Page 14 of Persuaded

Joshua spent every day at the school in the week before Thanksgiving weekend. Mostly he bashed out the accompaniment on the school’s old piano as class after class rehearsed their songs, and when he wasn’t doing that he was playing for the soloists.

He enjoyed it. Every year the school put on a concert and every year Joshua loved the distraction.

There was no denying that the holidays were hard.

Not in the way that most people thought, of course.

He didn’t mind being alone. He much preferred it to spending time with his family.

But what he dreaded was other people’s pity and, worse, other people’s invitations to spend Thanksgiving with them.

He’d discovered immediately after his father threw him out that there was nothing more guaranteed to make him feel lonely than being part of someone else’s family holiday.

He hated being the beggar at the feast, surrounded by warmth and love that he could see but couldn’t feel.

So, no. He’d rather do what he usually did on Thanksgiving, which was to go for a long walk on the beach, then home for Netflix and one of Dee’s pumpkin pies all to himself. He’d never been afraid of his own company.

So, when Liz sidled up to him at recess on Monday morning, he braced himself to turn down her offer to join her for Thanksgiving dinner. But that wasn’t what she asked.

“So, listen,” she said, smiling like she couldn’t help it, “any chance you could watch Matt Wednesday night? After the concert?”

It took him a beat to change the direction of his thoughts. “Babysit?”

“If you don’t mind? Just for a couple hours. My usual sitters are busy, you know—the holidays.” She grimaced. “I mean, not that—”

“It’s fine,” he said, swerving her sympathy. “I’d be happy to watch Matt. Uh, do you want me to come to you or will you bring him over to me?”

“If you could come over, that would be great. Then he can go to bed at his normal time and won’t be a bear on Thanksgiving.” She smiled. “I don’t plan on being out that late—too much to do the next day to risk a hangover.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

“Thanks, Newt.” She reached up and pecked him on the cheek. “You sure you won’t be too tired after the concert?”

“I’ll be fine.” And, in truth, he didn’t mind. Matt Howard was a good kid. “Perhaps Matt will have more luck teaching me the art of Minecraft this time?”

She laughed. “He’ll certainly try.”

“So, uh”—he tipped his head, tried to get a read on her smile—“you have a date?”

Liz flushed, eyes bright. “I guess,” she said. And then, in a lower voice, “Finn Callaghan asked me to the Rock House for a drink.”

“Oh” was pretty much all Joshua could manage.

“I mean, it’s nothing really,” Liz hurried on. “Just—you know, it’s been a while. I’m kinda out of practice with all this.”

He cleared his throat, focused on the books he was tidying. “I don’t think it’s something you forget.”

“I guess.”

An odd silence fell between them and Joshua reached for something to say to break it. “Um, so F-Finn is here for Thanksgiving?” Damn, but he hated how he stumbled over his name.

“Flies in Wednesday,” Liz said. “Afternoon, I think.”

“And you’re his first port of call?” His smile did nothing to soothe the slick coil of envy in the pit of his stomach.

“I wouldn’t say that.” But the color rose in her cheeks and her eyes shone, dazzled. And why wouldn’t she be? Finn was dazzling. “Um, is six forty-five okay with you? I’m meeting him at the Rock House at seven.”

Joshua nodded. “I’ll be there.” Even if the situation couldn’t get more ridiculous. Babysitting for Finn’s date? The universe must be having a good laugh.

The only positive he could draw from the situation was the confirmation that Finn wouldn’t be back until Wednesday—that left him Tuesday, after work, to head up to Hanworth Hall and lose a couple hours to the piano.

He wouldn’t go there with Finn around, obviously, but he ached for the oblivion he found in intense practice and the mellow tones of his mother’s piano were just the thing to ease his battered spirits.

He planned on making the most of it while he could.

* * *

Finn liked nothing better than getting the jump on his brother. So he didn’t call to let Sean know they didn’t need him on set on Tuesday after all, and that he could make his escape a day early.

He liked the idea of just rolling up at the house unannounced, startling Sean while he was watching porn, or geeking out over the History channel, or whatever he got up to alone in that big fucking house.

With Josh.

The image derailed him from his happy thoughts and he shifted in his airplane seat, drawing a shy smile from the woman next to him.

She’d recognized him immediately, but hadn’t said anything so he left it at that for now.

Not that he minded fans saying hello, it was just that Joshua-fucking-Newton had taken over his brain and it was difficult to be the nice guy he wanted to be with all that damn emotion churning around inside.

Glaring out the window, he offended the clouds instead.

He felt shitty about what he’d said to Josh outside Sean’s house, and that pissed him off because he wasn’t the one in the wrong.

Josh had had no right to look so—so hurt .

He was the one who’d ended everything, not Finn.

He’d had no right to stand there outside Sean’s house with his face all flushed and his hair damp and wild like he’d just been—

Of course, the dreams weren’t helping. Josh started visiting his dreams about a year after it ended, laughing and joyful with his intense gaze and gentle smile. And Finn woke from those dreams either suffused with fading joy or choking on bile. Neither state did much for his concentration at work.

But now they’d met again, things were getting worse. The dreams came more often—every night now, sometimes more. And they were vivid . He could feel the warmth of Joshua’s pliant body under his hands, taste the salt on his skin. Hear the soft rasp of his name on those lips when he came.

Jesus.

In the airplane, Finn swallowed a mouthful of whiskey and tried to change the subject inside his head. But all he came up with was Sean and Josh eating dinner together. Stupid to feel jealous, but he did. Josh was his to resent, not Sean’s to befriend.

His flight landed early in New York and the waiting car drove him the hour and a half out to New Milton.

He talked to the driver a little, watched the scenery flash past the window, caught up on his email and tried not to think about Josh.

When they were a couple minutes from Sean’s, he asked the driver to drop him off.

Giving the guy a generous holiday tip, Finn waited for the sound of the car to fade before he took in a deep breath of cold New Milton air.

He was back. There’d been a time when he’d vowed never to set foot in New Milton again, but here he was and something deep down vibrated with that knowledge. He didn’t know what the fuck to do with that, so decided to ignore it—because that always worked.

Slinging his bag over one shoulder, he crunched up the road to Sean’s house and let himself in through the side door.

It was never locked. He dumped his bag in the hallway and tried to figure out where Sean might be.

Working, probably, because it was only six o’clock.

Cocking his head, he listened until he heard a noise from farther inside the house. Music.

He followed the sound, surprised that it wasn’t the usual crap Sean listened to but real music.

He snorted a laugh. What was this? Sean Callaghan getting all refined now he was lord of the fucking manner?

Finn headed down another hallway, pleased to have caught Sean in this act of pretention, and stopped to peak around the door.

If Sean was conducting or something, Finn would—

His heart jolted so hard it almost broke a rib.

Sean wasn’t there. Instead, head tipped forward, eyes closed in concentration, Josh played music to break your heart. And his face... Every emotion was written there, every bar, every note of music.

Finn couldn’t move, transfixed. He’d watched Josh play before, knew he was a freakin’ genius, but he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten . Emotion pricked the back of his throat, a stirring of all that old tender yearning. God, how he’d loved this man.

Something of his pain escaped: a growl, a caught breath. Josh looked up, startled, and the music stopped. Finn’s heart stopped with it, the whiplash leaving him breathless.

Josh stared with wide eyes, face draining of color save two flushed points on his cheekbones. “I didn’t know you were—Sean said Wednesday.”

Finn glared at the polished wooden floor. Christ, but he couldn’t stop feeling . And it was too much. In this room where Josh had broken him, where Finn, humiliated, had begged, it was too much. “Is, uh—?” He ground the words like glass between his teeth. “Where’s Sean?”

“Kitchen.”

And that was that. Finn left, walked with a frantic heartbeat toward the kitchen where he startled Sean, but barely even noticed. Nothing could distract him from his single-minded trajectory toward the refrigerator and a beer.

“Dude?” Sean said.

“Sean.” He flicked the bottle cap into the sink and drained half the beer in one go, eyes closed and seeing nothing but Josh and that fucking piano.

“Ah, okay. Mi casa, su casa and all that, but, um... What the hell?”

Finn swallowed, wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Got in a day early. Surprise.”

“And you couldn’t call?” Sean stood up slowly from the kitchen table, a wary look on his face.

Finn faked a smile (hey, actor). “That would have ruined the surprise.” Then he laughed. “Man, the look on your face...”

Sean gave an uncertain frown, not quite buying the performance. “Okay...”

“You know how I like to prank you, man.”

“Right,” Sean said. “Because that was hilarious.”