Chapter 12 Liam
Liam
“D! Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” I shout.
It’s almost seven, and we’re due to meet Owen and Storm for cocktails in fifteen minutes.
Talking with Owen earlier about their business was inspiring. He has such a passion for hosting others. He talks about the massive house as if it were his kid, full of pride and excitement.
I followed Damon to college because my parents told me I had to go somewhere, and fuck all if I knew how to pick a college. Or a career, for that matter.
How the fuck is an eighteen-year-old supposed to know what they want to do for the rest of their life when they’ve barely experienced any life as it is? I hardly knew all my options.
Hell, I still don’t.
But I chose a degree in hospitality management. Yeah, it’s ironic because I can’t even manage myself, but it was easy, and I love showing people a good time, so it seemed like a good fit. Far better than business or IT.
“Keep your panties on, I’m coming,” Damon says as he walks out of his room looking like Mr. GQ.
If Damon’s in public, he’s in a tailored suit, looking like a million bucks.
“Fuck, Damon, I’ll be beating Owen and Storm off of you with a stick tonight.”
I’m only teasing, but Damon’s eyes go wide.
“What are you talking about?” he snaps.
So, we’re back to this attitude, are we?
“I just meant you look good, D. Damn, take a compliment.”
He blows out an exhale.
“Sorry. Thanks. How are you feeling?”
I shrug. “I’ll probably stick with club soda tonight, but otherwise, I feel good.”
“If you start feeling bad, just let me know, and I’ll get us out of there, okay?” he asks, totally serious.
I appreciate how well he takes care of me, but his comment gives me pause. I’ve relied on him so much over the years that I’ve somehow convinced him I can’t even excuse myself from a social setting if needed without his help.
“Thanks, but I should be fine.”
He grabs his cell phone off the counter, and suddenly, I realize we’ve hardly taken any pictures this entire trip.
As he slips his phone into his pocket, I pull mine out and put my arm around his waist, pulling him into me.
He turns his head toward me slowly.
“Say cheese,” I say, grinning widely for the camera I’m now holding out in front of us.
I click the shutter button four or five times in rapid succession, hoping I caught at least one where both of our eyes are open.
“I thought you were in a big hurry,” Damon gripes.
“There’s always time for a picture, D.”
Cocking the shy smile he reserves just for me, he says, “You’re right. I promise to do a better job of remembering to take them. Now, come on, we really do need to head out.”
The walk to the bar is relaxing. The cold air is a little damp from the recent snowfall, but it helps clear my head.
I meant it when I told Damon I forgave him for not telling me about Taylor and my dad, because I do.
I truly believe Damon would use his dying breath to protect me, and having to tell me the truth about that whole situation had to have sucked.
Although I still haven’t really processed that part, and if I think about it too long, it makes me mad as hell at my dad, and I don’t want to spend the rest of our vacation being mad.
I’ll deal with it later.
It isn’t like he’s spoken to me much since that night anyway. He mostly texts instead of calling, and when he does call, it’s the same superficial crap, but nothing truly meaningful.
Huh, it’s ironic that he lied so he didn’t ruin our relationship, but our relationship feels ruined anyway…and it wasn’t even me who pulled back.
“Do you think my dad blames me for losing Taylor?” I blurt as we approach the restaurant.
Damon stops abruptly.
“Where did that come from?” he asks.
“Dunno. My mind was wandering, and I realized that my dad and I haven’t spoken much since that night, and when we do talk, it’s like he’s on eggshells and doesn’t know how to act.
I was just thinking maybe that’s why he never calls.
He had to choose between me and Taylor, and maybe he thinks he made the wrong choice. ”
Oh fuck. I made Damon make the same choice.
And he chose me at the cost of Taylor as well.
Jesus, poor Taylor.
“Damon, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve made you take sides like I did.”
He stops me before I can pull the door open and places a hand on my chest, pushing me off the main sidewalk so we don’t block traffic.
“Hey, you didn’t make me do anything, Liam.
And I would make the same choice time and time again, do you hear me?
I’m always on your side. And your dad has no one to blame but himself for how things turned out between him and Tay.
He shouldn’t have hidden it from you, and he definitely shouldn’t have used my brother as a scapegoat for his cowardice. ”
The fierceness in his eyes makes my chest warm.
I’m pretty sure no one has ever loved me like Damon Landry.
But as this realization hits me and lessens my anxiety, Damon’s brows pinch together, and his jaw clenches.
I put my thumbs on both sides of his jaw and rub, trying to ease his tension.
“What’d I say?” I ask, wondering what sent him to this place.
Before he can answer, Owen and Storm approach us on the sidewalk.
“Ooh, I hope we aren’t interrupting,” Owen says playfully.
I drop my hands from Damon’s face. Instead of looking relieved, though, he watches my hands fall with a sadness I don’t recognize, and I become determined to get to the bottom of what the hell is going on as soon as we’re back at the cabin.
“Not at all,” I tell him. “Just annoying my bestie while waiting for you guys.”
Storm reaches over and grabs the door handle before placing a hand on Owen’s lower back, guiding him inside. “Shall we?” he asks, moving behind Owen, but holding the door open for me to take over.
Instead of walking through it first, like I normally would, I take a page from Storm’s book, holding it open. Stepping to the side, I try the move on Damon, putting my hand on his back as I gently usher him through the door.
He looks back at me and cocks a brow, clearly asking the fuck are you doing?
I shrug. It seems like such a responsible, mature thing to do, and so what if Damon’s not my date? Does that mean I can’t make the gesture for him? Lord knows he does plenty of shit for me that most people would only do for a spouse.
I almost pull his chair out for him at the high-top table, too, but admittedly, that’s a little much.
Once we’re seated, time flies, and when we leave three hours later, my head is swirling with thoughts and ideas.
The four of us talked about everything from business ownership—which Damon and Storm enjoyed since D works for his dad’s company, and Storm runs the business aspect of their bed-and-breakfast—to travel and what makes a place feel welcoming, which Owen and I ran with, being the extroverts of the group, and the ones most likely to strike up a conversation with a stranger.
Damon discreetly picks the tab up so there isn’t that awkward table fuss.
Let me pay. No, no, me, I insist. After telling our new friends goodnight, I stop to use the restroom on the way out.
When Damon and I finally leave the restaurant, we turn the corner to find Owen and Storm embraced in a passionate kiss, where it looks like Storm is manhandling the shit out of Owen.
“Oh,” I whisper.
I know it’s rude to stare, but I can’t force my eyes away from the pair. I mean, I’ve known queer people my whole life. Hell, I was around Taylor literally every day growing up, but I never really paid attention…which I’m realizing is both good and bad.
It never stuck out to me like something was wrong with it, but I never paused to see the beauty and power in it, either.
And my dick is letting me know we like beauty and power.