Marek's world grew darker with every revelation Tag shared. “And I killed all that with Colin before it ever had a chance to occur.”
“I choose to think maybe it's on life support, and you have to figure out how to revive it,” Tag offered. “Part of getting Jordan to believe in me was proving myself worthy through Colin. I don't undervalue for one second how much getting to know Colin and becoming friends with him showed Jordan I wanted to be a part of her world. Every part of it. Getting her past the assumption that I was just another redneck, homophobic Bubba was huge for me. And I ended up with one of the best friends I've ever had in the process. They will go to bat for each other, but they will also smack each other into waking up when needed. If you really want him, find a way to prove your character and worth to him, and make it happen.”
“Can I get…” Fuck, this was presumptuous. Still, Marek's heart beat with something other than pure pain for the first time since Colin walked away. “Can you give me your phone number or e-mail address?” he finally asked. “I'd like some way to be able to reach you and Jordan, if that's okay with you.”
“Sure. Do you have a pen and piece of paper?”
“I'll be right back.” Marek took fast strides to the computer room and returned with a pad of Post-it notes and a pencil.
Tag scribbled a half dozen lines on the top page and then handed it back to Marek. “Understand that with everything I've said to you, my loyalty does ultimately lie with Colin. No matter how much I like you guys together, there are boundaries I will not cross to help you get him back.” He laid a very hard, piercing stare on Marek. “I'm willing to be an ear if you need one. Are we clear on that?”
“We are. Thank you.” Marek stuck out his hand, humbled in the extreme. “For everything.”
Shaking with a strong hold, Tag said, “I hope I see you again one day.” He nodded, and started down the porch steps. “I have to get back.”
Marek stood in the open doorway, watching until Tag sped away out of sight. The curtains billowed through the open windows, almost like hands reaching out to the ocean. “You want him back too, I suppose.” He stepped outside and scanned the length of the porch. “Help me figure out a way to make it happen.”
No buzzing, no noises, no life from the house reached into Marek the way it did for Colin.
He was on his own.
Again.
Chapter Eighteen
“Ohhh crap…” Marek groaned and rolled to his back, wiping drool off his chin as he blinked himself slowly awake. Dirt clung to his sweat-damp face and hair, and he spit some from his mouth onto the greenhouse floor too.
What the fuck?
Marek pushed himself upright and dug the heels of his hands into his forehead, cursing the pounding within, as well as the sunlight beaming in through the wall of windows, making the thumping in his skull even worse.
Empty beer bottles littered the area around him, and Marek's cramped muscles shouted in protest as he grabbed onto the bench, then the worktable, until he was eventually on his feet. He remembered wandering into the greenhouse last evening, but he couldn't recall going back inside the house for more beer, and he definitely didn't remember taking a facer into the dirt and passing out.
Wait. How long was I out here? Maybe I missed him.
Marek raced through the backyard and into the house on unsteady legs, but as soon as he hit the kitchen, the chill and silence halted him in place. He didn't have to go upstairs or check any of the other rooms to know they were empty too.
He's still gone. Colin was not in this house. Anywhere. Of course he isn't. Reality slowly returned, and Marek knew there wouldn't be a message on the phone from Colin either. Seven days of checking repeatedly and finding nothing wasn't going to change today.
The loss seeped into Marek all over again, and he relived the final terrible moments with Colin, when the man had learned everything, and the absolute devastation on his face as it all sank in. Marek's gut clenched, and it didn't have anything to do with the alcohol rotting there.
Opening the fridge on automatic, he grabbed another beer. Unbearable guilt and self-hate sat heavily inside him, so much a part of his being he needed a drink to escape it, even for just a little while. Only every goddamned time he woke up, the pain was still there and attacked him harder. It became more acute each time he acclimated and remembered, and so he reached for another drink to dull the hurt. And the guilt.
Doing exactly the same thing you did when you lost Payton.
Marek held the beer poised at his lips, sobering for the first time in a week. This was not the same as Payton. Colin was not dead. Just gone. Shit. The loss still hurt so goddamned badly.
But not with quite the same finality as Payton, so stop acting like Colin's dead and buried. He's still alive, which means there's at least the possibility you can get him back. Marek looked at the bottle in his hand and sneered. But not if you keep drowning yourself in booze and hiding in blackouts.
Goddamnit, he'd wasted time.
“Fuck fuck fuck.” Marek dumped the open beer down the sink, untouched, and did the same with every other drop of alcohol in the house. His hand shook like a son of a bitch, and his pulse hammered harder than he'd felt in a week. He looked up and stared at his mess of a reflection in the window, flinching, but for
