Chapter Thirty-Three
Adam
There’s a dark cloud over Troy when I get up in the morning. He’d already gone to bed when I got back last night.
Now he’s at the stove pushing hash browns around a pan, but he’s curled in on himself the way he used to be when his father got drunk and beat him for existing.
“What’s wrong?” I look around. “Where’s Wes?”
“Shower.” He gestures with his spatula. “He’s in a bad mood. Wouldn’t tell me why.”
“Is that why you look like some shit went down?”
“Some shit definitely went down, I just don’t know the details. He came out of work this morning looking like he was trying to solve a math equation and that equation had punched him in the face.”
“Shit.” I drop myself into a kitchen chair. “I need to talk to you guys about something, too.”
“The meeting?” He turns the burner off and faces me, leaning back against the oven door.
“Yeah. Brennan’s friend wants?—”
The bedroom door opens and Wes comes out. He’s larger than both of us. Older, and presumably wiser. But the hopeless slump of his shoulders makes me want to go over and comfort him. To hold him and promise everything will be okay.
Even though I don’t know. How can I promise anything when I don’t know what’s wrong?
“Kitten?” Troy’s struggling. His face shows a mix of frustration and hope, and I know him well enough to know he doesn’t let himself hope with almost anybody.
“What’s wrong, Wes?” I ask.
His dark hair is wet, combed hastily with his fingers. He’s freshly shaven, and under different circumstances I’d want to go to him and slide my fingers over the smooth skin on his jaw. Breathe in the clean scent of him.
He’s got that same look on his face Troy mentioned, though. And the real problem? Even though he’s normally heading to bed around this time, he’s dressed in daytime clothes. And holding a black travel bag.
Troy lifts his chin. “Going somewhere?”
Wes goes still. Belatedly, he looks down at the bag in his hand. Almost like he forgot he was carrying it at all. “I was thinking I might go and stay at Fallon’s for a bit. He and I really haven’t gotten a chance to talk, and I’m feeling like I should.”
Troy must have been squeezing one of the oven knobs behind his back. There’s a loud clang as one pops off and bounces off the metal door, landing on the kitchen tile.
“That’s all?” I ask. “You want to talk to your brother?”
I should eat soon. Maybe that’s the reason for the sour sensation in my stomach. Somehow, I don’t think so.
“I guess…” Wes seems to be avoiding making eye contact with both of us. “The three of us have all been in each other’s pockets for weeks now. Figured I could use some time to think. We all could.”
“Time to think about what, Wes?” The steel in Troy’s tone tries to cover what he’s really feeling.
Desperate. Afraid. Out of control.
Wes shakes his head as he blows out a heavy breath. “It’s nothing. This is a lot, that’s all. The two of you, everything we’ve been doing… It’s a lot.”
“Did your ex say something to you again?” Something must have happened. When I left yesterday, everything was fine.
“It wasn’t—” Wes runs a hand through his wet hair. “I don’t feel like I have any business asking, but are you two aware that Rigby has a thing for you?”
Troy and I both laugh. Not to dismiss Wes’s concerns, but: “Rigby’s married,” Troy says. “He doesn’t have a thing for us. He’s like any other guy in this town who’s richer than sin. He’s used to getting what he wants. He’s probably taking it as a slight that we canceled on him, that’s all.”
“No.” Wes gives his head a single, decisive shake. “You didn’t hear him. You didn’t hear the way he talked about you like he owned you.”
“That’s how all those rich fucks are. You’re either a business associate, competition, or property,” Troy insists. “The guy paid us well to do a job. That’s all it was. Eventually, he’ll move on to someone else.”
The flare of Wes’s nostrils jangles my nerves. “You don’t believe us, do you?”
He shakes his head, looking sad. “I don’t. I’m sorry. I’m not even saying you’re lying. I’m saying the way he spoke about you, it was creepy and possessive and gross. Maybe he’s better at hiding it in front of you, but he feels some kind of ownership over you.”
Troy walks up to him, running a palm over the center of his chest. “Some people might describe our feelings for you as creepy, possessive, and gross.”
Which only gets a hint of a laugh out of Wes. He gets serious again pretty fast. “Look. This is none of my business, so tell me to fuck off, but…” He struggles for a moment. “How much does that guy pay you?”
“A lot,” Troy says.
I nod. We’ve come a long way from fifty-dollar blow jobs so we could cover our sleazy motel room for the night. Which is a good thing. Usually.
“H-how much are we talking here?”
Uh-oh. This feels like a test, and I’m not sure what we’re supposed to say. Troy’s uncertain as well. It’s no good if we lie, but if we tell him the truth?
“Ten grand a night,” I blurt before I can second-guess.
Fuck. There I go again blurting shit out when I need to keep my mouth shut.
“It wasn’t always that much,” Troy hurries to add. “Inflation and stuff. You know.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Wes backs up into the couch, sinking down heavily. He props his elbows on his thighs, dropping his head into his hands. “All those times I gave PJ shit about being after my brother’s money, and here you two make more in a night than I do in a month.”
“Hang on.” Troy starts toward him, but whatever he sees on Wes’s face stops him.
I try, “PJ’s situation is different. He didn’t make as much because he wasn’t, you know, full service with the clients.” Not that it justifies the things Wes said about PJ, but I get why he thought he needed to look out for his brother.
I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m still alive is that my brother doesn’t want to kill his only living relative. Or because me killing our father worked out in his favor. Mostly though, I like to think it’s because we’re brothers. Brothers are special, or at least they’re supposed to be.
Wes looks back and forth between us, eyes a little wild.
“You two know I’m broke, right? Things were tight before Gina and I decided to divorce, and even a fairly friendly one like ours costs money.
I’ve got credit card bills and student loans I’ll be paying off until I die.
I’m forty-fucking-two years old, and I’m so far in the hole I can’t even see my way out.
What the—” He kicks one leg out, knocking the glass from the coffee table. “What are you even doing with me?”
It’s not the money Wes is mad about, I don’t think. It’s how the money makes him feel. Still, his judgment stings. “Do you honestly think that matters to us? Relationships aren’t about one thing. Definitely not money.”
“It may not be the only thing, but you can’t tell me it’s not important. I spent fifteen years with someone I could never please. Plenty of them were spent arguing about the things we couldn’t afford. You two are too young to understand yet, but believe me, it matters.”
Troy crosses his arms over his chest. “Hold on a fucking minute there, Kitten. You think it’s a walk in the park running away from home when you’re underage and one of you has a chronic health condition?
” Troy shoots me an apologetic look. “I took care of my mother every day until she killed herself. Adam shot his own fucking father in the face to get free of the hell he was living in. You think we haven’t lived? What were you doing at that age?”
Troy’s kind of yelling, and all I can think is thank God our upstairs neighbor is a hit man, and everyone else in this place makes a habit of minding their own business.
When he turns to look at me though, my heart clenches. My best friend’s eyes are wet, and they mirror the same thing I’m feeling.
How do we fix this? Wes may be sitting in front of us, but it’s clear he’s already out the door.
Wes grits his teeth. “When I was that age, my father was dead, and I had been dealing for years with a mother who wouldn’t get out of bed. I was raising my little brother. It wasn’t an option to run away. I couldn’t date, or party, or go fucking anywhere.”
“See? We’re not all that different,” I argue, still not quite understanding what it is he’s so mad about.
“I got Gina pregnant on our second fucking date. The sex was so awkward that if it hadn’t happened there probably wouldn’t have been a third.
And the three of us—” He gestures with one hand between me and him.
The other between him and Troy. “—do you really think we’d be here now if we hadn’t had an intensely life-changing experience together, or would the two of you have gotten distracted and moved on by now? ”
“No.” Troy curls his hand into a fist. “Don’t start with that shit.”
“We’re not together because of that,” I argue.
Wes’s anger is infectious, and I can feel my own rising to a boil.
“We’re together because Troy thought he was going to unalive himself one day and I’d need a replacement soulmate.
Except I don’t give a single shit about any of that and neither of you are going anywhere. ”
Which, okay. Probably just went a little too far. I’m standing here getting more furious by the second over Wes’s assumptions, which only help to remind me how much I hate Troy’s assumptions.
Troy turns to me with wide eyes. “What are you saying?”
I shove my finger into his chest. “Come on. You honestly thought I didn’t know?
Ever since your mom died, you’ve been afraid one of these days you were going to, I don’t know, lose your tether to humanity or something.
Well, news flash, you can’t replace one person with another.
It’s fucked that you thought you could try.
I love you both, idiot. Nobody is allowed to leave. ”
It’s the way Troy’s eyes flare wide that makes me realize what I’ve said.
Oh. Fuck.
Wes presses his lips together. “See, this is part of the problem. Now the two of you are fighting because of me.” The way he shakes his head, I don’t know if he didn’t hear the L-bomb I let slip, or if he’s pretending he didn’t.
With jerky movements, he reaches for his travel bag.
“Wait,” I say. “Brennan’s friend. The guy I met with last night.
He does adult films. Legit ones. More legit than what happened in that place we were taken to, I guess.
Brennan told him about that video of us, and he’s willing to pay us for the publishing rights.
He’s even interested in paying us to do more like them. It’s a lot of money, Wes.”
He slows on his way to the front door. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re standing there telling us you don’t feel equal because of financial reasons. You keep talking about your mortgage and your credit card bills. This is a way for you to get a lot of money without fucking some stranger.”
Rather than helping, every word out of my mouth pushes his shoulders closer to his ears.
“I don’t know, Adam. Before I thought maybe I could, but… I’m not like you guys.”
“You’re saying you’re too good for it? It’s okay for us, but not the guy who slept here for free and ate our food?” Great. Troy’s raging, and his filter’s switched off.
“Troy.” I put my arm across his chest, warning him to back off. His words aim for the jugular when he’s hurt. That’s the last thing we need.
He shuts up, but he’s pushing against my arm like he thinks he can bully Wes into staying.
“Are you breaking up with us?” It’s hard to ask, but someone needs to.
How did this even happen? When I left here yesterday they both kissed me goodbye. The corner of Wes’s eyes crinkled when he smiled and told me to hurry back. Now we’re at each other’s throats?
Wes is quiet. Too quiet, and for too long.
“Sounds like a yes to me,” Troy murmurs.
Wes shakes his head. “I haven’t even said anything. The truth is, I don’t know. I need…time. I need to think. I need to apologize to my brother for calling his boyfriend a gold digger when one of your fucking clients accused me of the exact same thing last night. I just—I need to go.”
Hugging the duffel bag to his chest, he turns and walks out the door. Even though every line in his body is tight with anger, he closes it pretty quietly. Always considerate, our Wes.
It takes a second for me to make my feet move. When I do, I’m shoving my feet back into my shoes and sprinting to the front door.
“Don’t.” Troy grabs me by the arm as I’m pulling it open. “Let him go.”
What? “We need to do something, Troy. Are you telling me you don’t want to fix this? After you’re the one who planted a flag in him and declared he was ours?”
Troy stumbles back, collapsing on the same spot Wes vacated.
The coffee table sits there in front of him, still with the glass piece in the middle off kilter.
“He said he needs to think, so we need to let him. Let him talk to his brother. Let him do whatever he needs to do. We all need to calm down. Fuck knows I do. We’ll figure this out. ”
I’m not thrilled with this plan. There’s an invisible gash in my gut, and I’m standing here doing nothing. Both of us are. For all he’s trying to sound confident that things will work out, Troy’s crumpled like a piece of discarded scrap paper.
And me? In a short period of time I went from hating that Troy had Wes in his sights to needing them both to stay. If Wes doesn’t come back, Troy and I will survive, but it won’t be the same.
From the look on his face, he knows.
“What if doing whatever he needs to do includes leaving us behind?”
Troy’s smile is grim. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll have to hunt him down and kidnap him again.”