Royal Indiscretion, chapter 25 (Patreon)

This long weekend was a hard one, and knowing I have you guys waiting has kept me from going totally radio dark when there are times I really want to... just like the dogs make me get out of bed when part of me wants to pull the covers over my head and let the world burn. But there are still miles to go and people I care about and stories to tell, so my weekend update is late, but I'm here.

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 Chapter Twenty-Five

Doug pulled up in back of the small cabin he and Yves were sharing. There was no sign of Nick, but Doug wasn’t surprised. He seemed to be out with the dogs more often than he was around the main compound. He put the car into park and listened to the engine tick the seconds away. Yves didn’t seem interested in moving.  Sympathy sent Doug searching for a safe topic of conversation. He understood how the silence could make a man think too much. “I'm surprised you didn't tell Caro you were into dogs.”

Yves huffed. “The animals are far more Nick's than mine.”

“Yes, but you're good with them. If there is anything that people love more than a star-crossed love story, it's a dog story. Most people like dogs more than other people.” Doug laughed. “I can't blame them.”  He’d take most of the animal kingdom above human beings.

Yves frowned deeply, his silence weighing far more than any words he might've chosen.  Most of the time Yves was nothing like his father, but he had a pretty good imitation of Duke Gerard's glare. “Why exactly do you care?” Yves’s tone was cold and dismissive, as if Doug were a bug that had crawled into his parlor.

Doug recognized the attitude. Right after his father had been arrested, his mother had been accosted by people offering assistance when they really wanted good gossip, or in one case, details for a tabloid story. Within a week, her weepy distress had given way to the same coldness. “Can't one human being care for another?”

“In my experience, no. Not really.”

“You're awfully young to be this cynical.”

“And you're awfully old to believe that you can find some arranged marriage to fix all of your case of social pariah-ness.”

Touché. Apparently Yves had more than one similarity with the Gerard. For a half-second, Doug fought an urge to retreat from that sort of vitriol. He probably would have, except he remembered the anger, too. He’d lashed out at more than one coach who had tried to help him, so this was the universe balancing the scales. And Doug was a big believer in taking it after dishing it out to others.

It took several seconds, but Yves eventually looked away, pressing his lips together unhappily. “I actually am quite serious about my question. Why are you taking such an interest in issues which are not yours?”

Good question. Doug suspected a therapist would have an unpleasant answer. Luckily, there was a lack of therapists around. “People who aren't assholes generally do try to be nice to one another.”

“So introducing me to your publicist, offering to pay her first month’s fee, and attempting to blunt the damage my father's questionable choices have made are all examples of you simply trying to avoid the status of asshole?” Yves gave a dark laugh.

“Laid out like that, I think I'm actually bucking for decent human being status, maybe even likable.” Doug flashed his best grin, the one his college had chosen to use as the face of the student handbook for five years. He could charm a monk or a nun out of celibacy with his dimples, and he had some evidence for that.

Yves expression turned colder. “And what would this friendship cost?”

Doug winced. He should have seen that coming. But even in his darkest days when Doug had said equally shitty things to his coaches, he hadn’t meant them. Yves seemed to. Apparently, there was at least one man out there who managed to be a worse father than Ralph Wasso. “I'm not looking for anything. I understand what you feel like, and maybe I'm a little selfishly invested in not being completely alone in having a homicidal father.”

“Given the wealth of homicidal tendencies in the United States, one would think you had met many such individuals.”

When Yves turned up his attitude, he really was an ass.  Given that Duke Gerard had raised him, Doug shouldn’t be surprised. “First, there are not that many homicides in the United States. Our numbers seem so bad because we’re a damn big country, and that makes everything look worse than it is. But to be honest, I have met people whose fathers have committed murder. One of my psychologists recommended I go to a support group for the families of homicidal assholes. It was not a good time.”

Surprise knocked the arrogance off Yves’s face.  “You did?” His expression cleared. “But surely you got your fill of your voyeuristic need to know other people in your situation.”

Doug’s therapist had thought so as well.  “Not really,” Doug said. “A lot of those people were as fucked up as their families. I'm fairly sure several are going to end up in jail themselves. Most of the others were still so angry that it was hard to relate to them. I don't want my life defined by what my father did.” The old ache made his chest feel tight. The people had met centered every conversation around their homicidal family member. Every word, every thought, seemed focused on that one fact.  It was as if they weren't supposed to have an identity other than the wife or the brother or the son or the daughter of that guy. The murderer. The asshole.  Doug took a cleansing breath. “It was hard to be around when I was doing everything I could to define myself in ways that didn't include my father.”

“And you think associating with me will help you? How?” The coldness had vanished from Yves’s face, replaced with a weary sort of confusion.

Doug shook his head. There was definitely a father out there worse than Ralph Wasso, and that was saying something. The sun came in at a low angle, making Doug squint.  Sunset was still hours away, even though it was late, but the air had an odd sense of twilight about it. He gathered his thoughts for a moment before saying, “I don't think I'm going to get anything out of it. Maybe I’m trying to make myself feel better by helping you past the worst of it. You are not responsible for anything he did or didn't do. I wish someone had looked me in the eye and told me that because it took me way too long to figure it out for myself.”

“Trust me, my father is gone out of his way to make sure that I knew that my relationship with him was just in genetics only. I never got much credit for being a Stenbock, and I’m not about to take the blame for it.” Yves’s mirthless laugh made the hairs on Doug’s arms stand on end.

“Then that was the only decent thing he ever did for you,” Doug said.

Yves went silent and stared out over the property. In the distance, a dog barked.  “I’m not sure you should insult him so freely. He is going to be the king.” Yves’s voice barely rose to a whisper.

“That sucks for your country. I'm hoping they're going to very quickly figure out that he is not trustworthy and do something to make sure that he can't screw over anyone else. I would hate to think how many girls a king can make disappear.” Doug figured if Yves’ grandfather had covered up one murder, Gerard might take advantage of that power.  Assholes usually did.

“Do you really think so little of my father, that you think that he would kill another girl?”

“You're the one who told me he paid girls to go away. Do you really think he wouldn't kill a girl if she threatened his position?”

Yves’s expression went utterly blank, so maybe he hadn’t considered it. “You have a point,” he said slowly. “It might be best if you left the country before my uncle’s illness becomes debilitating. Even if King Alfonse is alive, when he is no longer able to fulfill certain duties to the state, many of his powers will start to shift to my father.”

Doug wasn’t worried for himself, but there was one person whose very existence linked Gerard to a murder. “Then it seems like we should both be elsewhere before Duke Asshole gets the keys to the kingdom.”

Yves gave an amused shake of his head. “This is why my uncle mistook our relationship.”

Doug raised his eyebrows. Personally, he wasn’t sure how King Alphonse had made that leap, but Doug suspected brain injury was involved. “Are you suggesting that being decent to someone implies they’re in a relationship?”

“In my experience, decency is less common than you assume.  However, I was referencing the fact that I allow too much familiarity. I can't imagine another person in the world I would allow to speak to me in the manner you do, much less anyone I would allow to insult the Stenbock name the way you do on a regular basis.”

“You let me insult your asshole father because I'm saying what you're thinking.”

“That is both obvious and irrelevant.” Yves opened his mouth like he was going to say something more, but then he flung the car door open and fled out into the twilight. 

“Wait!” Doug scrambled to unfasten his seat belt, but the damn thing jammed, leaving Doug trapped in the car while Yves hopped a fence and disappeared behind the dog barn.  “Dammit.”  The belt finally opened, and Doug bolted out of the car, but then he froze.  He didn’t know if he should chase after Yves. He didn’t want to be one more asshole chasing Yves and telling him what to feel or how to express himself. If Yves wanted to be alone, he had that right.

Nick came around the corner of his cabin and he stood watching Doug for a time.  With nothing better to do, Doug walked his direction. Nick had one hell of a poker face. Scratching his grizzled cheek, he watched Doug close the distance without giving a hint of emotion.  “Hi,” Doug said.

Nick’s grunt made it clear he didn’t approve of niceties.  Fine. If he wanted blunt, Doug could oblige.

“So, I might have told Yves that he needed to cut off the assholes in his family before they ate him alive, and he went running off.”  Doug watched to see if Nick was going to react.  For all Doug knew, Nick was one of Duke Gerard’s men, but if that was the case, at least he would report that Doug was the one trash-talking the Stenbocks and Yves had fled the slander. For a long time, Nick just kept rubbing his cheek with his knuckles, but he looked over the property.  Two of the dogs were standing just outside the fence that separated the living compound from the sheep fields.

“I don’t know people much,” Nick finally said.  His voice was rough like a smoker’s.  “Dogs in a pack always travel together. If I see one running, I expect to see any dogs that pack or pair with the runner right behind.”  With that, Nick turned his back and walked in the opposite direction from the dog barn.  Doug had no idea if that was the guy’s way of saying he didn’t consider Yves his responsibility or if it was the crappiest motivational speech in all history. If he intended to encourage Doug to go after Yves, he didn’t make himself clear.

Doug sighed and looked around at the farm. The two white dogs paced near the gate that would allow them into the compound. Behind them, the sheep were scattered across the slope of the low hill.  The larger one started running, and the smaller stopped near the iron latch. It waited until its larger partner came running back, and then executed an ambush that led to a series of twirls and bows.

Mind made up, Doug headed for the dog barn. If Yves wanted to be alone, he was going to have to look Doug in the eye and tell him as much.  And he was going to have to convince Doug that he actually wanted to be alone rather than just being afraid of whatever weirdness was developing between them.