“Sometimes we need someone to shake things up,” Leo said.
But that's always been you. You've always done it for me, natural as breathing, because you know exactly what I need. Brad doesn't know shit.
“Maybe,” Caleb said.
He felt rather than saw Leo stand up. When he opened his eyes, Leo was standing in front of him, offering his hand. “Come on,” he said, “you're dead on your feet. Let's go to bed.”
Leo always knew when he didn't want teasing—when he was in one of his melancholy funks and just wanted the man he loved to hold him. What had he done before he came back to LA? He'd done plenty of crying on his own. He'd written songs—the same songs that Brad thought were “too depressing for words.” They'd helped, but nothing helped like Leo did.
He pulled Caleb over to the bed, and reached up to pull his t-shirt off, followed by his own. “Leo,” Caleb said, exhaustion beginning to overtake him.
“I know,” Leo said, pressing an open palm to where Caleb's heart beat in his chest. “I know.”
Suddenly, it was overwhelming him, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I love you.”
The corners of Leo's lips quirked up. He pulled down Caleb's shorts, pushing him down onto the edge of the bed. “I know,” Leo said again.
“I wouldn't . . . I couldn't do any of this without you,” Caleb said, forcing the words out, even though his throat was closing over with emotion. Leo's eyes were soft and understanding.
“I think you're stronger than you believe.” Leo's voice was soft as he settled Caleb's head on the pillow.
Maybe Leo was right, but was struggling every day, trying to avoid the lonely pull into desolation, was that living? It hadn't felt like living. For the last six months before Detroit and for many months after, for years after, booze had made him numb. He'd only really come back to life the first time he'd seen Leo again. Every cutoff, cauterized part of him had painfully flared back into existence.
“You bring me to life,” Caleb mumbled, staring at the man, haloed by the dimming light behind him.
Leo leaned over, brushing a kiss over Caleb's forehead, then drifting down to brush the same kiss over his lips. “We bring each other to life,” he said.
CHAPTER FOUR
Caleb was jerked awake by a phone ringing, insistently, over and over again.
“Leo,” he groaned, rolling over, shaking his boyfriend. “Someone's calling, and they won't fucking stop.”
Leo covered his head with a pillow.
“Leo, seriously,” Caleb said, reaching over and grabbing the pillow. A pair of bleary blue eyes glared at him accusatorially. “Answer the goddamn phone.”
Finally, Leo reached out for his phone on the nightstand. He glanced at the number, a confused wrinkle appearing between his brows. “I don't know the number.”
“I don't care if it's the fucking Pope, answer the phone so it stops fucking ringing,” Caleb said with a groan, rolling back to his own side of the bed.
Leo shot him a long-suffering look—which was totally unfair because he'd just woken up, and Caleb had been the one who'd endured the fifth or tenth or fifteenth call. He'd lost count a long time ago.
“This is Leo Humphries,” he said, holding the phone to his ear. “Yeah, yeah, it is. What happened? What? Are you kidding? Oh my god, no, of course you aren't. Okay, okay.” With every word that passed through his lips, Leo's face grew whiter and tauter, and by the end of the call, Caleb was awake and clenching the bedding in his fists. Clearly something had happened, and it wasn't a good thing—not if he was going by the expression on Leo's face.
“It's my mom,” Leo said as he put the phone down, dazed. “She fell . . . they're pretty sure she broke her hip. I guess . . .” He choked back a sob. “I guess she's going to need surgery and I have to get there. I have to get there now. He scrambled out of bed, pulling out drawers maniacally, throwing things around. Caleb slid out of bed and went up behind him, pulling him into a tight hug, so tight he couldn't budge.
“Hey, hey,” Caleb murmured, “it'll be okay. She's tough. She's a fighter. She's gonna get through this. Did you call the jet?”
“No, shit,” Leo said, wiggling in Caleb's grasp.
“Hey, you keep packing, and getting ready to go,” Caleb said. “I'll call the jet.”
Money wasn't something Caleb really thought about regularly. It was there; they used it. He knew he was incredibly lucky and privileged enough not to have to worry about it. But it was sure fucking nice when he called up the emergency number for the private jet service, and he was transferred twice, the second time to someone who immediately grasped the urgency of the situation, and they promised they'd have a jet on the ground in an hour. “Luckily,” she said, “we had one not very far away. But they'll be there, and get you back to Los Angeles as quickly as possible,” she said. Caleb thanked her and hung up.
Leo was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, his face still so white, despite all the recent beach bumming he'd done. “It'll be here?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Caleb said, and scooted past him into the bathroom, to brush his teeth, throw some water on his face, and try to get his toiletries together. “I'll have to call Brad or email him maybe, when we're on the jet.”
Leo stared at him, their gazes meeting in the mirror. “What?” he asked.
“I'm sure he'd be pissed if I woke him up, maybe an email is better,” Caleb thought out loud. “Email is probably definitely better.”
“What,” Leo said again, like he was shocked into silence for the second time in the last twenty minutes. “You're not coming,” he stated.
Caleb turned around, his leather toiletries kit in his hands. “What? Of course I'm coming.”
“You're working on your album. It's important,” Leo said blithely, like he didn't even really register what he was saying. “You need to stay here and work on it. You said it yourself, she's going to be fine.”
“I'm not worried about Laurel. She's strong, she’ll pull through,” Caleb said.
I'm worried about you. He couldn't quite believe that Leo not only was encouraging him to stay, but acting like it was a given. Like Leo didn't expect Caleb would even want to come with him. It was crazy. And it was terrifying.
“I know she is,” Leo said. “And Felix will be there. Max too, probably.” Leo turned and went back into the bedroom, leaving Caleb standing there, still in shock.
“What, somehow I'm not as reliable or dependable or needed as Max?” Caleb retorted, finally following him when he'd gotten his breath and his words back. “Do you really think so little of me that you think I'd stay here and work on a stupid album instead of being with you when you need me?”
“You kept telling me how important this is to you,” Leo said stubbornly. He still wasn't looking at Caleb, and that was a bad sign. Caleb recognized all the hallmarks of danger, but for the first time since he'd come back, he didn't know how to fix this.