Chapter 13
Kyle
Now
As I cut the engine, I question my motives for the one hundredth time since leaving the house. What the hell am I doing?
It’s been three days since I caught up with Bren.
Three days since I experienced the best night I’ve had in years.
Sure, we behaved like teenagers hustling those guys, but I’d felt alive again.
And seeing Bren so comfortable with his sexuality that he would happily act femme in public… Damn, I enjoyed that.
He's really matured into the best version of himself, becoming the man I always knew was inside of him, even when no one else could see it. Sure, he’s still the same in so many ways; but seeing him calm and in control when those assholes tried to pick a fight and seeing the successful, decent man he’s become makes me so proud of him.
The night plays on repeat in my mind, my thoughts stopping on those special moments when Bren really looked at me and the sexual tension sparked between us.
Because that blinding, unstoppable, physical attraction is still there, crackling between us like a live wire. I felt it, and I know Bren did, too.
Getting out of the car, I pull my baseball cap down low and walk slowly along the opposite side of the street until the business comes into sight.
It’s almost 12:30 and I hope I’ve timed it well.
Coming to a stop, I lean against a brick wall, my eyes focused on the front door of Waterstone Financial Services. And I wait.
A few minutes after 1:00 PM, when my legs are numb from standing still too long, Chris Walker finally exits the building with who I can only assume is a work colleague.
The two men stand on the footpath and chat for a while, and I watch, my eyes narrowing at the sight of Bren’s husband in the flesh. I don’t plan on approaching him, I just need to see him, need to know what sort of man Bren has committed himself to. What sort of man he claims to love.
Jealousy rears up, pumping through my veins with unyielding determination; but this is what happens when you covet what is not yours.
The two men wrap up their conversation and head off in opposite directions.
I follow from the other side of the road, observing Chris—his walk, his gestures, his demeanour.
When he enters a café, I cross the road to get a closer look.
There’s a separate take-out line which he’s joined, so I sit at an empty table and pretend to read the menu.
Chris turns and speaks to the person behind him in the line, and it’s almost shocking to hear his voice—upbeat and cheerful and a little too perfect for my taste.
But, even though I don’t want to admit it, he seems like a nice guy.
He smiles at everyone and appears relaxed and confident.
I’ve always thought that people who had normal childhoods carry themselves differently to those of us who had fucked up ones.
For me and Bren, it doesn’t matter how much we rise above our shitty pasts, the shadow of it hovers over us.
And Chris, well, he carries himself like his childhood was filled with privilege and love and support.
He’s easy-going, relaxed, and stupidly carefree.
When Chris reaches the front of the line, the staff member addresses him by name and passes him a take-out bag. It’s obvious he comes here often and pre-orders his lunch. He is an accountant, so it’s not surprising that he’s organised and predictable.
Boring, is my take.
After he leaves, I wait a few seconds before following. I trail behind for a while before slipping back to the other side of the road.
In the privacy of my car, I light up a cigarette, feeling edgy.
But it’s not bad. I’m not manic.
When I think of this husband of Bren’s, all I can see is soft—too soft for Bren. I can’t imagine any scenario where Chris is a top. The way he walks and talks all scream bottom.
The situation fascinates me and fills me with hope. Has Bren been topping all these years? Why would he marry a man who’s a bottom? I guess it’s possible Bren’s changed, and they are both vers.
I’m probably just projecting what I want to be true, because I’m gone on Bren like I was at sixteen.
“Fuck,” I mutter, wanting so desperately to be the last man Bren allowed inside of him.
I want him to have chosen me, and only me, and for it to mean something.
I want Bren’s marriage to be nothing more than a substitute, a half relationship, something he settled for.
I don’t mind if there’s genuine love between them, but I want it to be a love of comfort and safety, rather than passionate and all-consuming like we shared.
I toss the cigarette butt out of the window and lean back against the headrest, closing my eyes. “Bren,” I whisper, remembering what it was like to be inside him, to hear him moan and writhe in my arms.
I want him. And I’ll do anything to get him back where he belongs—in my arms.
Running late to pick up Lu from netball practice, I speed down the highway, my mind barely on the traffic. It’s taken every inch of self-control to keep myself from texting or calling Bren. I had hoped that, by giving him space, he might have caved and contacted me first.
Eating has lost its appeal and sleep escapes me.
Last night, endless filthy memories had me desperate for release while James lay snoring beside me.
In the early hours of the morning when I’d finally succumbed to sleep, I dreamt of Bren.
When I awoke, it was to visions of chestnut eyes and the ghost of his touch.
Turning into the netball court car park, I find Lu waiting for me, everyone else already gone bar the coach.
“Hey pumpkin,” I say as she hops into the passenger seat. “How was your day?”
“It was good. I got an A on my English essay.” She smiles, a rare occurrence with me.
“That’s great Lu. Hey, I have something to tell you, and I was hoping it could stay between the two of us.”
Lu’s smile drops and she frowns. “Okay…what is it?”
“I’ve enrolled in a course to update my credentials and be a paramedic again. It starts next week and runs for six weeks. I want to complete it before I tell Papa. Sort of keep it as a surprise,” I say, trying to put a positive spin on it.
Lu’s eyebrows shoot up. “Okay, well, first of all, that’s good.
It’s been a long time coming and you might stop being so moody and sad all the time.
But let’s be honest. You’re asking me to lie to Papa because we both know he doesn’t want you to work.
So how about I make you a deal? I’ll keep your secret if I can have a limo for me and all my friends for the school formal. ”
“You can’t be serious,” I say, shocked and deeply disappointed.
Lu buckles her seatbelt. “Papa always says to leverage every situation to your advantage. Just following his advice.” She smirks at me. She actually fucking smirks.
“Yeah, but I didn’t raise you to blackmail your own family. What happened to my sweet, kind girl?”
“What happened to my sweet, kind dad?” she shoots back without missing a beat.
Jesus! I have no fucking words.
She glares at me, face full of defiance. Anger, even. It cuts deep.
Is this all my fault? Did I check out of being a father when I checked out of being a husband?
Is Bren right? Am I not there for my daughter?
Yes, I drop her to school and take her to netball and dance class, cook her meals and wash her clothes.
But, searching Lu’s face, the truth is there, under the anger I can see the hurt in her eyes.
Have I been emotionally neglecting my child?
“Lu, you’re right,” I say, wanting to reach out and stroke her hair like I used to when she was little. “I’m gonna do better, I promise. But can you meet me halfway on this? Things need to change, and this is the first step.”
Lu stares at me for a few moments, then sighs, her face softening.
“Yeah, fine, whatever. I’ll keep your secret.
And you don’t have to get the limo, but can you please organise Jacqui’s mum to carpool when you’re doing your course because Amanda’s being a total bitch and I’m not talking to her right now. ”
Relief washes over me. “Thank you, pumpkin. Of course I can get Jacqui’s mum to do it. Do you mind if I slip out for an hour after we get home? Then maybe later we could watch a movie, and you can tell me about what’s going on with Amanda?”
“I don’t care if you go out, I have homework to do. It’s a pass on the movie, but maybe some other time.”
I’m disappointed she doesn’t want to watch a movie with me, but what can I expect? It will take time to make amends.
I give her a smile, her ice blue eyes an exact mirror of my own. Will James fight me for custody if we split up? Would Lu want to live with me or stay with James?
They’re the questions I’ve been afraid to ask for far too long. But it’s time that I do.
Lu is busy with her homework when I slip out.
On the way, I make a quick stop at a florist to buy roses; then I panic, almost returning home.
I remind myself that I have a plan, and I need to stick to it.
If all goes well, I’ll arrive at Beautiful Bathrooms just after closing, give Bren the flowers to thank him for our night out, then leave.
Five minutes tops, no big conversation, just in and out. I can do this.
I remain seated in my car until the last employee leaves and Bren’s Ute is the only vehicle left. Once inside, I call out before I reach the office to avoid startling him like last time.
“Hey Bren, it’s just me.” I knock on the ajar door then gently push it open. Bren is seated at his desk, shaking his head. At least he’s not yelling, so that’s something.
“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Davies?” he says, slumping back in his office chair. “We had a deal.”
“We did. I’m sorry. I just wanted to give you these.” I place the bouquet down on his desk. “I wanted to thank you for the other night. It meant a lot to me, and I wanted you to know.”
Bren stands, sighing deeply before lifting his eyes to mine. I’m faced with a look of pity. It’s not a good feeling.
“Hey, I’m sorry for turning up unannounced. I won’t keep you. I’ll go.” I motion my thumb to the door behind me.
“Dan, am I interrupting?”
I pivot sharply towards the voice, knowing it’s Chris before I even set my eyes on him.
He’s standing in the doorway, eyes darting between me and Bren.
I panic, wondering how much he overheard.
Turning back to Bren, his expression is a mix of shock, anger, and fear—his jaw locked tight, his face flushed.
“Chris, course not. We were discussin’ his reno job, but he’s leavin’ now.” Bren glares at me and I can’t imagine Chris doesn’t know there’s something weird going on.
“Oh, okay, no worries.” Stepping further into the office, Chris holds out his hand. “I’m Chris Walker, Brendan’s husband. Nice to meet you…?”
I briefly shake Chris’s hand. “I’m Kyle. Brendan is doing a great job on my reno.” I plaster on a fake smile, but Chris’s brows knit together as he gives me the once over.
“Kyle?” he says slowly, then stares pointedly at Bren. “Kyle?” he repeats.
When Bren fails to answer, I reply, unsure if it’ll make things better or worse. “Kyle Johnson,” I clarify.
The tension in the room pulls so tight I wonder if Chris will snap.
I know he’s put two and two together. My surname hasn’t thrown him off at all.
Obviously, Bren’s told Chris about me, and maybe he’s even seen a photo from twenty years ago.
How many tall, blonde, blue-eyed Kyles in their late thirties are there in Frankston?
How many of them are likely to set foot in Brendan’s office?
Bren remains silent, rubbing the back of his neck. His unease is giving him away.
“Dan, did someone give you flowers?” Chris points to the roses laying on the desk.
I can’t get my head around Chris nicknaming Brendan Dan. It doesn’t suit him one fucking bit.
“Ah, no. They’re Kate’s. She forgot to take them home tonight, so I was gonna put them in water so they keep until tomorrow.”
“How nice for Kate. Does she have a secret admirer?” Chris glares at Bren, eyebrows raised, his pretty green eyes turning cold, making it clear that he’s not buying this for a single second.
“Okay,” I interject, wanting to escape before this escalates. “I need to get home for dinner. Thank you, Brendan, for going over those details with me. I’m very happy with the showerhead upgrade.” I turn to Chris. “Nice to meet you, Chris. Have a great night, gentlemen.”
As I slip past Chris, Bren says, “Not a problem, Mr. Johnson.”
Once outside I almost sprint to my car, then speed off the lot. I pull over five hundred metres down the road and take a few deep breaths. Bren will be so pissed with me, and this could fuck everything up.
My phone rings, startling me, and I groan when I see it’s James. I ignore it but he calls a second time, so I pick up. “Hey honey, everything okay?”
“Just wondering where you are, darling. Lu said you went out.”
“I’m on my way home now. I dropped over to see Jordan; he’s having an argument with Ruby. You’re home early.”
“I wasn’t feeling well. I have a headache. But would you mind telling me why the ensuite doesn’t even closely resemble what I wanted?”
I place a hand over my mouth to suppress my laughter, taking a second or two to pull myself together. “You said I could make any changes I wanted. That it would give me something to do.”
“Yes, I did say that, but I didn’t mean for you to throw out the entire design.”
James sounds disheartened, not angry, and that disappoints me. But it’s amusing all the same.
“I didn’t throw out the entire design. I kept the rain showerhead and there are touches of black.” I bite down on my bottom lip to stop the urge to giggle like a petty teenager.
“Well, you owe me a shower fuck to make up for it, then. Also, darling, it looks like I’ll need to attend that conference in Sydney in a couple of weeks. It’s only five days. You’ll be okay without me, won’t you?”
It will be fucking heaven without James for five days. It will also be a good chance to spend quality time with Lu and start repairing the damage I’ve caused. “Of course I’ll be okay,” I reply. “I’ll be home soon. Take a painkiller and have a lie down. When you wake up, dinner will be ready.”
“Okay, darling. See you soon.”
I hang up, then put the car into first gear. Once I’m back in the flow of the traffic, my thoughts immediately return to Bren.