Chapter 16
Bryson
After Silas left, I tried not to think too much about what I’d set in motion. The sex was incredible, of course. We had great chemistry and had from the start.
But sexual chemistry wasn’t all we had. At least, not from my perspective. There was an emotional connection that had grown these past couple of weeks. Silas wanted casual, and I knew—regardless of what I promised him—it would never be just sex.
Not to me, anyway.
Maybe it made me an asshole—or more likely, a wishful fool—but I was really hoping it wasn’t just sex for him, either.
Silas told me he might never be ready for more. I believed him. I just couldn’t let him go without a fight. Even if that fight mostly involved putting my heart on ice while I waited for Silas’s to warm up to me.
I showered, redressed, and ran by Squealin’ Pig BBQ to grab lunch for Branson and me. Hopefully, the food would distract him from how long I’d been gone. Maybe he’d believe that a tux fitting had taken damn near two hours?
“I got lunch!” I called as I stepped inside.
The store was coming together, shelf by shelf, even with our supply delays.
Branson had set up a display of binoculars, scopes, and trail cameras—as well as a very cool and pricey set of binoculars with a camera built into them.
These were great for hunting or birdwatching, but also just for capturing beautiful views when out hiking.
“About time,” Branson said, emerging from the backroom. “I thought you were gonna miss the call with Bolton.”
“Just out hunting and gathering,” I said with a grin. “Too bad I didn’t have those badass binoculars. I could have hunted down this pig a lot easier.”
“They’re nice, huh?” Branson joined me by the display. “They came in while you were gone.”
“Really nice,” I agreed.
Branson glanced at me, then did a double-take.
“Did you shower? Why would you—” He stopped short, a shit-eating grin spreading over his face.
I was already shaking my head, but there was no derailing him now.
“Holy shit, you had some afternoon delight! That tailor must have been really hot.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know it wasn’t the tailor, idiot.”
He punched my arm hard enough to hurt. “You and Silas? Tell me everything.”
“No. Besides, you don’t want to hear everything.”
He shrugged. “What, because he’s a guy? Who cares? Hot is hot.”
Branson had never come out and said it, but I was pretty sure my brother wasn’t totally straight either. He definitely preferred women, while I preferred men, but we were both some flavor of bi when it came down to it.
He took the barbecue over to the check-out counter and started unpacking it. I snagged a metal stool and perched on it.
“Seriously, though,” Branson was saying. “This is big news. Caitlyn will be so excited.”
“You can’t tell her.”
He paused and shot me a look, eyebrow lifted. “Really? You want me to keep a secret from my bride right before my wedding? That is not a good look, bro.”
“I get that, but we’re not, like, together. So there’s nothing to tell her.”
Branson cocked his head. “But you slept together.”
“Yeah.”
“And you seriously like the guy.”
“I do, yeah.”
“So, Silas is jerking you around?” His jaw tightened. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“No. That’s not how it is. I just—”
Branson’s phone ring started up. “Hold that thought. I need to get Bolton to back me up on this because that’s fucked up.”
I huffed with annoyance. I really did not want my brothers dissecting my love life.
I was trying not to think about whether I’d made the right call with Silas.
All I knew was that it was the only call I could make.
I wasn’t capable of keeping my distance, and that was on me, not Silas.
He’d already told me where he stood, and I’d pushed anyway.
“Hey!” Bolton appeared on my brother’s phone screen in a video call. “How goes it at In The Sticks.”
“We’re not naming the store that,” Branson said.
“Yeah.” I grinned. “Pitching a Tent is much better, right?”
Branson turned to me and said, dead-ass serious, “I thought we agreed on Take a Hike.”
Bolton laughed. “Pitching a Tent. That’s good.”
“I don’t get it,” Branson said.
I motioned toward my crotch, and he rolled his eyes and groaned. “My god. You two are so immature.”
I unwrapped my pile of hot links, pried the lid off the barbecue sauce, and dug in, happy that I’d sidetracked Branson from my personal life.
“Hey, I’m not the one who thought Tracy Robins would want to get busy in the garden shed next to the bags of manure,” Bolton shot back.
“I was fifteen! I was childish because I was a child,” Branson said.
I snorted. “Remember when he called his girlfriend by the wrong name?”
“Hey, that was you!” he protested.
“Was it?” I asked innocently.
“You ran into her when you were covering for me at soccer practice so I could—” He stopped short, eyes narrowing. “Okay, no. I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything.” I speared another hot link. “Except eating this amazing barbecue. It’s not bad for Nebraska.”
“There’s nothing like southern barbecue,” Bolton said. “I was in Memphis for work, and hoo, those ribs were the best fucking shit I’ve had in a long time.”
“Yeah, I miss the pulled pork form back home. Mainly it’s the sauce, though, you know? I think it’s more—”
“Nope,” Branson interjected. “Enough diversion. We’re talking about it.”
“Talking about what?” Bolton asked, gaze bouncing between us.
Branson held the phone at an angle to capture us both. “Bryson here just got a hookup with the man he’s been pining over.”
“The smoking hot wedding planner?” Bolton asked.
“That’s the one,” Branson said.
“He seemed nice when I met him.”
Bolton had passed through Nebraska for work one weekend before Branson or I got moved here, so he’d caught up with Caitlyn and met Silas, but he shouldn’t have any idea about my situation—unless someone went flapping their gums.
“Have you two been gossiping about me like a couple of nosy grannies in this town?”
“I don’t gossip,” Branson said.
“What do you call this?”
“An intervention?”
I scoffed. “That’s extreme.”
“You’re right. It’s not an intervention,” Branson said. “This is your life. You make your own choices. I’m just concerned.”
“What’s the problem?” Bolton asked. “They like each other. They hooked up. That’s good news, isn’t it?”
Branson turned to me. “Is it, Bryson?”
“Of course it is. I mean, he wants to keep it casual. He was upfront about that. He’s not a relationship guy.”
“Why not?” Bolton asked.
Good question. “Um. I don’t really know. When we met through Matchmaking Mamas—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Bolton said. “You met on a matchmaking app?”
“It’s not an app,” Branson said. “These wacky old ladies in town run around playing matchmaker. They zeroed in on Bryson like a week after we got here. Had him fill out a profile and all. Then they matched him with Silas.”
“Wow. That’s a lot to take in,” Bolton said. “You’re letting some old ladies run your gay love life.”
“I’m bi. I put that on the profile. My first date was set up with Silas, though, and he was perfect, so…”
“Perfect? You do have it bad.”
Branson nodded. “Yep. He’s head over heels. Therein lies the problem.”
“There’s no problem,” I said. “Would I be happy if Silas decided tomorrow he wanted to get serious? Hell yeah. Do I want a chance to find out what it’s like to be his boyfriend? You both know I’m a hopeless romantic. So, yes, of course I do. But Silas has been honest with me from the start.”
“Then why was he doing this matchmaking thing?” Bolton asked. “Isn’t the point of that dating, not hookups? The dude could just get on Grindr for sex.”
“One of the Matchmaking Mamas is his great-aunt,” Branson volunteered. “She harassed him into participating.”
I stared at my twin. “How do you know all that?”
“He told Caitlyn after everything went down.”
“Huh.”
“Have you even asked him why he doesn’t want to have a relationship?” Bolton asked.
“Well, he said it was because of the wedding at first, like not mixing business and pleasure—”
“That ship has sailed,” Branson said.
I nodded. “I got the feeling it was more than that. I was so focused on reassuring him that I never thought to ask.” I raked my hands through my still-damp hair. “Fuck. I should have respected his boundaries. I just had to go and fucking push.”
“Push?” Bolton sounded alarmed.
“Not like— It was totally consensual, I promise. He was into me, too. He just doesn’t want to be. Or he’s afraid of something real. I don’t know.”
“Well, maybe you should find out,” Branson said. “If you’re going to be with Silas on his terms, don’t you at least want to know why you’re doing it?”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“Jesus, and I thought dating men was supposed to be easier than dating women!” Bolton said.
I chuckled. “Hooking up with guys, yes. But dating them? Hell no. It’s a minefield.”
“Just be careful,” Branson said.
“I know. I won’t fuck up your wedding plans.”
“No.” He clamped his hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t about my wedding or the fact Silas is our planner. I realize I made it all about that when Silas quit, and I’m sorry about that. This is about you. I don’t want this mine blowing up in your face.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. “But the fact is, I’ve already stepped on the mine. The only thing to do now is wait and see how it plays out.”
I just hoped I was in one piece when the smoke cleared.