Page 93 of Best Supporting Actor

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

Jay

After leaving the apartment, Jay set off towards the train station at a swift pace, dragging his suitcase behind him, making it jump and rock as he yanked it angrily across the uneven paving. Still caught up in his argument with Tag, he barely noticed his surroundings as he stalked along. All he could think of was Tag’s fury, the contempt on his face, the vicious things he’d said. His final words still rang in Jay’s ears.

“I always knew you were a selfish dick!”

Fine. If that was what Tag thought of him after everything they’d shared over these last weeks, then fuck him. Why should Jay care? But as the adrenaline from their argument gradually leached away, his punishing pace slackened, and a quiet, inner voice murmured,Why wouldn’t he think you’re selfish? You just walked out on the play. You just walked out onhim.

Jay slowed to a halt then, his suitcase bumping up against his heels as the full enormity of what he’d just done hit him.Shit.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, then another. Then he glanced around, glad of the dark and grateful to see there was no one about to witness his odd behaviour. As preoccupied as he’d been, he’d walked further than he’d intended, over-shooting the train station by some way. Turning to head back, he checked his watch, grimacing when he discovered it was almost half past ten. Not exactly the ideal time to try to catch a train back to London.

Just then, the glowing sign of an approaching taxi caught his eye, and before he could think better of it, he was stepping towards the kerb and waving it down. Even as the driver swooped out of the traffic to pull up beside him, Jay had no clear idea of where he was going. For a moment, he considered doing something deliberately diva-ish, like asking the driver to take him all the way to Chalfont St. Giles, but by the time he’d shoved his luggage into the boot and got in the back, he’d decided to be sensible and gave the driver Mandy and Phil’s address instead.

Once they pulled away, Jay turned to look out the window, staring at the neon blur of street lamps and signage streaking through the night. Thankfully, the driver didn’t try to talk to him, leaving him to his jumbled, unhappy thoughts. Vaguely, it occurred to him that he should call ahead to let Mandy and Phil know he was coming, but he’d chucked his phone in his bag along with all the rest of his stuff—well, most of it; Tag still had his pills—and he couldn’t seem to summon the energy to fish it out.

He should have taken the pills with him, he thought, then realised that didn’t matter. He wouldn’t need them now. Jay closed his eyes, waiting for a reaction to that thought. Relief perhaps. After all, he’d barely slept these last few days, relentlessly worrying about opening night, his stomach permanently tight with anxiety, his appetite non-existent. Now, that worry was gone. He was free. No more play, no more fear of freezing on stage. The stress that had been riding him for days should be gone. But he didn’t feel any better.

In fact, he felt worse, wounded and dazed from his argument with Tag. When he closed his eyes, he saw Tag again, cold fury in his usually warm, amber gaze. Tag would probably never look at him any other way now. After this, he’d be lucky if Tag so much as spoke two words to him again.

His throat closed at the thought, the corners of his eyes pricking, and he rubbed pointlessly at his forehead with one hand, concealing his distress in case the driver was watching him in the mirror.

Ridiculous to be this cut up over it. He’d known his fling with Tag wasn’t going to last forever—Tag had been very clear that he wasn’t in this for the long haul, and Jay had accepted that. But it was one thing to contemplate an amicable split at some point and quite another to have that split happen—and for it to be very far from amicable. To have to face up to the fact that, from now on, Tag would see Jay as someone who had let him down. Just… left him to sink or swim.

And he’d be right. Thatwaswhat Jay had done.

Just like Seb had left Jay to sink or swim that night on stage.

He squeezed his eyes closed tighter, biting back a moan of distress. The thought of Tag hating him was awful. Intolerable. Just last night, Tag had been so fuckingtenderwith him, caring for him in a way no one else ever had. Lately, Jay had come to realise that he’d never really recovered his confidence after the disaster of his relationship with Seb. Since then, he’d kept his sex life uncomplicated with a string of carefully controlled, but not particularly satisfying, one-night stands—much to the dismay of Katie, his agent. His brief arrangement with Mason had been a godsend from that perspective, giving him someone to be photographed with while avoiding all the dangers of a genuine intimate relationship. But with Tag, for the first time since Seb, he’d found himself letting someone in, allowing himself to beseen. The vulnerable parts, the unattractive parts. Trusting Tag enough to ask for what he really wanted. And Tag had given him that.

Now Tag probably felt like Jay had just thrown all that back in his face, walking out on the play without a backwards glance.

Jay swallowed hard. Hehadtried, though. He really had. And he’d been intending to keep on trying, despite knowing he was falling apart. He’d have kept on trying right up to the curtain going up. He’d have taken the meds and forced himself on stage if they hadn’t had that awful argument.

If Tag hadn’t discovered those pills and confronted him.

If he hadn’t demanded that Jay do it without the pills.

If he hadn’t… given Jay a way out.

“Mate, I said we’re here.”

The cab driver’s irritable voice made Jay startle. “Right, yeah, sorry. I was miles away. How much do I owe you?”

After settling the fare, he dragged his case out. He should probably ask the cab driver to wait while he buzzed the house—from behind the big front gates, you couldn’t tell if anyone was in—but he let him go, dragging his suitcase over to the side gate to press the visitor buzzer.

It took a while, but eventually, there was a crackle on the line, then Phil’s voice.

“Jay? Is that you?”

Jay waved at the camera. “Yeah. I was hoping to crash here tonight if that’s okay?”

“Of course. Come in.” The side gate clicked open, and Jay entered, trudging up the gravel drive to the front door where Phil was waiting in a shabby, faded blue towelling robe over plaid pyjama bottoms and thick slipper socks, his expression concerned. He pulled Jay into a warm, enveloping hug, his burly arms reassuringly firm, and pressed a smacking kiss to the side of Jay’s head before releasing him and guiding him inside, closing the door behind them.

“Your mother and Amanda are out at a ladies’ dinner at one of the neighbours. It’ll probably be a late night. Do you want me to call them?”

Jay made a face. “No, it’s probably for the best that Mother’s not here, to be honest. I’m not sure I’m up to facing her yet. She’s going to freak out.”