Read Rough Canvas for Free Online

place up in the Berkshires for a month.”
    Still holding Thomas’ hand, Marcus reached inside his coat with a free hand and drew out an airline ticket. “The date’s transferable. I’ll be there for the next thirty days, working out of the house and visiting some of my gallery contacts and artists in that 23
    Joey W. Hill
    area. Come spend the week in the house, bring your sketchbook. I promise you
    beautiful scenery, wonderful eccentric communities and quiet spots of nature.” His eyes gleamed. “A wide variety of things to resurrect your muse.”
    “You’ll be there.”
    Marcus nodded. “I’ll be there.”
    “Marcus, I can’t… I can’t promise you anything.”
    That wasn’t what he’d intended to say. No, I can’t start this again. I can’t be with you even a week. A day.
    But Thomas didn’t say that. Everyone knew an addict couldn’t have just one drink, one fix. But no matter how strong Marcus’ hold over him, they both knew the building behind Thomas, the people waiting in it and all that meant would always call him back.
    The question was whether it was worth it to him to give himself a week of Marcus again, now that he knew how intolerably hard it was to walk away from him, be
    without him. Knowing he’d have to sever that link and do it to himself all over again at the end of the week.
    But Marcus and his art together…even if Thomas had to let Marcus go again, if he rediscovered his art, he could have that. Maybe that would help fill the aching void enough that it wouldn’t be as difficult this time.
    And maybe Thomas wanted Marcus so much he just didn’t give a damn how hard
    it was going to be to walk away again.
    “No,” he said. “No. I won’t.”
    Marcus nodded. “Hold onto the ticket. It’s yours to use or not to use.”
    Thomas held it out. He couldn’t afford the temptation. “No. You take it back. Give it…” The words “to someone else” hung on his tongue as if he were pierced by a fish hook whose barbed tip he couldn’t dislodge.
    He’d tortured himself with images of other hands on Marcus’ body, other men
    seeing that thick cock, Marcus thrusting into them. He woke from dreams about it, wanting to smash and tear something. He usually settled for going out in the middle of the night in nothing but his pajama bottoms to chop wood, the pain singing through every muscle, his fingers knotting with the agony of clenching the axe too hard.
    “I can’t, Marcus. I just can’t.”
    Marcus turned for his car. Didn’t take the ticket. Thomas clutched it with the check Marcus had picked up, smoothed and handed back to him. He swallowed. Goddamn it.
    “Marcus, are you—” He bit it off, knowing it was wrong to show how he felt. As
    powerful as the physical attraction was between them, it was even more dangerous to give Marcus the edge of knowing how much deeper it went for Thomas still. In fact, if he was forced to look at himself in a mirror and be brutally honest, Thomas knew he hadn’t realized how much he loved Marcus Stanton until he left him. He was pathetic.
    Marcus turned at the driver’s side door. He’d put his sunglasses back on, distancing himself, and Thomas felt exactly like what he was, an awkward, gangling kid dealing 24
    Rough Canvas
    with a man who was one step ahead of him on everything. Swiss watch, self confidence and a strong sense of his identity.
    “What, pet?”
    The endearment was uttered in a neutral tone Thomas knew could hide anything
    from hurt to scornful amusement.
    “Are you…are you being careful? I’m not…fishing. I don’t have any right to be, to ask anything. And I’m not,” he added quickly. He just knew Marcus. Knew that there was a reckless side to his personality, odd moments of melancholy that had once been known to compel him to go out for an evening’s entertainment wherever he could find it, not giving a damn about protection. It was a side of Marcus few knew about, and he’d only picked up on it from bits and