Chapter Seventeen
~Kellen~
“That was a quick trip,” Rye said, ushering me inside. “Everything okay?”
“Not really,” I admitted as I handed him his keys. “I hate to ask another favor, but do you think I could crash here?” I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours and I was absolutely exhausted.
“You can stay as long as you like,” he assured me. “Do you want to talk first or sleep and talk later? ”
“What makes you think I want to talk at all?”
“You flew to Chicago, drove to Detroit, then came back looking like a heartbroken zombie. I don’t care what you want, you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”
“You’re not my real dad,” I grumbled.
“Come on.” Rye slung and arm around my shoulders and led me into the living room where his husband was laying on the sofa with a fluffy, grey cat on his chest .
“That’s Bella,” Rye said. “She’s my cat.”
“She’s my cat,” Austin corrected him, his tone making me feel as if this were a common argument between them. He swung his legs around to sit up and the cat ran off. “You’re back awfully quickly.”
“That’s what we were just about to talk about,” Rye said, shoving me toward an armchair. “Sit and spill.”
“Do you want some privacy?” Austin asked.
“No,” I said. “It’s nothing. Really. I just sort of walked out on Zak. ”
I’d told both of them about the situation when we’d flown to Chicago together. I trusted Rye more than anyone else in the world, which meant trusting Austin as well, and I’d had to talk to someone about it.
Zak had Naomi, apparently. And I had these guys. So there I was again, spilling my guts to my only two real friends.
“You guys broke up?” Rye asked, dropping onto the sofa next to his husband .
“No, we didn’t. But I couldn’t stay there. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning, I promise.”
“Like I give a shit,” Rye said, rolling his eyes. “You could move in and we’d barely notice. So stay as long as you like.” He turned to his husband. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t know…did you two ever—” A smile twitched at Austin’s lips, so I was pretty sure he was kidding, but Rye was having none of it.
“He was eighteen when I met him,” Rye snapped. “Besides, Cherry was absolutely in love with him. She would have killed me if I slept with him.”
“Your sister had a crush on me?” I asked. “Craig was right. No one knew I was gay.” I chuckled softly. “Besides, I had a thing for Brandon back then. How is the bi-wonder, anyway?”
“I hear he’s doing okay now. His recovery took a long time though.” Rye said, looking over at his husband. “We don’t talk about Brandon. ”
A momentary look of absolute fury passed over Austin’s face, but he relaxed quickly and I desperately wanted to ask what that was all about, but it was none of my business.
“How’s your band?” Rye asked, changing the subject. “Was the tour good?”
“Tour was fine.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. You know Tim and Ford.”
“It’s getting worse then?”
“They are,” I said. “Ford is. Tim just lets himself get swept up in Ford’s bullshit I think. But Ford hates me. And honestly, I’m to a point now where I hate him right back. He makes everything a fight. It’s exhausting.”
“Speaking of fights,” Rye said, raising an eyebrow at me. “Full circle, look at that. What the fuck happened between you and Dempsey?”
“Nothing, really,” I lied.
Both men stared at me, silently waiting for me to tell the truth and I blew out a sigh.
“You know, you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” I told Rye, glaring at him .
“Yes I do,” he said. “What did you guys fight about.”
“It wasn’t a fight,” I said firmly. “It was a misunderstanding. We’ve known each other for three weeks. He’s in the closet and he’s never had a relationship before. Ever. So he had no right to try to tell me that he…” I swallowed thickly as moisture filled my eyes and heat rose up my neck. God, I didn’t want to cry in front of Rye.
“Oh,” Rye said softly. “He tried to tell you he loved you. ”
“Yeah,” I agreed before clearing my throat and blinking back my tears.
“Well that makes sense,” Rye said.
“It does?” Austin asked softly.
“Yeah. See, Kellen doesn’t have a shred of self-worth about himself. So he doesn’t believe anyone could ever really love him.”
“Hey, this isn’t like that,” I said firmly. “I know that you love me.” I looked over at Austin and gave him a weak smile. “As a brother type thing.”
“I know.” Austin winked at me .
“So, what’s the problem?” Rye asked. “You don’t love him?”
“That’s not the issue,” I muttered.
“So, you’re in love with him?” Rye asked.
“Yeah,” I said. There was no point in denying it. Rye would just know I was lying anyway. Because yeah…he did know me that well. “I am.”
“And…he’s in love with you?” Austin asked.
“Yeah. ”
Rye and Austin exchanged a look and then both burst out laughing.
“God, were we that stupid in our twenties?” Rye asked him.
“You’re still stupid,” Austin assured him. “Look, I realize you and I don’t know each other that well. But admitting you love each other is the hard part. And if he was willing to tell you that, I think you might be the one who’s in the wrong here.”
“I know that!” I snapped. “I know I’m the one who’s the problem. But our situation is complicated. And knowing something isn’t the same as hearing it out loud.”
“Tell me all of it,” Rye insisted.
So I did. Well, not the sex part. Or the pickles, because my stomach was still churning a little from that stupid stunt. But I told them about the conversation that happened between those incidents.
“Yeah…that sounds really dumb,” Rye said. “You said that hearing him tell you he loves you would make you want things you can’t have.”
“Exactly. ”
“So, you don’t want those things right now?” Rye asked.
“Well, of course I do,” I said, deflating a little from my frustration. “It’s not that simple.”
“Because you won’t let it be,” Rye insisted.
“Kellen, what do you want?” Austin asked, laying a hand on Rye’s thigh, which caused Rye to shut his mouth. That was a neat trick. It probably only worked for Austin though.
“I want to not feel like this anymore,” I admitted. “I don’t want to make another album with Ford and Tim. I don’t want Craig, or the label, dictating my life. I want to sleep. And I want to be with Zak.”
“You can make all of that happen,” Rye said. “You have the same contract with the label that I do.”
“How do you know what’s in my contract?” I asked him.
“Because my lawyer negotiated it for you and I told him what I wanted you to have.” Rye shrugged. “You read it, didn’t you? ”
“Of course I did,” I said. Six years ago when we’d all signed it. Maybe it was time to review it again. At the time we’d been eighteen-year-old kids and would have signed anything that was put in front of us for a chance at a career in music. Which of course, Rye probably knew.
“Let me refresh your memory,” Rye said, humor in his tone. “You own HSF. And the contract has the option of expiring at the end of each tour. Which means as of last Saturday, you’re free to opt out of renewal. ”
“I don’t have to do another album?” The sense of peace that slithered through me at that thought was almost frightening. I could be free? “ Are you my real dad?”
Rye clapped me on the shoulder as Austin burst out laughing.
“Sometimes I forget that you really are a good guy,” Austin told his husband.
“Well, don’t let that get around,” Rye warned him. “I have a reputation to protect.”
“So that’s settled,” Austin said. “And sleep we can help with, too. ”
“As for the hockey player, that seems like a morning problem. Grab your bag and I’ll show you to one of the guest rooms. You can get some sleep and in the morning Austin will make pancakes and we’ll fix the rest of your life.”
“You are a good guy, Rye,” I said, standing up and letting him pull me into a hug. “Thank you.” I looked over at Austin. “Both of you.”
“Come on.”
I let Rye lead me upstairs and after a quick shower in the ensuite, I put on a pair of clean boxers and fell into the bed, utterly exhausted but feeling a little lighter knowing that I had some semblance of a plan for at least part of my life.
****
“So, we figured out your Zak problem,” Rye said as he poured me a cup of coffee the next morning.
“Oh, the two of you did, huh?” I rolled my eyes as I turned and sat down at the kitchen table. “And what am I going to do?”
“Well, game three of the playoffs is going to be held right here in Chicago,” Austin said as he set a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of me.
“I’m not a toddler,” I said when Rye reached over to pour syrup on my plate for me. “Did you want to cut it up and play airplane to get me to eat it as well?”
“Kind of,” Rye said, grabbing for my fork, but I swatted his hand away. “So, you’re going to stay with us this week. Rest, relax and have some fun.”
“Help Rye with a song he’s stuck on,” Austin added under his breath .
“And then,” Rye said loudly, glaring at his husband. “Saturday, we’ll all go to the game together.”
“What if he doesn’t want me there? Ow!” I stared at Rye in shock. “Did you just slap me with a fucking pancake?”
“I see Dempsey’s been rubbing off on you,” Rye teased. “In more ways than one.”
“You’re such an—"
“Children,” Austin said sharply. “No fighting at the table. ”
“Of course he wants you there,” Rye continued. “Besides, do you know how many strings I had to pull to get us tickets to a playoff game?”
“You called Cherry?” I guessed.
“Well, yeah,” he admitted. “But still. I had to pay for the tickets.”
“I can pay you back for that.”
“Like I give a shit,” he said, rolling his eyes before shoving a giant bite of pancake into his mouth. “Hurry up and eat. I do need your help with this song. ”
I wasn’t sure this was a great plan, but as I didn’t have a better idea, I figured I’d just see how it played out. I was pretty sure that Zak couldn’t be any angrier with me than he already was.
“Here comes the airplane,” Rye said, moving his fork toward my face.
“Asshole.”
But I totally opened my mouth and took the bite.