefinger to the bridge of my nose, trying to stop the pain that was now coursing through. “Text me anyway. I’ll keep trying. In the meantime, we’ll head over to Manny’s. Where is it?”

“It’s in the Village. I’ll text you the address,” he rushed. I heard a beeping horn followed by a stream of swears.

“Mateo? What’s going on? Are you okay?” I panicked.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “There’s a reason they tell you not to text and drive. Shit. I almost drove into an oncoming car. Okay, you should have the address on Stefan’s phone now. I’m hanging up. Go get him!”

I looked down at the ‘messages’ icon, pressed it and saw the text come through from Mateo. I threw the phone back at Stefan. “Get us to that address now!”

“Carrington, I can explain…”

I held up a hand to silence him. “Stefan, right now, my priority is getting Eric safe. Did you hear any of what Mateo said?”

Stefan nodded with a frown. “Carrington, I’m so sorry. I swear, I thought Eric shared the photo with Mateo. I shouldn’t have gone into the studio to look at the pictures. It’s just that when you told me that you and Eric had done that risqué photo shoot, I was jealous. The old feelings came back and I was upset that he was getting so much of you after just two days, and I was miserable for so many years. I saw the picture, and I just wanted a little bit of you for myself.”

I looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Stefan, I can’t even…talk with you right now. I need to get Eric. Do you understand? If anything happens to him, I’ll never forgive you. I’ll never forgive myself.”

He nodded. Having a mission seemed to steady him, and he pulled me through the airport, leading me to where a sign indicated taxi cabs were waiting. “Our luggage,” he reminded me. “We checked it. All we have are our overnight bags.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I snapped. “Just get me to the address on your phone now.”