Get Up by Reece Pine

Author:Reece Pine [Pine, Reece]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBT, MM, contemporary, wilderness, child abuse, mental illness, PTSD
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2017-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

GUY DOVE INTO every copy he had, grinning against his knuckles. The charm in Cam’s original draft, which was fine, was concentrated by Fairbanks’s suggested edits so the latest manuscript was flawless. Guy wouldn’t admit that to Huw for a while. All he could thank Huw for was the fact that if Guy had seen the original draft while in New York, he’d never have come to Canada. It was undeniably a De Carli, even more polished than his final book, and it had since evolved into the ultimate De Carli.

Its predecessors were famed for their stream-of-consciousness prose, and in hindsight, the idea of them welling from a kid wasn’t inconceivable, provided that kid was fucking Mozart. Distant flowed, but Cam’s recent scientific focus gave it structure and his maturity gave its themes depth. The unlikelihood of it being a debut might fuel conspiracies if Cam let it be known he was De Carli’s son, but he’d easily deflect criticism by giving interviews, because the book was Cam.

It was the Cam who placed himself in Guy’s line of sight and waited, fearing it was rude to get his attention by calling his name aloud. The Cam whose earnest bubbling over wolverines and Godzilla made Guy’s heart race, the Cam whose murky surface Guy had barely scratched yet knew there was a universe inside he wanted to be part of. The stubborn Cam who wouldn’t come home, and who Guy hadn’t thought he could like more.

Guy wasn’t done by 1:00 a.m., but his eyes were. He dozed lightly on the couch, ready to leap up should the front door open. At five fifteen, he set off for the traps, but was too cold to stay still at the first one, awaiting Cam, so he wandered along part of the circuit. After finding two checked traps, he realized Cam had already passed by them, so returned to the hut satisfied Cam was definitely still alive, mobile, and not so dissociated or bitter as to ignore his wildlife survey.

At midafternoon, Guy stretched on Cam’s bed, restless but exhausted. Mandarin spokes of sunbeams on the ceiling heralded the early evening. Still the house was silent. Guy ducked his head into the blanket, inhaling the scent of Cam’s hair. He bet Cam was cold and tired somewhere. He ought to be sleeping there right then, naked but for socks, as always. Cam’s face should be right there, mouth opened a crack and sticking in its corners, a thread of drool spilling onto Guy’s thumbnail, which he sucked. Guy gripped the corner of the bed, his palm sliding heavily, dragging grooves into the blanket he then balled in his fist. His restless heart pounded.

He bit into his pillow until his jaw ached and his vision flashed black and white, like the text on electronic pages. Words rose in him, things Cam said and wrote, the white shine of his near-invisible tattoo, and Guy realized he’d been absently stroking himself and now firmly filled his hand. His

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