Chapter 15
Brandon
Going over to Avery’s house after my date would be a monumentally stupid idea.
Ditching my plans with Max in order to go over to Avery’s would be even stupider. Especially, when Max had made it very clear that he was interested in coming back to my place to get to know me better on a more physical level.
We had a month and a half to figure things out. To see where all of this was going and to get to know each other enough to better judge if an eventual long distance relationship was worth the headache or not.
I’d agreed to try. I’d agreed to actually push myself out of my comfort zone to get out of my own way.
So then why the hell was I sitting outside of the McAllister gate with my window rolled down at the code box?
Because I’m a fucking idiot. That’s why.
I knew the code. Had it memorized since the day I’d first been invited over to this ridiculously opulent mansion for a sleepover. I bet it hadn’t changed since then—the date of his mother’s birthday—and I would find that gate creaking open once I punched it in.
Practically every weekend, I’d take the bus across the bridge and walk the quarter mile it took to get here from the bus stop. Never once complaining whether it was rain or shine that greeted me as soon as I stepped down those steel stairs.
Not when after I’d finally made my way up to those front doors and found them already being pulled open by an overly eager Avery with that familiar smile on his face, beckoning me inside with the same kind of eagerness that brewed inside of my own chest.
Later on to discover that it was the heart-pounding beginning of a years long crush.
Leaning forward, I rested my forehead against the steering wheel.
“Fuck me,” I mumbled.
I should’ve gone home after ditching the festival and grabbed myself a beer to help me wallow in my own shame.
The painful truth was that whatever happened back at the park with Avery had put me into a daze.
The kind that had me going back to Max and telling him that I’d needed to get home because of a long work day in the morning.
I barely cared about the sullen expression that had fallen over him, or the way he’d not-so-subtly glanced over my shoulder to where I’d disappeared with Avery minutes before.
If he could tell something happened, he’d been polite enough not to mention it. All he’d asked was that I called him in the morning to set up a time to see each other again.
Honestly, he was a fucking gentleman.
One that I’d refused to go home with because I was a goddamn masochist.
I’ll be waiting.
My stomach tightened at the memory.
Why the fuck had he said it like that?
Why had he looked at me like that?
Like he was...
I stopped the thought, jammed on the brakes and derailed the entire train before it could even leave the station. Pushing any kind of narrative when it came to Avery would only lead me into reading between the lines on things that were otherwise perfectly able to be explained away.
He’d said it himself: he was annoyed that I’d avoided responding to him about the cars. That was the simple answer with no bullshit. There was nothing else to it. No matter how much I wanted there to be.
Avery was a simple heterosexual man with his mind only on getting his father’s affairs in order. Trying to read between the lines about anything else was only me projecting my own shit onto him.
He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t the type.
The mic connected to the code box crackled suddenly. “Brandon.”
I just about jumped out of my skin. With wide eyes, my head whipped around to stare at the speaker connected to the box.
“Get up here,” the voice demanded.
Ahead of me, the gate buzzed loudly and then began to swing inward, allowing entry without me even having to enter a code at all. Scrubbing my face, I turned back in my seat and shifted my truck into drive, ignoring the way my hands shook while I gripped the gearshift.
This was so fucking stupid.
I was so fucking stupid.
What was supposed to happen when I got up there?
Get on my knees and beg him to forgive me for the other morning?
Or worse, act like it never happened and never address the giant elephant in the room.
I wasn’t even sure which option would suck more. Both of them sounded equally horrific in their own ways.
Reading Avery was difficult these days. He was a stranger, a man who was as foreign to me as Max, but with a ton more baggage that I felt personally responsible for on some level.
It wasn’t fair to carry this deep-seated guilt when Avery was the one who left, who chose to cut off contact with me once he got comfortable in Switzerland.
His promises had turned empty the moment he’d realized he was better off living his fancy, privileged life with no room for someone like me in it anymore.
I’d ultimately served my purpose. I’d given him what he needed while he was here. Him coming back and reconnecting was nothing more than utilizing his resources. After all, he was a businessman at heart.
What better way to get a job done than use an old contact?
One he trusted.
So, again.
Why was I here?
When I finally made it up the long drive and parked my truck out front of the walkway leading up to those familiar filigree doors, I left my keys in the ignition and just sat there.
There was still time to turn around and leave, make up some half assed excuse as to why I couldn’t come inside to talk.
Would he be mad?
Probably.
Did I care?
Unfortunately.
That was what happened when your traitorous heart refused to see the situation for what it was—a rehashing of things that were better left in the past.
Except that didn’t stop me from slipping the keys out of the ignition and shoving my door open. Or listening to the sounds of my own two feet crunching through the graveled drive that led up to the main walkway.
Fuck me and my weaknesses.
If I were a stronger man, I would’ve stopped all of this to begin with. Refused him service the second he stepped into my mechanic shop and sent him elsewhere, ridding myself of the problem at the start.
Or better yet, gotten a hold over my own impulses, and called him a damn rideshare to come pick him up instead of taking him back to my place because I couldn’t bear to part with him at the time.
Not getting myself lulled into a false sense of security with him falling asleep on top of me and acting like some kind of fucked up version of a security blanket.
For far too much of my life, I’d relied on him to give me comfort. Even after he’d gone, his memories were the only thing that I’d held onto during my darkest times. When they’d begun to fade, I thought my feelings would soon follow but clearly that had been a pipedream in itself.
When my foot hit the first step, the doors to his family mansion parted and there he was, standing in between them waiting for me. The déjà vu hit like a freight train. Both timelines—then and now—collided together, creating a dizzying feel as I climbed up the steps one by one.
His expression was carefully blank, betraying nothing while he tracked me slowly. This all felt like a cat and mouse game, a push and pull that I didn’t remember signing up for, let alone agreeing to.
And yet, I still climbed those fucking stairs until I was at eye level with him, a hair’s breadth between us. Those remarkable crystal blue eyes of his bored into me, right down to my very soul. Reading me right down to my bones.
A shiver raced up my spine.
I loved the attention. Hated what it did to me.
He said nothing as he stepped back, waving an arm to let me through. The hesitation in my step was momentous, barely even noticeable, but still somehow had Avery’s carefully guarded expression morphing into a frown.
This place was so familiar that it was painful.
The same marbled floors that shone brilliantly under the warm light from the massive crystalline chandelier.
The exceptionally tasteful decor that were the only remnants left of Avery’s mother.
Hazel, who was storming down the hallway leading from the kitchen galley, a towel thrown over her shoulder.
Oh fuck.
“Brandon Anders!” I winced at the stern tone. “Is that you? You better have a good excuse as to why it’s been sixteen years since you’ve come around here!”
Before anything could be uttered, I was swept up into a tight hug that had me bending down in order to accommodate for Hazel’s shorter frame. The life was practically squeezed out of me, sending a wheeze to be coughed up.
“First Avery,” she was saying, “And now you. I can’t believe this. Both of you all grown up and still no calls and no letters.”
I had no idea what on Earth she was talking about. Though judging by the way Avery’s face was slipping into an amused expression, he must’ve been given the same lecture recently, too.
Hazel was always like a pseudo-mother to him, and me by extension. She treated Avery well growing up. Kept his head on straight and his ego in check—personally determined to not let him turn out anything like his father. Which she’d absolutely succeeded in doing.
She should be proud of the man she’d molded him into. I certainly was.
“Sorry,” was all that came out of my mouth.
I wasn’t going to bother with any half-assed or lame excuses. I didn’t have any that would make sense, let alone grant me forgiveness in the eyes of Hazel for practically cutting off all contact the moment Avery stopped responding to my letters.
What would the point have been to keep torturing myself like that?
It was easier to sever the infected limb and hope that it’d heal on its own.
She merely huffed at me, shaking her head in the process. “You’re both lucky I’m still very fond of you.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
We’d gotten away with a lot when we were kids for that very reason. Probably too much so, looking back.