Chapter 28
Today sucked.
Yesterday sucked too.
It’s like some curse has settled over this town, and now all the bad shit is happening at once. We haven’t even had the first snowfall yet—which is strange, considering it’s already the first week of October—and somehow we’ve hit the loony season early.
They say crazy things happen during the month of Halloween, but this is getting ridiculous.
Car fire.
Chimney fire.
Some idiot hit a power line and knocked out all electricity downtown. Thankfully, Sapphire Valley wasn’t affected. I checked in on Ayden right away to make sure.
Then a drunk guy fell from his balcony… which just happened to overlook an embankment. We had to fish him out of the creek this morning. And right after that, a carbon monoxide alarm went off in the building nearest the police station.
Honestly, the cops could’ve handled that one themselves, but I think they’re still pissed at Dom—and by extension, at us—for reporting those two officers. I couldn’t care less. When the chief searched their devices, there it was: proof they’d been taking pictures of Ayden and me.
Whatever. They can lick the shit off my boots. No one fucks with him. Anyone who tries will understand why people used to fear me on the field.
Now, I’m showered and finally stretched out in my bunk, with Corey snoring above me.
My calves, thighs, and ass ache. Sure, I work out daily—running, lifting, hitting the gym during my three-day shifts—but these back-to-back calls are wearing us all down.
Dom’s even considering bringing another body into the squad. Honestly? I’m all for it.
Arizona was always busy, but we had triple the people—if not more—depending on the time of year. You’d think I’d be used to it, but here I am, groaning as I sink back into the mattress.
The sudden thought of Ayden rubbing out every ache in my body has me reaching for my phone. He’d texted me before showering, and I had to wait until after so as to not be tempted to send a suggestive mirror photo.
Ayden
Tomorrow, see Dad and Mom? Then Saturday do you want to see a movie?
Outside of the cabin. You fall asleep too easily
Not my fault the couch is so comfortable
Uh huh. The couch.
Mhmm.
But yes, a movie sounds wonderful, sunshine
It takes him a few minutes to respond, and I know it’s stupid, but it worries me. I’m confident we’ve taken enough precautions to keep Michael from getting anywhere near the cabin. From motion-sensor cameras to our unusually attentive neighbors, I know he’s safe.
Still… he’d be even safer if I were always with him.
Ayden
Awesome
What’re you doing?
Laying down, it’s been a day
What about you?
Laying down.
*gif attached*
The gif plays of some guy speaking on the phone, and text that reads, ‘So, whatcha wearing?’.
I chuckle.
I’m not sure how far I want to take this, because I’m already battling how badly I want him. Lying in his lap the other night was a huge mistake. My dick was so hard I’m surprised my balls didn’t revolt in protest from the ache.
But I know he’s hurting too. We’re both fighting it for the same reason: that image of it being wrong. The way he looked when Alysa called us family—his expression mirrored exactly how I felt.
Fucking defeated.
That said, no one is ever going to see my texts with him… or maybe I don’t care as much as I think I do what other people think…
Maybe I’m fighting it because I’m afraid of hurting him, again.
Only if you tell me first.
The typing bubbles appear on his side, then vanish, then reappear. Just as they stop again, I’m about to type out that I was, of course, joking—when a photo comes through.
Fuck. Me.
Every which way to Hell.
It’s a picture of his lower stomach, angled downward. He’s wearing plaid sleep pants—the fabric thin enough to make out a subtle outline—and either he’s holding up his shirt so I can see the slight flex of muscle before his boxers take over, or he isn’t wearing one at all.
I pray he isn’t, and in my mind, I picture him lying there on his back, half-naked in bed.
At least he spared me the view of any pronounced bulge in his pants. I don’t know what I’d do—if just this simple photo has my cock pushing up my sweats, I’d probably come right in my briefs.
My phone buzzes, yanking me out of thoughts of dragging down his bottoms to have him completely bare.
Ayden
Your turn. You can’t leave me hanging
Something is hung that’s for sure.
I’m wearing your favorite sweats
Bold, I know, but really… I want him to beg for it. That’s fucked up, considering he just offered what he’s wearing. But hey, I did say tell, not show.
Not that I’m complaining in the slightest.
Ayden
Now that’s mean
Please?
Imagining him say that really, really, has my abdomen tied into knots.
Please via text just doesn’t have the same effect I’m afraid
But, you’ve seen them before. You know, the gray sweats I feel are your favorite. No shirt, of course
There are no typing bubbles this time—just a small microphone icon that pops up briefly. A short, two-second voice note comes through, and I let out a frustrated groan.
I don’t hesitate to press play.
“Show me, Keo, please…” His breathless plea has me reaching down and squeezing my cock over my pants.
Since you asked so nicely, sunshine…
I move the phone to a good position to snap a photo, and make sure the flash is on. No, I don’t hide my erection. I want him to see what he does to me, to know that I, too, yearn for him. Even if I think it’s pretty obvious.
The moment the flash goes off, so does the alarm.
Ayden
I think maybe I went too far.
It’s been about twenty minutes, and I haven’t received anything.
I’m an adult. I won’t freak out—he’s at work. The logical part of me knows he could be called to rescue a cat stuck in a tree or respond to a house fire at any moment. That, or he fell asleep. I mean, he made it seem like he had a rough day…
Sure, I’d hoped for a glimpse of whatever he’s wearing, but my imagination is enough. I do love him in those sweats. Especially when he wears them low…
Is it too much to wish he’d left work because my picture worked him up so much he had to come home? Absolutely. Do I still hope that’s why he hasn’t responded? Also, yes.
The thought of him does everything right to my body, even if society would see it as wrong. Why can’t I have my stepbrother—the one who no longer even holds that title? We’ve only been “family” for… like thirteen years.
Alright, that is a long time. That’s half my life.
Son of a bitch…
It’s so wrong. I get that. But honestly? I don’t care. It’s a small town, and I feel like once it got out there, over time, people would just move on.
Rolling over onto my stomach, I grab the pillow and groan loudly into it. Then, chuck it across the room, suffocating myself in the mattress.
Fuck this.
I don’t care.
I’m going to tell him, and damn be the consequences. I’ve never felt this way with anyone.
No one has ever made me feel the way he has, not even close. I’ve never felt safer than when I do with him, and it isn’t even just now. I care what he thinks and sees in me.
I just know there isn’t anyone else out there for me. If I have to live with people judging me, then so be it. I’ll never give myself to anyone but my former stepbrother.
I deserve to be happy, and I know Keo will make me that way. I’m already there, even with how we are now. If he tells me we can’t, then that’s that. I won’t argue. I won’t fight. I’d take this, us, however I can.
Platonically or not.
Releasing a sigh, I roll onto my back and stare up at the dark ceiling.
Great. Now I’m emotional and horny, what a combination.
I grab my phone in the hopes that maybe I missed his call.
Nothing.
So, I fire off a text.
You owe me. I’ll remember this
Night, Keo