Shouting pulled Connor away from paperwork. He’d not seen Ash at lunch because he had to sign off on papers at the bank. Contracts had been exchanged this morning and he was now the proud owner of Honeysuckle Cottage. And even though he’d dreaded it, everything had been painfully simple and easy.
Anyway, Ash had explained he had something going on and that they’d catch up later, so Connor had instead lost himself in quarterly returns for medications. He enjoyed getting lost in figures but not for too long, already his neck was cramping and his fingers ached. So hearing shouting was as good an excuse as any for him to go and see what was happening.
When he opened the door, it was to chaos. Mark was in reception, his overalls covered in blood, and in his arms a scared screaming deer. Every muscle in Mark’s arms bulged with the effort of holding the deer, which was wriggling and bleating a noise Connor had never heard before. A gash separated skin and soft fur, and Rachel was trying to help, getting covered in blood herself.
“In here,” Connor shouted over the chaos, opening the door to the main surgery room and gesturing in.
Mark heard him, and between him and Rachel, they managed to get the terrified animal into the room. Everything was smooth, Connor managed to inject a sedative, but it would be a minute before it took full effect. Connor attempted to help, using his weight along with Mark’s to stop the deer moving.
“Hit by a car outside the garage,” Mark managed to force out through gritted teeth. “Quiet, then woke up.”
Connor said nothing, he couldn’t; he was too focused on stopping the poor thing from widening the awful gash that ran from leg to back. As the sedative began to take effect, Connor relaxed, and that was a mistake. With a sudden last wind, the deer bucked and pushed both Connor and Mark off their feet, stumbling into each other, Connor squeezed into the corner between cabinet and Mark on the floor with weight on top of him.
He couldn’t breathe, the blood on him, Mark scrambling up and away but not fast enough. Connor fought with every inch of panic he had left, forcing Mark off of him.
“It’s okay, okay, doc?”
Connor let out a shout of anger and shoved Mark hard. Every nerve was on edge and he was focusing on detail. He saw the deer silent on its side, the sedative finally hitting, he saw Mark covered in blood looming over him, but it was like a dream, as if he was staring at this from a distance, like he wasn’t even there.
Then Rachel was at his side. Not in front of him, but next to him, holding out a hand, talking to him, and slowly the focus came back, and with it came horror at what had just happened.
“No thinking,” Rachel encouraged. “Let’s just look at Bambi here. Con? You with me?” She pressed where there was blood, but it wasn’t Connor’s blood.
“It’s the deer’s,” he said softly.
She looked at him, her violet eyes filled with understanding. “Come on, then, up and at ’em, Connor.”
Slowly he eased up, and when he was standing, he finally looked at Mark, who was staring right at him. He didn’t look judgemental, if anything there was compassion etched into every line of him. But then, anyone who would carry in a wounded deer, be covered in blood, had to be a man with empathy. Right.
“Sorry, Mark,” he apologised even as he stooped to consider the deer.
“S’alright,” he said. Then he went to his knees next to Connor. “Will she live?”
Connor did all the checks he could with her sprawled on the ground. “Can you help me get her up on the table?”
Rachel helped as well and between the three of them, they lifted the deer up on the table. The gash was bad but the deer’s vitals had slowed from the panic.
“Will she live?” Mark repeated.
Connor nodded. “We’ll do our best, but she looks like she’ll do okay.”
Rachel washed her hands at the sink. “I’ll put a call in with Garret, see if he has room for her.”
“He’ll have room,” Mark said quickly. Then stopped and looked a little embarrassed. “I think,” he added lamely. “Anyway, I’m going to go home and clean up.”
Connor held out a hand. “Thank you, Mark,” he said with heartfelt emotion. Not just for rescuing a deer, but for not calling Connor on the fact he’d been a shaking mess in the corner of the room.
“No worries, and doc, one day we should have that beer, talk about… stuff…”
Connor nodded. “Sounds good.” Then he lost himself in the work and didn’t even hear Mark leave.
* * * * *
Dressed in spare scrubs, Connor walked back to his rented place as soon as he was able to. He looked like the scary doctor of death and the workload that afternoon was light enough so that he and Rachel could at least get clean clothes. Lesson one: have spare clothes at the surgery. Lesson two: talk to Andrew about investing in a staff shower room.
Under his own shower with half an hour to kill, he couldn’t help but focus on what happened in the surgery.
I lost my shit, that’s what happened. Suffered some kind of flashback to things I don’t even remember. How long is this going to keep happening?
Memories of what happened in Bristol were sketchy to say the least. The scar under his hair was testament to the fact he’d been knocked unconscious when he was attacked. Familiar panic coiled in his belly, but he fought it down by singing. His therapist had said if he could only concentrate on something else, a focus for his brain, then maybe he could push away these attacks so they became manageable.
He’d been the one to find that singing was the only thing that filled his head enough to stop. He’d sing anything, alongside the radio or a CD or his iPod. Seventies, eighties, Abba, show tunes, pop music, rock, he sang and sang and hoped to hell the walls were as thick as he hoped they were.
There goes the mad singing veterinarian.
The best place to sing was the car. With the windows up, stereo loud, he could clear every shitty thought from his head without much effort at all.
Finally calm, and with the insistent thought that he should really at some point find Mark and apologise, he got dressed.
Mark had probably seen PTSD in colleagues, maybe he even suffered himself, he’d been in war and he’d been a soldier. Even though he’d dismissed what he’d done as just fixing shit. He’d understand the things in Connor’s head, but he would never know what had happened to Connor to cause it. No one knew. Not even Rachel. And Connor certainly didn’t have family to share it with.
No. The secret was his to carry.
Apart from Ash? Ash would listen. He might even understand, or at least want to try and understand.
Ash was the first person who had breached the walls, who’d pushed through the barriers and got close enough to Connor’s heart that maybe, just maybe, Connor should tell Ash what had happened.
That would explain in a few words why Connor was so judgemental when they first met, would give reasons as to why Connor was so closed off. And Connor didn’t have to pass over all the details of what had happened.
Ash didn’t need to know it all.
Back at the surgery, he checked in on Bambi, as the deer had inevitably been christened. The next few days would be critical, and he called Garret to ask if there was space for recovery at the centre. Garret said yes, which meant Bambi had a place to go. Poor thing would be in pain, there would be meds that Garret would need to administer. Connor wrote a mental list to remember what to say when they did the handover.
He then lost himself in the quieter side of surgery life. Dogs, cats, a budgie who wouldn’t eat, and a hamster with his head stuck in a wheel.
Then more paperwork.
And finally Connor felt normal again.
* * * * *
When six pm rolled round, Connor locked the door of his office and took the convoluted route outside to avoid reception. Last time he’d walked through there, he’d been caught by Evan who wanted to talk needle suppliers. All Connor wanted to do was see Ash and he’d missed him today. All the text had said was Got to miss lunch, family stuff, sorry. But just receiving it had disappointed him. Seeing Ash every day was like getting a breath of fresh air and every minute he was with him it was obvious he was so different from Tristan.
Yes, Ash was confident and rich, probably, and had been brought up to expect things out of life that Connor could only read about. But… he was just a genuine guy once they’d got past the snarkiness that Ash wore like a cloak. And once Connor had allowed his own walls to be breached. Yet another reason why Connor should be more honest and open about his issues. Because, he had the impression Ash would be cool with it all.
He’d received another text at lunchtime. The timestamp showed it came in when Connor had been in the middle of the Bambi-trapping-him-in-a-corner debacle.
You can’t believe how much I miss you. I’ll see you after work.
Connor had only seen it when he checked for messages as he left work and he’d sent back a text just a while back after a few minutes of painful consideration. I miss you too. Hope all is okay. He’d even spent some time thinking about whether to include kisses. He didn’t, because he didn’t want to seem like some kind of teenager with a crush. Nope, he was an adult with a crush.
“Connor, wait up.”
Connor tried not to sigh. Rachel caught him up at the back door to the parking area and pulled him into a hug. She’d been doing that a lot this week, ever since she’d come back from London. Apparently some idiot had insulted her in this posh restaurant that charged thirty-five pounds for a mushroom starter. Landon had allegedly come over all manly or something like that. Every time she told the story Landon’s part became more heroic until by this morning he’d sounded like Superman taking down Lex Luthor. Luckily the Bambi incident had put a stop to the stories, but apparently she was back in Landon-is-lovely form.
She broke the hug. “I’m meeting Landon at The Wychwood for dinner. And you’re coming as well.”
“I’m seeing Ash,” Connor said immediately.
Rachel grinned brightly. “I know. Landon texted, and we’re all meeting there.”
To be fair, Ash hadn’t actually said where they were meeting, just that it was after work. Connor had assumed Ash would be standing outside on the green waiting for him. Clearly plans had been made without him, but then he hadn’t checked his phone all day. Ash probably thought he’d been pissed off with the “miss you” text.
“He didn’t text me.”
“Trust me, it’s organised. I’ll drive past and pick you up at seven.”
Connor fought back the disappointment that because of his own stupidity with Bambi followed by not checking his phone, he’d apparently been relegated to friend of friend or some complicated social other.
That disappointment—and he knew it was irrational, but he was scared, so he didn’t care—carried him through the walk home. Taking refuge in his own misery, was an art Connor mastered at Ph.D. level. But a text arriving five minutes later from Ash saying pretty much the same thing as Rachel had conveyed, had him smiling at his reflection as he shaved. The text even had a kiss at the end.
Ridiculous. I’m turning into a teenager now.
He needed another shower, this time not to wash off blood but just because he was going out and it was important that he made the effort. The shower took its sweet time to warm up and Connor promised himself that in his new place he would have a good shower with plenty of space for him to move about. Him and someone else. Him and Ash.
Just the thought of Ash had Connor hard, added to the warmth of water on his back and he leaned against the wall allowing the images in his head to fuel a pretty fucking awesome orgasm. Ash on his knees, Ash bent over, Ash not able to move.
Then the guilt hit at the images in his head. Making Ash a victim of Connor’s desire to be the one in control now. Fuck my head. The guilt took a lot longer to disappear.
The mirror in the bathroom was fogged so he couldn’t see his miserable fucking expression but his fingers unerringly touched the scar on his upper thigh. A dent in his skin, and under it, a knot of muscles that never entirely eased. Memories of that single night rushed him and he was mid-panic attack before he’d even had a chance to use any of his breathing or visualisation techniques. Or even start singing. He slumped to the floor, hands on his chest and tried desperately to calm his shit. Nothing worked. This is what happened sometimes, one attack in a day led to another and suddenly everything spiralled.
“I will not let this happen,” he shouted at the walls that were closing in.
Who am I kidding? This is fucked-up.
“Con, Connor. Car is outside. I knocked… what are you…?”
Rachel’s voice broke into his breathing, and the noise of it was just off balance against his measured inhalations and exhalations. She needed to be quiet.
“Shhh,” he murmured.
“You’re naked, Con, here… have this.”
Something soft fell on his shoulders. A towel. The material was too heavy to be on his skin, and he pushed it off. Slowly he forced himself to calm down until finally he was able to concentrate on the fact Rachel was sitting on the floor opposite him, her legs crossed and her hands resting on her knees.
She had that expression on her face, worry, acceptance, understanding, he wasn’t sure which one she was focusing on.
“Okay?” she asked.
Connor nodded. “Head rush in the shower,” he lied.
Rachel opened her mouth, probably to call him on his bullshit, but she shut it again. She’d seen him lose his shit once today already, and she was far from stupid. “Okay, we can talk later. Get dressed and we’ll go.”
Then she left and he heard her turn the TV on in the sitting room. Seemed like that was all she was going to do, and right now, that was exactly the thing he needed. Dressed in jeans and a jade long-sleeve T, he joined her in the room. He owed her an explanation.
“Rachel—”
“Let’s go. The boys are waiting for us.”
“Rachel, I want to explain, but I can’t. This is just more of what happens to me, and I don’t know how to stop it sometimes.”
She turned to face him and pressed a finger to his lips. “I know. I get it and it’s fine, we can talk later.”
He watched her leave. She was dressed up: heels and a violet dress that ended just above her knees, all floaty and flared with layers. Connor glanced down at his jeans and considered whether he should have worn something different. He pressed a hand to his chest, it was still tight, and decided he was good as he was.
He followed her down.
* * * * *
When they reached The Wychwood, Ash and Landon were already there, and Ash didn’t hang around, he jumped at Connor and peppered his face with kisses, right there in front of everyone.
Tristan would never have done that.
Connor grabbed any bit of Ash he could and held on hard, deepening the kiss and not caring what anyone thought of this PDA. He needed this open exciting connection more than his next breath. When they separated, there was fire in Ash’s eyes.
“We’re celebrating!” he announced.
Bemused, Connor allowed himself to be pulled into the small room off the side of the bar, then stood and listened as Ash summarised why he was grinning like an idiot.
“I invested money that I didn’t have, well it was mine and Ben’s and Lan’s money, and they found out and I thought I had fucked everything up, and this company Condaline, they got orders in excess of four million today and we’ve done it.”
Connor couldn’t help but smile, even if the mention of millions and money Ash didn’t have were things that didn’t sit so well on him.
They took seats at the table, and when Connor looked back, Landon and Rachel were disappearing out the back door to the garden.
“Where are they going?” Connor asked.
Ash winked at him. “You’ll see.”
Connor put two and two together. “He’s asking her tonight?”
Ash leaned over. “He wanted to ask her at the weekend, but he did that Landon thing where he can’t string the words together. Looks like there’ll be another wedding.”
“If she says yes,” Connor cautioned.
Ash stood up. “’Course she’ll say yes.” Then he walked out of the door and to the bar, jostling for place and coming back with a large bottle of champagne.
Connor’s chest tightened. Champagne. Of course it would be champagne. That’s what normal people drunk when they were celebrating. From the happiness radiating from Rachel she’d said yes and this was now a celebration about weddings and business deals.
With champagne.
Ash had brought back four empty glasses along with the champagne, casually holding them in a way only an experienced champagne drinker could.
Connor held it together, watched as the sparkling bubbles bobbed to the surface of the pale liquid. He even joined in with the toast but actually drinking the stuff? That wasn’t happening.
This was ridiculous. If he wanted something with Ash, something more than just meeting for lunch with an added hand job, then he needed to get his head in the right place. He couldn’t do it now, Rachel was glowing with happiness, talking dresses and joking that having Ash and Connor to help her choose alongside her girlfriends was a very good thing. Landon looked happy, they talked about September weddings, spring weddings, but the one that seemed to sit the best was Christmas.
“We’re making a move,” Rachel said in his ear as they hugged. “You gonna be okay?”
Connor held her tight, drinking in the affection and the unspoken support. “I’ll be fine. Go.”
Rachel and Landon left with a trail of congratulations following them. Then it was just Connor and Ash.
“You didn’t drink your champagne,” Ash observed.
“I can’t stand the stuff,” Connor said, keeping his tone light. He wanted to blurt out why, but he didn’t. He’d learned to keep the bitter memories and biting anger inside.
“Is everything okay? You seem really quiet tonight.”
“Had a deer brought in, knocked down by a car, and I had a bit of a meltdown.” Connor didn’t explain what he meant or elaborate, but Ash nodded in understanding. He was still on a high from the deal with the suppliers for the company he’d worked with, and he grinned, then waggled his eyebrows.
“You look so hot tonight. Wanna go somewhere and kiss?”
“We already did that, in the middle of the pub,” Connor pointed out.
Ash moved just that little bit closer, his knee touching Connor’s. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
They left the pub, and instead of heading for the garden, they walked out into the village. Rachel’s car was there, but there was no sign of Rachel, so he guessed his lift home had gone.
“I should call a taxi,” Connor said.
“It’s only eleven. Come on, walk with me.”
Ash grasped his hand and tugged him over the through road and up Sixways Lane to the stile that marked the fence line over to the public footpath. They passed the closed-up garage and Ash commented on every car parked up outside the tired-looking building. In fact Ash was keeping up a whole spiel of nonsense and random comments, and for that Connor was happy.
When they reached the stile, Ash released Connor’s hand and vaulted the fence, landing heavily on the other side and beckoning Connor over. There was nothing sexier than a man who was that confident to vault a fence into the darkness beyond, and Connor felt the stirrings of arousal even past all the other shit in his head. That hadn’t happened before. Normally when he went this low into memories of what had happened, he was left unable to sleep or talk, let alone get a hard-on.
“Where are we going?” Connor asked. He clambered over the stile and jumped down the small step on the other side and Ash grasped his hand again.
“Somewhere I can kiss you.”
Seemed Ash had the perfect place in mind, the footpath twisting away from the roads and into the woods. Connor hoped to hell no one was out in this remote part of the walk at this time of night, walking dogs or finding a quiet space to kiss or whatever else Ash had in mind.
Just the thought of that was overload and abruptly Connor stopped walking, the tug of Ash’s hold a jarring stop.
“What’s wrong?” Ash asked. He stepped closer to Connor. “Are you okay? We don’t have to… do anything… if you don’t want.”
“We need to talk,” Connor said, decisive and focused. If Ash was what he wanted, then Ash needed to know it all, or at least as much as Connor could tell.
Ash looked around. The moonlight was enough for Connor to see the surprise in Ash’s expression and the confusion in his stance.
“Tristan,” Connor said.
Ash sighed. “The ghost.”
“He was like you, full of life, confident, secure in himself.”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad.” Ash moved a little to lean against the fence, his hands on the wood. Connor copied him so there wasn’t much of a gap between them.
“He was also a gambler and a drinker, and he was also very much in the closet. Dad’s money and all that. And he had these friends, all the same as him, but we didn’t spend much time with them. We had what we had, and I was happy with that. It was nothing long-term, and with Tristan in the closet it was never going to be. Anyway, there was always something off with him, an arrogance that meant he always had to have things going his way. To be honest, I don’t know why I stayed with him. It was easy, I guess.”
“So I remind you of him?”
Connor bumped shoulders. “You did. At the wedding and after, when you were all confident and in my face at the surgery. I’ve realised since then you’re nothing like him, or my rational side does at least.”
“So what happened? Besides the arrogance and the drinking and the gambling.”
Connor breathed deeply of the warm night air and let it out in a whoosh. He’d never told anyone this outside of the hospital, police and his counsellor. “One night it all went too far. He had a temper. His friends found us, not that we were hiding, just not as good at staying on the down-low… We had champagne, I didn’t have much, but he was drunk, and his friends were cutting him down about being a fag.” Connor stopped. The emotions were falling out of him with each word, and he felt empty and this close to crying it was ridiculous.
“What did he do?”
“Turned on me,” Connor said quietly. “Said I’d tried it on with him, and they listened to him, and one of them hit me and I must have hit my head on the table edge. I don’t remember anything else except for what witnesses said, what Tristan’s friends said, what the evidence showed.”
Ash placed a hand over Connor’s. “What did it show?” he asked carefully. Quietly.
“They beat me, and there was blood… there.” He swallowed and stared at Ash. “They raped me.”
Ash’s grip tightened. “Fucking hell.”
“I couldn’t remember it, I can’t remember it, and that is my sentence, to always think about what happened but never really knowing.”
“How did you even…” Ash stopped. “What happened?”
“Tristan and his friends got off much lighter than I did I guess. Money, lawyers, pay-offs, and they walked away. I was done with it all.”
“What happened when it went to trial?”
Connor shook his head. “It didn’t. I couldn’t stand there and give testimony. I didn’t even remember it.”
“Oh, Connor, I’m not surprised.”
“Yeah, well, I did my research after. When it had died down. Turns out that is what a lot of victims of male rape do. They close up and can't face what happened. It’s all tied into their gender identity. What man wants to admit that they were stupid enough to be hurt.”
“You weren’t stupid.”
Connor ignored him. “Men turn away and some never come to terms with it, like it didn’t happen. At least I accept it happened.”
“I’ll find them, and I’ll kill them.” Ash sounded fierce.
“I don’t need a knight in shining armour,” Connor said just as fiercely.
Ash rounded on him, anger written in every line of his posture and his voice. “Yes you do. You need someone to make this right.”
Connor heard the words and waited for the next stages. Temper, then the realisation, then Ash’s slow backing away. That was the inevitable outcome of what was happening here. Who would want a victim for a lover? Who would plan forever with someone whose head was jam-packed with fears?
“I don’t. You pull that shit and I will walk away right there and then.”
“Okay.” Ash held up a hand in front of him. He looked broken, devastated, his whole posture screamed anger and frustration.
“Don’t be angry with me,” Connor said. He sounded pitiful even to his own ears.
“Angry? With you?” Ash closed his eyes and bowed his head. “How could I be angry with you?”
“It’s in a box, Ash. It needs to stay there now. Can you accept that?”
Ash looked up. “What’s done is done, is that what you’re saying? That you’ve boxed away what happened and you don’t want me opening up the lids and stirring up things that need to be left hidden?” He wasn’t confronting Connor, more his tone spoke of understanding.
“Yes.”
“And you can live with that?”
“I do. Every day.”
Ash stepped into his space, then at the last minute moved until he had his back to the fence again, and Connor was pivoted to stand in front of him. “Okay. I’m not sure how I feel now, not about you, them. But, we can talk about this.”
“I don’t have any useful answers,” Connor said.
“I’m not sure I have any useful questions,” Ash admitted. “I’ll need to know what to do… I’m guessing we should be taking things slowly and talking and I should not go and kill anyone.” The last came out with so much emotion that Connor felt overwhelmed.
Connor waited just a few inches from body contact. He knew what he wanted next. He had to get past the block in his head and find a space for Ash, and he needed to carry on with his counselling and keep coming to some point in his life where he had balance. But first he needed to admit the one thing that stopped him from connecting. To anyone.
“I can't stop feeling like a coward and a fraud,” Connor blurted out.
“What? You’re not a fucking coward or a fraud,” Ash said. He sounded confused and disbelieving.
“I hide, Ash. I hide all the time, and I don’t allow anyone to have anything like control.”
“That isn’t a bad thing, we all protect ourselves in different ways.”
“My control isn’t just about my emotions.” How did he make Ash understand what he was getting into? ”What about sex?”
“What?”
Connor snapped. He grabbed at Ash’s upper arms and was right up close and into his face. “You want to know how much I used to enjoy getting fucked? How hot it makes me when I’m taken to that moment where I can’t think, where someone else had the control? I can’t do that anymore, all I can give you is sex where I’m the one in control, I can’t even give myself what I really want. I’m a fucking fraud and a liar because I can’t face the truth of how truly fucked-up I am.” Anger flowed like fire through him, and he shook Ash, who didn’t flinch once.
“So we’ll go slowly,” Ash said back. His voice was raised, but it had to be because Connor wasn’t listening. “Making love isn’t about who fucks whom, it’s about connection and understanding and fucking getting off, then cuddling and spooning after. Okay?”
Connor realised what he was doing and let go of Ash so fast that Ash stumbled back, the fence the only thing holding him upright.
“I’m sorry,” Connor said immediately.
“So why are you a coward?” Ash asked, ignoring the apology. He rubbed at his arms.
More guilt. I hurt Ash. “Because I wasn’t willing to stand up and accuse them, I was okay backing down and letting it go.”
“That doesn’t make you a coward, that makes you the bravest man I’ve ever known.”
“What the fuck, Ash?”
“Instead of a show trial where you reveal it all to the world and hurt yourself in the process, you dealt with that pain. I call it brave to have been alone with it all. And Connor, for fucks sake, you made the decision that was right for you at the time. Don’t ever second guess what you did or didn’t do.”
Connor stared at Ash, disbelieving, then the earnest way in which Ash was looking at this somehow made Connor smile, which turned into a laugh. Who would have thought that admitting what had happened to him would end up with him laughing. He had so much to explain, so much for Ash to understand, and maybe, just maybe, telling Ash would be another step in his own healing journey.
Ash pulled him close and they hugged tightly.
“Coffee?” Ash asked.
“At yours?”
“Yep. We should try a house that has actual beds.”
“So coffee is just your euphemism for sex?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll have to wait and see.”
“You know I’m not—” Connor searched for the right word. “—good.” He winced at the stupidity and uselessness of such a crap word.
“Which makes you bad?” When Connor said nothing, Ash added, “And I like a bad man.”
He tugged Connor to follow him up the path towards the Grange. Sharing his secret hadn’t made Connor feel lighter. In fact, he felt drained and exhausted, but sharing it had led to one thing: the beginnings of his first completely honest relationship. Ever.