End of the Line by Nicky James

ELEVEN

Leopold

I’d seen motel rooms like the one we rented in horror movies but never in real life. It had an unsettling effect on me the moment I walked in—or perhaps it was the circumstances surrounding our need to be there.

There were two beds, but they weren’t huge. The carpet was worn, an ugly, tacky combination of patterned browns and oranges meant to hide stains. It did no such thing. The walls were dingy yellow—from age or cigarettes, I didn’t know. They were decorated with gaudy oil paintings that hung crooked in cheap plastic frames. The heavy aroma of mildew and stale smoke hung in the air along with the slight undertone of chemicals.

An old tube television sat covered with a layer of dust on a plywood dresser. The dresser itself had been carved up by several visitors over the years with marks that read J hearts T and BJ was here and Want your dick sucked? Call Dylan. He rocks. The phone number following the unsolicited endorsement for Dylan didn’t seem to contain enough numbers. Probably for the best.

For Dylan.

There were burn marks in several places on the furniture, and three of the handles on the dresser were missing. An ancient radiator ticked and rattled when Tyler turned it on. He held a hand over the grate and announced it worked. The small bathroom was barely big enough to turn around in, but there were clean towels, so it was better than nothing I supposed.

It was miles different from Chez Sebastian in Montreal.

With two double beds and five people, I wasn’t sure how sleeping arrangements would work, but I didn’t ask. It was the least of my concerns.

Dodger locked the door once we were all inside. We piled our bags against a wall under the window. I sat in the middle of the far bed, a gaudy floral comforter underneath me, while the others stood around, anxiously waiting for me to talk. The looks on their faces said everything. For all they had assured me they were on my side, they were wary. Concerned. Unsettled.

Even Killian. And that pulled at something in my chest.

I didn’t know what to say or where to start.

My hands itched.

My skin crawled.

The copper tang of blood was in my nose again, and it wouldn’t leave. It was everywhere, but I knew it was my imagination, so I tried to ignore it.

It was Dodger who spoke, which didn’t surprise me. He seemed to be the unofficial leader of the group. “Look. Ordinarily, we abide by a code. Your secrets are your own, and unless you’re willing to talk about them, no one has a right to push. Under the circumstances—”

“I know.” I stared at my hands, picked at a loose thread on the covers, and chewed my lip. My head pounded with a new headache. “My name is Leopold Van Eschen. I’m from Hesse, Germany. My family is in the country for business this week, discussing a merger. My father is Roland Van Eschen of Van Eschen Prazision.” I glanced up to see if there was recognition on anyone’s face.

Tyler cocked a brow. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“It’s a multi-billion-dollar pharmaceutical company. One of the top three companies in the world.”

A low whistle filled the room. Willow. “This is insane. You’re a billionaire’s son? Why the hell are you with us?”

Killian touched her arm and nodded for me to go on. There was something unreadable on his face. I didn’t like it.

“My great grandfather founded Van Eschen Prazision one hundred thirty years ago. My father runs it now, and I work—worked—under him. I’m an only child and heir to the family empire. In the spring, I’m meant to marry a woman named Petra Findeisen. Her family is of great standing in my country, so our pairing has many benefits.”

“Whoa, what?” Killian’s brows kissed his hairline. “Marry? You’re engaged?”

“I thought you were gay.” Dodger glanced between Killian and me.

A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t swallow it. “I am gay.” I glanced at Killian. “And I am engaged, but to be fair, the marriage arrangement was not my choosing. I’ve only met her twice. My father knows I’m gay, but…” Killian’s expression melted into hurt and confusion. “But it’s like I told you. He’s convinced it is a phase. For all he knows, I’ve grown out of it. To my father, being gay is unconventional and unacceptable. Not for a person of my stature. I’m meant for great things and will become the face of Van Eschen Prazision in short time. My future has been dictated since birth. I am to do as I’m bid, which includes marrying a woman I don’t even know and doing away with these foolish and childish ideas of being gay whether I like it or not.”

“I’m sorry, but your father knows we left the eighteenth century behind a little while ago, right?” Willow glanced among the guys before looking back. “Arranged marriages aren’t a thing anymore. It’s ridiculous.”

“They happen more often than you think, especially among families of notoriety.”

“So what happened?” Killian was rigid. His voice wasn’t his own. “You didn’t run off because of some arranged marriage.” His gaze slipped down my body, and I knew he was seeing the multitude of healing bruises I hadn’t explained.

“No.” Shame bubbled up inside me. My cheeks heated, and I couldn’t stop the urge to wipe my hands down my pant legs. Nausea churned in my stomach as flashes of what I’d left behind at the penthouse invaded my mind. “I… I might have killed one of my security detail and run off. Actually, I’m pretty sure I did.”

The silence in the room was deafening. It pulsed and rang in my ears, growing louder and more unbearable as the seconds ticked by. Four sets of eyes were glued to me, their gazes like lasers burning my skin. My lips went numb as I floundered to explain. It was all too much. Had it really happened? Was it real? Had I truly done what I’d done? Was I dreaming?

Was Barrett really dead after all that? I hadn’t stuck around to find out.

How soon before one of them got on the phone and called the police?

Someone shuffled.

Another someone cleared their throat.

Again, it was Dodger who broke the silence. “Keep going, Green?”

Hearing him use the nickname they’d given me gave me hope.

“I came out to my family in my last year of high school. I was sixteen.”

“You were sixteen in your last year of high school?” Tyler asked.

“Shut up and let him talk.” Dodger smacked his arm.

“I graduated ahead of my class. I met a boy at school, and I knew it was time. Father didn’t approve as I’ve said. He told me I was young, and I’d outgrow it. It was a phase. Mother was indifferent, but she had always been like that. When I graduated and went off to university, a whole world of opportunities opened up. I went to parties. I engaged in activities with other men. Went on dates. Cruised clubs. It wasn’t a phase. I knew that. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. Not really, but Father found out. He asked me if I knew what happened to men like me in the world. He told me horror stories of gay men beaten in the streets and left for dead. Showed me news programs from around the world of gay men who’d been brutalized. ‘Do you want this to happen to you?’ he asked me. He said I needed to let this crazy notion go. It wasn’t who I was supposed to be. I was a man of importance and would have a bigger target on my head than most if I didn’t change my ways. I told him the world was changing. He said, ‘Not enough.’”

I wound a loose thread from the comforter around my finger until the tip turned purple. “I think he was embarrassed someone might find out his son was gay, and he couldn’t have that. He couldn’t stomach it being plastered all over the TV and in magazines. I was assigned a security detail. One, sometimes two men, posted around the clock, following me everywhere I went to ensure I kept my frivolous urges contained. Father didn’t exactly tell me to stop, but it wasn’t necessary. I understood. I was to be straight and nothing more.”

I took a shuddering breath, centering myself for the next part. It was something no one knew. Not my parents, not even Stefan or Harlan.

“My regular detail included a rotation of three men. Stefan, Harlan, and Barrett. They were nice gentlemen, considering. They followed me to university, but they didn’t interfere with my life. They weren’t in my face. Mostly they were shadows lurking in my peripheral vision. Always there. Always watching and reporting back to Father.

“After university, Father assumed my being gay was in the past. A marriage arrangement was organized, and I was introduced to Petra.”

I glanced at Killian. His eyes were dark and expressionless. “I never so much as went on a date with her. The two times I’ve been in her presence were formal affairs.”

“What happened in Montreal?” he asked.

“When father assigned me a detail, it was to ensure I stayed out of trouble. At first, it was hard. I wanted to go out. I wanted to be who I was. Stefan and Harlan took Father’s orders to heart. They didn’t allow anything to slip under the radar. There were no more clandestine meetups with other men. No more clubbing. No more parties.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Barrett did not follow Father’s orders. He was the younger of the three. Older than me by ten years, but still young. I thought he was more sympathetic. On the evenings when he was on duty, he made it clear he didn’t agree with my father’s demands and would look the other way. I could do as I pleased. He would keep my secret. His only condition was, he had to always be in the room with me. He’d turn his back, but he’d keep his mouth shut.

“So I went to clubs and continued to be who I was. He helped. We would travel to other cities and choose more select, higher-class establishments that were known for their discretion.” My blood turned hot, and fever rose in my cheeks. “I soon found out why Barrett was so inclined to help me. Why he wanted to be in the room at all times. It wasn’t for my protection.”

“He was a fucking pervert.” Killian’s tone was clipped. He’d crossed his arms over his chest at one point, and the expression on his face wasn’t pleasant.

“He was gay,” I said.

“And a pervert, and you killed that motherfucker because he beat the shit out of you, didn’t you?”

“Let him talk,” Tyler said.

Killian fell silent and waited.

I couldn’t face him, so I stared at the ugly comforter as the rest of the story came out. “He made a pass at me one evening while in my room. After graduating from university, I was given a large section of our estate. It was private. No one else was ever around. I didn’t know how to feel about Barrett’s advances at first. He was a lot older than me. He wasn’t unattractive. We had a short involvement. It lasted a couple of months, but then I told him I didn’t think it was what I wanted. He was… too intense. I don’t know how else to describe it. He could get rough, and it wasn’t my thing.”

Barrett’s blood-curdling roar filled my head. It was so loud in my memory, I had to close my eyes. I felt the cold metal of the blade in my hand. I remembered with perfect clarity how it had felt when it sank into his skin, his warm blood coating my fingers. The shocked look in his eyes. His pale, bloody lips trying to form words.

Shuddering, I shook the images away.

“I ended our relationship two months ago. Everything went wrong after that.”

A popping sound made me lift my head. Killian’s fists were balled so tight, his knuckles cracked. His face was a picture of rage, nostrils flaring, jaw set, brows in a deep V.

Willow noticed too and touched his arm before moving to the bed and sitting beside me. She placed a comforting hand on my knee. “What happened?”

My chin quivered.

“Barrett beat the fuck out of him is what happened,” Killian snapped.

I looked down at my lap. “Not exactly. But he started lording over my life. He wouldn’t allow me to go out to the club or anywhere anymore. He said if I wanted the touch of a man, I could stay home and be with him. He didn’t want to watch me whore myself out. I’m not like that.” My voice wobbled.

“Of course you aren’t,” Willow said.

“It was Barrett’s opinion that if he couldn’t have me, no other man should. He tried to push himself on me several times, and when I refused him, he got angry. He would shove me around or pin me to a wall until I promised to stay home. It got to the point I didn’t like it when he was on duty.

“I approached my father and asked for Barrett to be removed from service, but since I couldn’t explain my reasons, he said no. We came to Montreal to discuss a merger with a smaller company. I… wanted to go out. He’d kept me so contained, I just needed to walk around the block, but he didn’t believe me. We’d had two long days of meetings and dinners. I wanted to stretch my legs. Barrett wouldn’t let me go. He blocked the door, and we argued. He threatened to call Father and tell him everything. I told him he was full of shit. He couldn’t report to my father because I would tell him of our past relationship. He would be fired. I tried to go out the door again. He… got aggressive. He threw me into the coffee table. When I got up, he kicked me down again, calling me nasty names. Something snapped in his head. I saw it in his eyes. He was enraged. Furious beyond reason. Every time I tried to get away, he grabbed me. Before I knew what was happening, he’d dragged me to the bedroom and was tearing my belt off. He told me he would make me behave.”

It played out in my head on fast forward over and over. The kick to my side. The hand around my throat. Thrashing. Trying to get away.

“I fought back with everything I had, but he was stronger than me. More skilled.” I cleared my throat and glanced between the faces all staring at me. “My father’s security men all carry guns. Barrett always kept a knife strapped to his ankle under his pants. I knew it was there. I’d seen it before when we…” I shook my head. “He had me in a dire situation, and for a moment, I believed he was going to take what he wanted.” My voice hitched and grew thick. “I was terrified. My only thought at that point was to get away. I had to get away. I had to get away.” The tears came, and my chest grew tight, constricting my words.

“You don’t need to explain anymore. I think we all get it,” Dodger said.

“Fuck that. I want to know every goddamn thing.” Red splotches decorated both of Killian’s cheeks.

“Killian. Enough. He’s upset.” Willow kept her hand on my knee but shot daggers at her friend. “Leave it.”

Killian ignored her and stepped forward. “Did he rape you?” His voice was choked. “Just tell me that much.”

“No.” I cleared my throat the best I could. “But that was his intent. While we fought, I got my hand on his knife, and I lashed out at him. Initially, I caught him in the arm or something. It all happened so fast. It stunned him long enough I was able to get to my feet. But he came after me. I reacted… I stabbed him in the stomach.” I sucked great gulps of air as I fought through the fear and horror of that moment. “He didn’t stop coming at me, so I did it again and again.” My voice broke. “I don’t know how many times, but there was so much blood.”

Blood on my hands.

A raging roar of anger filling the air.

Blood slipping from between Barrett’s lips as he coughed and choked on it.

Barrett’s knees giving out. His hands reaching for me.

“Was he dead when you ran?” It was Tyler who asked. He’d been quiet the entire time.

“No. But he was bleeding badly. It was coming out his mouth and everything. He was rolling around on the floor in agony. He got the radio off his belt and was trying to call for help. I panicked. I didn’t wait around. I was terrified of what I’d done. I didn’t mean to hurt him like that. I just wanted to stop him.”

“So you don’t know if he’s dead or not?” Tyler again.

In my memory, it had seemed like a matter of minutes before death would have taken him. Barrett had been ghastly white. He could barely speak when he’d called for help. Even if they’d gotten an ambulance in a timely fashion, I had doubts he had survived.

“Not for sure. No. But… he has to be. It was awful.”

“Did anyone see you leave?” Willow asked. She dabbed my face with a tissue, mopping up tears and snot as they ran down my face.

“Yes. Several people saw me. We were on the top floor of Chez Sebastian. My father always takes several levels of five-star accommodations when we come. I ran into more of my father’s men when I burst from the elevator. I’d grabbed my coat, but I hadn’t yet buttoned it up. There was blood all over me. I ran from them and went out a back exit. There was a commotion behind me, and before long, I was being chased down the road. I’m not sure they knew what I’d done at that point, but it was a matter of time before someone got to the room and found out. I lost them eventually. They found me again at the train station, but I ran from there too, which was how I ended up in the train yard.”

Tears overwhelmed me again. The shock. The horror of all I’d done. It hit me like an avalanche, and I couldn’t talk anymore. I buried my face in my hands and cried great racking sobs. Willow rubbed my back, and I heard the distant murmur of conversation, but I was beyond myself. I couldn’t catch my breath.

I was a man on the run. I’d killed another human being.

It was a long time before I was calm enough to bring the world back into focus. Someone held me. It wasn’t Killian because the smell was wrong. Whoever it was, they shushed me and brushed my hair back. I hiccupped and sniffled as I tried to find balance once again.

When I pulled away, I found Willow, her black hair partly covering her face as she watched me. Otherwise, the room was empty.

“Where is everyone?”

“They went to stock up on supplies. Killian needed to take a walk and cool off.”

Willow cradled my face and wiped my tears. In the short time I’d known her, she’d always come across as emotionless and uncaring. There was never a smile on her face and always judgment in her eyes. She had a cold demeanor. It was a presence she tried hard to uphold for reasons I didn’t understand. That barrier was gone. Compassion filled her face.

Her eyes were a soft gray-blue, not unlike my own.

“Come on. You’re a mess. Lie down for a bit. You look exhausted. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

She pulled me down on the bed and let me cuddle up beside her. She toyed with her lip ring as she combed her fingers through my hair. It was reassuring and calming. There was nothing sexual about it, but I liked it. These people, these strangers I’d found at the side of the tracks back in Montreal were not going to abandon me.

“Is Killian mad?”

“Not at you. He’s mad at the situation. At the guy who did this to you.”

“Is he mad about Petra?”

“If he wants to have a jealous freak out about a girl you barely know and didn’t consent to marry, he can get over himself.”

“I’ll go to jail if they find me.”

“Maybe. You don’t know.” Willow hummed a song and played with my hair.

For a long time, we didn’t talk. I wasn’t sure if she expected me to sleep, but I couldn’t. My head was a mess. If I closed my eyes, I would be back in the penthouse. The blood would be all over my hands again. Barrett would be there with that look in his eyes.

“Can I say something?” Willow’s voice was hushed and cut into my musing, which was good since I was heading toward a panic attack.

I shuffled and peered across the pillow at her. She was pretty. Her pale skin contrasted with her dark hair. I liked the way she buzzed it on the side. She had a small tattoo of a heart near her eye. It was so small I’d mistaken it for a mole.

“I don’t think you killed that guy,” she said.

Before I could ask her why she thought that, she touched my arm. Chipped black polish decorated her nails. “Listen. On the TV at the bar, they were acting like you were missing, not wanted, you know? There was no mention of this Barrett guy. They talked about your family, who they were, and how you’d been gone since Friday night. Your dad… seemed worried.”

“Money gives a person a lot of power, and it will keep people quiet when necessary. My father wouldn’t want it blasted all over the world that I’d killed my bodyguard. He would do everything in his power to keep it under the radar. It would destroy his company. He would ensure the police were careful in bringing me in without damaging his reputation.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

I laughed, but there was no humor behind it. “I appreciate what you’re trying to say.” My heart hurt. The feelings of defeat I’d been carrying with me for the past few days grew heavier and heavier. “Even if Barrett lived, he will tell my father I attacked him because I was determined to go out against his will. He’ll say he tried to stop me as he’d been commanded to do. I’m an abomination in my father’s eyes. He would never believe the truth even if I told him.”

Willow got this annoyed look on her face and rolled her eyes. “God, you and Killian are more alike than I realized. No wonder you gravitated to each other. You both put on blinders and see what you want to see.”

I frowned.

Willow reached out, wiping another stray tear from my cheek. “Stop crying, boo. It’s going to be all right. Can I tell you what I think?” She didn’t wait for an answer and continued. “When I saw your parents on TV, your dad was barely holding himself together. There were tears in his eyes. It was not the face of a man who is ashamed of his son.”

“Because he doesn’t know.”

“Shh. It was the face of a terrified father trying to understand what had happened in that penthouse. He probably has a hundred questions about what he found in that room. All he knows is you outran his men, and now you’re gone, and he can’t find you.”

“It’s obvious what happened in the room.”

“No, it isn’t. They don’t know what led to it. They don’t know your history with Barrett, and they don’t know you were defending yourself.”

“I can’t go back.” My vision blurred. The tears wouldn’t stop. My chin quivered. “Even if the encounter with Barrett never happened, I can’t keep living this lie. It’s suffocating. I can’t keep pretending everything is okay when it isn’t. If they don’t arrest me for murder, if for some reason my father has found a way to keep the police from knowing what happened at the hotel, I still can’t go back and be the son he wants me to be. He’s never accepted who I am. This,” I waved a hand around the shitty motel room we’d rented, “is the closest I’ve ever gotten to true freedom.”

Willow stared at me for a long time. “If you want to keep running, none of us will stop you. You’re welcome to stay with us always. We won’t judge you for your past. But I won’t lie. This isn’t an easy life. You’re still floating on the cash you got back in Montreal, but it will run out. You don’t know what it’s like not knowing where the next buck will come from.” She took my hand and squeezed. “Is that what you want?”

“It’s the only choice I have.”

“It’s not. Call your father and tell him what happened.”

“Tell him I killed a man?”

“Tell him the truth. All of it. He’ll listen, and he’ll believe you. The man I saw on TV was worried sick over his missing son. He was heartbroken. Tell your father where you stand and that you can’t go on pretending to be someone you’re not. Then if he chooses not to accept you for who you are, you’ll have laid it all out. Don’t assume to know how he’ll respond. If you assume, you might spend your whole life running from a family who would have decided to embrace you in the end because they love you. Sometimes it takes our parents an extra minute to accept who we are. Believe me, I know. Call your dad, Leo. Be open and honest. Talk to him. Maybe he thought he was protecting you. Maybe he doesn’t know how much you’re hurting. Regardless, he has to know what this Barrett guy tried to do. After you’ve said your piece and you listen to his side, you can decide what you’re going to do, but at least you’ll be informed.”

I thought about her words for a long time. My tears dried up.

Willow shuffled to the end of the bed and found a remote for the TV. She turned it on and scanned until she found a news channel. They were showing the same picture of me, asking if anyone knew of my whereabouts. They showed the interview with my parents again, and I listened as my father pleaded with the public for information. The tone of his voice was new. Gone was the stoicism I’d grown up with. Gone was his authoritative edge. Willow was right. His pain was unmasked.

There was no mention of Barrett.

What had Father done about the mess I’d left behind? Did the authorities know anything? Had the other security men found him dead? If he’d been taken to a hospital, then someone out there would want to know who’d stabbed him.

In the end, I wasn’t convinced my father would accept me. His company was everything, and I was the heir. I was the future of Van Eschen Prazision, and I couldn’t fathom my father allowing his gay son to run his empire.

“I know my father,” I said as the interview with my parents came to an end. “He won’t change his mind.”

Willow didn’t respond, so I glanced back at her, assuming she’d fallen asleep or was busy on her phone. She was watching me quizzically. Without a word, she got off the bed and dug through her rucksack. She came back with a small worn envelope and sat beside me.

She thumbed the opening and picked at a fraying corner as she asked, “Has Killian shared his past with you?”

“Yes. Some of it.”

“About his parents and why he left home?”

I nodded.

She handed me the envelope.

I opened it and found several faded newspaper clippings inside. The oldest dated back nine years. Some of them were shorter articles, no more than a few sentences, and without a picture. Others, the earlier ones, were larger. A younger Killian stared back at me in one. He looked different. Softer somehow, but his smile was the same. Each headline was different, but the message was clear. They all asked the same question in a roundabout way: Have you seen my son?

“What is this?”

“All that remains of a father’s broken heart.”

She picked an article from the pile and laid it on top. I skimmed the write-up, pools of tears blurring my vision. It was a heartfelt plea for any information about the whereabouts of Killian Daniel Jessup.

“If you stick with us, maybe there will come a time you can show this to Killer. He likes you. He trusts you. I’ve tried bringing it up and showing him, but he calls code if I even mention his father or family. I get bored at the library sometimes. A few years back, I typed his name into a search and found all this. I went on a hunt and found the old newspapers in junk stores around the city. Then I kept my eyes peeled, and every year, there were more.”

I stacked the articles into a little pile. “I don’t understand.”

“Killian ran away when he was sixteen. He’d just come out to his parents. He’d just come out to his friends at school. That’s a lot of pressure and fear on a young kid. He claims his parents’ acceptance was a lie. He said they changed and didn’t love him anymore, so he left. He assumed what was going on, Leo. He assumed they didn’t want him around.”

She tapped the stack of articles. “This isn’t a man who didn’t love and accept his son. This is a devastated father who woke up one morning to find his only son had run away. I don’t pretend to know what happened with Killian at home, but I do know how easy it is to interpret things wrong. We see things we assume we’ll see instead of seeing the truth. We react before we stop and ask questions. Killian’s dad has been looking for him for nine years. If Killian would stop running for five seconds and listen, maybe he would learn he’d misinterpreted things. Maybe he could have his family back.”

The news station was replaying the interview again for what must have been the fourth time since we’d turned it on. Willow pointed at my father’s face, a picture of anguish and pain. His distress had aged him. “Don’t assume to know how he feels inside. Maybe he doesn’t know how to react. Maybe he doesn’t realize how close to the edge he pushed you. Maybe he thinks he’s doing the right thing even though he’s not.”

A commotion of voices sounded from outside. They were approaching fast. I recognized Dodger’s voice.

Willow tucked the articles inside the envelope and pressed it into my hand. “See if you can get him to listen. I’ve tried.” Then she kissed my cheek and looked me in the eyes. “Whatever you choose, we’ve got your back.”