Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
MARCUS
Jeremy and I check the security cameras to make sure Ryan’s gone, and a sense of relief fills me, but it mingles with sudden rage.
That asshole was following me. Or looking for me, anyway.
We leave the building and walk the short distance to the parking garage. When we reach my truck, I toss my stuff in the back seat and extend my hand for Jeremy’s suitcase. He rolls it to me, for once not protesting the help, and I load it up in the bed. Then I climb in the cab.
Jeremy opens the door and hauls himself onto the seat with a strained grunt, and I smile. My sister has the same problem, but watching him struggle is kind of cute, like watching a kitten trapped in a box.
He gets situated with a heavy huff and then glances at me with narrowed eyes. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, starting the engine.
“This truck is obscenely large, by the way.”
I smirk at him. “Are you setting me up for a size joke?” Jeremy just rolls his eyes.
I shrug. “When we were first getting started, I used to make a lot of trips between Seattle and Vancouver with restaurant supplies, so I needed the room and the ability to haul a trailer.” I smile at the memory as I exit the garage.
“In the beginning, we tried to cut a lot of corners where we could, but it turned into a lot of late nights and early mornings.”
“You couldn’t just get stuff delivered?”
“Sometimes, but we wanted to buy from local vendors, and a lot of them, especially breweries, don’t have their own delivery services, so we put in a little extra effort.”
Jeremy gives a hum of approval, and the sound makes my belly tingle.
I navigate the Seattle streets and merge onto I-5 South toward Portland. Jeremy and I don’t talk for a while, but I can tell he’s uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat. Finally, he glances over at me.
“We need to stop.”
“What? Why? Do you have to pee already?”
“No.” He looks down at his water bottle. It’s teal and matches his messenger bag. “Well, actually, yes, because someone didn’t let me use the bathroom before we left.”
“I was a little rushed,” I grit out.
“But also,” he continues, “I was going to get snacks at the bus station. I feel unprepared to sit here for four hours.”
I watch the way his bottom lip sticks out in a pout before glancing back to the road. “Can’t you just wait? We’ll stop for lunch halfway.” He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads, so I concede. “Whatever, fine. But stop drinking so much water.”
I put on my blinker and take the next exit, pulling into a seedy-looking gas station. Jeremy eyes it doubtfully but doesn’t complain as he hops out of the truck.
“What do you want?”
“Surprise me.”
Jeremy shakes his head. “No way. My BFF, Marion, used to play that game, and then she’d bitch the whole trip about what I picked out.”
“Fine, Sour Patch Kids—the extra-sour ones.”
“Aww, like your personality.”
“Jeremy . . .” I warn, glaring at him.
“Okay, jeez.” He holds up his hands as he walks away. “It was a joke.”
A few minutes later, Jeremy returns with a bag full of snacks.
As I resume our route, he produces a package of Twizzlers and rips it open.
Then he places one between his lips. He does seem more relaxed at least, but the way he’s sucking on the end of that licorice is obscenely sensual.
He crosses his legs, sits a little taller, and side-eyes me like he wants to say something.
“What?” He opens his mouth and then closes it hesitantly. “Spit it out.”
“What’s the deal with your dad?” he asks, twirling his tongue around another Twizzler before taking a bite.
“Just going straight for the personal stuff, huh?”
“You were literally hiding from his partner, Marcus. Like, in the dark. Normal people just ignore phone calls to avoid awkward conversations.”
He’s right, but to be honest, the last thing I want to explain is that I’m being coerced into marrying a woman I haven’t even met yet. And then also explain that I’m actually blackmailing my dad and Ryan so that my siblings and I can get out from under our dad’s thumb.
I sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“You said that before, so I gathered that.”
“He’s . . . not who I thought he was. And now I owe him, and he wants to collect on that debt.”
“Well, that’s shady as fuck. Care to elaborate?”
“Not really.”
“C’mon, big guy. This car trip is going to be really boring if you stick to surface-level small talk.” He gives me a pleading look. “If we aren’t going to talk about your daddy issues, then we should at least talk about last weekend.”
I swallow. “I’m not sure I want to talk about that either.”
“Well, I do. I want to apologize.”
That takes me aback. “For what?”
“For coming on so strong. We really shouldn’t be fooling around, I just . . .”
“You just . . .”
“Sometimes being around you makes me stupid. All reason is just . . . gone.” He brushes a silvery strand behind his ear and stares out the window, but I can still see the redness on the back of his neck at the admission.
“Really?” I’m a little dumbfounded, but also a little flattered.
“Yes, really,” he snaps, and his bratty tone raises my hackles. And turns me the fuck on.
“The sentiment is mutual,” I retort dryly. “When I’m around you, I can’t think straight.”
He glances at me, and his expression changes from annoyed to amused as he chokes on a laugh. “Nothing about our relationship is straight, babe.”
I stiffen, the nickname making my insides feel even more like fucking Jell-O. “I hardly call this,” I gesture between us while I white-knuckle the steering wheel with my other hand, “a relationship.”
He grabs another Twizzler and brings it to his lips.
“I have a relationship with my cleaning lady.” He sucks on the end of his candy, the look on his face almost sinister.
“It’s literally just a word that means having a connection, and last I checked, my mouth definitely had a connection with your dick. ”
“For fuck’s sake!” With a growl, I reach over and snatch the Twizzler from his mouth and pop it into my own.
“You took my Twizzler!”
“You were practically deep throating it.”
“Jealous?”
“What? No!” I sputter, my cheeks flushing hot. “Stop distracting me. What we have isn’t a relationship. It’s a mistake!”
When my gaze meets his, he looks hurt, and my anger dampens. “Why? Because I’m a guy, and you’re not attracted to guys?”
“I guess. Among other reasons.”
“What do you mean by I guess? What other reasons?” He almost has a whine to his tone, and I try not to smile.
“You implied it yourself. It’s not professional.”
He nods in agreement, but there’s a tightness around his eyes. He sighs. “That is a better reason than your sexuality.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Deny it all you want, but everyone’s a little queer, Marcus.”
The phrase echoes in my head, and I chuckle. “You’ve been hanging around Tristan for too long.”
“Maybe. But he’s not wrong, and you should think about that.” He sits back like he’s done talking.
Jeremy falls asleep after that, his head resting on his folded elbow. So I do think about it.
For an hour.
I was so adamant before that my sexuality was black and white, but ever since the night in Jeremy’s apartment, doubts have been punching holes in my logic.
While Jeremy being a man is confusing, the crux of the matter is the way Jeremy makes me feel.
He’s overwhelming to the point that I’m practically suffering from panic attacks every time we almost hook up.
The intensity is just too much. As if I need more stress right now.
And it doesn’t help that it feels like he’s been part of my life forever, even if he doesn’t realize it.
Then there’s the problem of my father, who has been trying to lead me along a specific path my whole life—and not just as another member of Skynet’s board.
He wants me to lead a “traditional” life, hence marrying Sabrina.
And now that I know what a prick he turned out to be, I hate that I’m still under his thumb, even if it’s for the sake of my siblings.
And how will it change the stakes if my father finds out I might be queer?
If I am queer. Am I queer?
I shake my head. Everything has been so complicated the last three years, and I don’t see it getting any easier. I don’t regret anything. I love Charlie and Sebastian. But I’m also so tired of sacrificing my happiness for other people.
Jeremy stirs just as I pull into the Dismal Nitch rest area for a bathroom break.
He blinks open his eyes and glances out the window. “Where are we?”
“About to cross the bridge into Astoria.”
“Really? I’ve never gone this way. My aunt always used to drive us through Portland.”
I park, and he opens his door, stretching his long legs and walking to the fence line. Thick gray mist cloaks the shoreline so that you can’t see across the Columbia River. I come to stand beside him, our arms so close that they brush.
Jeremy glances down to where our skin touched before returning his gaze to the gloom.
“A lot of people complain about the rain and the clouds, but I’ve always liked this time of year.
It makes everything feel cozy and safe, like home.
” A blush lights up his pale skin. “Sorry, I guess that doesn’t make any sense. ”
It’s quiet except for the odd seagull cry, and I shiver. “No, I get it. I like the gloom too. Though it surprises me a little coming from you.”
Jeremy chuckles. “People think I’m, like, a surfer from California because I’m so blond.” He nudges my shoulder. “You look like you’re from here at least.”
“What do you mean?”
“C’mon, Marcus. You have a beard, you’re always in a flannel and boots, and you don’t wear a raincoat in the rain. Honestly, I was shocked when I found out you don’t drive a Subaru.”
“I also hate IPAs.”
His eyes widen. “You’re just full of surprises.
” He stares back at the water, one hand rubbing the goosebumps on his arm.
“When I was a kid, I got picked on a lot because I’m smaller and so pale.
But I like the way I look. If I’m a ghost, then I can be invisible whenever I want.
Just . . . disappear. And I did it all the time, and no one noticed.
” He gives a bitter laugh. “Of course, that changed when I came out in high school. An openly queer kid can’t blend in anymore. ”
His story makes me feel sad for the little boy Jeremy once was. I have the sudden urge to tell him that I always noticed him. I always felt his presence before I saw him, like we were tethered together, and I always sought him out.
But I don’t.
Instead, curiosity makes me stick my foot in my mouth. “But you’re gay-gay, right?” I blurt and realize that maybe that wasn’t the best way to ask.
A laugh bursts from his lips. “It’s a bit more complex than that.”
I frown, focusing on the river shore. “What do you mean? You like guys, right?”
When Jeremy doesn’t respond right away, I internally kick myself because that was probably a really stupid question.
“I like guys and girls.”
I glance at him. “So, you’re bisexual?”
He pulls in a breath. “Actually, I’m androsexual.”
“You’re what?” I feel confused and so far out of my element.
“It means gender is irrelevant, but I’m attracted to masculine qualities. It’s a subset of pansexuality.”
I nod slowly. “And pansexual is an attraction regardless of gender?”
“Yes.” He smiles. “Does that answer your question?”
I nod, but my brain is spinning with the information because obviously I’m not as straight as I thought. “We should go to the bathroom and then get back on the road.”
Jeremy nods. “This place really lives up to its name, huh?”
“The Dismal Nitch? Absolutely. You should see Cape Disappointment. Ten out of ten, it does, in fact, disappoint.”
Jeremy bursts out laughing. I stare at him from the corner of my eye because it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.