Page 9 of Heartbreak Honey

Now

IT’S BEEN A WEEK SINCE he saw Skyler, and Trevor still can’t believe it. As much as not seeing him for five years hurt, he’s not sure if seeing him now was any better. It was like picking at a scab and reopening an old wound.

He may not have been happy without Skyler, but he was doing okay. Now he can’t get through five minutes of a day without thinking about him.

He has other things to think about too, though. Like his publicist begging him to do an interview. She went on about how he could use the public’s renewed interest in him to possibly land himself another record deal. When he told her he didn’t want another record deal, she said, “Then what the heck am I doing still working for you?”

She has a good point. But he didn’t fire her, and she didn’t quit. So.

He told her he’d think about it, even though he can’t see himself changing his mind. Because what would he say? Whether or not he still wants to make music doesn’t even matter. They’re only interested in him if it has to do with Skyler. And he’s not going to come out.

He’s not ashamed of being bisexual. But he doesn’t want to deal with the asinine and invasive questions that would follow.

And he does have Sierra to think about, as annoying as that is. He hasn’t dated anyone since they got divorced, and that’s not only because he never got over Skyler. (Okay, it’s mostly because of that.) He hasn’t even been with anybody else. Because the only people he’s been remotely interested in after Sierra have happened to be men. (Fair-skinned, wild-haired men, if you want to be specific. But let’s not be specific.) If he started hooking up with men, and the media somehow got wind of it…

He doesn’t want it to hurt Sierra. She knew about his sexuality and about him and Skyler before he got together with her. And she’s already had to deal with all those Blue Skies shippers in the past who were convinced their relationship was fake. Which wasn’t entirely uncalled for, seeing as how, at the beginning, it was fake. But if he comes out now, that’ll all start back up again, and it’ll be a million times worse.

She doesn’t deserve that. She may have put him through some horrible shit, but he was far from a saint in their relationship. And since they separated, she’s never told the media the truth about him, which counts for a lot.

So no. Courtney isn’t going to get her way with this one. There’s no way he can give an interview and be honest about his feelings for Skyler without coming out, so he’s not doing it.

Times like this, he really fucking misses his mom. She’d know what to do. What to say to make everything not seem as awful. But since he can’t talk to her…

He scratches at the tattoo on his forearm, right under his elbow crease, as he tells himself not to do it. Not right now when everything in his brain has to do with Skyler, Skyler, Skyler.

But he’s weak.

So he sits on the couch and pats the cushion beside him for Stella to jump up. Once she settles with her head in his lap, he runs his fingers through her fur, and with his other hand, he reaches for his phone.

Skyler’s mom answers on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Theresa.”

“Hi sweetie, how are you doing?”

It’s pathetic how quickly the sound of her voice soothes him. “I’m sorry to bug you,” he says. “I know we talked a couple weeks ago.” They usually only do this once every few months or so.

“It’s okay,” she tells him. “I know why you’re calling.”

She does?

“You know I saw Skyler?”

A pause. Then—“Oh. Well, no, I didn’t know that.”

Oh.

“I only knew that after he gave that interview and mentioned you, the media must be all over you. And I could imagine how you’d be feeling about it. But I didn’t know you and Sky—”

“Yeah, sorry,” he interrupts her. He didn’t mean to break their unspoken agreement to never mention Skyler. “I understand we can’t talk about that. But the media thing sucks, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve been dodging them and making my publicist cranky.”

“Oh, who cares about that,” Theresa says. “It’s your life, not hers. You have every right to want your life to remain private.”

This is why he called her. So at least someone could reassure him he’s not being a selfish prick.

Or is he being a selfish prick for the fact that he’s kept up his relationship with Skyler’s mom without Skyler’s knowledge long after they broke up?

Probably. But he has very few people left in his life who truly care about him. He needs this.

He tells himself that as long as they continue to never mention Skyler or anything to do with their relationship ever again after this slip-up today, then he’s not hurting Skyler.

And yet, when the man in question texts him right after he hangs up, Trevor’s hit with an immediate wave of guilt. Like Skyler could sense what he was doing.

What are you up to tonight?

He considers making up something exciting so that he doesn’t sound too lame, but then settles on the truth. Nothing.

Wanna come by my place for dinner?

Skyler uses “my place” so casually, like he doesn’t mean his fucking Malibu mansion.

Trevor hesitates. Because he may have made it through a coffee without doing something pathetic like throwing himself at Skyler’s feet and begging for forgiveness, but dinner? At his house?

It sounds like a terrible idea.

Sure, he texts.

Stella peers her big dark eyes up at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Hush,” he tells her.

When Trevor arrives at the address Skyler gave him, he’s having second thoughts. Third, fourth or fifth thoughts, truthfully. This is insane. Because Skyler isn’t his Skyler anymore. They once belonged in each other’s lives, but now there’s a huge security gate keeping them apart. You can’t even see the house from the road.

He hates how he’ll have to buzz in on the intercom to announce himself and wait to be allowed in. But then he realizes Skyler’s standing there behind the gate, hidden off to the side. He steps up and buzzes it open.

As soon as Trevor pulls through, Skyler hops in the car. His hair is up in a bun, and he’s wearing an orange sweater that makes him look so soft Trevor wants to pull him in and cuddle him. His nails are painted orange to match. On anyone else the color might look ridiculous, but on this man, it goes beautifully with his dark hair and green eyes. And it’s just so Skyler.

Orange is Skyler’s favorite color. Trevor remembers Skyler telling him years ago that, as a kid, he decided to make it his favorite because it wasn’t usually anyone’s favorite and that wasn’t fair.

Trevor’s is green. He didn’t have a favorite color until he met Skyler, but ever since then… Yeah. Green.

They exchange greetings, but then as Trevor drives slowly up the winding path, the silence between them builds. He breaks it when he notices a small building off to the side. “What’s that?”

“My security guard Mike’s apartment,” Skyler says casually.

Trevor refrains from making any snarky comments, and points to a small building on the other side. “And that?”

“Hal’s apartment.”

“Who’s Hal?”

Skyler looks down at his lap, messing with the frayed knee of his jeans. “My other security guard.”

“You’re the worst,” Trevor tells him.

He doesn’t mean it though. He really doesn’t.

And Skyler must know, because he laughs quietly and reaches out to trace one finger delicately over the shell of Trevor’s ear. He quickly seems to realize what he’s doing and pulls away with a sheepish expression, but Trevor’s still holding his breath long afterward. Because. What was that?

“I’m surprised you walked all the way down here to get me,” he finally says, trying to recover.

Skyler shrugs. “I like walking. And it’s not that far. The driveway curves, and the trees hide the house, but it’s right up here.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. As they keep driving.

“Trevor?”

“What?”

“Please don’t feel weird or anything about the house, okay?”

Damn. Skyler can read him like a book.

He shakes his head and tells him, “I make no promises.” But when he glances over, Skyler’s giving him a serious, pleading look. “Yeah,” he amends. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m still me.”

For some reason, Trevor’s forgotten how to breathe again, but he manages to say, “I know.”

He tries not to let his eyes grow too wide when the mansion comes into view. He expected this, after all. But as Skyler lets him inside, he can’t help but gape in the entryway at all the open space.

As Skyler leads him farther through the house, Trevor takes note of the expensive looking art, a far step up from the musical posters that once lined Skyler’s walls. The abstract paintings look kind of dumb to him, but Skyler’s always been more artsy than him, and he likes that.

They round a corner.

“So what do you want to get for din—” Trevor cuts himself off and freezes in the doorway to the kitchen. “—ner.”

“Huh?” Skyler says, turning back to him.

There’s food everywhere. Bowls and cutting boards and utensils spread across all the countertops. It looks like Skyler’s auditioning for Top Chef in here. And why? For him?

Is this a date?

No. No way.

Skyler loves to cook, that’s all. Trevor remembers teaching him the basics when they lived in the house with the rest of the band, because at first, Skyler could barely make toast. But Skyler wound up getting so into it that soon he’d filled their kitchen with actual cookbooks, and whenever they had a free night (which was rare), he’d make dinner for all the guys.

And that’s how it always was with Skyler. He throws himself whole-heartedly into everything. Anything he decides he’s interested in, he becomes insanely good at.

When he decided he loved Trevor, he was insanely good at that.

Trevor realizes he hasn’t moved from the doorway and Skyler’s watching him curiously. “When you said, ‘come over for dinner,’” he starts, feeling incredibly awkward now, “I figured you’d order takeout. But here you are making a whole ass meal.”

With a straight face, Skyler says, “Your ass is a whole meal.”

Trevor gapes at him. Then Skyler breaks, laughter spilling out of him uncontrollably, and that makes Trevor lose it too. What a way to break the tension.

“Okay, so what are we having?” Trevor asks once he’s calmed down.

“Coq au vin.”

He steps farther into the kitchen, surveying the room some more. “I’ll be honest, I have no idea what that is, but somehow I doubt it involves strawberries.” He gestures to the bowl of them on the counter.

“I’m making strawberry shortcake for dessert.”

“I said I’d come over for dinner. I don’t remember agreeing to dessert,” he teases. Because fuck, this man is perfect. But Skyler’s face falls, so he adds, “I’m kidding. This is amazing, but you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Skyler assures him.

“Can I help?”

The question earns him a skeptical look.

“Hey! I’m not that bad!” he protests. “Don’t forget who taught you how to cook, you little shit.”

Skyler chuckles. “Yes, but the student has totally surpassed the master. It’s going to be a little while longer. Why don’t you go for a swim?”

“In the ocean?”

That one earns him an eyeroll.

“In the pool.”

“I didn’t bring—” he starts.

“You can borrow something from me.”

Now he’s the skeptical one, because he’s seen Skyler swim plenty of times in the past, and it was often in the tightest, tiniest swim trunks known to man. But when Trevor agrees and Skyler disappears to find him something, he comes back and presents Trevor with a regular pair of swim trunks that will probably fit him, if a bit snugly.

“Thanks,” Trevor says, taking them. “But are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you?”

“I want you to relax and enjoy the pool.”

There’s no point in arguing with Skyler when he’s got an idea in his head, so Trevor lets him show him to a bathroom where he changes into the suit. Then Skyler leads him out a back door to the pool area and tells him to have fun before disappearing back inside.

Trevor stands there in awe. The pool has no edge on one side, and the property is on top of a cliff with an ocean view, so it almost looks like the pool drops right off into the ocean. How is this real life?

Theoretically, he could have had this. Not a property as insanely large, but he could’ve bought himself a house in Malibu overlooking the ocean. Except that would have required him to continue making money, and he’d rather just not anymore. So he’s been conservative with his spending, making sure he remains set up for life.

He jumps in the pool and does a few laps before resting on one of the built-in underwater ledges, basking in the sun. Eventually, after he’s not sure how much time has passed, he climbs out and goes back inside to get dressed.

Music is playing as he heads toward the kitchen. And once more, he finds himself frozen in the doorway. Because it’s his music that’s playing, while Skyler sings along softly.

I know I let you down

Took the easy way out

Let them convince me

Our love wasn’t enough

But I see things more clearly now

And I’ll never stop being sorry

I’ll never stop hating myself

I’ll never stop having regrets

Wishing I had you instead

Skyler hasn’t noticed him, too focused on whatever it is he’s doing with the food. So Trevor continues standing there like an idiot. Skyler’s high voice blending with his own deeper one is surreal. They’ve sang together a million times before. He knows they sound wonderful together. But this is different. This isn’t Boys Will Be Boys. This is Trevor’s song. And Skyler’s singing it like he knows every word by heart.

Now the whole world is watching you shine

And I just wanna tell ‘em you’re mine

But I couldn’t do that before

And it’s just not true anymore

Trevor finally comes to his senses. “Oh my god, stop. What are you doing?”

Skyler looks up, appearing only the tiniest bit surprised at being watched and making Trevor wonder for a second if he actually knew Trevor was there. “Why?” he says casually. “I love this one.”

He would. Because it’s about him. Of course, pretty much all of Trevor’s songs are about him, aren’t they? But “I’ll Never Stop” is one of his most self-loathing songs. And really? Skyler loves that one? It’s like he’s trying to remind Trevor that he should be sorry.

The song continues to play as they gaze at each other from across the room. Trevor struggles to find words.

Then Skyler sets down the knife in his hand and bites his lip, tugging it into his mouth. When he releases it, he says, “Um. When I say I love it, I didn’t mean I love that you were beating yourself up about the past or anything. I just liked the idea of you wishing you could change things and have me back.”

Trevor’s brain might be malfunctioning. He’s thinking a lot of words now, but they’re not coming out of his mouth.

“But don’t worry,” Skyler rushes on. “I know you wrote it a long time ago, and you don’t still…” He shakes his head. “I’ll turn it off.” He cuts the music, but the sudden silence in the room is even louder.

Why the hell is it that the two of them have never been able to be anything other than achingly honest with each other? It takes all of Trevor’s self-control right then to not tell Skyler that he does. He does still wish it.

Skyler picks up his knife again and resumes slicing like the last few minutes didn’t happen. “Dinner’s not ready yet. You’re supposed to be swimming.”

“I got bored.”

Truthfully, as incredible as the infinity pool is, he came here to spend time with Skyler, not his pool. He should probably say that. But he doesn’t.

“I just need a few more minutes,” Skyler says, turning to the stove to attend to whatever’s cooking in the huge pot. “You can watch, but I’m going to need you to remain a safe distance away.”

“Very funny.”

“Can I ask you something?” Skyler says. Thankfully his back is still to Trevor, so he doesn’t see the flash of panic cross Trevor’s face before he gives a hum of consent. “Why haven’t you made another album?”

There are plenty of ways Trevor could answer that. He could tell Skyler he’s tired of making music, or he felt like he let everybody down when his first album didn’t sell very well. Or he doesn’t think the world needs another album of nothing but his thinly veiled lovesick confessions for Skyler. But right now, it feels like the most honest answer is, “I don’t know.”

Skyler grabs a couple of shallow bowls from a cabinet. The movement when he reaches for them causes his sweater to ride up a few inches, revealing some of the tattoos on his back. Trevor sucks in a breath, willing himself to remain still when what he really wants to do is charge forward and pull the sweater off him completely, exposing them all.

He watches as Skyler dishes out the food, and then accepts the glass of wine he offers before realizing Skyler isn’t pouring one for himself. He almost comments on it but decides not to. Alcohol might be a touchy subject for them.

They carry their food into the next room, where they sit across from each other at one end of an unnecessarily long table. Skyler takes his hair out of the bun, and as the curls fall over his shoulders, Trevor can’t help but stare. It’s so long now. It was relatively long when they were in the band, but not like this.

He feels a sharp pang of sorrow for his past self who never got the satisfaction of wrapping these dark curly locks around his fist and tugging hard to hear this gorgeous man moan. Granted, he did plenty of tugging on Skyler’s shorter hair. But still.

“This smells delicious,” he says, trying to clear his head of any indecent thoughts.

“Thanks,” Skyler says. And then they fall into a quiet stretch while they eat.

Skyler didn’t push the issue when he asked Trevor about making another album, but now, oddly, Trevor feels inclined to talk about it.

“You know,” he says, his fork slicing easily through a tender piece of meat in his bowl, “it’s kind of funny because I never exactly wanted to be in a band in the first place. But then afterward, when I was starting my solo career, I missed being able to do it all with you guys. I missed Oli dumping his water bottle down the back of my shirt while I was trying to sing. I missed us all goofing around, and I missed having other people to lean on.

“Anyway, when I was trying to do it on my own, I started to wonder if I could be enough as a solo artist, or if maybe being in a band was all I was good at.”

“That’s not true,” Skyler tells him, sounding almost offended he’d even suggest it.

“Oh yeah?” he counters. “At my first solo show I panicked and couldn’t start singing the opening song. My backing band restarted it, and when I still didn’t sing, they jumped in to do it for me.” He remembers his humiliation, the feeling of abject failure. “Then I heard the crowd screaming the words. It finally flipped the switch in me, and I was able to join in on the chorus. I got myself together eventually, but yeah, I totally froze at first.”

Skyler’s silent for a few beats, and Trevor feels his face heat, unsure why he admitted all that to the one person who he desperately wants to make believe he’s got it together. Then Skyler says softly, “I know.”

“Oh great. You heard how bad I did?”

Skyler bites his lip before answering. “No. I was there. And you were great.”

Wait.

Trevor’s eyes lock onto Skyler’s. “What?”

“You were great,” Skyler repeats.

“No, you—you were there?” He can’t process this information. “Why? How? How the fuck did you manage to do that without getting recognized?”

Skyler shrugs. “I put my hair up, wore a baseball cap. Dressed like a sports bro and made my bodyguard do the same. Everyone was focused on you, not me.”

Trevor just sits there as Skyler continues to eat his meal like he didn’t change Trevor’s perception of the last five years with one admission. He thinks about all the times he wanted to go to Skyler’s shows but knew he couldn’t, that Skyler wouldn’t want him there anyway. And all this time… Skyler had been at his first show. Skyler had still cared enough to show up for him?

“That’s not fair.”

Skyler looks up from his food. “What’s not?”

“You came to see me, and you didn’t let me know you were there. You were watching me, but I never got to see you.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

Trevor tightens his grip on his fork, afraid it might slip out of his clammy, shaking hand. “You’re an idiot.”

“Sometimes.” Skyler spears a mushroom, his face doing all sorts of things that Trevor can’t read.

He wants to say something more. Maybe confess how badly he needed Skyler there, tell him what that would have meant to him. But after swallowing the lump in his throat, all Trevor manages to say is, “Yeah.”