Discovering Dalton (Manchester Menage Collection #2) (7 page)

Chapter
7

T
roy woke with a startled gasp, body rising from the bed as soon as his eyes sprung open, reaching for the bedside lamp but knocking it to the floor in his hurry. “Shit.” He tried to stop panicking and took a deep breath.
It was just a dream, dickhead. Thirty and you still have the same childish nightmares you had when you were ten. How sad is that?

The door to his bedroom flew open, light spilling in from the landing blinding him as Liam stood there, breathing too fast and his face screwed up with worry.

“I'm okay. Turn the damn light off, you're blinding me.” Troy reached for the lamp on the floor, switching it on as Liam hit the light off in the hall.

“I heard a crash, wanted to check it out.”

“Just the lamp. I think I broke it.” Troy waggled it around, the stem now loose and the shade flopping from side to side.

“Yeah, I'd say so.” Liam chuckled as he leaned against the doorframe. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah, same old shit.” Troy laid back, kicking the sheet off him and staring at Liam yawning. “Go back to bed.”

“I'm not really tired.”

Troy laughed loudly. Liam’s words were yawned out and totally not believable at all. “Well, I'm putting the TV on. Come watch it with me.” He knew in five minutes Liam would be fast asleep, that’s what always happened, but the good thing was, he’d be right behind him.

“Don’t put one of those shitty subtitled Japanese films on. They do my head in.”

“They’re awesome.” Troy found one on a random channel and Liam groaned as he lay beside Troy, thumping his pillow into submission before he settled his head on it. “Oh hey, we watched this one a few years ago.” Troy laid back, thinking how little things had changed. He hated sleeping alone, probably one of the reasons he slipped from one relationship to another, or was cool in between letting Liam comfort him. “I’ve not had one in six months.”

“You were shouting again.” Liam glanced over, their eyes holding the look but neither speaking. Words didn’t really add anything to the moment. They knew each other too well, spoken about this hundreds of times. It changed nothing.

Troy pretended to watch the film, but really it was just something to rest his gaze on while he thought. Liam was chuckling at the dodgy subtitles, sprawled out with just his shorts on and the sheet wrapped around one leg. Troy did the same, staring up at the ceiling. The white colour and total lack of anything up there made his thoughts a little clearer. “He’s up for parole in six months. I got a letter about it.”

Liam stiffened next to him, grabbing the remote and dulling the overacting dubbing on the TV. “When did you find that out, and why didn’t you tell me?”

“Yesterday afternoon. You were late back from work and I hid in bed all night if you remember.”

“Oh yeah, well…” Liam rolled onto his side. “Do you get a chance to fight it?”

“I can speak to my solicitor and see what he suggests. I'm hoping I can, but they know everything he did, so all I can do is remind them of the long lasting effect what he did has on me.”

It was ten years ago when Troy had taken a rare weekend to visit his mum that everything went shit, and Troy really didn’t see things getting any worse when he was an adult. He thought he’d put the worst behind him as a child, but he’d been wrong. So wrong.

He’d grown up in Manchester, only thirty minutes from where he lived with Terry and Alice after they fostered him, and after he’d been taken away, his mum stayed local. They had a tough time reconnecting, and he didn’t see her for a long time, but when he turned eighteen, he received a letter from her and things slowly changed between them. Through the next year they moved on and eventually they had some sort of relationship, not mother and son, but they became friends at least.

His dad was a real piece of work who basically married his mum so he could move over to the UK. They met while she and her friends were on vacation in Turkey. Two months later, she’d gone back and they were married and he was on the plane back to England with her. A month after that and Troy was on the way.

He was five when he first remembered seeing his dad punch his mum in the face, six when she ran into his bedroom, cowering under the sheets with him as his dad pounded on the door, shouting at her to get outside. He held back from beating her in front of Troy at that stage, and his room was often the only safe place in the house for her.

Troy remembered being so scared his dad would come in and hurt him, he’d asked his mum to go outside. Thinking back with an adult’s mind, he could see he was just a child who was afraid, and who wanted his parents to stop arguing, not understanding what was going on. It was only with hindsight he put all the pieces together and knew just what he was sending his mum into.

At seven, he came home from school to find his dad’s hands wrapped around her throat, choking her in the hallway. Their eyes connected and he dropped his mum to the floor—coughing and gasping for air. By seven, Troy knew not all mums and dads lived like they did. Their mums weren’t covered in bruises, and they didn’t live in fear of doing something wrong.

The thing is, she couldn’t do anything right. It was like he changed the rules when he wanted, catching her out and punishing her for it. The house was never clean enough, even though it was pristine, not a single thing out of place. Troy learned from the age of two to clean up after himself, one toy out at a time, no messy fingerprints on anything. His mum would try to shield him from the most of it, but things were tough.

His dad was the funniest person you could ever want to meet. He was everyone’s friend, talked to anyone, made friends at the drop of a hat, always buying drinks and joining in the fun. He went to every school event, made a big show of playing happy families. To the rest of the world they were happy, behind closed doors, he changed like flicking a switch.

As soon as they were alone he would slam the door and just look at his mum. She’d worn the wrong dress, she looked like a slut, her hair wasn’t styled like he wanted. She spent too long talking to another man and made him look stupid. The way she laughed with the other women made her look like an idiot. It would go on and on.

Troy would stick up for her, say she’d been just like the other mums. As he got older, a quick slap to the back of the head would be delivered by his dad and Troy would be pushed up the stairs while the fighting continued.

At eighteen, he was waiting in the pub for her to turn up. After an hour, he got worried and walked past the flat she and his dad lived in. She’d never told his dad about their meetings, and Troy hadn't wanted to see him, so they’d always been careful, but something was bugging him.

From the information his mum told him, he knew his dad should be at work, so he made his way up to the second floor and found the front door opened an inch. As soon as he went to push it, his eyes fell on a red smear on it and he paused. It could have been anything, but Troy knew inside it was blood.

Troy found her in the kitchen. Pots and pans where everywhere, vegetables and other food strewn about the room, and there in the middle of the lino was his mum. He thought she was dead at first, but then a bubble of blood came from her lips and he knelt beside her, not knowing what had happened, just that it was bad. She was covered in blood from head to toe. It was pooled around her, leaking through his jeans as his hands hovered above her, not wanting to touch her in case it hurt. She looked into his eyes as she died. That was that. His last moments with a woman who he loved despite everything slipped away in the breeze, never to be found again.

He was in shock. He didn’t move, not able to even call for help. Eventually, the sobs made it from his chest, soon turning into wails as he pulled his hair from the roots, anger filling him like never before. All her life she’d been a victim of his dad’s abuse, and finally, his dad had ended it. He’d killed her.

When he called for help on his mobile, simply saying his mum was dead and his dad had done it, he waited beside her, not touching, just looking.

It wasn’t until the autopsy Troy found out just how vicious the attack had been. She’d been stabbed with a steak knife over thirty times, all over her body—even her feet received wounds. It had been a short knife. Perhaps if he’d chosen a longer one, she’d have died sooner, but even then, his dad seemed to know how to drag out her pain.

They’d found his dad a week later after a massive manhunt. He was in nearby Liverpool, hiding out with friends. The last time Troy saw him was in court when he was sentenced to life imprisonment.

Life didn’t mean life anymore. Ten years apparently was enough to warrant good behaviour, and now he was up for parole. He should never come out, in Troy's opinion. His mum was dead, she suffered her whole life, and he could be free in six months. He was only fifty, still young enough to marry again, find some other women to beat up and kill.

Troy didn’t understand why she stayed with him all those years, and if he were honest with himself, he still didn’t understand. But then why did he put up with all the bastards using him and his body when he knew better?

He was worth more. He couldn’t be like his mum, but inside him there would always be the fear he would end up with someone like his dad and he would simply put up with it.

“Troy,” Liam’s soft words woke him from his thoughts and they looked at each other. “Talk to me. I hate it when you go quiet.”

“I've said it all before. Aren’t you sick of hearing it?”

“No.” Liam pulled him closer, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and kissing his head. “I'm always ready to listen to anything you have to say.”

“Do you think they’ll let him out of prison? It’s been ten years. Ten years is enough for murder now apparently.”

“I hope he doesn’t, and if they do release him, I hope you never have to set eyes on him again. We’ll sort this out, Troy. We can make an appointment to see your solicitor tomorrow and talk to him about your options. There has to be something we can do. This is still affecting you. Even after ten years, you're still in pain with what he did, with what you saw.”

Troy laid his head on Liam’s chest, closing his eyes and breathing in the familiar scent clinging to him. They’d often shared beds when they were kids, and it had just continued as they got older. Even though they weren’t blood, they were closer than some of the brothers he knew, although not having any growing up, Troy didn’t fully understand what brotherly love felt like.

You can't choose your family, but Troy had chosen to keep Liam as his. He was the only family he had left. They only had each other.

“Thank you,” Troy whispered out against his chest.

Liam just held him tighter, turning more into him and cradling him in those strong arms. Troy would never be bigger than him and despite working hard, he was happy with how he looked. Besides, he enjoyed being smaller, it meant he could be held like this.

“I'm worried I’ll be like her one day, you know.” Troy had never voiced that out loud before, but his recent relationship and the parole appeal made him take a stark look at himself and see how weak he was around the men in his life. “I take too much shit, and it needs to stop.”

Liam stiffened against him, gripping his shoulder a little too tightly. “If anyone’s ever laid one hand on you, I’ll—”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that.” Troy tilted his head back and smiled softly at him, brushing a fingertip over the lines caused by Liam’s frown. “No one’s ever hit me, okay, but I take too much shit by giving my heart much too soon. It’s all about them, and it always ends up with me and my needs not being thought about. I'm an enabler. I let them do this to me and it has to stop.”

“You'll never be in a situation with anyone who could treat you like your mum.”

“How can you be so sure?” Troy looked into Liam’s eyes, wishing he could feel as confident as he did.

“Because I'm here to make sure it doesn’t happen. You don’t have to say anything and I know what’s going on, and trust me, if anyone ever laid a finger on you I'd break it off and shove it up their arse.”

Troy grinned. “Still protecting me even after all these years.”

“I always will do.” Liam cupped his cheek in his hand and smiled at him. “I love you. You're my family. My best friend. You're everything to me.”

“Not everything, Liam.” Troy felt his body react to those soft touches and kind words, and rolled off Liam, looking up at the ceiling again, taking slow breaths and reminding himself now wasn’t the time to have
those
type of thoughts.

“Troy…”

“Just don’t go there.”

Troy wasn’t going to risk literally cocking up the only loving relationship he had left by reopening old wounds. He’d long since put the thought of Liam being anything other than friends out of his mind. Liam considered him a brother, and Troy had to remind himself constantly as he went through his horny teenage years that brothers didn’t have the type of thoughts Troy had for Liam.

It had been too long. It was too late to change anything.

Chapter
8

A
week after Kelly left, they met up for tea at what used to be their house, but what was now just Dalton’s. She’d done some thinking and so had Dalton. They both agreed they cared deeply for the other and still wanted to be friends, but it was unfair, mainly to Kelly in Dalton’s mind, to keep her tied to a marriage and to a person she didn’t want to be with.

She was in love with this bloke Richard, and he seemed responsible with no criminal record that Dalton had found in the searches. She was going to live with her mum on the other side of Manchester and they were going to start dating, taking things slowly and out in the open this time.

It seemed quick in Dalton’s mind, but he reminded himself this shit began over six months ago and he had to get it through his thick skull. He was behind, and he didn’t even try to catch up sometimes, happy to bury his head in the sand and just let the world and its troubles pass him by.

They’d agreed to make the split quick, and she’d arranged a van to take most of her stuff to her mum’s house until she found one of her own. Dalton hadn't known what she would be taking, so he’d waited until she arrived early Saturday morning, her mum in tow and her dad driving the van. Dalton had always gotten along with her parents so when they barely talked to him and gave him the cold shoulder, it made him hurt inside.

Kelly was upset, he was upset, and her parents didn’t seem to know what to do, so they left them alone while they hugged, saying their goodbyes. All she’d taken were her clothes and personal stuff. The furniture and everything else was left for Dalton.

Oh, and she took the cat. Yeah, Dalton wasn’t too happy about that. She was his after all, and he’d found her when she was a kitten. She must have gotten lost from her home and ended up in their garden—little red collar wrapped around her neck which was too small, causing bald patches around her throat. Dalton had taken it off and given her some food, and there she stayed.

He helped put little Mog in her basket and gave her a kiss, taking one last look at her bright green eyes and enjoying hearing her loud purr as he tickled her chin. Then he left Kelly with her, going into the garden to be alone. Just hearing them driving off made his knees buckle, and he knelt on the grass, crying like he hadn't in a long time. He didn’t know why, but it was the fact she’d taken Mog which made him break. He couldn’t believe it, he was hurt beyond belief and shocked.

On shaky legs, he made it to the garden furniture, sitting down on one of the chairs and pulling his phone out, dialling Milo’s home number and not even caring which one of them picked up. Samuel’s sweet voice answered, and before Dalton could stop himself, he blurted out, “She took my cat.” His voice broke, tears silently rolling down his cheeks. “She just… Kelly took her,” he choked out through his tight throat. “I didn’t think… but now she’s gone and...” He broke off, not knowing what to say and not really being able to get his words out without his voice breaking.

“Dalton, I'm on my way. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay.” Dalton sat in silence, looking into the distance and jerking when he felt the tender touch of Samuel some time later. He must have flown over with how quickly he got there. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I'm so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Samuel stood in between his thighs, holding Dalton’s face to his chest and rocking him as Dalton tried to stop the irritating tears from leaving his eyes. “Maybe I could call her, ask her to bring Mog back. Did you say you'd like her to stay?”

“No.” Dalton sniffed. “I just thought, I mean, she was mine. I thought with Kelly not having her own place she’d leave Mog here. It was just so sudden, and I was too hurt to say anything.”

“Okay.” Samuel slid onto his knee and kissed his cheek. “We’ll sort something out, honey. I know we will.”

Dalton buried his face into the long locks of Samuel’s sweet-smelling hair and sighed heavily. All through this he hadn’t broken down, but the damn cat just tipped him over the edge. Bloody cat.

When he’d calmed down and taken stock of himself, he pulled back and brushed the wetness from his face and looked into the warm blue of Samuel’s calming gaze. “How did you get here, and how did you get here so fast? It took you what? Fifteen minutes at the most.”

“I was having lunch with my friend from college. Both Milo and Daniel are working, so it’s one of those rare days where I’m alone. She drove me here. She should be in Formula One. I swear she’s faster than that Burton bloke Danny likes.” Samuel chuckled at the frown Dalton felt creeping onto his face.

“No speed limits broken, I hope?” Dalton teased Samuel with a smile on his face.

“No.” But obviously it was a lie.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I wanted to be with you.”

“Thank you. Erm, so did you eat lunch, or did I spoil it?”

“You didn’t spoil anything. We were going for a picnic, so I brought the food with me. No point in letting it go it waste. Besides, I just know you’ll love my sandwiches. I'm trying out a few… different ones to see how they go.”

“Oh, yeah. Now, by different… What do you mean exactly?”

“I’ll grab the basket and we can test them out on you.” Samuel jumped off his knee, giving him another soft kiss on his cheek before he left. “I brought wine too.”

“Oh, God. I love you even more for bringing me booze. Pass it over here so I can drown in it.”

Samuel shook his head, long waves of hair glowing in the sun as he smirked over his shoulder. Damn, Dalton blushed heavily thinking how beautiful he was. He was feminine, so it was cool to think like that. He nodded to himself as if to reiterate the thought. He remembered saying to Milo that Samuel would be prettier if he was a girl, but as things stood now, male or female, Samuel would always be stunningly beautiful. It didn’t matter really what was between his legs. The guy was a living angel, and Dalton cared for him a lot. Milo and Daniel were lucky fuckers to have found two people who loved them and who they loved in return.

It wasn’t too much to ask for just one person to love him, was it?

Samuel placed a glass of chilled white wine in front of him, a wicker basket in the other hand which he placed on the table and began pulling out carefully packed items. Dalton watched, sipping his wine as Samuel peeled back the foil and revealed the ingredients to his sandwiches.

“Okay, now, I don’t know if you have the same strange aversion to fish which Daniel does, but this is smoked mackerel—no bones—and I’ve glazed it in honey.” Samuel glanced at him, obviously waiting for some sort of protest, but Dalton just smiled.

Dalton snorted some of his wine up with his chuckle. Daniel had an aversion to fish. It may have been his dirty mind, but that made him laugh. Samuel appeared slightly confused, and just looked at him. “I don’t have any problems with fish, even if it has bones in it. I love it.”

“Oh, good.” Samuel placed a few pieces of what looked to be homemade bread on a plate, and then began opening up the plastic containers and spreading them out on the table.

Dalton looked in each one, noticing all of the bright colours and fresh smell. “Nice. This is going to be the world’s best sandwich.” His stomach agreed, and grumbled on cue, reminding Dalton he hadn’t eaten since the day before. “I'm starving.”

“I heard.” Samuel chuckled, pushing a plate toward him and sitting down with his own wine now in his delicate hold. “Tuck in. I like to see people enjoying my food more than eating it myself.”

“Oh, hey, you don’t have to tell me twice to eat.” Despite his healthier eating plan, Dalton still ate big portions, it was just less of the bad stuff and more of the good stuff. As long he got loads, he didn’t really mind. He groaned a little when he took the first bite. “Samuel,” Dalton moaned out his name and Samuel laughed loudly. “Oh, God. This is good.”

“There’s more than enough, so feel free to take more.”

In between the food and the wine, Samuel caught Dalton up on his college work, chatting about anything and everything except what had happened earlier in the day, and then when they’d finished and they were both overly full, they both fell silent, enjoying the afternoon breeze and the sun dipping lower in the sky. It took two hours after Samuel arrived for Dalton to approach the subject of Kelly leaving.

“I have to see this as a good thing.”

Samuel nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “I think it’s a good way of looking at it. Everything happens for a reason.” He paused briefly, searching Dalton’s eyes for any sign of apprehension before he continued. “You said the last time we came around she’d been your first, I'm guessing your only too as you're so monogamous.”

“Yep,” Dalton spoke into his wine glass, taking another deep drink.

“It’ll do you good to get yourself out there and meet other people.”

“I'm not up for meeting anyone just yet.”

“I didn’t mean a relationship, just friendship. Meet some new friends, go to new places. Start again.”

“I don’t want to start again.” Dalton sulked as he looked down the garden, wondering how he would keep up to it now Kelly had gone. She was the gardener, not him.

“Well, not so much start again, more start fresh. I'm guessing you share friends and had your favourite restaurants and stuff. I'm thinking it would be hard to go back there, so I thought new places… you know, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I get it, I just… I'm just not ready to think about anything further than this moment right now. I know you're trying to help.” He reached over and took Samuel’s hand in his. “I appreciate it, I really do. The food, you coming round at the drop of a hat. You're a good friend and I need that, but I'm finding it hard to let go right now. Even though it wasn’t the best time recently, it was all I knew,
she
was all I knew, and I don’t know how I'm going to move on when I feel so…” Dalton searched for another word, but the only one which seemed to fit was the truth. “Scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared, Dalton. Your whole life just took a big turn down a path you weren’t expecting. Just try hard to think of it as a good thing, an exciting journey. And don’t forget you're not alone.” Samuel was so sweet natured, it warmed Dalton and he tightened the grip on his hand.

Samuel’s phone broke the comfortable lull in the conversation, and he reached in his pocket, smiling when he saw the name displayed on it. “Milo. He’s probably freaking out because I forgot to tell him I left. I won't be a second.” He took the call and Dalton went inside to freshen up, leaving him to talk in private.

Samuel joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later. “Hey, he’s picking up Daniel from the fire station then coming round here. He asked if you wanted to join us for a few drinks.”

Dalton didn’t want to stay in, but then he wasn’t sure he was up for company either.

“It’s just in town. It’s one of my friend’s birthdays and we’ve been invited to go along. We won't be out all night like they are. I'm sure Milo will appreciate the more adult conversation. Most of them are my age.” He grinned a little. “He’s kinda okay with me and a couple of friends, but a whole group of us… he finds it too much.”

“I can imagine.” Dalton chuckled. “As long as I won't be the
fourth
wheel in the group.” The last thing he wanted was to be tagging along with them three.

“You won't be.” Samuel laughed. “Honestly, it’s just a bit of fun. I don’t really drink a lot, so I'm never drunk. Milo’s the same.”

“I'm not.” Dalton smirked. “Neither is Danny. I’ve been out with him a few times.” Oh, the drunken memories of joining Danny on nights out with his station were legendary. “Okay, sounds like fun.”

“Great.” Samuel bounced a little on the spot, then grinned. “Go get changed. We’re going back to our place then catching a taxi.”

“Right. I’ll grab a quick shower and change. Just pop the TV on if you get bored.”

“Okay.” Samuel was already ignoring his suggestion and opting for sorting out the kitchen.

“Don’t do that. Just leave it.”

“It’s fine. Go get ready. You know what Milo’s like if he has to wait.”

Dalton did know what Milo was like, and he rushed upstairs, ditching his clothes on the bathroom floor and diving into the shower. Kelly would have whined about him leaving clothes on the floor, but Dalton felt a bit of rebellion run through him, and he decided to leave them there until the morning.

He dressed casually in some jeans he’d ordered on line years ago but never fit in them. He was shocked when they buttoned up and fit so well. He’d spotted a few things hidden away in the back of the wardrobe when Kelly had pulled all her stuff out. He was actually slimmer than when they'd met. He weighed more, but his body shape had changed, leaving him with a smaller waist but bigger thighs and shoulders. He looked over himself in the full length mirror, checking out the fit of his jeans on his arse and feeling excited by how good it looked.

“Fuck’s sake, man. You're not ready yet?” Milo’s voice was full of laughter as Dalton jumped a foot in in the air and glared at him.

“I'm getting dressed. Get the hell out.”

“Actually…” Milo looked to the floor and Dalton followed his gaze, noticing his feet were just outside of the doorframe. “I'm not really
in
the room. I did shout up. If you weren’t so lost in your reflection, you'd have heard me.”