Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“Figured it was one of the neighbors cooking.” I laugh, hoping Wes will too, but he’s back to looking out the window again.
When we get home, he trudges up the stairs to our place, letting himself in with his key and heading straight for Adam’s bedroom, where we’ve both been sleeping.
Adam takes a deep breath. “It’s good to be home. Smells like sex in here, though.”
“Yeah, sorry you missed the fun. Wes says they’ve got some enzyme cleaner at work that should?—”
The bedroom door slams shut. Adam looks as confused as I feel. Is this still about some busted hotel?
“Kitten? Aren’t you going to have dinner with us?”
He calls through the door, “Not hungry. You guys go ahead.”
Adam rummages in the cabinets. “Go see what that’s about. I’ll join you two when I’m done out here.”
Nodding, I head to the bedroom, where I find Wes sprawled face down on top of the blankets, still wearing all of his clothes.
“Not sure what you’ve got planned,” I say, “but whatever it is, you’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Have you heard anything else about the people who took us? Do they know anything?”
“I talked to Ravi, who talked to Liam. Sounds like they’ve been working with local law enforcement, but it also sounds like the boys in blue aren’t putting in a ton of effort.
According to Liam, the cops showed up, came up with a story about what happened, and all but put the case to bed.
I did get a text from Brennan that he’d like to meet with us at some point, but I don’t know if he’s actually heard anything else or if he’s being a nosy asshole. ”
Wes frowns. “Why would he care?”
“Brennan’s an old southern lady trapped in the body of a forty-one-year-old criminal.
Or, I don’t know, a cat or something. Whatever’s going on in his territory, he needs to be in the loop even if it’s got nothing at all to do with him.
Could also be about the drugs. He’s been trying to get those pills off the street. ”
“Wait. Brennan’s my age?”
“That’s what you took away from all of that?”
“He looks a lot younger than me. Fuck.”
“Hey.” I crawl over to him. “Stop. We don’t give a shit.”
He gives me a flat stare. “Wait until you turn forty. I promise you’ll start caring.”
“As long as you still think I’m hot, it’s all good. Wipe that ugly-ass scowl off your face.”
He flips onto his side, propping his head on one arm to look at me. “How can you talk about us being together in twenty years? We barely know each other, and this is a highly unusual situation.”
“A three-way relationship? I promise it’s not.”
“Don’t play dumb.” He flaps his free arm in the air, sort of jerky and exasperated.
“Everything. All of it. The two of you and your creepy, dubious mating ritual of constantly cornering me in semi-public places. Getting kidnapped, drugged, and fucked while they fucking filmed us. I’m still technically married. I’m not even gay.”
“Kitten.” Reaching out, I trail my fingertips over his stubble. “None of us are gay.”
“It’s not about being gay. Or whatever I am. Bisexual, pansexual, heteroflexible… I don’t know.”
“Someone’s been busy searching things up on the interwebs. There’s no pressure to pick a label, you know.”
Wes sighs. “It’s feeling like I’ve gone way too far in life without knowing myself.
” He flips onto his back and starts kneading at his own forehead with both hands like his brain is a lump of dough that needs pounding into submission.
“Every time I try to wrap my head around this, I feel like I’m losing my mind. ”
“That why you’ve been staring off into the distance like you’re seeking the answers to the mysteries of the universe?”
“What we did earlier,” he says quietly. “When I begged you to hurt me again?—”
“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know.”
“I know.”
Hmm. “Do you?”
A frustrated groan comes out of his throat. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t even know why I liked it.”
“Does it matter?”
He shakes his head. “Maybe not. I don’t know.
I’m not even sure I recognize myself when I look in the mirror anymore.
When Gina and I got together, I was a virgin.
I’d been the awkward, nerdy kid girls didn’t even want to be friends with lest I get the wrong idea.
The second time we have sex, she gets pregnant.
Her parents insist we get married, and thus begins a decade and a half of slogging through a life I never chose. ”
“That sounds fucking miserable.” My fingers walk themselves down his throat. Down to his chest.
“People always said marriage was hard. I figured that was what they meant. I kept trying to make things work, but at some point she had already given up. Now, suddenly, I’ve got two men who are so hot people pay more money than I can afford to fuck them, and I’m discovering a whole new side to my sexuality. It’s confusing. It’s weird. It’s?—”
“Better late than never?” We both look up at the sound of Adam’s voice. “Maybe you just hadn’t met us yet. And if you were with the same person for all that time, you just never considered any other options.”
Wes looks thoughtful. “Maybe.”
Adam crawls into bed on the opposite side of Wes. “Tell us about the house.”
“I already did.”
“Tell us more,” I say. “Why are you so into it?”
Wes opens his mouth. Closes it. Shakes his head and mumbles something about being dumb.
Adam comes in with his softer touch, lifting Wes’s chin and murmuring a quiet “Please” that anyone would have trouble denying.
“Fine. It’s this pipe dream I’ve always had.
Something more personal and intimate than the Premiere.
A place where I can foster a genuine connection with guests.
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I like serving people.
” Color rises to his cheeks. “Gina seemed into the idea at first, but over time, things unraveled. I couldn’t give her the dream she wanted, and she was no longer interested in mine. Which, I suppose, is fair.”
“It’s bullshit, is what it is.” Adam’s fist is clenched, and I get why. The resignation in every line in Wes’s body is a lot to take.
“Forget it,” Wes says on a yawn. “There’s no point in wasting energy wishing for something I can’t afford. I really am exhausted. And I know Adam needs the rest.”
As he closes his eyes and drifts off, my best friend and I look at each other.
“He seems awfully fucking sad.” Adam’s forehead crumples. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ll figure something out.” I hope.