Chapter 2
Stan
I miss the Philippines. I miss the food, the laughter, but most of all, I miss the warmth. It felt like living in Cali again.
But now, I’m back in Darkhaven, where I’ve been living for months with my brothers and my besties. The newlyweds are off on their honeymoon. So I’m stuck with Damon and Kaye. And right now, they’re driving me to the docks some states away, where I’ll board that ship.
“Hot in here, Damon,” I whine, flapping my jacket’s open front.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, frowning at me in the rearview mirror. “The heat’s on the lowest setting.”
“I’m cranking down my window,” I mumble, pouting.
“Don’t you dare,” Damon growls. Yeah, he can do that. It’s pretty impressive. “I’ll kick you out of my car before I risk Kaye catching a cold.”
My pout pulls down. “Am I even family to you anymore?”
Kaye laughs, wounding my pride.
“You two are the worst,” I grumble.
They’re the worst in more ways than one. They’re so heart-eyes in love, they’d make cupid sick. And they’re such horndogs for each other, they’d make a porn star blush.
That’s why it’s hot in here. Because I’m obviously in hell.
Damon’s at the wheel his sleek black import. Kaye’s in the passenger seat, legs crossed. And I’m in the back seat, sweating.
“You’re gonna miss me when you’re stuck in your new study,” Kaye teases Damon.
“Clearly,” Damon says, his hand fixing her dress as if I haven’t seen all of her before. “But,” he tacks on, “I’ll think of you constantly. I already do every second.”
Kaye scoffs. “Okay, Mister Clingy.”
“Behave, Kaye.” Damon’s voice deepens. “Or I’ll have to make a pit stop and teach you a lesson.”
I groan. “You two know I’m here, right? Like, physically present? Within earshot?”
Kaye flashes me a smile. “Aww, the baby bwother’s cwanky.”
I glare out the window like I can force myself to phase through it and roll into traffic.
Damon glances at me again. “I told you to drive yourself.”
“And be alone during the last hours of my dignity, while adding miles to my car?” I huff. “This might be torture, but it’s the lesser of two evils.”
Kaye’s giggle is vicious. “You’re so grumpy today. I should’ve helped you hook up with someone after the wedding. Your balls must be purple by now.”
“Kaye, babe, I’d rather reenact our one-night stand than have you play matchmaker. If you’re that curious, come check my balls yourself.”
“You’re a dead man,” Damon deadpans at me. Ha.
I throw my head back. “You’ve said that for years. But guess what? I’m still alive. Still effortlessly charming.”
“Charming’s generous,” Damon mutters. “Effortless, even more so.”
“You’re just mad she called me daddy first,” I say, smirking.
“Asshole,” they say in unison.
They’ve been married for only half a year, and they already think the same. One-track dastardly dirty mind, these two.
Kaye preens, which means she’ll only tease me some more. “I should’ve known I’d end up with the older, even grumpier version of you.”
“There’s still time to trade up,” I offer, leaning forward between their seats. “I’ve got better stamina and worse trauma. Makes things much more interesting.”
“Yeah,” she says, snorting a laugh. “But Damon’s got a bigger—”
“Nope!” I cut in, slapping the back of her seat. “We’re done. This conversation’s in a ditch, and I’m lying in it.”
They laugh while I flop back onto my seat, wishing I didn’t rise to her bait.
Fuck. Kill me. Because they’re back to flirting with each other, with very vivid details of their raunchy night. So I just look outta the window.
Outside, the world blurs by. Gray winter sky, stretches of forest. We still have hours until we reach the coast where this science ship’s docked.
When we take a detour to grab burgers and eat on the road, it doesn’t take long until I’m stuffing my face with a tower of meat between buns. Kaye’s eating a deep-fried chocolate bar and a mushroom burger with extra pickles. Criminal combo. More horrifying than my future.
Despite that disgusting order, Damon’s glancing at her like he wants to fuck her through the windshield.
I frown at them, hearing her say she was craving that gross food. And then I pick up on how her breaths sound, shorter and shallower.
I point at her with a limp fry. “Gross food. Short breaths. Explain yourself, Kaye.”
Damon doesn’t even look at me. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting.” I frown. “Because I’m in a moving sex den, and you’re both acting like I’m too stupid to notice the extra passenger sitting in her uterus.”
Kaye’s eyes go up. “Stan—”
“You’re pregnant!” I jab the fry toward her belly. “Don’t lie. I’ve read enough mpreg to recognize the signs.”
Damon exhales through his nose, all uppity irritation. “We weren’t hiding it.”
“Then why am I finding out between bites of my depression burger?!” I yell.
Kaye wipes her mouth, trying not to smile. “We wanted to wait a little.”
“For what? A gender reveal where Damon buys a skyscraper and paints it blue?” I throw my hands up. “You two drop every detail of your sex life on me, but this is what you hold back?”
Damon mutters, “We’re not even through the first trimester.”
“That’s not the point!” I cry, burger held high, fist in the air. “I should’ve known sooner! We’re family! And I’d be the perfect godfather!”
Kaye laughs. “You’d teach our baby how to snipe before they could walk.”
“That’s absolutely necessary in early childhood development,” I defend. “Gives the kid a head start.”
“I’m going to crash this car,” Damon mumbles.
“You better not!” I gasp. “Your baby’s in this car. So is their future favorite godfather.”
Kaye sighs. “Fine. You’re godfather material. Happy now?”
I’ve never wanted to cry over a title before, but godfather feels a hell of a lot like I’ll always be part of this family.
“Ecstatic,” I correct, taking another bite of my burger. “I’m going to spoil this kid so hard they’ll have Stockholm syndrome.”
She cackles. “Close your mouth when you chew.”
Damon rests his hand on her thigh. “You’re going to be an amazing mom, little bird,” he says low, just for her. I hear it anyway, and even my heart flutters.
Kaye simmers with a sly smile. “You better keep knocking me up if this is how sweet you get.”
Okay, kinda gross.
His hand slides higher. “One kid at a time.”
Okay, super gross.
“Speak for yourself,” she hums. “I’m hoping for twins.”
Jesus.
“Absolutely not,” Damon mutters, but the corner of his mouth pulls up.
They’re disgusting, but they’re so excited. And stupidly in love. But I’m still in the goddamn back seat like a chaperone on the world’s horniest school trip.
I groan loud. “Can we at least put some music on, so I don’t have to listen to the sound of your insane sex talks?”
Damon smirks. “You want me to put on Elle and Sterling’s wedding playlist?”
I sit back hard. “You’re a monster.”
“It’s genetics,” Damon says, shrugging one shoulder while he keeps driving the car, and driving me insane.
Kaye giggles again. I cross my arms and close my eyes, letting the roar of the car and their never-ending flirting fade into background noise.
I picture the open sea. A place where I get to rewrite whatever the hell I’m even doing with my life. Because if one more person finds true love before I do, I swear I’m throwing myself off the side of that ship.
***
Some hours later, and we barely make it, because Kaye needed to take so many bathroom breaks. She blames pregnancy. I blame them for being bad liars, ‘cause Damon had to go with her every single time. Her lipstick wore off while his mouth got redder and redder. Ugh, wonder why.
But Damon called ahead, said we’d be late. That got accepted without a hint of insult.
Besides, we’re here now, where the port’s an ugly gray covered in frost. Concrete color painted all over like it’ll hide the rust. Private security in black, standing around, pretending this isn’t some crime hub with an ocean view.
The ship’s in sight. There’s a few stragglers like me taken in one by one. IDs being inspected, bags being checked through.
I get out of the car and stretch my back. The sunset’s too bright for this bleak gray block. The biting wind smells like rotten fish.
Damon stays in the car, clearly not in a rush to say goodbye to his beloved baby brother.
Kaye gets out next, her long curls falling over her face.
“I was expecting a red carpet,” I say. “Maybe a band. Confetti. Something. Anything.”
Damon gets out to open the trunk. “You only have this oversized baggage.”
“I thought you were carrying that for me,” I tell him.
He drops the duffel bag at my feet. “I carried it for well over two decades. I trust you can take it from here.”
Kaye drags me aside, her breath fogging between us. She loops her arm through mine and walks me closer to the ship.
“Don’t get all sweet on me now,” I say.
“I’m actually sweet all the time,” she replies.
“You’re half-Italian, and part-Filipino and Indonesian. So you’re spicy, at best.”
She stops, turns, and takes me in like she knows I’ve been deflecting this entire time. Then she asks, “You okay, Stan? You can talk real with me.”
“I’m gonna be living on a floating psych ward for a while. Either I come back healed or with a permanent eye twitch.”
“You’ll come back different,” she says, smiling.
I shrug. “Or not come back at all. Which still counts as different.”
She cups my jaw. “Don’t forget we care about you, Stan,” she says. “Even when you’re the worst.”
I want to make a joke. I really do. But it sticks in my throat. Then Damon appears over her shoulder. He patiently and pointedly glances at the ship, where the line of people’s disappeared inside.
“You’ll be late,” he says.
I sigh. Yeah, wouldn’t wanna miss the best seats in this illegal drug cruise, would I?
It’s a miracle I keep that thought to myself. I turn away, lifting my bag and slinging the strap over my shoulder. Fuck, it’s heavier than I remembered. And sadly, no forehead kisses and no hand-holding. It’s only me and my baggage.
I toss the lovers a lazy wink. “See you on the other side.”
“We better,” Kaye says. Damon just nods in my direction.
I walk away. No one calls me back. No one stops me.
Wanna know what’s strange about all that? That’s how I know they care. They trust me to figure my own shit out.
They believe in me. God help ‘em.
***
Inside, the ship’s bigger than I expected. Sleek in a brutalist, vaguely threatening way.
Security nods me through—cleared in advance, thanks to Damon and Kaye pulling strings—and I mutter something half charming, half regrettable. No one laughs. Amazing start to my personality tour.
Someone calls my name. I turn, ready to say something snarky, but then I see it’s Idris. With that same sun-kissed smile, and his shirt sleeves rolled up while sporting a cute tie that gives off Doctor Dreamy energy.
Smirking, I say, “Hey, Idris. Lookin’ dashing.”
“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” he says, extending a hand.
I take it. “Didn’t think I had anything better to do,” I say. “Figured I’d sign up for this and see what shakes loose.”
He chuckles. “Good to have you.”
Then his eyes move, from me to Darius, who’s walking past us. The older Adel doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even look at either of us.
He glides down the hall. The air chills down a few degrees. I don’t know how someone can be icier than my two brothers, but there’s Darius.
Idris pats my arm. “I should go thank Damon and Kaye while they’re outside and we’re still docked.”
I nod, distracted by the very distinct vibe that I’ve just made contact with a ghost.
“Oh and,” Idris says, turning partway back, “we’re still waiting on one more participant.”
I cock my head. Okay, that sounded way too ominous for just one more guy, but all I say is, “Ooh, mysterious.”
Idris gives me a wider smile. “You’ll meet him soon enough.”
Then he’s gone, following after his brother, leaving me alone in this haunted-ass hallway.
Here I am, with a duffel bag full of unresolved trauma. I stay standing for a few seconds, trying not to feel like I just stepped onto a ride with no seatbelt.
Well, ships don’t come with seatbelts. They come with life vests.
Taking a deep breath, I’m about to walk further down the hall when she appears. Tablet in hand. Head down.
Suddenly, the last twenty-two years of my life? Irrelevant. Unthinkable. What even are numbers when this smokin’ hot babe’s right in front of me?
She’s showing a little bit of skin. It’s a shade of sun-warmed cream. A face that might’ve looked sweet if it weren’t for the lethal glare behind her glasses.
Her hair’s short, inky black, cut into a bob with short bangs that frame her face perfectly. And her mouth in a little frown tops the perfection off. She looks like she’s allergic to expression. And it’s doing terrible things to me.
She’s drowning in her lab coat. But all it does is make me wanna know what she’s hiding underneath.
She looks up. And fuck me sideways, those eyes? Undeniably dark, dissecting every inch of me, and devastating in a way I’ve never felt before.
My soul leaves my body. My dick offers itself up as tribute.
“You must be Stanley,” she says, all flat and direct.
She’s so clinical-looking and straight to the point. And now that I know Em exists looking like this, all I want is to rip her layers off.
Oh, shit, I think I just met my dream girl.
I blink. Open my mouth. Forget how words work.
Me, speechless? No, this isn’t possible.
“You’re late,” she says, scribbling something on her tablet.
Does she not realize that she’s the final boss of my entire nervous system?
It feels like I have to pick my jaw up from the floor when she adds, “But not the last to come.”
Stanley Song-Smith, that is a low-hanging fruit for a vulgar joke. Fucking say something!
“Uh…” I manage, dragging the syllable out of my dry-ass throat. When her eyes pierce into mine, I swallow and force myself to speak. “You must be the other doc. Do you give out prostate exams?”
I inwardly cringe at my absolute flop of a joke.
I don’t get a reaction from her. She just turns and starts walking. I follow her, the tails of her long lab coat sways with the way she walks. Her existence feels like a sedative. I want to chug her like strong cough syrup at the end of a really bad week.
While she gives me a rundown, I catch everything. The swing of her short, silky black hair. Her fingers sliding her glasses back up her cute nose before they tap at her tablet. The sounds she makes when she’s reading something too fast for any normal human to track.
Every detail punches me right in the sternum. And below the belt.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not looking at someone that reminds me of what could’ve been. I’m looking at someone who makes me want to start again.
So I follow her, hard enough to bend steel. Dazed and trailing after her like the lost idiot I am, all I can think is yeah, I definitely should’ve jerked off before boarding this damn ship.