Captive Hearts by A E Ryecart

Author:A E Ryecart [Ryecart, A E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: MM contemporary romance
Publisher: AE Ryecart
Published: 2018-02-18T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: DASHIELL

“It's not much, so don't get your hopes up.” I parked the car on the bricked over front garden outside my terraced house and cut the engine.

With Frankie away for the week, I was determined to make the most of it with Billy. I hadn't missed Lee's cool-eyed scrutiny when Billy and I had arrived back from the coast, and it’d been the same this morning. I told Lee I was taking Billy for another day out. I saw no reason to lie and pretend I was taking Billy out as ‘work’, not when it’d been just the two of us in the kitchen. We both had it in for Frankie, in our different ways, and to my mind that made us brothers-in-arms. Or sort of. Lee had been about to say something, some word of warning no doubt, but Billy sauntered into the kitchen, trying his best not to look excited, and that had stopped Lee in his tracks. Lee's unspoken censure pissed me off, but it was only when I'd nodded goodbye that it occurred to me that if Lee had been left in charge of the house, and by extension Billy, he wasn't doing much to enforce that.

When we’d left, I hadn’t thought much about where to go because it was enough that I got Billy away from that house, but then the thought had struck hard, and it seemed so obvious. Hastings, the day before, had been a place where Billy had been happy as a child. I'd been happy high up on Hampstead Heath, free from the stresses of a home life that frequently erupted out of control, and it’d been too long since I’d been back.

We'd walked and looked at the views, and I'd stolen glances at his windswept hair that was brighter than the sun, at his flushed cheeks, and sparkling eyes that looked so alive. Fuck me, but he was beautiful. If I'd not understood it before, I understood it then why Frankie was so possessive, but Frankie’s version was warped, vicious and cruel. As he'd stared out over the city, Billy had looked young and free of all his cares, and God, didn't I just want to pull him close and kiss him into tomorrow, but even more I just wanted to look at him and drink in that smile of his.

By lunchtime we were done with the Heath, and that's when the idea occurred, the idea that brought us to a newly painted front door of a late Victorian terraced house in Kilburn.

“Wow, this is great, it’s just like the house I grew up in with Gran.”

Billy's words, and the smile that lit up his face, pleased me more than it should. Billy had mentioned his grandmother a few times now, and I was on the point of asking him about her when I bit back the question. He always referred to her in the past tense, so I didn't want any thoughts of a much loved but

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