Too Close to the Flame Read online

  Too Close to the Flame

  Ryan Taylor and Joshua Harwood

  Wainscott Press

  TOO CLOSE TO THE FLAME

  Copyright © 2020 Ryan Taylor and Joshua Harwood. All rights reserved.

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. Contact the authors for permission at www.ryanandjoshth.com.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, schools, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

  All trademarks, product names, logos, company names, and brands are the property of their respective owners in the United States and/or other countries. All trademarks, product names, logos, company names, and brands used in this book are for identification purposes only. Use of these trademarks, product names, logos, company names, and brands does not imply endorsement. The authors and publisher are not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  ISBN: 978-1-7923-4476-3

  Books by Ryan Taylor and Joshua Harwood

  No Brief Affair

  (Beyond Courtship Book One)

  Legally Bound

  (Beyond Courtship Book Two)

  The Chrismukkah Crisis: A Holiday Romance

  What He Really Needs

  Too Close to the Flame

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  Acknowledgments

  Too Close to the Flame has been a challenging book to write, and we want to begin by thanking our mothers, who taught both of us that when times are tough, you keep going. Their advice helped us emotionally and logistically in this project, and we can’t thank them enough. We love you, Moms!

  Many people helped with various aspects of writing the book. Special debts of gratitude are owed to Steven Clark, Charles Cohen, Missy Kretschmer, G.E. Lambert, Emily Muddle, and Pat. You give us such generous gifts of time and effort, and we can’t possibly thank you enough. We also appreciate Kiyle Brosius and Jerome Clarke for their special assistance. The book would not be what it is without you all, and we are distinctly richer for your friendship.

  Anita Ford, our editor, helped us immeasurably. This was our first time working with Anita, and her creative mind, eagle eye, and broad knowledge were key in taking Devin and Brandon’s story to another level. On top of all that, she is a warm person whose enabling and inviting manner motivated us when we needed it most. Thank you, Anita, for your friendship and hard work.

  Cherie Fox designed the beautiful cover for this book. Cherie is a talented artist with an ability to listen to us and create a cover more beautiful than anything we imagined. Thank you, Cherie, for your patience and attention to detail.

  Zoe Perdita designed the book layout. She is very talented, imminently reliable, and easy to work with. The book literally wouldn’t be what it is without her. Thank you, Zoe.

  We also thank you, our reader, for choosing this book. We hope you love the story.

  Table of Contents

  Books by Ryan Taylor and Joshua Harwood

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  About the Authors

  Prologue

  Brandon

  Tuesday, February 10

  Fierce wrenching pain shot up my right leg like a rocket aiming for the sky. The agony roused me, and when I tried to move my leg, I couldn’t. In my sleep, I’d forgotten it was broken. My left leg hurt too. The bones there were intact, but the limb was black and blue, and they said the knee was dislocated.

  My left arm had clubbed its way back to life this afternoon after being numb for a while. A mass of deep, burning aches and torturous pangs, it was now held together by pins and screws. Wriggling around to find a more comfortable position was useless because my ribs were trussed more tightly than any chicken had ever been.

  The worst thing was my head. It throbbed where they’d drilled a hole in my skull, and I still saw two of everything. The lamp was turned low because light messed with my head and aggravated the dry heaves that were far worse than anything I’d experienced after college parties. A sour, fetid smell permeated the room. I didn’t know what it was but suspected it was me.

  I tried again to shift slightly toward the center of the bed, but the movement had me crying out in pain. Like bolts of lightning in the distance, memories flashed through my mind. I cowered against the wall, my arm hanging useless by my side, while I watched Jeb pick up the umbrella stand. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed with a doctor telling me how lucky I was to be alive. For the thousandth time since I woke a day earlier, I broke into tears. Fuck! It wasn’t fair that it hurt so damned much to cry.

  How could he have done that to me? He said he loved me, over and over, for a long time. That was bullshit. All he loved was having me afraid of him.

  A wave of dizziness, accompanied by a fresh bout of nausea, told me I’d done all the thinking I was able to right then. Desperate for escape, I closed my eyes. When I woke again, my bladder was full, and I groaned in frustration. They had taken the catheter out earlier, thank God, but I hated pissing into that thing they brought me because I couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom. When the need became too painful to bear, I pushed the call button. It was a male nurse who brought in the bed urinal and asked if I needed help. Too paralyzed with fear to say anything, I must have lain there too long. When he moved to push up my hospital gown, I screamed.

  He opened his eyes wide in surprise. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and left.

  A femal
e nurse came in carrying the urinal. “Can I help you with this, honey? It’s okay. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  “I didn’t mean to yell,” I squeaked out. “I must have hurt his feelings.”

  “No, he understands. It’s natural to be afraid of a man after what you went through.” The nurse was an older woman, and she was so reassuring I started bawling again. Shit.

  She put the urinal down and held me while I cried. When she gently helped me pee into the jug a few minutes later, I thought how strange life was. I never imagined I’d need assistance taking a whiz, let alone from a woman, but my life had changed. Things would never be the same again.

  A few hours later, after a dinner of gelatin and applesauce—my reimplanted teeth were still too sensitive to chew anything—I watched an I Love Lucy rerun. I tried to stay quiet because my ribs were so sore, but the redhead got the better of me. Laughing hurt so much I teared up, and just as I was catching my breath, a familiar voice called my name. I glanced toward the door to see my boss and his husband walking into the room.

  “How’s it going, Bran?” Liam Macadam put a hand on the edge of my bed and smiled at me. A vibrant, handsome man with dark brown hair and a wide, charming smile, Liam was amazing. A year older than me, he was a shrewd lawyer, and I’d worked for him for five years. He treated me more like a brother than an employee.

  “Hi, Brandon.” Liam’s husband, John, had blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was a lawyer, too, though he wasn’t in the office much anymore. He spent most of his time taking care of their infant twin boys.

  “The nurses being nice?” Liam asked. “I saw a hottie out there. He been putting the moves on you?”

  I couldn’t help smiling at Liam. “It’s going to be a long time before I’m interested in anybody, hottie or otherwise.” I winced at the effort of speaking.

  “How are you feeling?” John asked, his eyes wet. He reached for me, and somehow it was okay. I felt safe when he held my hand between the two of his.

  “Not so good, to be honest.” A few tears started down my cheeks, but I ignored them. “Really glad to see you two. I don’t know why I’m such a mess.”

  Liam narrowed his eyes. I knew him well enough to see he was trying hard to contain his anger. “Bran, somebody you….” He stopped to shake his head and swallow. “Of course you’re a mess. That fucker!”

  “Easy, honey,” John said, letting go of my hand to take Liam’s. “Brandon’s okay, thank God, and Jeb’s in jail.”

  “Where he can fucking well rot.” Liam looked like he wanted to punch a hole in the wall. After a moment, his face relaxed and he met my eyes. “Don’t worry, Bran. He won’t hurt you again. The DA in Virginia has brought enough charges to be sure that Jeb will go away for a long time.”

  “That’s good to hear.” I could barely whisper. The news was a relief because it made me feel safer, but it also made me profoundly sad. A man I’d once thought I loved was in jail for trying to kill me.

  It was good to see my friends, and we talked for a few minutes. They told me the latest about their babies, Will and Sean. Liam smiled, trying to be normal, and asked my opinion about going to Rehoboth Beach for our firm’s annual staff retreat in May.

  After I pretended to think about it and gave Liam my approval, he and John exchanged a meaningful look. Liam turned his eyes back to me. “Brandon, I’m almost certain there’s no way Jeb will get bail, but I don’t want to take any chances. Please don’t think I’m a bully, but John and I found a new apartment for you.”

  The tears came again. I didn’t want to go back to the place Jeb and I had shared, and I was surprised anyone else would realize that.

  “It’s in a secure building,” John said, “in Bethesda.”

  “Not far from our house.” Liam smiled at me again. “No one can get in unless they have your okay, and you’d know they were on their way up.”

  My stomach lurched. A secure building in Bethesda sounded pricy. Liam paid me a good salary, but I had big student loan payments. Worse than that, Jeb had put a lot of things on my credit cards, meaning I was stretched pretty thin.

  I scratched at the bedsheet. “It sounds nice. How much is it?”

  “About thirty-two hundred.”

  My heart sagged as my eyes filled up again. I looked at Liam and let out a breath. “It’s really good of you to be concerned, but maybe I’d better go back to the old place.”

  “You can’t go back there,” John said, reaching for my hand again. “It isn’t safe, sweetie.”

  “B-but I….”

  Liam squinted his eyes. “What? Bran? What is it?”

  Total loss of dignity isn’t any fun. I raised my head and found Liam’s rich brown eyes. “I can’t afford it, boss. I have student loans and—”

  “How much?” Liam asked. “How much more would you need to pay the rent at the new place?”

  My lips tingled. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

  John squeezed my hand. “Tell us, Brandon.”

  I grimaced. “Maybe six hundred.”

  John glanced at Liam before turning his gaze to me. “We’ll do that for you.”

  “No.” I shook my head too hard. The sudden, excruciating pain took my breath away, and I nearly blacked out.

  “Brandon!” John exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

  When I was able to breathe again, I met Liam’s eyes. “I won’t take it. You can’t do that.”

  “Yes, we can,” he said. “Of course, we—”

  “I said no!” My feeble voice was pathetic. “I won’t take money from you like that.”

  Liam cocked his head, a sure sign that something was going on in there. “I understand, which is why you just got a one hundred and fifty dollar a week raise. That’ll take care of the difference.” His set jaw told me I was fighting a losing battle.

  “Only if you give me some extra duties.”

  “We’ll talk about that when you’re back at work.” He brushed my forearm, and I jerked away so hard that I cried out in pain. Liam quickly backed off, looking horrified, and hurting him like that killed a little more of me.

  John squeezed my hand before looking at Liam. “We should be going. Brandon needs to rest.”

  Liam nodded. “Sorry I moved so fast there. I’ll be more careful.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry.” My eyes overflowed for what must have been the thousandth time. John patted my hand for a minute or two. When the waterworks eased off, they left, with promises to be back. Sure enough, one of them came to see me almost every day, and after I spent a month in rehab, they drove me to my new home in Bethesda.

  Chapter One

  Devin

  Monday, August 1: Eighteen Months Later

  I raced into the kitchen like a madman, afraid that something was on fire. Acrid, gray smoke billowed out of the toaster, and I barely kept from yelling in frustration. Everything was going wrong this morning. My alarm hadn’t gone off, the water in the shower was cold, I cut myself shaving, and my best blue suit had come back from the dry cleaner with a stain on the lapel.

  After unplugging the toaster, I used a fork to coax out the pieces of charcoal that used to be a bagel. Damn it!—it was the last one. Now I’d have to take time to scramble eggs, because there was no way I could go to my first day at a new job on an empty stomach.

  Returning to the bedroom, I decided my gray suit would have to do. A white shirt and maroon Hermès tie made it look better than it was, and I wore my black cap toe oxfords. They were comfortable and looked great with the suit. Another glance in the mirror and I headed back into the kitchen, where I barely had time to cook and inhale three eggs. The drive to the office had taken about fifteen minutes when I did a practice run a few days earlier, but I wanted to leave half an hour early just in case.

  The extra time turned out to be a good thing. Traffic on Massachusetts Avenue was mostly fine, but there was an accident where I was supposed to turn onto 9th Street. I sat for ten minutes waiting to make the tur
n. “Fuck!” I yelled about five minutes into the delay, and banged on the steering wheel for good measure. I ended the tantrum with a long blast of my horn.

  My new job was a good one, and I wanted to do well. I had to be ready to do anything, as soon as I was asked to do it. Furthermore, I had to do a kickass job because I didn’t want anyone thinking I got the position because of my last name. But being the best wasn’t only measured by doing great work. Early and eager were watchwords I needed to live by.

  Waiting for the intersection to clear, I thought back over the last few months. When I graduated from law school in May, I felt like I had the world by the tail—law degree, awesome boyfriend, and a job waiting at one of the hottest boutique firms in the nation’s capital. Things changed when I got home from bar exam prep class one day and heard a strange knocking noise in the bedroom. Afraid someone had broken in, I picked up a baseball bat that was leaning against the wall—I hadn’t put it away after our game the night before—and slowly crept through the apartment. When I pushed the bedroom door open, I almost threw up. My awesome boyfriend was riding one of our supposed best friends in the middle of our goddamned bed, his face screwed up in the ecstatic expression I’d thought was only for me to see. He must have heard the door creak, because he opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey, Dev. Want to join?”

  Barely resisting the urge to wield my bat on both of them, I left the apartment and went to cry on my friend Jacob’s shoulder. He was a 2L, a year behind me, and was my best buddy since I helped with orientation for his class. After listening to me curse fate for a while, he pointed out that the lease to the apartment I shared with my ex-boyfriend was in my name. After a beer to soothe my nerves, he and I walked back the building where I lived. The ex-boyfriend was gone, so Jacob and I packed up his stuff and carried it out onto the front steps.