9. Luca
CHAPTER 9
LUCA
The music blasting from the Foster’s home was so loud I could hear it from the street, where I’d parked my car. What were we, in an 80s movie, college house party? At least there was no one doing keg stands on the front lawn.
I shoved the small, wrapped box into the inside pocket of my coat and walked toward the loud, pulsing beat, trying desperately not to remember how old I was.
Still, every step closer to the house was a reminder that I wasn’t in my twenties anymore. Hell, I was barely in my 30s at this point, and I had no business being at a 21-year-old’s birthday party, even if he was a family friend and I’d been invited by his parents. The thoughts I had for Brooks didn’t belong in my mind, and I didn’t belong here.
I touched his gift through my coat. I should at least give him his present. Yes, that was what I would do. Drop it off and get the fuck out of here. Maybe go to the club and find someone to play with. Skye was on a mission, but there were plenty of willing subs and bottoms that could help me get out of my head for a while.
Satisfied with my plan, I reached the door. I doubted anyone would hear me knock, but it felt rude to just enter. I raised my fist, only to come face-to-face with the object of my discomfort as the door opened.
“Luca!” Brooks yelled, his voice so loud and high-pitched, I could hear it over the music. “You came!”
Then my arms were full of a grown man as he threw himself at me. “Hi, trouble. Happy birthday. How much have you had to drink already?”
Brooks laughed and bounced up on his toes, but he didn’t let go of me. I was embarrassed of how good he felt in my arms, all warm and snuggly and smelling like a mix of tequila and vanilla that should be terrible but somehow just worked.
He finally pulled away with an eyeroll and allowed me to step into the house. He looked good. He was wearing a hot pink T-shirt that said It’s my 21 st birthday, bitches in bold white letters matched with faded jeans that seemed to have more holes than fabric. He had on at least ten rainbow-colored, plastic necklaces. Some looked to be just beads. One had plastic 21 charms hanging off it. One had mini shot glasses, and at least two of them had mini penis charms. Okay then . . .
As usual, his left arm was lined with bracelets, but on his right, he had four of those paper wrist bands you got at bars and events. Dave had told me he was taking Brooks out at midnight with a few of his friends. He must’ve not taken them off.
His dark hair flew out in at least 100 different directions, which didn’t matter because of the sparkly tiara he wore that also said 21 st birthday on it.
He grinned and swayed and finally answered my question. “Not much today, I swear. Uncle Joey was tryna get me to have 21 shots, but Dad lost his shit.” Brooks laughed. “Which was good cause then I’d never have been awake for you to show up, which was the best birthday present ever!”
The boy sure knew how to melt my fucking heart. I took a breath and steeled myself. I needed to get the fuck out of here before I did something I’d regret. I dug in my pocket and fished out the present.
“I got something for you, trouble.”
Brooks smiled so sweetly, like he was genuinely surprised. “Really?” Then he wiggled his hands in a gimme gesture. “Can I open it now?”
I smiled. “Sure.”
Brooks tore through the paper, leaving shreds all over the floor in the front room of his parents’ house. He frowned for a second at the soft box that almost looked like a necklace box.
Then he opened it, his eyes going wider and wider by the moment before he finally pulled the custom-made knife out of the box. He extended the blade, admiring the wicked sharp edge that when held in the light would make the steel look rainbow-colored. The iridescent theme carried down to the hilt, which had been custom made to fit Brooks’s hand—with some serious help and sneaking from his family.
“Fuck, Luca . . .” He met my eyes, and the emotions in his pretty blue ones stole my fucking breath away. “This is . . . I don’t even have words. Which, seriously, might be the first time ever. I . . .”
“Turn it over, trouble. It’s engraved.”
Brooks bounced excitedly as he read the inscription, then I had him in my arms again, this time with an extremely sharp blade dangerously close to my ear. But even drunk, I trusted Brooks with it.
What I didn’t trust was myself when he kissed me, loud and a little wet on the cheek. It was innocent, but tell that to my fucking cock.
“Thank you, Luca! Seriously. Thank you. I promise I’ll take good care of it and cherish it forever.”
I couldn’t even begin to formulate words before Brooks grabbed my hand and was dragging me away from the front door and farther into the house. “Come on, we have to show Mom and Dad! And then Diego. Maybe you can convince him to leave his room.”
I was helpless to stop him, my original plan out the window.
My eyes were gritty and dry as they blinked open, some unknown force waking me up. What time was it? The blackout curtains in my room made it impossible to tell, but it felt early. Too early to get up, but there was no point in trying to go back to sleep now.
I stretched, just then noticing the warm body pressed up against me. Skye. I smiled softly, remembering the events of last night. It didn’t completely take away all the stress, the memories, and the regrets, but my men had a way of making everything seem a little less hard than it was.
On the other side of Skye, Maverick stirred but seemed to still be asleep. I quietly leaned over and checked the time on my phone. 4:30 am. Fuck. Might as well get an early workout in and then get started on work. Fuck knew I had plenty.
Skye groaned and opened one eye when the bed dipped as I stood up. Leaning over, I kissed the side of his head. “Shh, it’s early. Get more sleep.”
“Mmmkay.” He rolled over and buried himself into Mav’s side.
A burst of warmth spread through me as I stumbled to the bathroom to take care of morning business and brush my teeth.
The dream was still fresh in my mind, but I pushed it aside. It had been a long time since I’d thought about that night. There were a lot of things I could have done differently, but I didn’t regret leaving. Just because Brooks was back in my life, older and somehow more appealing, didn’t change a thing. He was only here because he was in danger.
I splashed some cold water on my face and glanced in the mirror. Ugh, I really needed to shave. The gray in my beard was somehow more noticeable than the dark brown, which honestly was just another reminder of how I had no business thinking about Brooks Foster. A little voice in my head reminded me that Skye was only 6 years older than him, but it didn’t feel the same. Maybe because I hadn’t known Skye as a kid or had a decent relationship with his parents? I couldn’t explain it, even to myself, and it was too fucking early to even try.
I left the bathroom and used the light on my phone to put on a pair of gym shorts and find my sneakers before leaving Mav and Skye still asleep on my bed.
Even with washing my face, my eyes still felt gritty and heavy. Coffee first, then a workout. I made a detour to the kitchen.
I was only half surprised to see Brooks in there, sitting on top of the counter and eating what looked like cold spaghetti out of a Tupperware with an open energy drink next to him. He was wearing nothing but a pair of threadbare gym shorts and knee-high Gay Pride socks paired with high-top, rainbow Chucks. All his tattoos were on display, covering his flat stomach and hairless chest, all the way up his neck. He had so many more than the last time I’d seen him and I was stuck for a moment, trying to take them all in. He shifted as he ate, and I got a good glimpse of the small silver hoops in both his nipples. I idly wondered if they were sensitive, and about the sounds he would make when I tugged them . . . .
Brooks froze when he saw me, the fork of spaghetti halfway to his mouth.
“Um . . . hi?” His cheeks pinkened, and I refused to let myself think about how adorable he looked.
When the fuck was the last time anyone had made spaghetti? It was a weird thing to focus on, but it was all I could think about. I had a chef that came in once or twice a week and premade meals for us, since none of us really had time to cook, but I didn’t remember eating spaghetti in the last month, let alone recently enough that it would still be good.
“Where’d that come from?” Brooks looked startled, which was a reasonable reaction.
“Um, the fridge?” It came out as more of a question than anything. “I figured it was okay? Was I supposed to ask?”
I shook my head and finally turned away from Brooks to the coffee machine. “No. You can eat whatever you want. I just didn’t know we even had spaghetti.”
“Oh.” Brooks’s feet kicked the counter. “It still tastes good, so it’s probably fine.”
I wrinkled my nose. Lovely. “It does beg the question, what’re you doing up this early, indulging in cold spaghetti and energy drinks?”
I turned around as he hopped off the counter and shoved another massive bite into his mouth before taking a few steps closer. “I couldn’t sleep. I went to the gym and worked out for like an hour, but then I got hungry, so I came here.”
He was too close. I busied myself with the coffee maker, wishing we had the fancy one that took all my concentration in here too, instead of a simple Keurig.
“You should try to get some more rest. It’s going to be a long few days.” I cleared my throat since it suddenly felt a little scratchy.
Brooks’s face went blank, and I thought for sure he was going to tell me off, say I had no right to tell him a damn thing. But instead, he shrugged. “I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I see Diego’s face when the perimeter alarms went off. If Wes wasn’t there . . .” He trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish.
My stomach soured, and suddenly I wasn’t in the mood for coffee. I wasn’t expecting such vulnerability from him, especially toward me. Brooks had been doing his best to keep a wall between us.
I studied him. He stood a few feet away from me, his arms down, hands flexing. He clearly hadn’t meant to share that, and he stared at me with a challenge in his eyes. He was daring me. But for what, I wasn’t sure. Did he think I’d say he was weak? That he couldn’t handle this? Fuck, we all had nightmares, and we had much more experience in this type of situation than Brooks did.
I took a step toward Brooks, hand outstretched. His body stiffened, and I immediately dropped my arm like it was a fucking hot coal. Fuck.
“We’ll get through this,” I said instead. “I swear, Brooks. We’ll figure out who’s responsible for this and won’t stop until you and Diego are safe.”
His tongue fiddled with his lip ring as he thought. “I shouldn’t be asking you for that. This isn’t on you.”
I frowned and leaned back against the counter just to have something to do with my hands. “You’re not asking. I’m offering. Let me help you, Brooks. This is what I do.”
The stillness that seemed to hold him captive broke, and Brooks started to pace. “Not for free.”
Huh? I couldn’t even begin to follow his train of thought. Yeah, we usually got paid for jobs like this, but he was out of his fucking mind if he thought I’d accept money from him or Diego.
I didn’t get to clarify because he kept talking. “And there’s no way I could even begin to pay whatever ridiculous fee you probably charge. Especially now that I doubt I’ll ever get the money for that job. It was supposed to pay for Pops’s physical therapy and medical bills, and now I’ll have to find another way to get the money, but I can’t exactly take a job when I have fucking hitmen breaking into my home, and now we’re even more indebted to you, and . . .”
“Brooks.” He stopped midsentence and spun on his heels to face me. He met my eyes, pupils dilated as he sucked in a breath.
I hadn’t meant to use that tone on him. I had no right to use my Dom voice. He’d made that perfectly clear, but it had sort of just happened, because I had no idea how else to stop his rambling.
Brooks’s lips parted, but no sound came out. He just stood there, waiting . . .
From the second I stepped forward, I knew it was wrong. Brooks was in a strange place and our relationship was strained at best. There were so many better ways to handle the situation. But all I could focus on was his lips and his little, raspy breaths that went straight to my cock, or how his blue eyes seemed to get brighter the more strongly he felt, or how he was the perfect mixture of vulnerability and strength. All I could think was do his lips still taste the same ?
I was on him before he realized what was happening. He staggered back a step, taken off guard, but my hand around his neck steadied him and my lips met his. Brooks gasped, shocked, his body frozen, and then he relaxed, melted into the kiss honestly. His hands clutched at my shoulders. My fingers on my other hand curled into his hair, still just as soft and thick as last time, and yes, he still tasted faintly of vanilla, and leftover spaghetti, but that was so Brooks that it had me deepening the kiss, desperate for a little more and . . .
Brooks shoved against me, pushing me away. He looked . . . Well, he looked amazing with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. The curls in the back of his head were sticking up from where my hand had held him . . . and then I met his eyes and he seemed completely broken.
Fuck. “Brooks, I—” I didn’t even know where to begin. I shouldn’t have done that? It was a mistake? No, I wouldn’t insult him by saying that again. His expression last time I’d said those words still haunted me. I’m sorry? I should have asked? I opened my mouth to say something, anything to get him to stop staring at me like that, but Brooks shook his head, stopping me in my tracks.
“We’re not doing this,” he snapped, his tone shrill and a little panicky. I reached out to touch him, but he pushed my hand away.
“Brooks, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking—”
“You were my first. Did you know that?”
I blinked, unable to process his words. “Your first?” His first what? It wasn’t making sense.
Brooks rolled his eyes. “God, Luca. You were my first everything! I lost my virginity that night to you. But you were also my first fucking kiss, my first blow job, my first real introduction into kink. All of it. And yeah, it probably wasn’t fair to you. I know you didn’t know that, and I let you believe I was more experienced than I was. Which, I really am fucking sorry for. But never in a million years did I expect you to just walk out on me at 3 in the fucking morning without even a second glance. You never even checked on me the next day. You know how fucking hard I dropped, man? And I had no one but Diego to help me through it. My fucking touch adverse brother who had to google his way through it all. So yeah, I know it’s been three years, and yeah, I know you had no idea what you did to me. You couldn’t possibly know, and I don’t blame you for that. But I can’t . . . I fucking can’t let myself go there anymore. It took me a long time to get comfortable enough to even fall into subspace again. You broke me, Luca. It might not have been intentional, but you did. So unless you really want to work to put the pieces back together, I need you to stay the fuck away.”
I stood there, my world shattered. Everything I thought I knew had detonated, and I had no clue how to start to fix the damage. I’d been his first? The guilt hit me harder than ever and I couldn’t fucking breathe. What the fuck had I done?
Something in Brooks’s eyes flashed, but I was way too gone to begin to make sense of it. “I’m going to check on Diego.” Then, Brooks sprinted out of the room, leaving me alone, and I collapsed to my knees, and a sob escaped me.