22. Peter And Kit Get Some Hard Truths
22
Peter And Kit Get Some Hard Truths
I wake up as the little spoon, the man behind me snuggled close with his morning wood poking me in the ass. Kit , I remember. That’s Kit behind me.
We’re surrounded by the scents of sex, sweat, and sheets that were pristinely clean yesterday but today are… not. And sure, it’s not whatever cologne Kit normally wears, but it’s the combined scent of us and I love it.
Kit must also be awake because he’s moving behind me, grinding his hard cock into my crack. I reach behind me and give him a little smack on the hip. “I’m not bottoming, Kit. I thought we covered that.”
“Don’t wanna top.” Kit’s voice is low and sleepy in my ear. “But this feels good. You feel so good. Can’t be real. Not that lucky.”
I stretch and my hand finds the bottle of lube buried in the sheets, thankfully capped. I toss it lightly over my shoulder in Kit’s general direction.
“Ow,” Kristoff says indignantly, clearly now wide awake. “That hurt, you bastard.”
I snort. “This from the man that gets an all over body wax on the regular. Stop complaining and prep yourself. When you think you’re ready, let me see.” I stretch out on my back, my arms folded above my head.
Kit sighs heavily, making sure I’m aware he’s being put upon, and begins to finger himself. After a brief time, he goes from one finger to half of his damn hand crammed up there. Don’t get me wrong, I could watch this all day. In fact, I put that on my mental to-do list: have Kit suck me while he finger fucks himself. Although I’m not sure how flexible Kit is, but I’ll talk to him about taking up yoga just in case. We could do it together, maybe.
I’m thinking of Kit and I as a couple. This is crazy and not like me, but on the other hand it feels right. I should probably stop thinking about the two of us like we’re a done deal. It’s way too premature. This is just two guys who’ve been thrown together and bonded over disliking the same person. That’s the set up for a fling, not a lifelong commitment.
“Peter?” Kit asks.
I look up and he’s no longer humping his hand. Instead, he’s kneeling between my legs, looking concerned.
“Mmm?”
“Are you okay? You checked out on me. I didn’t… did I do something wrong?” Kit gets a look in his eyes that stabs right through me. Fear, anxiety, and resignation. He looks lost.
I sit up and wrap my arms tightly around him. I have an overwhelming need to make everything better for him. “No, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing wrong.” He holds his body rigid, but I can feel a tremor under that.
“It’s… I do that. Every single time. I’m too much or not enough.” He lets out a laugh that could slice through glass. “Even my parents didn’t want me. One ran away and the other sent me away. My father hates me, and I have no idea why.”
Everything inside me grinds to a halt. “Wait. You left. That was your choice. You hated me and my mother and…”
Kit pushes back so he can look me in the eyes. “I never ever asked to be sent away. Father told me that he had a new family, and I couldn’t stay. That day is etched in my memory. My nanny packed a suitcase for me while my father explained—no, he didn’t explain a damn thing, he just told me that I wasn’t his real son and that my mom ran away because she didn’t want me either. So he was sending me away so I wouldn’t taint his new family.”
What Kit is saying can’t be true—except I know he’s not lying. The anguish in his face isn’t something anyone but an extremely talented actor could fake. It also explains so much, but also poses more questions. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m not lying. Why would I lie about my parents not wanting me?”
I pull Kit to me and hold him tightly. “I know you’re not lying. I meant… everything. Baldwin always said that it was your choice to leave, and he was always spending all this money on you. You’d demand to go to a new school at the drop of a hat, and each new one was more expensive than the one before. There was that year we were supposed to go to Disney, but you had to have that horse and that was so expensive…”
Kit bursts into laughter bordering on hysteria. “A horse?”
A sense of unreality sweeps over me. “And then there was that Maserati for your sixteenth… holy fuck. My stepfather conned me. He conned my mom, too. Fuck . There was never any horse or sports car or fancy vacations, were there?”
He shakes his head at me. “No horse. No car, either. I bought my first car, and it wasn’t a Maserati. Who buys a teenager a Maserati? My first car was an incredibly boring Mercedes sedan. I paid for it out of my trust fund, and I couldn’t get anything really cool because my grandfather was the administrator of the fund.”
“No wonder you never wanted to spend time with us on school vacations.”
Kit gives me an incredulous look. “Peter, I never spent time with you on my school holidays because I wasn’t welcome. My home, when I wasn’t in school, was with my grandparents. They were the only ones who cared about me.”
“So many fucking lies.” I can’t seem to get over that. “And for what?”
“I’ve spent most of my life trying to figure that out,” Kit says. “Why wasn’t I good enough? Why did my parents hate me?”
“Your mom probably didn’t hate you,” I say, rubbing his back. “And Baldwin is clearly a sociopath, so you were probably better off far away.”
“If my mother didn’t hate me,” Kit says, sounding close to tears by now, “then why did she leave? And why didn’t she come back to get me?”
I push Kit a bit away from me so I can look in his face. “Is that a serious question?”
“It’s actually rhetorical. I’m sure you don’t know why my mother left and never came back.”
This might be the most fucked up thing of all. How can he not know? It’s insane. On the other hand, until five minutes ago I been positive Kit had been gifted with both an expensive horse and an even more expensive sports car by Baldwin Minola. That fucking con man.
I honestly don’t know how to say this. It’s something I shouldn’t have to say. It’s definitely not my story to tell, but I’m sure as hell not letting him think his mother abandoned him.
“Kit. I need to tell you something. Something that’s going to upset you and… god, I don’t know how to say this. It’s so wrong.”
“Just tell me,” he says, sounding infinitely weary. “How much worse could it be?”
Potentially bad question to ask. “Baldwin lied to me and mom about you. Said you refused to live with his new wife and stepson, told us how spoiled and demanding you were, and how he couldn’t do anything about it because you were his father’s favorite.”
“Like only ten percent of that is true,” Kit says flatly.
I am so the wrong person for this job. I take a deep breath then go for it, like I’m pulling off a Band-Aid. “Your mother didn’t leave she died.”
Kit goes ramrod straight like someone stuck an entire fire poker up his ass. “Excuse me?” His voice is quiet and disturbing as hell. “That’s not funny, Peter. That’s not something to joke about.”
I can tell that he would like to think I made a joke but knows I didn’t. “Yeah, it’s not funny. Not even a little bit. You were pretty young when it happened.”
“No. This doesn’t make any sense. There would’ve been a funeral. I would remember that. Right?”
“You were probably still in the hospital. Mom said Baldwin’s first wife was killed in a car accident. You were in that car, Kit. In the backseat. You ended up with some kind of head injury. That I’m sure of because you were in a coma. Not for a long time, I don’t think. A few weeks, maybe. I’m sure my mom would remember.”
I keep expecting some kind of explosion from Kit but there’s nothing. Just an eerie stillness that kinda scares the crap out of me.
“Kit?” I venture, skating one hand lightly over his hair. It occurs to me that I’m treating him like a wild animal that will bite or scratch me any minute now. “Are you—”
“If you’re going to ask if I’m okay, no, I’m fucking not okay. Not even a little bit. I need to talk to Nonna. I need to talk to her right now.” Kit pulls away from me and walks stiffly out of the bedroom, still naked as a jay bird. I can faintly hear him talking and assume he’s called his grandmother.
What an absolute fucking shit show. I need a drink. Or several. Many drinks. Yes, it’s morning. I don’t fucking care.
Kit walks back into the bedroom, not even looking at me, then goes into the bathroom. He doesn’t exactly slam the door behind him, but it’s the next best thing. That door is closed . I hear the shower start up and wander into the guest room to use the shower in there.
After the shower I walk back to Kit’s room and find the bathroom door is wide open and there is no Kit to be seen. I hear my phone buzz and find it eventually on the floor halfway under the bed.
I have several messages but the one I’m interested in is from Kit.
Kit: I’m going to see my grandmother. Help yourself to anything in the house. No idea how long I’ll be.
Just in case he’s driving, I don’t risk messaging him back. I’ll do that later. In the meantime, I paw through Kit’s wardrobe to find something to wear that’ll fit me. I end up with the jeans from yesterday and another sweater. This one is blue and is so soft it feels like I’m touching a kitten.
I go out to the kitchen and the cats look at me like they’ve never been fed before in their entire lives. It’s possible Kit fed them, but just in case I scoop some food into each bowl. Falstaff starts eating but the other two look at me like they were expecting something better. Fucking cats.
Unsure what to do, I pace the kitchen. I need to talk to Baldwin but I’m not really in the mood. I mean I’m never really in the mood, but today has been a super fucked up mess. I can only deal with one crisis at a time, so I pull out my phone to text Veronica.
Me: I need brunch and alcohol stat
Veronica: I’m in. Where?
Me: anywhere with a liquor license, lol
Veronica: okay Betty Ford
Me: who’s Betty Ford
Veronica: learn some damn history. Meet me at La Luna in like an hour
Me: is there alcohol?
Veronica: yes, lol also drag queens
Me: I’m in