Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Rory
My phone buzzed uncontrollably the entire drive over to Mom and Dad’s house.
So maybe I was a little late to brunch because I’d lost track of time researching local tattoo conventions, but it wasn’t like I’d fallen into a well or something. My family was just needy.
I pulled up in front of my folks’ place.
The sight always struck me square in the chest with familiarity.
They owned a Cape Cod style house with cranberry shutters and a well-kept stone pathway Dad diligently maintained.
Now that he was retired, he’d amped up the home projects, though, to the point I swore I’d walk in one day and not recognize the interior.
Cars crowded the driveway because my siblings had clearly already arrived.
I glanced at my phone.
Ollie: Rory’s dead. Can I have his cinnamon roll?
Aislin: No. You’ll be too busy leading the search and rescue for our dearly departed brother. Rory, if you’re alive, send warning flares.
Cormac: How come you guys don’t send search parties when I ignore the group chat?
Mom: You hate the group chat.
Declan: For reasons like this.
Dad: Can you guys stop texting and come help in the kitchen?
I snorted and hopped out of my car. Sure, I might be the person to spam the group chat the most, but I also kept it active when the rest of my family would’ve let it lapse.
However, I’d been dragged down the hyperfixation rabbit hole on two subjects lately—tattoo conventions and Wyatt Anderson—and both demanded my utmost attention.
I ran my fingers through my hair as I skimmed the other texts on my phone.
Harper had messaged asking where I put the micro thin-tip forceps followed by a never mind.
Guilt flared through me. I shouldn’t be flirting with her dad as much as I had been, even if Wyatt was one of those straight-boy crushes that wouldn’t go anywhere.
Granted, I knew when a guy was looking my way, and the shower at the gym—damn, it had been in my spank bank all week.
When I opened the front door, a wall of noise rushed my way.
“You’re not dead,” Aislin called out. “Told you, guys.”
“Thought you were organizing a search party,” I teased as I sauntered inside. Aislin’s blue-streaked hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and she’d dressed down today in a pink hoodie and yoga pants.
“Nah, too lazy,” she said, her blue eyes glinting.
“Were you just sitting here texting each other?” I asked.
“Yes, it was ridiculous.” Declan sat on the sofa with his boyfriend Noah, a bigger blond guy who was so hot I might’ve been jealous if I didn’t know how hung up he was on my brother.
Declan and I both looked more like our mom—dark hair, sharp features, and slim—while Aislin was a blend, and Cor and Ollie both took after Dad in the burly bear category.
Noah snorted. “Nothing less than I’d expect from the Brannons.”
“You say that like we have a reputation,” Ollie complained as he all but stampeded into the room.
“You do,” Liam reminded him.
“Is our reputation that we’re the gayest bunch on the block?” I asked.
“It should be,” Mom muttered. “We’ve collected gay, bi, and pan, so all we need to do is adopt a lesbian and trans kid so we’ve got the full set.”
“Mother, we are not Pokemon,” I said with a mock gasp.
“Oh, can I be Charmander?” Ollie asked.
“God, what the fuck did I walk into?” Cor asked as he poked his head in.
“Come back to the kitchen, babe,” Felix called. “It’s safer there.”
A laugh exploded from me. “I call Sylveon if we’re picking Pokemon.”
“Squirtle here.” Aislin waggled her eyebrows.
“Ugh, I’m heading back to the kitchen too,” Mom said. “The food’s all done, so come snag a plate, you heathens.”
“Mother, oh how you speak to your children,” I called in my Victorian waif voice. It was my latest kick to drive my family nuts, and it was working exceptionally. Mom shook her head as she ducked into the kitchen.
“Are there even any cinnamon rolls left?” I asked, arching a brow.
“Aislin helped make them, so probably not,” Ollie teased.
“You shit,” she said, giving him a lazy shove in the side. “I only had one.”
“If they’re up for grabs, I’m not missing out,” Declan said, somehow already up from the sofa and striding out of the room. Ollie and Liam pivoted on their heels to follow him, and Noah swept in to try to catch up with his boyfriend.
Aislin shot me a look. “I’m in no rush since I already snagged one, but I’d hup two. We’ve almost doubled in number with everyone all coupled up.”
“Just you and me, the slutty twosome,” I said.
Aislin blanched. “Don’t ever call us that again, Ror. And also, don’t lump me in with you. I might have fun playing the field, but my end goal is settling down.”
“Mmm, not me,” I said. “Too many giant cocks to discover.” Even as I made the normal jokes, they came out a bit flatter. Truth be told, for a while now, I’d been wondering what it’d be like to have something stable in my life.
Even truthier?
Maybe a little of the reason I’d avoided relationships was because no one had ever been able to put up with me for long.
The idea of falling for someone and finding out I was too much for them too? Yeah, I didn’t think I’d survive that blow at this age. Hurt bad enough when I was younger. Far easier to sail on the sea of hookups.
“C’mon, Rory,” Aislin said, hooking an arm through mine. “Let’s go see what’s left in the kitchen.”
“Crumbs, that’s what,” Cor said as he and Felix slipped past us with laden plates.
Not that I needed a cinnamon roll like the rest of my frenzied siblings.
Honestly, the thing I loved the most about Sunday brunch wasn’t the food—it was the adrenaline rush of being around my family.
This much chaos was what I thrived on, what lit up my synapses in the best way, and I’d coast on the energy the rest of the week until I got my next hit.
Ais and I walked into the kitchen, where the weekly massacre had occurred.
My dad was a damn good cook, though, and each one of us lived for these meals.
We contributed if it was a dinner or breakfast, whether by bringing alcohol or a side, but my dad stubbornly wanted to do the major dishes—because he preferred his takes.
“There’s some breakfast casserole still,” Mom said, gesturing to the half-eaten tray.
I snagged a plate and cut myself off a hunk. “You know how much I like meat.”
“Gross.” Aislin let go of my arm to give me a shove.
We might be in our twenties and thirties, but within minutes of being in this house, it was like we were all kids again.
Maybe growing up in a big family, with siblings who were now close to their mid-thirties, was one of the reasons Wyatt’s age didn’t even register.
That and older guys were hot. I’d been fucked by guys at the club who were in their late forties, so thirty-seven was young in comparison.
Dad swept past me with a full plate, and Mom followed. Declan fretted over pieces of bacon—because with him, size did matter—while Noah hung beside him, patient as anything.
“C’mon, Ror,” Aislin said, snagging some fruit and bypassing Declan’s bacon crisis to grab a few pieces. “You can fill me in on all your lurid client stories.”
Normally I’d be frothing at the mouth to talk about giving a PA to my coworker’s dad, but the words dried up on my lips.
Something about the time I’d spent with Wyatt felt different, even though I couldn’t put my finger on why.
I’d pierced plenty of hot guys before, so the hesitation had nothing to do with my attraction to him.
Maybe it was the fact he hadn’t seemed put off by me once.
I had friends and family who loved me to pieces, but I was well aware of what a short-dose person I could be.
The fact he sought out more time with me?
That he took my lack of filter in stride?
Someone like him was rare, and I enjoyed hanging out with him just as much.
“Oh my god, Ror, are you possessed?” Aislin asked, waving a hand in front of my face. “I gave you open invitation, and you’re not telling me about a single nipple or scrotal piercing.”
“Quiet week,” I lied, at least partially. “The snow mid-week borked up my client load.”
Aislin’s brows drew together. “And now you’re saying load and not even snickering? Maybe I should send out a search party.”
An involuntary grin rose to my lips. My family did know me best. “Clearly, it’s been far too long since I’ve gotten laid. This is what abstinence does to me.”
Aislin lifted her brow. “How long do you consider abstinence?”
“A few weeks.” My lips twitched, and she let out the hiss-sigh I’d been waiting for.
“Oh, fuck off.” Aislin found a spot to lean against the wall and started to pick through her strawberries for the ripest one. “Try going on a six-month stint and then we’ll talk.”
“You poor thing,” I teased. “Thought being bisexual gave you more options.”
Aislin flipped me the middle finger.
I dug into the casserole with a lack of finesse, and within minutes I was finished. I snagged Aislin’s empty plate and stacked it with mine before heading back to the kitchen.
“Thanks,” she called out behind me.
I rinsed the plates off and then loaded them into the dishwasher. By the time I stood back up, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. Wyatt.
Are there club nights in the city tonight?
Oh, damn.
I’d half expected him to be joking about the concept of going to a gay club with me. Truthfully, part of me didn’t want to take him because he was that damn hot and he’d get swarmed by thirsty guys. And they could fuck off, since I was the thirstiest.
Except another part of me was dying to see what would happen.
I could’ve sworn he’d shown interest back at the gym, but his blushing over my flirts wasn’t enough to gauge.
A place like the gay club would make it clear whether he had an interest in guys or was just awkward and humoring my bullshit. I shot him a message back.
Several. Late or earlier?
My nerves hummed as I stared at the screen. A message appeared a second later.
What do you take me for? Earlier.
A grin stretched my lips on automatic. I’d always been easy with my smiles, but around him they were genuine.
Meet me at The Truck Stop on Walnut Street at 7.
His reply was instant.
That’s early???
I shook my head, unable to tamp down the lightness bubbling up in my chest.
Fine. Six. And we’ll just grab drinks there first before the music starts.
You’re on.
Tonight, I was taking Harper’s dad to a gay club.