Mike and the Spring Awakening

By Summer Devon and Bonnie Dee

A bitter sweet from Dee/Devon.

Young Micah “Mike” Cordett’s privileged life explodes when he is caught naked with a schoolmate. Running away from disgrace, he blunders into a trap in a seamy part of London and endures months of abuse before escaping. But with the help of the Andrews family, he’s begun to climb out of his fear. Yet, when a reminder of his happier past erupts into his life in the form of Lucas Spring, Mike’s not certain he’s ready to face the remnants of the charmed life he’d once enjoyed. He’s certainly not ready for love.

Lucas Spring pined for Mike from afar when they were in school. This shadow of the confident boy he once knew shocks him, and Lucas vows to do anything he can to help restore the person he’d so admired. With patience and determination, he hopes to ease Mike’s fears and perhaps even win his love.
But when a violent figure from Mike’s past looms into his present, will the tender shoots of a new beginning be crushed?

Book 3 in the Victorian Holiday Hearts series.

Warning: Contains themes of sexual abuse that may trigger some readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Summer Devon
• Release date: Mar 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311881298

Summer Devon

About the Author Summer Devon is the alter ego of Kate Rothwell who also writes under her own name.  Summer writes m/m books of all sorts. Many of her titles are co-written with Bonnie Dee For more information about Summer/Kate, go to http://katerothwell.com or http://summerdevon.com.  Summer can also be found at https://www.facebook.com/S.DevonAuthor

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MIKE AND THE SPRING AWAKENING

By

Summer Devon and Bonnie Dee

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2016 by Bonnie Dee & Summer Devon

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Smashwords License Notes

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Chapter One

April, 1886

Mike cursed when he realized he’d used the last sheet of paper from the gift given by a generous friend—correction, from Will Andrews’s generous friend, Mr. Hugh St. John. But he could afford to buy supplies on his own now. His previous story had actually sold well enough to pay for his room and board with the Andrews family, with enough left over for paper. And really, he’d needed a full page, not a mere scrap, for the gory scene he’d created. Mike’s latest illustrated penny dreadful was yet another tale about a prisoner who gained the power to kill his captors.

He carefully put the paper on his bed with ink-smeared fingers. His shirt cuffs were also stained, and there were several splatters of ink on his trousers. No doubt he had ink on his forehead too from pushing his hair back.

It hardly mattered. Since Will had moved out, Mike kept the room neater and cleaner, but not himself.

Christopher, the other Andrews brother who’d flown the nest, visited nearly every day. Will usually paid a call only once a week, on Sunday. Mike rarely daydreamed about calm, courteous Will these days. His brief infatuation with the man had subsided after Will’s affection for St. John became clear.

Mike absently rubbed a black smudge on his wrist, reflecting that even his bout of pining for a man who’d fallen in love with another had been a pleasant change from the much darker thoughts that had plagued him for two years.

A door slammed, and a moment later, he heard Lilah Andrews’s voice, which carried well even when she wasn’t on stage. The woman, who was like a sister to him, sounded agitated, and it was apparently something to do with him. Even a few months ago, he might have remained hidden to avoid confrontation, but now he went to see what irked her.

She threw her royal blue cloak onto a rickety wooden chair that rocked under its weight. Lilah ran to him, tendrils of her blond hair flying. There you are, Mimi. Thank goodness. When she was upset, she called Mike by the nickname they’d first given him—before he had the strength to ask them to call him by his real name rather than the feminine name some of his kind seemed to adopt. My kind. Men who… preferred other men.

He’d learned a great deal about a world he hadn’t known existed for most of his life.

He tried to escape Lilah’s grasp. Careful, I’m all over ink. Don’t let it get on your gown.

She only wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him—the Andrews were an emotional lot. A frisson of alarm shivered through him, and for a change, it wasn’t because someone was touching him. Lilah seemed truly upset.

What is it, dear? he asked.

There’s a man looking for you. He came to the Extravaganza and asked after you. He called you Micah Cordett, not Mike Campbell, but I suspect he searched for you, because he described you to a tittle. He even said you’re a good artist.

Ah. He must remain calm or she might grow even more agitated. Well then. I should discover what he wants.

No! I don’t know much about you, sly boy, but I’ve figured out that you’re hiding from someone in your past.

He started to speak, but she waved at him and went on. Come now, I’m not a dunce, Mimi. At any rate, I don’t trust him. He left the theater but I’ll call the constable if he comes back.

Though Mike was a year older than she, Lilah seemed to regard herself as his protector, perhaps because she’d been the one to find him in the gutter—quite literally. Mike had nearly lost consciousness due to extreme hunger, and Lilah, always softhearted about strays, had dragged him home with her

It was past time he take care of himself. The Andrews family had saved him and, even more wonderful, accepted him unquestioningly. They’d been kind and loving, and he would be forever grateful, but he’d been hiding from facing the world long enough. He sighed and put his hands on her shoulders to gently push her away. He gazed into her fierce face, considered lovely from the distant seats but near at hand too strong and bold featured for current fashion. Current fashion was an idiot.

He called me that because Micah Cordett is my name, he said.

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes widened, her mouth opened wide—and he wished he’d told her the truth before now.

What on earth? She shrugged off his hands. Her indignation nearly replaced the protective rage. "Why in blazes didn’t you tell me the truth? Why did you call yourself Campbell? Wait! Here now, are you really called Mike?"

Yes, that is real. He’d told Will his real name a few months earlier, but he was too smart to admit that fact to Will’s sister. I didn’t use my family name because I didn’t want word to get back to anyone I knew that I was in London.

"You could have told us. We wouldn’t have said a thing, you galoot."

He wondered if, other than Will, any member of the garrulous Andrews family could keep a secret. At first I didn’t know I could trust you, and then I suppose I grew used to Campbell. That felt like a new and better name. That was actually close to the truth.

As usual, her dramatic and noisy indignation shriveled to nothing as quickly as it had blossomed. She shook his arm. Mike Campbell is good name, and you should stick with it. Drop that wretched old name forever. I think you were too unhappy as Micah whatever.

You could be correct, he said. The last year of his life as Micah had been a long nightmare, but before that, Micah Cordett had been a happy lad. He hadn’t told her all of his story—he didn’t want to think about what he’d lost and the humiliation created by his own actions.

He hadn’t wanted the Andrews family to think less of him. Silly, really. They were able to love people guilty of far worse crimes than his own misadventures. Did the man asking for Cordett leave a name with you? His own name aloud after all this time tasted odd in his mouth.

No. She pursed her lips, tilted her chin, and rested two of her shapely fingers on her cheek, adopting the posture of thought. He was an inch or two taller than you, perhaps a bit younger? A correct sort of gentleman, unlike the eager boys who gather at the stage door. You know how men who can dress well seem older than they are? And he was entirely too insistent and confident behind those good manners. She made a terrible face.

You are a snob about the upper classes, my dear. Consider our friend Simon, a gentlemen but quite natural and at ease around all of us. To be fair, he added, And Hugh St. John as well. After all, it wasn’t St. John’s fault that Will had preferred him to Mike—particularly because Mike hadn’t had the courage to declare himself. He’d lost because he’d been too afraid to risk anything.

Lilah sniffed. Yes, those gents are exceptions to the starchy rule. But I grow tired of men born with no obstacles to overcome, boys who are the pride and darlings of their families and believe they run the world and all the people in it. Cocks of the walk. She drew herself up, thrust out her chest, put her hands at the small of her back, and crowed, a fine imitation of a strutting rooster.

He laughed. Her words might have described Micah Cordett until the day he’d been caught with another lad. For once, the memories didn’t cause him to flinch in pain. He even felt a wave of affection for that old confident version of himself.

Did the gentleman at the theater have dark hair? Light? Mike prompted her.

Something between, and well cut. I know, I know, that’s of no use to you. Eyes darker than his hair. Hmm. He had good posture, which made me wonder if he was in the military. She struck her cock pose again. A pleasant enough face, slightly round, I should say. Perhaps his nose is a tad too long for beauty, but then I’m particular.

She would be, with her brother Will as an example of male attractiveness.

Lilah went on, A good smile, but I’ll wager he knows it. Quite well dressed. A good wool overcoat. He even had a sleek top hat and spats. And a fine new umbrella, which I noticed because it’s pouring down today.

He sounds unremarkable, hardly worth growing upset about. The description could be of every third male he’d gone to school with.

Yes, well, he had that air of being in charge. I was in a fine dither, so I didn’t pay close enough attention. He offered to walk me home, but I gave him a set-down. She gathered her cloak and hung it on a hook in the corner of the room. For the first time, he noticed it was so damp that water dripped from it. She gave it a halfhearted shake and turned her attention to him again. What will you do? Although you’re so calm, I suppose that all my alarm and upset are unnecessary. He might not come back. I’m sure I was convincing when I told him I knew no Micah Cordett.

I’m sure as well. You’re a fine actress, he said.

"In this case, you’re the actor. I wasn’t lying to him at the time. She thumped his upper arm, hard. You! Thou subtle, perjur’d, false, disloyal man!"

"Othello?" he guessed.

"Two Gentlemen of Verona. And here I’d guessed you to be an educated boy."

Mike was, of course, but he didn’t bother to answer.

She collapsed gracefully in a yellow-and-pink chair with arms that had been shredded by many cats. Most of the furniture in the