“Treatment methods for mania have advanced greatly since those days,” he said.
Beckett’s eyes widened. “That isn’t actually how people are treated, is it?”
“It is how I lost a year of my life after Sarah took the advice of our aunt,” Noah said bitterly.
Beckett’s heart squeezed and shattered as deeper understanding dawned.
“There are other ways now,” Beckett’s father insisted. “Dr. Carmichael would—”
“I’ve no wish to see a doctor,” Noah interrupted him. He pushed away from Beckett and slumped back onto the bed, pulling the bedcovers over his head. “Just leave me be.”
Panic welled up in Beckett again, but he swallowed it down as best he could.
He took a breath, then leaned down to kiss the top of Noah’s head, the only part of him that was uncovered. “I’ll be right here, love,” he said. “I just need to speak with my father for a moment, but I’ll be right back, and then we can finish our chapter ofAlice.”
Noah grunted. It was a far better response than Beckett had been getting from him for the last few days.
Beckett squeezed Noah’s arm through the bedcovers, then stood and gestured for his father to meet him in the hallway. He left Noah with great reluctance, shutting the door behind him.
“If you love that man, you will make him go see Dr. Carmichael,” Beckett’s father said in a low voice once they were at the end of the hall.
“I know,” Beckett said, shoving a hand through his hair, “but what if all the man wants to do is sedate him so he doesn’t cause trouble, or worse, lock him up?”
His father shook his head. “Dr. Carmichael is associated with the Bloomingdale Asylum. They seek to treat the mentally-ill in as humane a way as possible. I’ve even taken the liberty of scheduling a consultation for Noah on Wednesday.”
“Father!” Beckett hissed. “How could you do such a thing without my permission?”
His father rested a hand on the side of Beckett’s face. “My boy, I don’t care what you say to convince me otherwise, you love this man.”
Beckett lowered his eyes. “I do,” he admitted with a sigh.
“I know. I’ve seen it in the way you look at him, whether it’s across the supper table or when he and Aurora were flying kites in Central Park or when you were trying your best to teach him to do the filing at the glassworks. I’ve seen it in the way you care for him now, when he is at his lowest. And he loves you as well.”
“He is still fixated on Marcus Albright,” Beckett sighed.
“Perhaps, but that is a phantom fixation, and if he has not already dropped it, I believe he will soon.”
Beckett glanced up at his father, hoping that was true.
“Trust me, son,” his father went on. “You must do whatever you can for the man you love, even if you have to fight him to do it. Noah needs the help of trained physicians. You need to push him to get that help. Otherwise, he will be lost to you.” His father’s expression filled with grief as he finished with, “And you do not want the love of your life to be lost to you.”
Beckett’s heart filled with sorrow for his father. The man he’d loved all those years ago, when he was Beckett’s age, had been so heartbroken when Beckett’s father had chosen to marry a woman and conform to the dictates of society that he’d taken the next train west. He’d died in an explosion in a silver mine in Colorado. As soon as Beckett had grown old enough to realize just how much he took after his father, his father had told him about Michael and urged him never to choose conformity over love.
Beckett drew in a breath and looked his father in the eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to have Noah cured,” he vowed. “But I will need your help and support to do so.”
“Of course,” his father said. “We are all here to support you. Myself, Aurora, even Gardener and Miss Taylor. Whatever help you need, we will give it.”
“Thank you,” Beckett said, leaning in to hug his father. “Because I fear we will need it.”
ChapterThirteen
In his heart of hearts, Noah knew. He knew that it was a fantasy to think he and Marcus were meant to be together. Marcus didn’t love him. Perhaps he never had. Worse still, as the black cloud cleared and he began to feel the pulse of blood in his veins again, he felt that perhaps he never truly loved Marcus either. At least not with the epic sort of love he had imagined he felt.
He also knew he was lucky. He was extraordinarily lucky. When the black cloud had lifted, he’s been tucked in Beckett’s bed, his head resting on Beckett’s thigh, with Beckett tenderly stroking his hair while reading the last ofAlice in Wonderlandaloud. His darling friend had sat in the bed with Noah for days, reading and watching over him, not going to work and taking his meals in the bedroom, when he could have locked Noah in a room alone or pushed him out to the street or worse.
Now, it was Wednesday morning, and Noah sat against the edge of the bathtub, washed, dressed, and fully shaved for the second day after the fog had lifted, watching Beckett scrape a razor over his strong jaw. Beckett truly did have the kindest face of anyone Noah had ever known. It was handsome and expressive and in perfect proportion. His lips were soft and inviting. Noah had watched them as Beckett read, remembering what they felt like against his own lips, and all over his body and wrapped around his cock. He would be lying to himself if he denied that he wanted Beckett. He wanted to wrap himself up in him, kiss him and suck him, and make him feel as good as he had made Noah feel safe for the past week.
“I feel as though you have something you want to say,” Beckett said, grinning at Noah through the mirror as he rinsed his razor before making another stroke. “You’ve just been sitting there watching me this whole time with a look in your eyes.”