Chapter 19
Brendan
Now
Ishould be ordering stock, but, instead, I’m staring at my office wall, my thoughts a chaotic mess.
Chris and I are okay, I guess. We spent the entire weekend together and it helped keep my mind off Kyle.
Which I need to do, because every moment I’m alone my mind wanders straight back to blue summer sky eyes and sun-kissed skin.
I’m worried Ky is manic. He was so on edge when he turned up at my place—panicked and hurt and angry and lost. I shouldn’t feel responsible for him after all these years but, somehow, I do. This need to look after and protect him is still inside of me.
Lying to Chris was fucked up, but I’ve been deceiving myself, too.
At what point in time did I become a liar?
Was it last week when I told Chris I cut my lip slipping in the shower?
Or when I told myself I felt nothing for Ky?
Maybe it was years ago, when I chose not to tell Chris about Ethan.
Or when I was laying in my prison cell saying I was done with Kyle Davies. Maybe that’s when it all began.
The question is, how do I stop?
I haven’t heard from Kyle in over a week. Jeff is still doing the reno, so I can safely assume Ky hasn’t been admitted to hospital. James should look after Kyle, watch out for him and comfort him through his anxiety, but he strikes me as a heartless queen—shallow, narcissistic, and self-serving.
I make a mental note to look into James a little more closely. Then, against my better judgement, I pick up my keys and head out of the office.
When I pull up outside the Johnson house, I hesitate only briefly before throwing the car door open and striding up the front path. Kyle answers the door in black trackies and a pale blue T-shirt. His hair is messy, and he has dark circles under his eyes. He’s still beautiful.
“Bren?” he says, like he can’t believe I’m standing in front of him.
“I came to check on the reno. See if the boys are doin’ a good job.” More fucking lies.
“Sure, come in.” Kyle steps aside to let me in. “It’s upstairs. It’s the master ensuite. I’ll show you.” He closes the door behind me, and we gaze at each other for a beat too long before he leads the way.
Kyle and James’s bedroom makes me feel uneasy. It’s stupid, but I don’t want to look at the bed where Kyle fucks his husband. Even though we’re both married, I don’t want to picture him with someone else.
Kyle stops outside the ensuite and motions for me to enter.
“Hey boys, how’s it comin’ along?” I ask.
“Oh hey, Brendan,” Jeff replies, clearly shocked to see me.
We all exchange pleasantries while I inspect the quality of their work. Kyle stands in the doorway, a silent observer. The design is elegant, and the work is well done. If the only thing I get out of this is an employee I can rely on to work independently, then that’s something.
After asking a few questions, I praise Jeff, and we head back downstairs.
Truth be told, I’m here to talk to Kyle and make sure he’s not manic. He seems okay, leaning more towards depression if anything. His movements are measured, his energy low. He’s a very different Kyle to the one that turned up at my house two weeks ago.
“Bren, do you have time for a quick coffee?”
I frown down at my watch, as if I’m on some tight schedule. More lies. “Yeah, sure. I could do with a coffee break. Thanks, man.”
Kyle leads me through the formal living area and into the kitchen. The entire house is spotlessly clean, with designer furniture and pretentious art on the walls. It feels clinical and cold and nothing like Kyle.
He tells me to take a seat at the kitchen table. At one end, there’s an open laptop along with a thick, hardcover book and a notepad. I don’t want to pry, but it looks like a school textbook.
“Still black with two sugars?” Kyle asks, picking up the coffee pot.
“You remember?”
He pins me with his eyes. “I remember everything, Bren.”
I don’t know what the hell to say to that.
Of course, I remember everything, too. How could I not?
Watching Ky move around the kitchen—albeit an expensive one—is still strikingly familiar.
His mannerisms and facial expressions are still the same, just performed in a body that’s sturdier and stronger.
If I said I wasn’t thinking about being pressed up against a wall or pinned down on a bed by the man in front of me, then it would just be more lies.
What’s the saying? Once an addict, always an addict.
Kyle is still my drug of choice, even though I’ve been clean for twenty years.
He places the coffee mug down in front of me then sits on the opposite side of the table. “I’m sorry about turning up at your place,” he says, eyes shifting away from mine. “It was stupid and wrong of me. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“I figured that. Have you spoken to your psych? Are you doin’ okay?”
Kyle’s eyes meet mine once again, an embarrassed smile appearing just before he takes a sip from his mug.
“I went on Monday, and we talked it through. I’m monitoring myself for any symptoms of mania and I’m checking in with Dr. Riley every week. I’ve been putting my head in the sand for way too long, but I am trying to face my shit.”
“Were you serious about leavin’ James? Are things that bad?”
Kyle nods slowly. “Yeah, I am. I found a lawyer and I’m making plans, but I need to consider Lu in all of this. She’s the reason why I’ve always stayed. But now I realise that was the wrong choice—for me and for her.”
“Good for you, man.” I’m surprised Kyle has retained a lawyer. I figured it was all talk. But he seems determined to change his life.
“Bren, how’s Stacey? I wanted to ask last time.”
“She’s good. Better than good. She lives in Sydney with her husband, David.
They own an event plannin’ company. They’ve got two kids.
Christopher, who’s eight, and Melody, who’s five.
I don’t get to see them as much as I’d like, but what can I do?
” I shrug, then sip my coffee, mindful I shouldn’t stay too long.
“That’s really good. Can you tell her I said hello and that I’m happy for her?”
“Yeah, sure. You should call Nathan and your sisters. You’re gonna need all the support you can get if James is a prick during the divorce.”
Kyle runs a hand through his hair. “I know I told you we’d drifted apart, but it’s worse than that. I haven’t seen or spoken to any of my siblings in years.”
“Why the hell not?”
Kyle’s chin drops to his chest, hand rubbing across his forehead.
“I guess I let James manipulate me over the years. He complained so much about them. Caused arguments. I felt like I had to choose between him and my family, and I chose him because of Lu.” Kyle looks up at me, his face full of sadness.
“I was too young to get married. Too young to have a kid. But you know me, I can be a stubborn motherfucker.”
I huff a laugh, and it breaks the tension; Kyle manages a smile, too. “How could I forget?” I say, nodding slowly. “Stubborn and persistent.”
Kyle leans forward and places his hand over mine on the table. “Bren, thank you for coming to check on me.”
Under Kyle’s intense gaze I grow fearful that he can read my innermost thoughts.
Turning my hand palm up, I stroke my thumb across his warm skin, once, twice.
My mind wanders and I imagine pulling him to me and kissing him hard, our lips parting to taste each other.
Heat flares at the back of my neck and tumbles all the way down my spine.
If Ky catches even a hint of consent in my eyes, he’ll have me flat on my back on this very table.
He’ll spread me open and slide inside me with nothing but spit.
My cheeks flush, and my cock hardens before I can put a stop to the fantasy.
I quickly retract my hand. “Kyle, I’m sorry we can’t be in each other’s lives. Chris won’t have it. I’m sure you understand why.”
Kyle’s gaze drifts out to the backyard, his eyes glazing over. “Of course I understand,” he says, voice lifeless.
I stand, knowing that, if I don’t get out of here soon, I will lose my resolve. “I better get goin’. Thanks for the coffee.”
We walk to the front door in silence. I am glad I came. Knowing Kyle is in contact with his doctor puts me at ease. Although it doesn’t seem like he has anyone else he can turn to and that saddens me.
Kyle opens the door, and I turn to face him.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to walk out the door. Perhaps fragments of me will always belong to Kyle. There are many things I want to say, but I take the cowardly route. “The reno will be finished soon. Look after yourself and Lucinda.”
Ky steps forward and wraps his arms around me before I can object.
Large, firm hands settle across my back and at the curve of my waist. My heart almost stops, a gasp of pleasure barely stifled in my throat.
His sandalwood scent calms me, and my arms circle around his back.
Time falls away, my weight settling against his firm chest, as my eyes flutter closed with the warm familiarity.
He’s intoxicating. And I shouldn’t allow this.
Kyle tucks his face into the curve of my neck and inhales deeply.
I feel like I’m drowning. My heart jackhammers against my ribs and my skin burns white hot. Kyle is tall and broad and strong, and it’s completely unlike Chris’s embrace. A need I’ve long suppressed rises inside me and my body silently screams for more.
When Kyle places a soft kiss to neck, I want to moan my approval. Reckless emotions roll over me in a fervent rush and I know I have to leave.
Ripping myself from his arms, I walk out the door without a single word. I don’t look back. As I slip into the front seat of my Ute, a tear rolls down my cheek. I can sense Kyle standing at the door, his longing gaze upon me, but I throw the car into first gear and speed away.
I’m up early and in the kitchen before Chris this morning, attempting to cook him a hot breakfast. The guilt is piling on and this is my lame ass attempt at squashing it.
Because I didn’t tell him I went to check on the Johnson renovation.
I also neglected to mention that I sat in Kyle’s kitchen, shared a coffee, and held his hand.
And I sure as hell didn’t tell him Kyle hugged me and kissed me on the neck.
My face flushes at the memory of Kyle’s soft, warm lips upon my skin.
The kiss placed just below my earlobe; a spot that drives me wild.
Allowing Kyle to hold me was a huge mistake. Now I can’t stop fantasising about what it would be like to kiss him again. His tongue slipping into my mouth, his body pressing urgently against mine. Being handled roughly then fucked tenderly until I beg for more.
My eyes close, and I drop the kitchen tongs on the bench. I’m hard, my balls tingling with need. I can almost feel his hands gripping my hips as his long, thick cock pushes inside me. I slide a hand into my boxers, reaching for my dick.
“What’s all this?” Chris asks.
My eyes fly open, landing on my husband. My face is burning as I pick the tongs back up. “Makin’ you a hot breakfast,” I say, trying to sound casual. Focusing on the bacon, I turn my body toward the stove, willing my erection down.
“And why do I deserve this? You never make breakfast.”
I look over my shoulder and smile. “But I should. You deserve it. I can be a lazy hubby, leavin’ you to do all the cookin’.”
Chris approaches, resting a hand on my hip and kissing me on the cheek. “Thank you. This is nice.”
“Take a seat and I’ll bring it to you.” My smile feels fake. I’m a complete and utter asshole.
Bringing the plates over to the table, I take a seat opposite Chris.
“This looks great, sweetheart.”
Once we dig into the food and chat about our work schedules, I start to relax again. But then Chris suddenly stops eating, his expression changing.
“That nut job hasn’t contacted you again, has he?” Chris blurts out.
I freeze with my fork midway to my mouth. I panic, wondering if he somehow knows I’ve seen Kyle. “Nah, he hasn’t.” I place my fork down on my plate. “And why the hell did you call him a nut job? He’s got a mental illness. He can’t always control what’s going on in his head.”
Chris frowns, then blinks. “Seriously? You’re defending him right now? You used to always bag the shit out of him, and I had to listen to it over and over again. But now you’re saying it’s okay for you to call him crazy but not me?”
“That’s exactly fuckin’ right,” I almost yell. “It is okay for me to call him crazy but you definitely ain’t earned that right. And you know damn well I was just ventin’. I needed to…I needed to get over him.”
Chris drops his knife and fork on the plate and stands abruptly. “Are you saying you weren’t over him when we were first living together?”
I roll my eyes. “Sit down, Chris. Of course I was over him then.”
Chris places his hands on the table and leans forward, green eyes furious. “You sure about that?”
I get up and walk to the fridge, so I don’t have to look at him. “It’s been twenty years, Chris. I wouldn’t have married you if I wasn’t over him.” I grab the bottle of orange juice and slam the fridge door closed.
“Well things haven’t been the same since he reappeared.”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” I say walking back to the table. “I told you; it brought up some old memories seein’ him. You know I’ve been havin’ nightmares about Bruce again. I’m on edge, alright.” I sit back down and pour the juice.
Chris sinks back down to his chair, too. “Well, you should talk to me about it. Stop shutting me out.”
“Alright, I’ll try. Now finish your breakfast before it goes cold.” I’m royally pissed. Why did I tell him about Kyle’s bipolar? I should’ve kept that to myself.
Chris doesn’t touch his food, staring at the plate before finally speaking again. “That photo of him doesn’t really do him justice, does it? When you talked about him you never let on how hot he was, or how masc he was. He could pass as straight.”
Inhaling deeply, I try to keep my cool. “Chris, what’s your point here? I pass as straight. And if you think he’s so hot, why don’t you fuck him?” I’m being an asshole, but I’ve lost my patience.
“I think you know what my point is Dan.”
I finally get the courage to look at him again, and what I see is fear.
It immediately softens me, and I puff out a breath.
“Well, it’s a stupid point. He’s not that hot.
He turned into a prissy rich bitch if you ask me.
” And the lies just keep on coming. Every time I open my mouth these days they just spew out like vomit.
“Hey, is your work BBQ this Sunday?” I ask, desperate to change the subject and put an end to this argument.
“Yeah, we have to be there at one,” Chris replies sourly.