Chapter 22
Around midnight, the snow finally stopped, but it was replaced by an unnerving stillness that permeated the Big Bear sanctuary.
Silent as a crypt, its inhabitants had all retired back to their rooms after the planned dinner vanished unceremoniously along
with April Sun.
Bundled in a bathrobe, Kat was staring out the window at the icy darkness outside. “I guess hell really can freeze over,”
she said.
“Mierda, don’t say things like that.” Once again feeling nauseous, a nightgown-clad Bessie was lying on the bed next to Bindi,
massaging both their bellies. “Not in front of our hosts.”
Sitting on the ground in a ribbed tank top and boxers, Jamaal was eating cold leftover noodles. “No, I’d say that’s a pretty
accurate vibe check of tonight.”
Pacing back and forth in front of the crackling fireplace, Wayward was in pajamas and a foul mood. “Today was a shit show.
How did it all implode like that?”
“Things seemed to fall apart when April spoke to Roses,” Bessie said. “Didn’t you say she and her husband were in a good place,
though?”
“Yeah, that’s what Cris said,” Wayward said. “But now he’s hiding in his room, unwilling to talk to me.”
“I thought you said that this was everything that he and April wanted,” Kat said. “And we delivered it to them, on a solid
gold platter.”
“Exactly,” Wayward said, tugging at his hair. “That’s what’s driving me crazy.”
“Maybe you have no idea what April wants,” Jamaal said quietly.
Wayward stopped pacing and looked down at him. “What do you mean?”
Jamaal dropped his chopsticks onto the plate. “Do you ever talk to your cousin about what she wants or where she’s coming
from, or do you only listen to her husband?”
As the atmosphere grew even frostier, Wayward clenched his jaw. Bessie and Kat exchanged nervous looks.
“April doesn’t give me the time of day,” Wayward replied curtly, “and you know that.”
Jamaal sighed. “I’m just saying that—”
“Yes, please explain, what are you saying?” Wayward interrupted, very loudly.
“All righty then!” Kat was already helping Bessie off the bed. “Time to get Mother Nature here some sleep!”
Bessie gave Wayward a sympathetic look, but he was glaring at Jamaal as she and Kat made their hasty departure, shutting the
door softly behind them.
Still sitting on the ground, Jamaal looked up at his boyfriend. “Don’t get upset. I just think when it comes to April—”
Once again, Wayward interjected. “You think I steamrolled her and it backfired.”
Jamaal raised his eyebrows. “Well, I wouldn’t have used those exact words, but I do think it’s weird that two men were strategizing
about a woman’s body and her reproductive choices without including her in the conversation.”
Wayward threw his hands up into the air, frustrated. “I feel like a failure already, J! Do you have to make me feel like a dick too?”
Bindi whined into his paws, his eyes darting back and forth between his humans.
“Don’t play the victim,” Jamaal said. “You included Bessie in every step of our plan. Why couldn’t you offer April the same
courtesy?”
“Because my family is fucked-up, that’s why!” Wayward yelled. “Because every time I try to unite them, they sabotage me! Because
April hates me, and no matter what I do, she’ll never forgive me for replacing her at Sunfang Global!”
Jamaal stood up. “April is not your colleague anymore, and her baby is not a project like Promessa. You’re absolutely right,
you steamrolled her like she was a rival at work and it backfired—and guess what? If you can’t learn from this to improve
how you relate to your family, you SHOULD feel like a failure.”
Wayward stuck a finger in Jamaal’s face. “So that’s why you’ve been meeting with my mom behind my back!”
Jamaal leaned back, astonished. “Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?”
“I heard you two earlier this morning. Why are you talking with her? What’s the secret between the two of you?”
His lips pressed tight, Jamaal shook his head at Wayward. Then he walked over to the bed and yanked the blanket out from underneath
Bindi so fast that the overgrown puppy hid behind the pillows. Slinging the blanket over his shoulder, Jamaal headed to the
door.
“Where are you going?” Wayward demanded.
“I’ve had enough Sun Clan conspiracy theories for tonight,” Jamaal said. “I’m going to sleep on one of the five thousand couches
in this ridiculous cabin, because any of them is going to be warmer than you right now.”
Wayward blocked his way to the door. “It’s just a simple question, J. Why won’t you answer it? What’s going on with you and
my mom?”
“Why do you resent that woman so much?” Jamaal asked. “You spent the first half of our relationship upset that she might not accept us, but then when you see her and me together, you automatically assume the worst. She can’t win with you, Wayward, and that’s not fair.”
Wayward crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. “Sounds like deflection to me.”
Jamaal firmly pressed against Wayward’s shoulder to get him to move. “Wayward Sun-Kwok, for the last eight and a half months
you’ve been orchestrating a complex Machiavellian plot to reconcile April with her mother. But what about you and your own
mom?”
Silenced by this, Wayward slowly stepped aside to let Jamaal pass.
“Sounds like projection to me,” Jamaal said right as he shut the door.
Wayward let out a long groan, then fell onto his bed. He buried his face in Bindi’s neck. “Goddammit, Bindi. Can this weekend
get any worse?”
As if in response, Bindi drooled right into Wayward’s eye.
Leashed and forgotten in the sanctuary’s dark kitchen on the first floor, Houyi Sun could smell that something was fatally
wrong.
In vain, the old pit bull tugged at his leash, which was tied to the immovable breakfast table. Never before in his privileged
life had he been made to wear a collar, let alone been leashed, but he knew that his standing in his family had diminished.
Houyi’s pack mentality enabled him to understand complex dynamics within his family, especially with Roses.
It was all because of the stranger in robes.
Houyi could not help it; he intuitively knew that this stranger was dangerous, so he had made the tactical error of being openly hostile toward him.
He had already warned Roses by growling and barking at the stranger, but this stranger had a captivating hold over her, one that Houyi could not sway.
In desperation, Houyi finally took drastic action. A few months ago, he hid behind a corner in the Malibu compound, waiting
for the stranger to approach. As he heard the footsteps approaching, Houyi pounced . . . but in his haste he had not sensed
Roses as well. He landed upon his mistress instead, knocking her to the floor, stunning them both.
So when Houyi was collared and leashed and, for the first time in his blessed life, treated like a dog, he realized that the
stranger in robes had become the alpha in their household, and Houyi his subordinate.
And it was in this sad state that Houyi resigned to live the rest of his fading life. Rapidly, the pit bull’s eyesight worsened,
his hearing muffled, and his spirit was broken.
Until today, when he smelled something strange.
Of all the Sun cousins, Houyi always detected Lola first, because of the constant swirl of motorcycle exhaust around her.
So when he sniffed a seemingly impossible trail of her trademark scent, one that began high above him and almost instantly
ended below him, his instincts were triggered.
He knew Lola was in trouble.
Houyi pulled hard at his leash. His collar had been fastened very tightly, and was stuck against his jaw. But as he winced
in pain, the pit bull let his mouth go slack, and soon enough, the collar began to slide over his brow, inverting his ears,
scraping over his snout.
With one final tug, the leash flew off of him, and he was free.
Wasting no time, Houyi Sun dashed toward the basement.
Alone in his room on the second floor, Sunbern was battling his Shannon-induced blues the best way he knew how: by gooning
with poppers.
Propped up against the headboard by a mound of soft pillows, he watched on his laptop what he considered the Old Faithful of porn: a vintage MILF Hunter clip from 2005.
As he tugged down on his sack, Sunbern worked his other hand up his shaft, before pausing right under his bulbous head to massage it right where it was most sensitive with his thumb and forefinger.
Balanced between his sculpted pecs was a small brown bottle containing a clear liquid and two tiny white pellets. With lubey
fingers, Sunbern reached for the bottle, using his teeth to twist open its cap. He brought the rim to his nostril and took
in a deep inhale of its heady, bittersweet fumes.
Almost instantly, every vessel in his body dilated open, hot blood rushing from the tip of his penis to the top of his brain.
Sunbern’s eyes rolled up into their sockets.
Masturbating with poppers was a gay boy secret that Wayward had shared with him when they were still teenagers, and back then
the cousins would jokingly refer to it as “Godgasming.” But as someone who never had a problem getting laid, Sunbern tried
to be a purist when it came to his orgasms—by hole or by hand was good enough for him.
That said, being sexually rejected by Shannon had done a number on him, and because she was also carrying his unborn baby,
Sunbern felt like it was a double rejection by the people who should love him the most. He needed the mindless rush of poppers,
and maybe once he came, he could think clearly again.
He felt himself arriving soon, his penis engorged to its full potential. One more hit, he thought. Swimming in oozy pleasure,
he brought the bottle back to his nose . . . but his slippery fingers lost control.
Before Sunbern could react, the noxious liquid spilled all over him, burning at his skin upon contact. “Fuck!” He jumped out
of bed, flinging his laptop aside. Rushing to the bathroom, he leaned over the sink and splashed the water onto his chest