Chapter Eleven
It was the most awkward and arousing experience of Kaiden’s life.
He lay in his bed, wide awake and ignoring his morning errands in favor of a small existential crisis.
For the life of him, he couldn’t get the memories of that night out of his head.
The smell of Dylan’s sweat and cologne, the taste of tobacco on Rus’ lips, the firmness of their bodies pressed against his, the excitement in their gaze, the curiosity in their eyes, the hunger in their expressions.
The most maddening part of this was that Kaiden didn’t have anyone to talk to about it.
If he were to talk to anyone, it’d be Dylan.
But he couldn’t exactly discuss how hung up he was on Dylan’s kiss with Dylan, especially since he found himself entranced by Rus in equal measure.
It wasn’t just the kisses. The touches. The passion.
It was the kindness, the consideration, the sincerity in who Kaiden was and how he ticked.
When Dylan texted Kaiden about hanging out this weekend, he seriously considered it.
Especially since Rus had group texted he’d be out of town this weekend, some college three-day weekend trip home.
If Kaiden were going to work up the nerve to talk about these kisses, these feelings, it’d probably be that much easier to just talk to one of them at a time.
Then again, could he really talk to Dylan about these bizarre blossoming whatevers?
Kaiden couldn’t figure out what to make of his feelings for Dylan or Rus.
The idea of Dylan being anything more than a friend was difficult to comprehend.
It wasn’t like Kaiden hadn’t considered it.
Oh, he’d most certainly daydreamed about Dylan once upon a time.
He was funny and flirty. Mostly, he was nice.
It didn’t hurt that he was adorable to look at and had no qualms about showing off his tight stomach at pretty much every opportunity.
But Dylan was out of Kaiden’s league. Truthfully, Kaiden didn’t believe he had any prospects to offer anyone.
Sure, he’d lost weight, he’d jumped on the fitness train, but the insecurity of his skin still followed him.
The inner fat boy still haunted him every time he stared at his reflection.
And Kaiden really tried to see himself for who he’d become, to take pride in the accomplishments he’d made.
Kaiden just couldn’t celebrate one tiny victory when he had so many other faults.
Sure, he gained control over his binge eating and worked out regularly to get into some semblance of shape, but he still blundered a thousand other things.
He lived at home with his family. He had a job he enjoyed, but not one that paid well or came with benefits.
His car was garbage and cost more to keep running than the damned thing was worth.
He wasn’t smart enough for college—hell, he barely managed to graduate from high school.
It just didn’t make any sense.
Why would Dylan or Rus be interested in Kaiden?
He had nothing to offer them. No charming personality, no good looks, and certainly nothing materialistic.
He worried the kiss was pity. And that made facing either of them again that much harder. He didn’t want to drag Dylan or Rus down, didn’t want to hold them back, and somehow, he felt like he now stood in their way.
An awkward, silly conversation that turned into a wonderful kiss, followed by an enchanting kiss, met with the most spectacular five minutes of Kaiden’s life… But now he believed himself an intrusion on what was clearly palpable chemistry between Dylan and Rus.
Speaking of intrusions, the loud creak of Kaiden’s bedroom door alerted him to the presence of someone approaching.
“You’re actually home for a change,” Kaiden’s mother said, standing in the doorway with a basket of laundry.
He didn’t reply, lost in his thoughts, twisted up in his feelings, and lacking any real outlet to divulge them.
His mother invited herself into his bedroom, much like she always did, and started to fold clothes.
Not Kaiden’s clothes. Nope. She never volunteered, and honestly, most of his wardrobe required a gentle touch from the suits he had to the corset vests he’d handwash or occasionally send out for drycleaning if he could afford such luxuries.
No, the laundry belonged to his nephews, and their dressers ate up a good chunk of space in Kaiden’s bedroom.
“You’ve been going out a lot,” she said, tucking away a pair of pajamas. “Partying? Clubbing? Anything risky like last time?”
Kaiden scoffed. His family only brought up his incident as a warning about the dangers his lifestyle brought.
After the heated argument with his sister, he learned not to engage when someone in his family made an off-handed quip.
It was easier to nod and ignore than speak and educate.
None of them were interested in learning a goddamn thing.
“It’s been challenging watching the boys day in and day out.”
“Yeah, grandkids can be a handful.”
Kaiden knew exactly where this conversation was heading—a guilt trip. His mother had used them time and time again when recruiting Kaiden into helping with things that shouldn’t have been his responsibility.
“It’s put a lot of pressure on your sister,” his mother continued. “With work, the kids, saving up, especially with so many unforeseen expenses…”
Kaiden did his best to tune out his mother.
It pained him to ignore her plight, but the thing was, it wasn’t her plight.
It was Sandra. He’d gone out of his way to help for years without asking for a thing in return, even letting the subtle homophobic attitudes in the house slide.
But after their argument, he realized there was nothing subtle about her bigotry, her disdain for his lifestyle, her disgust.
If she wanted to blame Kaiden for his own assault, then he’d continue refusing his assistance. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give up his evenings and days off to watch his nephews and baby niece when their own father couldn’t be bothered to sacrifice one night to watch them.
“Your father and I were—”
“Stepfather,” Kaiden corrected.
“We were discussing how you’re not contributing anymore.” His mother stopped folding a pair of jeans midway, practically using them as some type of buffer to shield herself from Kaiden.
She hated conflict almost as much as he did, which was why she always sided with the majority, and why Kaiden almost always got left on the outside of any argument.
“Not contributing?” He sat up, offended at that notion. “I do all the grocery shopping. I’m the only reason we have any streaming services in this house. Pretty sure the electricity is still in my name because John can’t—”
“You know how difficult things have been for your father,” his mother interjected, nostrils flaring, and eyes already watering.
“Stepfather,” Kaiden snapped, refusing to let his mother slip in the familial term like it meant a goddamn thing.
John had made it clear from every skipped school event, every field trip form left unsigned, every doctor’s visit he’d forgotten, every bully he supported to knock some sense into Kaiden, and a million other tiny horrors that he didn’t consider Kaiden family.
He was simply the unwanted toddler from a bad marriage.
Sandra was his only child, and Kaiden found himself reminded of this fact every day of his life.
“At least he’s here,” Kaiden’s mother said, drawing him away from buried childhood nightmares. “Unlike you, going out every night, leaving us to fend for ourselves, exploiting our good grace.”
“Exploiting?” Kaiden scoffed. “I share a room with my fucking nephews.”
“More like you take away from a room your nephews could have.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sandy has been working so hard to give them everything she can, just like me and your father try to give you kids everything we can,” his mother spoke with a tremble in her voice, puppeteering some rehearsed speech, no doubt.
Only Kaiden couldn’t discern if this was a speech she’d practiced herself or been coached on by John and Sandra.
“We all just feel that if you’re going to continue living here, refusing to contribute, to help, then you should be paying rent. ”
“For half a fucking bedroom?” Kaiden rolled out of his bed, gesturing to all the toys strewn about, the bunk beds, the crammed closet, and every other bit consumed by his nephews. “I’m sorry, a third of a fucking bedroom.”
“Do not swear at me.” His mother jabbed her finger in the air. “It is not my fault you’re sharing this bedroom. If you didn’t like the arrangement, you’ve had years to save up and get your own place. But wait? Can’t do that, can you? Not when you’re floating between jobs and partying it up.”
“Floating between jobs?” Kaiden snapped.
“Do you mean the job that fired me because my car broke down, and no one here would take me to work? Or maybe the job that was a thirty-five-minute commute—on a good day—but wouldn’t give me more than twenty hours a week.
Maybe you mean the job where Sandra came in with her kids and caused a scene.
Gotta love family drama on the clock. That made for a fun resume update. ”
“I’m not letting you drag me into an argument,” his mother said calmly. “I just wanted to let you know your father and I have discussed this. Moving forward, you will be contributing your fair share.”
“Okay, so what exactly are you charging me per month?” Kaiden asked, whipping out his phone and pulling up the calculator.
“Because I’d like to start making some deductive calculations.
I sure as shit am not helping with utilities and food on top of rent for a half-bedroom and some goddamn basement storage. ”
“If that’s how you feel, then maybe you should leave.”
Kaiden tsked. “And go where?”
“Exactly.” His mother grabbed her laundry basket and shot him a cold glare.
Kaiden was at a loss, completely adrift with no idea what to do next. Every fiber of his body wanted to scream, to rage against his family and their constant war against him. Another part wanted to flee, to find the people who made him feel seen, safe, and sane.
But he couldn’t go running to Dylan or Rus, not when he was still lost on the dilemma of what they meant to him.
What they meant to each other. He needed time to think, to figure out his feelings, to let them realize their feelings.
He was certain they liked each other, and he started to spiral, worried perhaps he was the singular obstacle standing in the way of Rus and Dylan from taking the next step.