19. Briar
19
brIAR
Ringing wakes me up. It sounds stupidly loud, like it’s ringing in my head. I squint my eyes open just as it stops. Sighing, I roll and reach for Noaz, bringing them to my chest and wrapping around them. They hum quietly, pressing a soft kiss to my collarbone as their hands move lazily against my back.
I’m nearly asleep when the ringing starts again. This time I recognize it. My phone. More specifically, that’s Honey Bee’s assigned ringtone. I peek out of my eyelids to find the room bathed in morning light. Bright sunlight streams in, warming the space around us.
The phone stops and then begins again.
“Is someone dying?” Noaz murmurs.
“Unlikely, but she won’t stop calling until I answer.”
Noaz sighs and lets me go. While I’m loath to lose the feel of their skin against mine, I roll to reach blindly for my phone on the nightstand. The sun is nearly blinding this morning. It feels like I was up all night partying.
I wasn’t. I've spent the last few days—and nights—with my spouse, fucking like rabbits.
Smirking, I answer the phone, sticking it on speaker as I roll back to Noaz. I drop the phone behind them while wrapping them back in my arms. Noaz sighs once more, tucking themselves into my neck and against my body.
“Yes?” I answer.
“Are you still sleeping?” Honey Bee demands.
“We were until you kindly interrupted.”
“It’s late! Time to get up.”
I peek at the phone while responding and yeah, it’s definitely later than I thought. “We’re on our honeymoon. We can sleep all day if we choose to.”
We chose to stay home for our honeymoon and skip the trip entirely for now. We have a baby to prepare for and almost a month has gone by since we learned about the adoption being approved, which means we have barely over three months left to prepare. It’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
“You can do honeymoon activities at night. It’s time to address the next most important thing.”
“And that is?” I prompt.
“Making a baby registry so I can start shopping!”
I feel Noaz’s lips curl into a smile against my skin as they tuck their face further into me. Honestly, yeah, I love that idea, too.
However, I may not disagree but I am not awake enough to be harassed about this. “Later,” I say. “We’re going back to sleep.”
“I’ll give you an hour,” Honey Bee counters. “That’s it.” The phone beeps, signifying the call ending .
I sigh.
“Is it late?” Noaz asks.
“It’s 11:28, so… it’s not early.”
They grin. Their arms tighten around me but then relax as we both doze for a while longer. That is until my phone starts pinging with incessant text messages.
“Does that mean someone’s dying?” Noaz asks.
I snort. “No. It means I have a very pesty best friend. Guess we should get up.”
“I guess. The sheets need to be washed, anyway.”
We don’t move, though. At least not for a few minutes. But eventually, we roll ourselves out of bed and head for the shower, where we grope and tease under the hot spray of water. While both our cocks are interested in play, I think we both need a bit of a break from fooling around. We have definitely been making up for lost time over the last few days.
Once dressed, I hug Noaz to me. Now that I’m up, my stomach is growling. “You want to check out the food situation or change the bedding?”
“I’ll change the bedding,” Noaz says.
“Sounds good.” I kiss their forehead and leave them in the bedroom.
I’m not surprised to find the kitchen stocked with food. Since it all looks fresh, I’m guessing that this ‘staff’ Noaz spoke of has kept the fresh vegetables and fruit rotated as well as whatever’s in the fridge. Everything looks like it’s fresh from the market.
I pull out eggs, bacon, and some potatoes. While a pan is heating, I peel and chop the potatoes until they’re small chunks. Using a bunch of melted butter in the bottom of the pan, I begin making home fries, adding a little bit of onion and spices.
There are a lot of spices in the cabinet. Since the vast majority of them are used, it gives me the impression that Noaz must cook often when they’re here.
Keeping my eye on the potatoes so they get crisp without getting burned, I tend to my bacon and eggs. I just finished filling two plates when Noaz steps into the kitchen. They smile as I pull the chair out for them.
I love the sweet blush on their cheeks. So endearing, so sweet. Adding bowls of berries from the fridge, with coffee for Noaz and fresh juice for me, we sit at the table and eat. It’s quiet for the first dozen bites. I think we were both super hungry.
Once we stave off the initial starvation, Noaz says, “I guess maybe we need to kick prepping for baby into high gear. We have nothing.”
I nod, swallowing. “We can begin simply. Which bedroom are we using for the nursery?”
There are four bedrooms here, including ours.
“The one closest to us?” Noaz suggests. “At least while they’re a baby. When they’re older, they can choose a bedroom further away. Or when we have another—” Noaz cuts off. “We never talked about how many babies we want.”
“I’m happy with any number. We can spoil one or five.”
Noaz sighs. “I always wanted two or three. Maybe four at most. I’m part of a very big family and was raised with my six nephews, but… I think that’s too many for me.”
“I agree. Two or three sounds good. ”
Noaz smiles. “Okay. Back to this one. We can always keep the bedroom closest to us a nursery, so maybe a neutral pallet. That way, we can easily change it up.”
“The walls are gray now, right?” I ask, trying to remember which bedroom had what color walls.
Noaz nods. “Yep.”
“That’s neutral enough without being beige. I’m happy with that color if you are.”
“I am. Look at us plowing through decisions. Two down already.”
I laugh into my glass of juice. “At the very least, maybe we make today’s mission to order furniture. We don’t know how long it’ll take to arrive once ordered, then we need to put it together. Furniture is kind of mandatory before we can fill the room, ya know?”
“I agree. What do you think about getting dedicated furniture for the nursery? Something that will remain there for all our kids to share. Something we keep in the family.”
“I like that. Each baby will have a history with it. They’ll hold lots of great memories.”
Noaz pauses with their fork hovering over their plate. “I was just thinking, do you have anything from your childhood that you want to pass down to our kids?”
The way they talk about ‘kids’ as if we already have a hoard makes me grin far too wide. I try to dial it back in so I’m not looking like a loon. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I can check with my mom later. Do you?”
Noaz tilts their head, frowning. “We grew up here. Jalon’s responsible for building out the rest of the Estate since he moved back full-time. ”
“Full time?”
The nod. “Jalon took his boys when Loren was thirteen. That was when the… well, abuse, I suppose, from their mother got to a point where Jalon realized how bad it was.”
My insides freeze. “Abuse?”
Noaz sighs. “Ellory and Avory were never going to be separated, and Martha refused to accept that. She was borderline abusive to them with the way she talked to them. Calling them names and trying to shame them apart. Then there was Loren, whom she resented the moment he was diagnosed with an antisocial disorder. She did everything to try to force him to be like the rest of the world. Like his brothers— normal .
“The boys kept much of what happened at home from Jalon. The brothers didn't want anything getting back to Jalon, so though I was there a lot, I didn't tell him because they asked me not to. When you’re a kid, you kind of get this impression that anything negative going on around you in your home or between your parents is your fault. Besides Loren, who simply doesn’t have the capabilities, the brothers thought it was their fault Martha was a bitch.”
“That’s awful.”
“Yep. Loren didn’t care what Martha said to him. Again, he doesn’t have that kind of brain. But boy, did he get fired up when she’d go after the two-thirds triplets. I think the moment the boys realized the situation was out of hand was when Loren came into the bedroom to defend his brothers with a butcher knife in hand. Myro intervened, and that’s when Jalon found out how very bad it was at home.”
“He divorced her?”
“He took his boys and left her. They came here—a place Martha had never been. Part of me thinks Jalon knew Martha was bad news. He had so many legal roadblocks in place to prevent her from touching any of the Van Doren assets. She tried, though not too hard, but as far as I know, no one has heard from her in years.”
“Wow… I can’t imagine.”
Noaz shrugs. “Yep. Anyway, that’s what I mean by full-time. Once Jalon settled here, our brothers started migrating home from the places they’d dispersed to. The main house is huge and always has been, but as we grew up, Jalon realized we needed the ability to remain close while still having our own spaces. Family was always important to us, but I know how bad he feels for not realizing the extent of what was happening at home. How Martha treated their sons when he wasn’t there. Family became his sole priority. Everything he’s built here is for the comfort of his family.”
“I always knew he was a good man.”
“He is. He beats himself up over Martha a lot. My nephews seem indifferent to it at this point. I’m sure they all have their own internalized trauma because of it for various reasons and I would imagine their early childhood has colored how they view parenthood and maybe relationships. But I think they’re well rounded and very good people despite Martha’s behavior toward them.”
“I’ve read that psychopathy is genetic. They’re born that way. But sociopathy is from an environmental input that forms in part due to their surroundings.”
Noaz grins. “Yep. Boy, would Martha be horrified to know she’s part of the reason Loren is a sociopath. He was definitely born with the markers of a personality disorder, but you’re absolutely right. Psychopaths are born where sociopaths are made. Generally speaking, of course. There are exceptions to most rules. ”
“Yet, from how it sounds, Loren is somehow more compassionate than his mother.”
Noaz shrugs. We’re finished eating now, so we continue the conversation as we take care of our dishes and clean up together. “He is, and he isn’t. I think he’s aware of what compassion looks like but make no mistake, the man has no empathy, Briar. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel strong loyalty to people around him. His family is always the first people he defends, regardless of how little the offense is. He explains it away as habit, but if we pushed him to truly examine it, I know he’d find a different answer, even if he doesn’t understand it. Same goes for his connection to Oakley. He will tell you until he’s blue in the face that he doesn’t have the ability to feel love, but there’s no way anyone can look at them and not see just how much Loren loves Oakley.”
I nod. “It’s like he learned what his diagnosis meant and now takes those hallmarks as non-negotiable markers in himself.”
“Exactly. He has a definition of what he is and why he’s different. I know he understands he differs to some extent, but he definitely doesn’t see how he differs a lot for certain people and under specific circumstances, which is key.”
“Thanks for sharing this,” I say, pulling Noaz close again. They lean against me, a soft smile on their pretty face. “I appreciate knowing where you’ve come from and what you’ve been through. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit concerned for Oakley since learning that Loren is a sociopath, so this really puts my mind at ease.”
Noaz kisses my jaw. “All that to say, if there’s anything specific to my childhood here, it’ll be in the big house. Somewhere. We can go look later if you want.”
“Yes, and I’ll text my mother to see what she’s got. However, we need to talk about this baby registry so we can get Honey Bee off our backs.”
“Off your back,” Noaz teases.
“Oh no, beautiful. When she figures out she’s not getting what she wants from me, she’s going to look at you next. Be forewarned.”
Noaz laughs. They rest their head on my shoulder as we hug quietly in the kitchen. “I’m actually really happy about that. I like how she includes me and accepts me as much as she does.”
“She knew you first, and she’d always talked fondly about Uncle Noaz. It was me being slow as fuck and not putting together who I was seeing out the window was the person she was talking about.”
“How would you have known?” Noaz says, shrugging. “Most days, I definitely don’t appear as someone you’d call ‘uncle.’ Especially not from afar.”
“I sometimes wonder if she’d said anything about you being genderfluid. I wonder if she’d referred to you with pronouns at all and I missed it. Maybe I heard ‘uncle’ and immediately heard he/him after that, even if that’s not what she was saying,” I muse.
“Maybe, but it’s fine either way. As I said, I’m not particularly attached to any pronoun, I shuffle through them, depending on how I feel. I rarely get offended when I’m referred to with one that I’m not feeling that day. If the person speaking it intends offense, I’m still rarely offended because it only makes them feel better to get what they want from me.”
“You’re a much bigger person than most,” I say.
They hum. “By taking away the power of the asshole, they’re left feeling nothing but dissatisfied. They hurt who they think is an easy target. And I’m not one.”
“No. You’re an amazing person.” My phone rings and I sigh. “We’re going to have to put everything on hold while we make a baby registry for Honey Bee. You know that, right?”
Noaz laughs. “I’m not even sad about it. I love how much she cares.”
“Just remember you said that.”