Page 39 of Threepeat

Pete looked up at him and grinned. “Good. I was hoping you wouldn’t make me take off your pants.” Pete turned and switched off the taps, pulling the shower curtain back. “All the toiletries you need are there. I’ll be in the other room, so if you need anything, call out.”

Pete left and closed the door behind him with a soft snick. “Thank you,” Phoenix breathed, not loud enough that his friend would hear, but to Pete nevertheless. He sank down into the steaming water and laid his head back, resting on the porcelain. He looked down at himself. He’d lost weight, the lithe muscles he used to sport wasting away. His pecs were flat now rather than rounded, the bars in his nipples looking ridiculous. Stress had hollowed out his face, too, dark circles forming under his eyes and his cheekbones protruding. His hip bones were like peaks, and his legs long and lanky. He barely recognized the man he was looking at. It scared him.

Phoenix’s eyes closed, and sleep crept up on him. The knock at the door startled him. “You okay, mate. Haven’t fallen asleep, have you?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I’m good.” Phoenix scrubbed himself before emptying out the water and drying off. Wrapped in the rust-coloured terry-towelling robe, he wandered out to find Pete turning down the bed.

“In,” he ordered. “You need to sleep.”

“Can you stay for a bit?”

“Of course.” He walked around the other side of the bed and sat down as Phoenix climbed in, robe and all, and covered himself up. Looking at his friend, he smiled.

“You look good. Happy.”

“I am. Scottie’s…” Colour suffused Pete’s face, and he laughed. “He’s pretty damn amazing.” He paused and patted Phoenix’s hand. “Real talk?” When Phoenix nodded, he added, “You look like shit. You’re a husk of the man I left only a few months ago. What the hell happened?”

“Work.” He shrugged, not really knowing how to explain the destructive cycle he’d gotten into. “You left, and then Felicity left too. I’m not… upset about either one of you. I’m happy for you, and it was the right thing for her. I didn’t love her. I was wasting her time.”

“What brought on the anxiety attack at work?” He’d known this question was coming. Pete wanted more details than he’d been able to give the day before on the phone. He supposed it was now or never. But Pete also deserved to know the full story, not just the edited snippets he’d told others. So that’s what he did—came clean to his friend about everything.

It wasn’t easy. His emotions were far too close to the surface to be able to bury them. Even thinking about Jake and Cassidy had the tears pooling in his eyes, his breath coming quicker as he thought about that fateful morning. Pete’s hand on his was a steady comfort, and Phoenix flipped his hand over, threading their fingers together to keep him tethered. Memories assailed him, buffeting him with the force of a category five cyclone. The walls closed in on him, squeezing his lungs and blacking out his vision as he spoke about the fallout from losing his first legal job after a couple of hours.

Stark Williams Lawyers had been a dream, one that Maxwell Denyer had shit all over. But he’d survived. Scraped knees and a little battered and bruised, he’d pulled through and was starting to make a name for himself. But then he was back. Tightening the noose around Phoenix’s neck until he was about to snap. He wasn’t cut out for it. He wasn’t strong enough or ruthless enough. He wasn’t even stable enough.

Pete pulled him into his arms and let him cry. His T-shirt was soaked, but he never stopped rocking him. Whispering calming platitudes to Phoenix to let it out and that he’d be strong again one day. That it was okay to be overwhelmed. To need help. To have a broken heart.

When his eyelids got heavier and the tears dried up, Pete helped him lie down. Exhaustion settled over him like a blanket, and he pulled the sheet higher, cocooning himself. The hollowness inside him was cleansed somehow, like he’d purged the weight he’d been carrying for years.

The screech of a galah had him blinking open his eyes. He was alone, the covers on the other side of the bed rumpled where Pete had lain earlier that afternoon. The light was fading, and Phoenix sat up, more rested than he’d been in months.

He reached for his wallet. Pete had placed it on the bedside table. He flipped it open, the black leather supple in his hands from years of use. He reached in behind the couple of business cards he had stored there and pulled out the one he’d never been brave enough to call. It was creased now, the blue abstract depictions of the high-rise buildings faded. The word City Scape appeared underneath in block lettering, the address along the bottom two lines of the card. On the other side, a name, number, and email address had teased Phoenix. Trav had told him years ago that Jake was no longer with the agency, but he was still on his mobile. Phoenix had never summoned the courage to call him.

He’d also never grieved for them. Years had passed, and Phoenix had buried the pain, unable to face it for fear of breaking. He didn’t let himself think of them much any more either, the wound still as raw as it had been the day he’d been tossed on his arse. Did he regret it? Yeah, he did. But at the same time, he didn’t. How could he? For those few weeks leading up to it, and their one night together, his life had been perfect, a future that was like a dream laid out before him. Two people to love, the job of his dreams, hope lighting up his future.

Then it had all come crashing down, and he’d been broken. Something inside of him had cracked, and he’d never been able to put it back together.

Maybe now he could work on that. Build himself up again until he was whole once more.

Fourteen

Phoenix

T

he bonfire they sat around was mesmerizing. The colours flickered as the logs turned from the faded greys and browns of weathered timber to glowing red, then black as the fire burned through them. Peace surrounded him, the sounds of nature such a radical change from the hustle and bustle of the city. He could have been on a different planet to the one he’d come from; the outback and Sydney were worlds apart. He still couldn’t believe the dirt and the skies were real. Everything was so big too; it was almost unfathomable. Pearce Station was thousands of square kilometres—horizon to horizon and beyond.

By night, their world changed again. It was as if he was staring at a carpet of diamonds. The moon and stars, brighter than he’d ever seen them before, winked at him in a sky that was otherwise pitch black. No clouds swirled overhead, and the clear night allowed him to see the trail of smoke floating in the air above like a beacon to their bonfire.

He breathed in the cool night air and marvelled at the lack of the lingering scent of exhaust fumes. It was fresh and clean, a balm to his soul. He could see the appeal of a place like this. Freedom and enough space to stretch your legs. But unlike Pete, who’d taken to the station like a duck to water, he couldn’t see himself being so isolated. At least if he was around people, he could fake it. Out here, it would be a lonely, hard life for a single person. He could only imagine how Scottie would have felt thinking he was the only gay man in the world, guarding his secret with his life.

Phoenix had only been at Pearce Station for three days, and yet he’d been welcomed from the first moment he’d driven through the gates. The hotchpotch of people—three generations of women and the lone man of the family together with their workers and now Pete too, were clearly family by choice as well as blood. They were an interesting bunch. Scottie and Pete were so obviously in love, and thankfully no one batted an eyelid about it. His friend deserved that—a man to love him unceasingly and a family who didn’t feel the need to criticize everything about Pete, like Rachael, Stevo, and his parents had done. The way the ruggedly handsome station owner looked at his lover had Phoenix swooning.

It was something he craved. Something he’d shied away from for years, but with Scottie and Pete showing him what it meant to be loved, he knew one day he wanted that again. But first up, he needed to own his sexuality. He’d chosen to go to Sydney because it was home to Mardi Gras. He’d wanted to come out, live life as a proud bisexual man, but things hadn’t gone to plan. First there was the beating he’d narrowly escaped, then he’d been too scared to tell his friends. Trav knew because they’d shared a bedroom. But Rachael and Steve were clueless, finding out when he’d come home injured. Then he’d landed the job at Telford Lawyers and he’d realized just how religious the partners were. His bosses were great people, but he didn’t want to risk them finding out and having a problem with it. He’d never told Pete either, not seeing the point when he was focussing on his career. He’d been single for much of the last few years, and the flings he’d had were rarely anyone he had a repeat with. When Felicity had suggested a friends-with-benes arrangement, he’d thought it would be perfect. For as long as it went on, he wouldn’t have to risk his bosses finding out about his sexuality, and him ending up unemployed again—he wasn’t about to give anyone else an excuse to fire him.

Except that by walking out, he had, hadn’t he?

Phoenix rubbed his forehead and sighed.

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