Rough Canvas (Nature of Desire 6)

And should Thomas be looking for a way in, knowing he couldn't offer him anything if he got there? It wasn't fair. It wasn't even kind or equitable, no matter what the poems said. It just was.

He loved Marcus.

For the first time in his life, Thomas said it in his mind consciously. He loved him, and the bitch of it was, being sure of it at last, when they were so far apart, sure of it down to the bottom of his worthless soul, meant he shouldn't say it. . . But love wasn't fair.

Julie's voice. Tell him. . . You think it's kinder not to, but it isn't.

"I love you, Master. Love you. . . Come for me. Please. " There was a groan, a more vicious curse, the sound of the phone hitting something, and he heard Marcus begin to release, that quick rush of breath mixed with animal grunts that spurred his own. Hearing it, he could hold out no longer. . .

"Come - "

That was all Marcus could manage or Thomas needed. He grabbed another paint cloth he'd been using, held it over himself as he jerked off with his hand, his ass stretched and burning, as full of Marcus as every other part of him was in his mind.

Love you. . . God, finally accepting it was as bad as dying.

As they slowed and the radio came back into his consciousness, Thomas became aware of Lonestar's heartwrenching, I'm Already There, a song which had entirely too much meaning for this moment. He focused blearily on the Coleman lantern, the dim light it threw on his finished paintings. He held the phone tight in his hand, gasping. If he could, he'd imagine Marcus turning him, still inside him, curved against the back of his body as he slept, his breath and touch on Thomas' throat.

"You bastard," Marcus said at last. And hung up, leaving Thomas aching anew.

Chapter Sixteen

"Whenever we drive this route, we love to stop here," Mrs. Preston was saying. "I worry every year you won't be here. John says there are just no hardware stores like this anymore. Not like when he was growing up. I tell him you're even more than that.

You're like the general store on those old Michael Landon shows. " Celeste gave Mrs. Preston the change for the bag of taffy she'd selected from the oak barrels of various candies in front of the register. "We're always glad to have you back, Mrs. Preston. Careful, now. I think Mr. Preston's wandered into the power tool section.

If he and Rory get together to debate those, you'll never make lunch at Rosa's Deli before the crowd gets there. "

"Oh, goodness. " Mrs. Preston chuckled and headed in that direction.

Celeste turned her attention to her oldest brother, who was checking an inventory list against the wrench section on aisle one. She'd gotten in last night for her semester break. This morning she'd had to mask her shock at the sight of him. He'd lost the few pounds he'd put on in New York and she was afraid he'd dropped even more.

She had no clue how much sleep he was getting, but she suspected it wasn't much.

He'd been working on those paintings every night, according to Rory. As she watched, her brow furrowing, he did that nervous habit he was doing more and more often, pressing two fingers to his side, as if he was holding something in. As if he was in pain.

When she'd mentioned her concerns to her mother, Elaine had kept her back to her, slicing scallops at the counter. "Christ had to suffer to find faith, Les," she said.

"Fasting, depriving himself of creature comforts. Your brother is in a crisis of faith. We have to help him. "

But her voice had broken a little, and Celeste wondered who her mother was trying to convince. She was the youngest child and a girl, and therefore her opinion counted the least. It was something a younger sibling accepted for what it was, but Celeste was starting to get angry at all of them, Thomas included. But especially her mother and Rory.

She didn't know how to make them listen, but she wished she did. She'd head back to college in two weeks, and already the relief she felt about it made her most angry with herself. She knew Thomas needed them in some desperate way, and they were all failing him.

"I'm thinking of taking a semester off," she blurted out abruptly.

Thomas' head lifted. He pinned her with that oldest brother no-bullshit stare that always reminded her uncomfortably of Dad. She squared her shoulders. "You need the help around here. "

"No, we don't. Not as much as you need to stay on track with your classes. "

"Why does everybody get to have what they want, Thomas? Everybody but you?

Has Mom been spouting the whole Jesus thing so much you think you're supposed to be a martyr?"

Oh geez. Maybe she was more upset about this than she'd known, because she certainly hadn't meant to blurt that out too. Things had gotten quiet over in the power tool aisle.

Thomas looked startled. He closed his mouth, various expressions crossing his face.

"Rory isn't getting what he wants. "