CHAPTER TEN

By the time I wake up the next morning, the rain has stopped. Somehow we managed to stumble back to the bed after our romp on the balcony, but my hair is still damp behind the ears, making me shiver as I climb out of the sheets. I grab my shirt and pull it over my head as I go to inspect the sliver of sunlight coming in around the curtain. I push the thick fabric aside and peer out through the window. Sure enough, the sky is clear. I can even hear birds singing.

I turn back toward the bed where Blaine is resting peacefully, deliciously rumpled in the sheets that bear evidence of our sexual activities. The sheets have wrapped around his waist, allowing his back and legs to be on display as he is adorably nuzzled against the fluffy pillows. Part of me wants to relish in how oddly adorable he looks, but then I realize that despite how sweet he looks right now hes capable of some very wicked things... wicked things that are tempting me a bit too strongly right now.

But then I remember how we left things last night; how hed agreed that we were "just fucking." Im still not sure why Im suddenly having this twisted emotional reaction to him, but one things for certain: touching him again is a bad idea. Ive indulged myself enough. Ive had my little sexual fantasy weekend, and now its time to return to the real world.

I grab my clothes from the floor and pull them on as quietly as possible. I manage to sneak all the way to the door before Blaine stirs.

"Kurt?" he says, still half asleep. Im tempted to make a run for it, but Blaine seems to realize whats going on right as my fingers touch the handle. "Where are you going?" He sits up and eyes me warily. "Are you leaving?"

I try not to notice the sexy way that lock of dark hair falls across his forehead. "Its stopped raining," I say.

"So?" He blinks and rubs some of the sleep from his eyes.

"They hopefully would have fixed the road by now or I can at least take the subway back," I remind him. "I need to get back. They need me at the Center." I watch comprehension sink in on his face.

"Its stopped raining," he says quickly, "but you still might not be able to leave here. You dont know that theyve fixed the sinkhole or even the flooding out to Brooklyn. And you know the heavy rains can cause some of the subway stations to flood." This knowledge hits me like a punch to the stomach. I hadnt even considered that possibility. "I know its a pain in the ass," he says, climbing out of bed. "But I can think of several fun ways we might pass the time." One look at his naked body as he stands up makes his meaning quite clear - hes not the only thing standing at attention at the moment. I quickly glance away.

"Im not—I dont think thats the best idea. Weve had some fun, but lets be realistic about this whole situation. Spending a couple of days holed up pretending the rest of the world doesnt exist is fine, but at some point we have to wake up and start living like normal people again." I can feel his eyes boring into me, but I refuse to look up.

"Very well," he says after a moment. "If thats what you want." I cant tell from his tone whether hes angry or disappointed or even if he cares at all. He turns and walks casually over to the closet, disappearing inside without another word.

Im not sure what to do. Am I dismissed? Should I go back to my room? I need to call Will again and let him know Ill be here yet another night since Im still unsure about the whole getting home situation. I hope he hasnt buried himself under an insane pile of work. I hope Adam isnt causing him any trouble.

Ive just decided to leave when Blaine steps out of the closet, a towel around his waist. For all that hes covered now, the image still doesnt leave much to the imagination. I force myself to look him in the eye.

"I was thinking," he says, "that we might take advantage of the sun and have a look around the gardens. You seemed interested in them the other day."

My gut reaction is to say no, but honestly, what else am I going to do around here all day? Hiding out in my room wont solve anything. In fact, sitting around with nothing to do would leave me too much time to obsessively dissect these jumbled emotions Im experiencing. Distracting myself with a giant hedge maze in the middle of the Upper East Side sounds a lot more pleasant, even if it means interacting with the object of my turmoil.

"All right," I agree.

Blaine smiles, and my stomach flutters. "Care to join me for a shower first?" he says. God, would I ever. But I shake my head. No more fooling around. Im only going to end up hurt. The disappointment that flashes across his face is only satisfying for the briefest of moments.

"I prefer to shower on my own," I say, but it sounds like an excuse, even to me. "Ill just meet you after."

He nods, once, then disappears into his bathroom without another word. Part of me is tempted to follow him, to strip off my clothes and surprise him, but I push the thought aside. I need to control myself. I turn and leave the room quickly, before my resolve has the chance to waver.

An hour later, freshly showered and clothed in another lovely outfit from the closet, I meet Blaine in the garden. I called Will while I was getting dressed, and though he sounded as tired and flustered as ever, he was thrilled with the work Adams done since I called him. He told me that Adam was at the Center all day yesterday, and that hed already managed to elicit enough donations to get us through the month. He said he had every faith that my loathsome ex was exactly what we needed to turn things around. I didnt tell Will about all the calls and messages. I didnt want to spoil his mood. I havent heard him this excited and hopeful in months.

Adam himself called me again this morning, but I let it go straight to voicemail. Im shocked he hasnt gotten the hint by now, but thats Adam for you. Hes determined, Ill give him that much. I leave my phone on my bed. Adam can disappear with the rest of my real-world problems. This morning is about the garden.

And damn, this is a fantastic garden.

Blaine leads me around the side of the building, and my breath catches in my throat when I see the garden open up in front of us. Sure, the storm knocked down some branches and leaves, but it hardly lessens the effect—this place is beautiful. Im reminded of the impression I had when I first stood outside the gates: its like some overgrown enchanted garden out of a fairy tale. Here, next to the house, someone has laid out the beds in an ornate diamond pattern. Its rare to see so much privately owned greenspace in New York City, but here a small plot sits in the middle of the Upper East Side, tucked away securely from view from the main street thanks to the buildings on either side of the plot. It looks like this garden serves the Andersons as well as the house on the other side, but its obvious that the Andersons have done much of the maintenance since the gate to access the garden from their side is locked up and boarded; leaving the garden as the private space for the Anderson residence.

The beds themselves are wild with flowers—far more than I could ever identify—but I recognize asters and the chrysanthemums among the early-autumn blooms. The section closest to the house is full of herbs, and several small, flowering trees stand at the corners of the path. At the center, where all the beds come together, I spot a trickling stone fountain. Its a small fountain - it certainly has nothing on the one in Central Park - but its still lovely in the post-storm light.

"This is... this is amazing." I look up to find Blaine watching me intently. Hes clearly pleased by my reaction. "This is like something out of a storybook," I say, moving deeper into the garden. Its a cheesy sentiment, I know, but I feel a childish sort of excitement. I almost feel like a prince, wandering around a place like this.

I glance back over my shoulder at my dashing "prince." He smiles at me warmly, his whole face blooming. I quickly turn back around. There I go, getting caught up in silly romantic notions and forgetting why Im even here in the first place. How much does it cost to maintain a garden like this? Probably a lot more than all of the Centers programs combined.

But Im not supposed to be thinking about this anymore. I had my chance to win us the money, and I failed. And I enjoyed that failure, too, a voice in my head whispers.

By the time we reach the edge of the fountain, the glow of excitement has dimmed. Outside in the light of day, Im confronted once again by the ridiculousness of my actions. What was I thinking, sleeping with him? How had I allowed myself to get so distracted, to forget why I came here, even for a minute? How can I look at him now, after everything thats happened, and be at all confused about my feelings for him? Hes not a prince. Hes a man who lives in excess while refusing to fulfill the pledge his family made to the Center. Having sex doesnt change that.

Blaine doesnt seem to notice my sudden shift in mood. He stands next to me at the edge of the fountain, looking down at the water. I myself look up at the stone sculpture that crowns the piece. Its a pair of horses, heads held high and tails flowing in an imaginary wind. Water spews out of the mouth of each of the stoic beasts, following a graceful arc into the pool below.

"My father had this fountain specially commissioned," Blaine says. "The one on the left was modeled after my brothers horse. The one on the right is mine. Rudolph, I called him. My brother Cooper and I used to pretend that some curse had turned them to stone and it was up to us to free them."

I want to smile, but I dont. "Rudolph? Like the reindeer?"

"He was a Christmas present," Blaine says with a shrug. "I wanted a reindeer, but my father said they couldnt survive outside the North Pole. I was pretty torn up over it, truth be told. But Rudolph is a great horse. The best I could ever ask for."

"Where is he now?" I say, glancing around. "Didnt you say you had stables here?" Ive always loved horses. Maybe they could help lighten my mood again.

Blaines smile falls from his face. "I sold him this past summer." He reaches down and runs his fingers along the surface of the water. The pool is murky from the recent rain, and a number of twigs and leaves have collected at the bottom. Sold it, like he sold the familys boat? Is this about his father, too?

"Why?" Its a dangerous question, but I ask it anyway. He looks back up at me, and for a moment I see it again, that sadness that he keeps buried away. Before I can stop myself, Im reaching toward him, and my fingers brush against his cheek. He doesnt move. I lightly sweep a bit of hair away from his temple. I dont know what Im doing, and I know Im being foolish, but I cant bring myself to break his intense gaze.

"Why?" I ask again. This time my voice is no more than a whisper. I feel like Im on the verge of something, like hes about to open up to me about whatever dark feelings hes been suppressing. His lips part slightly, and I give him another encouraging caress across his cheek.

"Its not important." He steps away from my touch. "Anyway, Im too busy to properly care for a horse." He turns and begins to walk around the base of the fountain.

"Wait," I say. This is the closest hes come to opening up to me since Ive been here. "Dont you—I mean, it is important, you know. Youre clearly upset about selling him. I dont mind if you talk about it."

He pauses, but when he turns back toward me his face is carefully blank. "It doesnt really matter. Honestly. Ive only ridden him a handful of times in the past few years. Hes better off at his new home."

"I dont believe that. Its obvious you loved him. And youre here now. You could spend time with him again."

Blaines eyes are cold. "I told you, I dont want to talk about it." He turns and starts down the path once more, but I catch up with him quickly.

"Well maybe you need to talk about it," I say. "He was important to you."

He stops and turns on me. "What do you know about any of it?" His glare is deadly, but I wont let him intimidate me.

I meet his gaze without flinching. "I know you have a lot of pain in you," I say. I know Im treading on dangerous ground, but I press on anyway. "I know youre having a hard time dealing with your fathers death. Your friend is on the other side of the world and you havent even mentioned where your brother is in all this mess, your horse is gone. The only other person Ive seen in this place is Martin, but unless Im missing something, I dont think youre talking to him about any of this. You shouldnt keep these feelings bottled up. Theyll eat you alive."

"Are you my therapist now?" he demands. "What, we fuck for a couple of days and suddenly you think you can see into my soul or something?" I stagger back, feeling like hes slapped me across the face. But hes not done. "You expect me to open up to you," he says, raking his hand through his hair, "but youre in such denial about your own baggage that you dont even realize that youre the one pushing away. That ex sure screwed you up something good."

"I was only trying to help," I murmur.

"Youre not helping. What part of that dont you understand? We had some fun, thats it. I dont care about your life story, and Im definitely not interested in sharing mine."

"Which is it, then?" I snap. "Youre either pissed that I pushed you away or youre pissed that I dared to show you some concern. You cant have it both ways!"

"But you can? One minute youre upset that I wont talk about my father, and the next youre upset that Ive presumed to ask you about your ex. You expect me to open up to you, but Ill be damned if youve shown me even a hint of whats going on in your own head."

"Thats ridiculous. Ive tried, time and again, to talk to you about the Center, and—"

"Ah, the Center! Center, Center, Center, every five minutes. The Centers just an excuse. Cant you see that?"

"An excuse? For what?"

"For everything! Youve buried yourself in this little mission of yours so you dont have to think about how you really feel or what you really want."

"So youre the therapist now? You have no idea what I want."

"Neither do you, apparently." After all my tumultuous feelings of the past few days, those words are the final straw.

"Forget it," I say. "Fuck it. Im leaving. Fuck you, fuck this house, fuck the floods, fuck the sinkhole. Im going home, and I dont care if I have to swim there or walk from here to Canarsie." I turn and storm up the path, back toward the door. Ill run in and grab my bag, and then I plan on getting as far away from this place as I can.

But just when I thought things couldnt get any worse, the universe decides to screw with me some more. I charge around the corner of the house, and I almost have an aneurysm when I see whos standing at the base of the steps of the building.

There, right next to one of those ridiculous stone lions, is Adam. He looks up and sees me before my brain can even begin to make sense of the situation.

"Kurt," he says, coming toward me. "Thank God." Its too much. Its all too much.

"What are you doing here?" I say. "What the hell, Adam?"

"I was worried about you," he says. He reaches me just as Blaine comes around the corner.

"Kurt. Forgive me, I didnt mean—" He comes to a complete standstill when he sees Adam standing next to me. "Who the hell are you?" Blaine says. His eyes flick between Adam and me. "What the hell is going on here?"

I glance back at my ex. "Thats what I want to know." Adams blue eyes are blazing, and the corners of his mouth are tight. I know this look. Hes furious.

But this time his anger isnt directed at me. One glance at Blaine and I know I need to do something—fast —before I end up in the middle of a fistfight.

"What are you doing here, Adam?" I say. "I never told you where I was. I didnt tell anyone, not even Will."

He still wont look at me. His eyes are locked on the master of the house. "You wouldnt answer my calls," he says.

"I had nothing else to say to you. Will would have given you all the information you needed."

"I was worried, babe." He moves toward me, but I step back. Calling me "babe" is not the way to speak to me right now... or ever.

"You havent answered my question," I say. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought something had happened to you. I know you, Kurt. I knew you were up to something, and you wouldnt tell anyone where you were. For all I knew, youd been kidnapped or something." His eyes narrow at Blaine.

"Thats the stupidest excuse Ive ever heard," I say. "And that doesnt explain how you found me."

"The phone company can track your cell," he says, his eyes still fixed on the man behind me. "You gave me your password, remember?"

I can only gape at him. I knew Adam was crazy, but this is a whole new level of creepy. "That was a year ago!" I say. "Did you seriously track me here? Whats wrong with you?"

"I told you, I was worried about your safety. Especially when I looked up the coordinates. If youd told me, Id have—"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just didnt want to talk to you?" From the stunned expression on his face, I dont think it has. Its taking all of my self-restraint not to punch him. I open my mouth to argue, but suddenly Blaine stands between us, holding me back with one arm as he focuses his dark eyes on Adam.

"I dont know who the hell you think you are, but youre trespassing on my property. If youre not gone by the time I count to five, Im calling the police."

Adam stares back at him steadily. Blaine doesnt seem to cower in the slightest under Adams gaze. Adam has a few inches on Blaine, but Blaine looks as if hes going to tear Adam a new one. If this does dissolve into a fight, theres little doubt, I think, as to who has the advantage based purely on the rage fueling Blaines actions.

But Adams unwilling to back down. "Fine, call the police. Ill be sure to tell them how you kidnapped an innocent man and kept him trapped in your mansion."

"Stop being ridiculous, Adam," I say.

He tears his eyes away from Blaine and looks at me. His gaze drops to my hand, which Ive unwittingly placed on Blaines arm. "Who is this guy to you?" Adam asks me.

"Hes certainly not a kidnapper."

"You told me you were trying to get money for the Center."

"I was. I am."

"Not here, you arent."

I make an exasperated sound. "You worked with us for a year. You know how generous the Anderson family has been."

"Isnt this guy why the Centers in trouble in the first place?"

"I thought I might make a more convincing case in person."

Adams eyes are steely. He still wont break Blaines gaze. "And what sort of convincing does this fucker require?"

Blaines muscles tighten under my grip. "This is your final warning to get off my property," he says. "Or believe me, I will be pressing charges." Adam looks ready to leap at Blaines throat.

"You may have struck a deal with my editor, but Im tired of keeping my mouth shut. Im not going to let you take advantage of Kurt."

"Hes not taking advantage of me," I insist, but Blaine grips my arm.

"Come on," he says. "Lets get back inside. Im calling the cops." He tries to nudge me toward the door, but Adam jumps in front of me and grabs me by the shoulders.

"How much money has he promised you?" he demands.

Blaine grabs Adam by the collar and yanks him away from me. "I swear, if you put another hand on him—"

"How much?" Adam demands even as he struggles against Blaines grip. "How much, Kurt? Hes a liar! Hes a fucking liar! He doesnt have anything. The familys completely broke."

Blaine stiffens. For a moment I just stand there in shock. What? The Andersons are broke? That cant be right. Adams trying to manipulate me. But theres a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach, and Ive never seen Blaine look so pale.

Suddenly he moves, arm flying, and his fist connects with the side of Adams face. My ex flies backward.

"What are you doing?" I shriek.

But neither of them appear to hear me. Adam recovers quickly, scrambling to his feet and launching himself at Blaine. Blaine catches him around the shoulders, but Adam is quick. His fists connect with Blaines side as the two wrestle against each other.

"Stop!" I say. "What the hell are you doing? Stop, now!" They ignore my pleas. "This is ridiculous!" I say. "Stop it!" But the two continue to batter each other. Blaine takes another swing at Adams face, while Adam jabs his knee upward, hitting Blaine in the gut. I dont know what to do. Theres no way Im getting in the middle of those flying punches. Should I go get Martin? Find my cell and call the police? I turn and bolt up the stone steps. How the hell did this all blow up so fast?

"Wait—Kurt." Im at the top step. When I turn, Blaine has Adam pinned to the ground. Blood drips from Adams nose down a cheek thats already starting to swell. Blaine doesnt look much better. He has a split lip and his shirt is torn. Blaine holds Adam down by the upper arms. My exs eyes are wild, furious—and I know that hell throw another punch as soon as Blaine releases him. I hurry back down the steps.

"Youre insane," I say. "Both of you. Does anyone actually have any idea what the hell is going on?"

"He was screaming at you," Blaine says. "Not to mention trespassing on my property. Thats all I need to know." He tightens his grip, and Adam curses.

"Why the hell are you listening to him?" Adam tries unsuccessfully to twist out of Blaines grasp. "Hes a liar. I dont know what the fuck is going on here, but I guarantee its not what you think."

I wait for Blaine to rebut the accusation, but instead he only gives his opponent another shake. His face is full of storm clouds. My stomach twists as I step closer. "Whats going on?"

"Hes a liar," Adam says again. "The whole familys broke."

"Shut up," Blaine says. He looks ready to take another swing, so I rush forward and grab his arm, forcing him to turn and look at me. His gaze softens slightly, but not enough—and I know Im not going to like what he has to say.

"Whats going on?" I ask again.

"You better tell him," Adam says. "If you wont, then Ill—"

"Stay out of this, Adam," I snap. I turn back to Blaine. His eyes are pleading with me, and I know Im about to have the rug ripped out from beneath me. "Tell me," I say, so softly I can hardly hear it above Adams ragged breathing. Blaines gaze darts away, and he lets out a long breath.

"Kurt..."

"Tell me." He tenses under my hand, and I can feel his pulse beating rapidly beneath the thin skin of his inner elbow.

"I inherited some financial difficulties," he says finally.

I stare at him for a long moment, trying to process everything that this means. "Is that why you broke your fathers pledge to the Center?" I ask.

His dark eyes bore into me, begging me for understanding. "It wasnt just the pledge," he says. "Ive broken a number of other contracts, too, and Ive started selling—"

"Does this mean you never intended to give us the money? That all those promises and all those games were—were what? Just a ruse? Just enough incentive to get me to... to..." I glance down at Adam, whos near purple with fury.

"What the hell happened here?" he says, struggling again against Blaines hold. "What the fuck did he do?"

I dont respond. I feel as if someone has dunked me in cold water.

"Kurt," Blaine pleads. "If you would let me explain..."

"No," I say, releasing his arm. "No. Im done. With both of you." I turn and bolt up the steps before either can stop me. Someone calls my name, but I dont care who. I cant bear to look at either of them right now.

I know my way to my room at this point. I grab my things and fumble in my bag for my keys. I refuse to stay here a moment longer. I cant believe I allowed myself to be so easily fooled, that I believed Blaines lies even for a minute. When I return outside, Blaine is halfway up the stairs. Adam is dragging himself to his feet behind him.

"Kurt," Blaine says, "if youd just let—"

"No." I push past him. "If Adam made it here, then the roads and bridges must be okay by now. Im leaving."

Adam grins at my announcement. He thinks hes won. "Come on," he says, taking my arm. "Lets get out of here."

I jerk away from him. "Dont touch me. I dont want to talk to you, either."

"Kurt, I didnt—"

"ENOUGH." I shove him aside and march down the driveway. If either one of them comes after me, I swear, Ill punch him in the face. When I get to the gates, I find them locked. Adam must have climbed over them like I did. I cant believe that one stupid, reckless decision turned out like this. My exs Jeep is parked behind my beat up car, and I give his front tire a kick before diving into my own car.

And thats when I lose it. As soon as I crank the gas, the tears begin to spill over. I keep replaying the entire thing in my head: the argument I had with Blaine in the garden, Adams unexpected arrival, the subsequent fight. The realization that Blaine has been lying to me this entire time. Its a disaster, this whole situation. How the hell do I attract such assholes?

But no, thats not fair—I brought all of this upon myself. I called Adam when I knew I shouldnt have. I gave into my attraction when I knew Blaine was no good for me. I cant blame them for being themselves.

The worst part is that theres no hope for the Center now. My tears are coming so hard that I have trouble seeing the road. I force myself to slow down. The last thing I need is to crash my car out here and rely on one of those idiots to save my ass.

When I get to where I need to cross over into Brooklyn, I notice the tunnel lights out and I can see that there are some dangling wires causing the tunnel to be completely black. Not only that, but the overflow of water has caused a sinkhole-sized puddle to take root in the middle of the typically busy Manhattan street. Great. There are no cones to block the way, but I know its hardly 100% safe in there.

Adam was fine in his Jeep, but Im not sure my crappy old Honda can survive that much water. Shes on her last legs already, and I certainly dont have the money for repairs. I dont have money for a tow, either, or to call a cab since no cab will drive me to Canarsie in the first place; let alone after the storm we just went through. I pull over, park, and lay my head against the steering wheel, nearly hyperventilating.

I feel so... empty. Like I sold my soul and have nothing to show for it. I dig my nails into the vinyl of the steering wheel and force myself to count down from ten. By the time I reach one, Ive managed to breathe normally again.

This is just a setback, I tell myself. Theres still plenty you can do for the Center. Dont let one bad weekend destroy all of your hope.

Easier said than done. All the hope in the world wont make me feel any less horrible about these last few days. I cant believe that I fell for Blaines lines, or that I thought I could handle Adam in my life again, even in some small capacity. Im an idiot all around. I need to get as far away from these dipshits as possible before Ill even be able to think straight again.

I look at the water in the road and down the island to other routes to Brooklyn. "What do you think?" I ask my Honda. "Up for the challenge?" I give her an encouraging pat on the dash, and then I crank her into gear.