Scrap, p.13
Scrap, page 13
“I should go,” Grant said, sitting up abruptly. “Need to get home and have a soak in the bath. And brush my teeth.” He gave a wry smile, and Dare did his best to return it.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said, wishing he could think of something to say to make Grant stay, but it wasn’t like his tiny caravan shower could compete with Grant’s no doubt luxurious bathroom. Instead, he just made his offer again. “Come round whenever you want. Or, you know, invite me to yours when you’re ready to take the plunge.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “But we should probably warm you up with some toys first. I’ve got a few in Matilda.”
“Matilda?”
“My Airstream. You know, the caravan. What? You’ve got to name a thing of beauty like that.”
Grant grinned and shook his head. “You might look like a scary thug, but you’re incredibly sentimental really, aren’t you?”
“Hush now. We don’t want the whole world to find out.”
When they parted at the gate, Dare went for a quick hug, and Grant clasped him tightly. It was over too fast, but at least it had happened at all. Made a change from their last couple of good-byes.
Dare walked back slowly, lost in thought.
SATURDAY MORNING FOUND Grant whizzing down the M4 towards London. He’d pre-warned Harriet with a text and he’d set off late enough to be certain he’d arrive after the girls had headed off to the stables for their riding lessons. That was Harriet’s idea. As she’d said in her text, it didn’t make sense to get them all hopeful when he was only back for a flying visit. He could see the sense in her words, but not getting a chance to see them when he was so close would hurt.
But he tried to keep all that from his face when Harriet answered the door. He had a key, but it seemed only right to ring for admittance, seeing as how he didn’t live here anymore.
Mabel’s enthusiastic greeting distracted him for a moment, but he couldn’t spend his whole visit catching up with the one who was actually pleased to see him. There was repair work to be done. He gave Harriet a sober smile, and her mouth twitched in response.
She was looking paler than usual, but composed. She’d obviously got dressed up for his visit but was wearing an outfit he didn’t recognise. A tailored grey dress which was much more severe than her usual frothy florals, with a long black cardigan over the top. It actually rather suited her.
“Hats. You're looking good.”
“In this? I’m trying it out for a job interview.”
“Really?” Harriet glared at him, so Grant dialled back his surprise. “That’s great, I mean. Just...unexpected. What are you going for?”
“With my lack of work experience? Nothing exciting. Just a receptionist’s position in a small dental office. Part-time to begin with.”
“So, what brought this on? Do you need the money?” He’d thought he was paying her enough to live on.
“Not everything’s about money, Grant. I need to get out there and do something with my time. All these years married to you, and what have I got to show for it?”
“A beautiful home and two gorgeous daughters?”
She gave an undignified snort which sounded dangerously like a sob, and Grant noticed the redness under her eyes. Okay, proceed with caution. “Can I come in?” he asked.
She didn’t say anything but walked into the depths of the house, leaving him to shut the door behind him and follow. Harriet’s dress might be new, but everything else in the house remained the same. It was both reassuring and tragic. Made him feel like, if he was so inclined, he could just slot back into his old life.
But perhaps not, because for some reason Harriet headed for the dining room. It wasn’t a room they’d used often, preferring the cosiness of the breakfast room for family meals, and he couldn’t help noticing the stiff formality of everything in there. It was the kind of room decorated to impress visitors rather than to relax in. Harriet sat down on one side of the table, and Grant sat down opposite when she indicated a chair.
“So,” Harriet finally said. “You said you needed to discuss the divorce. I assume you’ve heard from my solicitor.”
“I have, and you’ll be hearing from mine in a few days, but I wanted to talk things over with you first.” Grant sighed. He’d rehearsed this over and over in his head on the journey down, but he hadn’t been able to come up with a pain-free way of saying it. “Look, you should know now, you don’t have legal grounds to divorce me at the moment.”
“Are you seriously telling me you’ll dispute it? After everything you’ve done?”
“No! That’s not what I’m saying. I’m as keen to get divorced as you are. It’s just, infidelity doesn’t count as valid reason when it’s with someone of the same sex. Your solicitor must have explained that to you.”
Harriet pulled a mulish expression that Grant recognised. “How do I know you didn’t cheat on me with women as well?”
“I only cheated with one other person, and he was most definitely male. You’ll have to take my word for that, but without proof, you can’t divorce me for it either.”
“So you won’t just admit to the infidelity? Grant, why are you making this harder than it should be? A clean break would be best for both of us, so we can just move on.”
“I agree, but not if it means I have to give up all custodial rights. Hats, they’re my daughters too. I need to see them.”
“But you can’t have joint custody. There’s no way we could split the week between us. Not when you’re living in Bristol and their whole lives are over here.”
“No, I agree. I wouldn’t want that any more than you do. But I do want them to come and stay every other weekend, and have them for a couple of weeks in the summer holidays.”
“I don’t know. It might be confusing for them.”
“Harriet, please!” Grant couldn’t believe she was making him plead like this. He must have really hurt her to make her this cruel. “I’m only talking about two days in fourteen. It would be even more confusing for them if they never saw me at all. Think about it, that’s got to be more damaging.”
“I think exposing them to your way of life could be pretty damaging.”
Grant ground his teeth in frustration. “There’s nothing about my way of life that would be any different from when I lived at home. I’d take them out to the zoo and the cinema. I’m hardly likely to cart them around to gay clubs, am I?”
“What about if you get a boyfriend?”
“What about it? Come on, Hats. I need to tell them sooner or later about it. And you can rest assured, I wouldn’t introduce them to any man in my life unless it was serious.”
“Is that likely to happen? Is there anyone you want to be serious with?”
“No. Not exactly.” Harriet glared at him, and he relented. “There’s a man I’ve been seeing off and on, but it’s not like that. We’re not in a relationship. Just friends.”
“Just friends with benefits.” Harriet’s tone was acid, putting Grant on the defensive.
“Right. And there’s nothing wrong with that. We’re both consenting adults.”
“What’s wrong is that you’re...you’re supposed to be...” Harriet was gulping for air. “Don’t you realise you broke my heart?” Tears began streaming down her cheeks.
“Hats, I’m so sorry.” Grant got up and went to her, out of instinct. She rose and flung her arms around him, beating ineffectually at his back and sobbing into his neck. He felt like the biggest arsehole in the universe. “I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could make myself straight and love you properly, like you deserve.” It was only half a lie.
“You bastard,” she choked out as her sobs gradually subsided. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“Not for you, maybe.”
“Harriet,” he started slowly. “I really meant all that. I know what I did was wrong. I should have come clean as soon as I realised I was gay.”
“So why didn’t you?”
It was a fair question. “We had the girls by then, and I couldn’t just up and leave you all. How would you have managed?”
“I don’t know, but we’d have worked something out. Better than living a lie all these years. For Christ’s sake, Grant, did you really not know until after we’d had them?”
He thought back to his teenage angst—all those confusing feelings he’d tried to hide, even from himself. “I suspected, but it wasn’t something I really wanted to think about.”
Harriet was shaking her head slowly, something uncomfortably like pity in her eyes. “Oh, Grant, and there was me, thinking you were so together. You seemed to have everything figured out. Knew exactly where you were going in life and how you were going to get there.”
“I’ve always been good at giving people that idea.”
“And now I know you’re just a lost little boy inside.” She pulled away from him and wiped her nose on her cardigan sleeve. “I need a cup of tea.”
Grant followed her through to the kitchen. It was a relief she wasn’t turning to wine like he had been. God knew, if anyone deserved to have a minor alcoholic binge, it was Harriet. Clearly she was more grown up about it all than he’d been, though. He watched her pull back her composure with sheer willpower. She might look like a sweet, pliable English rose, but the woman had grit, he had to give her that.
“Do you want one?” she offered, probably more graciously than he deserved.
“Thank you.”
“So,” she said eventually, when the kettle had boiled and they were both sitting at the kitchen table, holding steaming mugs of fragrant tea. “Do you want to stick around and say hello to the girls?”
“If that’s okay with you. I’d love to.” Grant still needed to bring up the financial side of things and selling the house, but he didn’t want to push his luck. She wasn’t crying, and that was a good start. They ended up chatting about inconsequential things—like the Japanese knotweed that had reappeared at the end of the garden despite Harriet’s best efforts to eradicate it, and the continuing eccentricities of the couple who lived across the street.
And after half an hour, the house was filled with Charlie’s joyous shouts and hugs, and he even received a small smile and a kiss on the cheek from Isabelle.
“Girls,” Harriet announced when they were all seated around the breakfast room table with a pot of tea and a plate of hot, buttered crumpets. “Your father wants you to come and spend every other weekend with him in Bristol. What do you think?”
“Yay!” Charlie bounced in her chair excitedly. “Can we really?”
“What about our riding lessons?” Isabelle objected. “I can’t miss out on any training if I’m going to win a medal at the gymkhana this year. It gets much more competitive when you’re in the fourteen-and-over age bracket.”
“There are plenty of riding schools around Bristol,” Grant said. “You could have a search online to see if you can find one you like the look of.”
“Well,” Isabelle began, a wheedling tone in her voice. “There is this one place just outside of Bath. It’s expensive, but it’s meant to be one of the best in the country.”
She’d already been looking. The thought filled him with happiness. “Nothing is too good for my girls.” Grant beamed at them both and turned to Harriet.
Who just stared at him, her eyes narrowing.
Chapter Sixteen
Four hours later, Grant pulled into the garage of his flat, exhausted. All he wanted was to lose himself in some mindless activity. Something fun and physical.
He should go to the gym.
He went upstairs, showered—for reasons he refused to examine too closely—and changed into his gym kit.
But when he got downstairs, instead of heading to the car, he started running. Just a few miles along the river, he told himself. It was dusk, and the sky was lit up with pink puffy clouds that filled him with the urge to run back for his camera, but he soldiered on.
And if his route took him past the scrap yard, so be it.
And if he heard music blaring out from Dare’s workshop, well, it would be rude not to send a little text. See if Dare fancied any company.
And that was how he found himself being hustled into Dare’s silver caravan, those large hands kneading his arse as he made his way to the little bedroom.
“Mmm, I’m glad you came back so soon,” Dare murmured before kissing his way down Grant’s neck. “And in easy-access clothing too.”
Grant shuddered with want as Dare’s hands proved just how easy access it was, pushing their way down the back of his trackie bottoms and grabbing his glutes. “Please,” Grant asked, not sure how to voice what he wanted. He had no practice with begging for this kind of thing, but he knew if anything would take his mind off the emotional trauma of the day, it would be Dare, forcing his way into places no man had ever been before.
“What do you want?” Dare asked, laughter in his voice. Bastard.
“You. Please. Just...do things to me.”
“Hmm, what kind of things do you mean? Oh!” Dare’s fingers insinuated themselves into Grant’s crack, making his nerves thrill. “Would you mean these kinds of things?”
Grant froze. “Not that.”
Dare moved his hand away, but that wasn’t what Grant wanted either.
His cheeks heated as he tried to explain himself. “I-I mean, I’m not ready to bottom. Not yet. But you could maybe try other things. You know, to see how it goes.”
“So you’re okay with a bit of arse-play?” Dare moved down to petting his hole, and Grant thrust back, making all manner of embarrassing noises.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dare gloated. “Right, then, these are going to need to come off. All the way. I want you naked from the waist down.” He yanked Grant’s trackie bottoms down, while Grant stepped out of his trainers.
“It’s cold,” Grant protested, shivering.
“Don’t worry. I’ll soon warm you up. But you can leave your socks on. Now get on your hands and knees. On the bed.”
Grant’s shivers didn’t subside as he got into position. If anything, they increased, and now he wasn’t sure if they were down to the cold or the fact he was entering uncharted territory. But he had nothing to be afraid of, did he? After all, he’d been the one in Dare’s position before, and he’d always made sure his partner thoroughly enjoyed himself.
It was all very well telling himself that, but there was something so exposing and vulnerable about offering himself up like this. What if Dare just jammed his cock into him? Did he trust him not to?
“God, you look gert lush like that. Fucking gorgeous.” When Dare’s touch finally landed on him, it wasn’t a blunt intrusion at his arsehole, but a gentle, firm caress to his cheeks. Grant whimpered a little and buried his face in the pillows, trying to hold back all the needy little sounds Dare somehow dragged out of him.
He gasped and jerked away when Dare’s fingers dragged inside his crease, and Dare seemed to get the hint, sticking to massaging him and giving a soothing litany of dirty talk.
“Yes, that’s it. Just chill out. I’m not going to hurt you. We’ll just play with toys. And maybe my tongue.” Dare kissed him then, at the base of Grant’s spine, and electricity zapped through his body.
There was more of that wonderful, slow massage then, and Grant succumbed to it, his muscles gradually relaxing. And then there was nothing, and Dare disappeared for a moment. There was the sound of doors opening and closing. “Dare?” Grant lifted his head and looked around.
Dare appeared to be rummaging through one of the built-in cupboards in the wall facing the bed. Cupboards that appeared to be crammed full of clothes and all manner of crap. Grant took it in, not really comprehending what was going on. “What are you doing?”
“Told you I was looking for toys, didn’t I?”
“You keep them in your office?”
“Ah, about that...” Dare gave him a challenging look, and suddenly it sank in. What Cecil had said about Dare perhaps living in the scrap yard.
“This is your home, isn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Dare shrugged guiltily. “It’s not exactly luxury accommodation, is it? Wouldn’t blame you if you turned your nose up at shagging someone who lived in a caravan.”
Did he care? A few months ago, he might have, but things looked different these days. He didn’t particularly mind where Dare lived, so long as Dare was happy with his choice. Grant was about to argue just that, but then he figured actions would speak louder than words. He dropped his head down and wiggled his arse. “Do I look bothered?”
There was a loud guffaw. “No, not particularly. All right, then.” A slap landed on Grant’s backside. “Just give me a minute. I think I see the box I packed them in. Yes, that’s the one.”
While part of him desperately wanted to see what was in the box, Grant didn’t turn his head in case it proved too scary. Better to feel something without having made a judgement about how big it was and how much it would hurt. Yes, definitely better. He braced himself for the sensation of a toy pressing against him, but instead, Dare’s hand found his cock.
“Come on, don’t you go freaking out on me. I want you all desperate and begging me for some action. Hold on. I’ve remembered just the thing to help.”
Grant tried not to anticipate what was coming, but it was impossible not to imagine lubed fingers pressing into his hole. What he’d never have imagined, though, was a warm, wet sensation around his toes.
“What the fuck?” His leg muscles convulsed. “Get off me! Stop. Ticklish.” He didn’t want to kick Dare in the face, but it was going to happen if he didn’t stop nibbling on Grant’s toes. “I mean it. Stop!”
Dare did break off then. “I thought you enjoyed this.”
“What on earth gave you that idea? I hate having my feet touched.” Grant curled up and grabbed his toes tight, protecting them from any further attempts at foreplay.
“That little fucker,” Dare said slowly, with grudging respect. “He went and fooled me good and proper.”
