That One Moment

21. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Caiden

I t’s the clattering of pans and the smell of burning that wakes me. My eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright morning light coming through my window. Stretching, I assess my body - the warmth of my limbs under the duvet, the heaviness in my head, the dryness in my mouth.

Every little detail from the night before is clear as a crystalline sky. All the vodka in the world could not erase the memories.

Jamie.

Rolling onto my stomach, I breathe in the soft linen scent of my sheets, stalling the inevitable conversation I have coming. But first, I flop onto the other side of the bed, my nose pressed to the pillow and like a creep, I take a deep lungful, thinking that if I can smell him here, I’ll know where he slept. I don't know what I want the outcome to be.

Last night, he held me. Held me and rocked me and ran his soft hands up and down my spine. Goosebumps broke out on my skin as he wrapped his arms tighter around my waist, letting his warmth seep into me. Then, when my breathing evened out and the sobs-turned-hiccups stopped, he led me to my bed, pulled the blankets up to my shoulders and disappeared. I listened to his footsteps through my apartment, mentally tracking his movements, and when he returned, it was with a glass of water and a warm, damp washcloth.

With light hands, Jamie had cleaned my face and neck. My cock gave a valiant stir and I shoved him away, muttering about being treated with kid gloves, and rolled onto my side to hide my growing erection. Then, he ran a hand through my hair - once. Just one, quick, affectionate touch that was enough to have my eyelids fluttering closed and a sigh passing my lips.

In the darkness, and the still, quiet of the room, I heard him. “I’m sorry Caiden,” he whispered, as though the words were for me but not quite mine yet. The sleep that followed was dreamless.

And now, he’s in my kitchen doing God knows what. Groaning and giving one last stretch, I throw off the covers and drag myself in the direction of the pungent scent of burnt food.

Whatever I had been expecting to find was nothing like the sight that greets me. Jamie, dressed in the running shorts he’d shown up in, only topless, and the back of his brown hair standing up in all directions. He’s an inch or two taller than my five foot ten, and his frame, though leaner than it once was, is still more athletically built than mine.

From this angle, I can see the muscles in his shoulders work beneath the skin as he moves along the counter, gathering up the items he needs before breaking an egg into a frying pan. Next to him sits a plate of very dark looking sausages.

The egg hisses and splatters as it hits the too hot pan and Jamie flinches, yelps and takes a step back. I can’t fight back the snort that escapes when the spatula hits the floor. He spins around, and shoots me a glare, but there’s no heat in his eyes, just a wariness like he’s afraid of what comes next.

“Hi. I fed the cat.” He points to Ford’s food bowl on the floor, before running a hand through his hair. “He wouldn’t stop meowing, and between him and the hamster in it’s fucking wheel thing, it was like a party going on all night in your lounge.” Guess that answers where he slept. My own back gives a phantom twinge of sympathy - my sofa is far from comfortable for a fully grown adult.

I nod in thanks. “And now you've taken it upon yourself to destroy my kitchen?” Taking a few tentative steps, I move to stand on the other side of the counter, closer to him. He's still glaring, or maybe that's just how he looks these days. All grumpy and shit. But now his eyebrows are also pulled together and there's a groove between them that I want to touch.

The thought has me instinctively taking a huge step back, increasing the distance between us until my back hits the marble counter.

“No. I'm feeding you.” He says it in the same way he said “I fed the cat,” like he's doing me a favour. I don’t know if he meant it to sound friendly but it gets my back up, making me feel small and incapable.

“I don’t need you to take care of me, Jamie,” I say, my voice flat, though tinted with a flash of annoyance. I move around him, picking up the spatula and placing it in the sink. It takes me a moment to notice that he’s cleaned up the mess Oliver left - there's no beer bottles on the counter or bottle lids on the floor - and replaced it with a mess of his own. Eggshells with the remnants dripping from them and the packaging from the frozen vegetable sausages he found in my freezer, sit on the counter. There’s splattered oil on the stove top and two slices of toast peeking out of the toaster. The butter is open and has a knife wedged into it and the eggs he was cooking when I first walked in are now dry and sticking to the pan.

I’ve never known Jamie to be a messy person - Cooper was, for sure. But Jamie never struck me as being the same. But then again, how well do I really know him? Maybe he is everything like my twin and that’s why they were so perfect together. The thought makes my chest ache and I rest my hands on the counter and press down on the hard surface, letting my gaze run from left to right, along the expanse of my small kitchen.

Taking it all in - I see the chaos for what it is - a man trying to do something nice. Shaking the tension from my arms, I turn around and meet his watchful eyes.

“These past few days aside,” I say, “I’ve been doing fine. Believe it or not, I feed myself, Ford and Basil, every day.” Or I mostly feed myself every day. But I don’t correct that statement. He doesn’t say anything, but I get this sense that he doesn’t believe me. Irritation rises in my gut but I don’t let it erupt, choosing instead to be grateful.

“Thank you,” I say, and for a brief second his eyes widen as though he was not expecting those to be my next words. I wave my hands in the general direction of the stove. “This was really nice of you.” Jamie dips his head, pink blossoming on his cheeks, and I don’t fight the smile that settles on my face.

“I don’t think any of it is even edible,” he says with a shy, boyish grin.

“Maybe not.” I look again at his attempt at breakfast, then open the freezer and search for another option but come up empty. He’s used all my eggs already - the ones in the pan ready for the bin given how they are burned, rubbery and somehow still raw on top - and there’s no milk for the tiny bit of cereal I have left.

Peering into my barren fridge, I startle when Jamie stands behind me, so close I can feel the warmth of his body at my back and can smell the scent of his skin. He smells like Earl Grey tea and sleep. It’s an unusual mix that settles warmly in my chest.

“Should I go out and get something for us?” he asks over my shoulder. I shake my head and without thinking, let my body lean back slightly until it brushes against his. A puff of air meets my neck but he doesn’t step back. I wonder if he’s breathing me in, the same way I was doing to him.

“No, you boil the kettle and I’ll make us toast with jam,” I say, taking out a half full jar of strawberry preserve. His hair brushes the side of my face when he nods and moves away. We work together in a comfortable silence until there's fresh toast and two cups of black coffee on the counter. The kitchen is still a mess but I decide to leave that until later.

“Why do you have a hamster?” Jamie asks, breaking the silence. I just about choke on my toast at the randomness of the question. “It seems like an odd choice for you - too cute and fluffy.”

“You say that like you know me,” I say. It’s meant to come out jokingly but it falls flat and leaves behind this awkward tension. So, I clear my throat and tell him Basil’s story. “I found him - his entire cage - next to the bins outside. Someone, and I have no idea who, put him there. They threw him away like he wasn’t a living, breathing creature. I took him home.”

“Fuck,” Jamie says. “People can be so bloody cruel.”

“Their loss though 'cause he’s amazing - as amazing as a rodent can be. And for the record he is neither cute nor fluffy. He’s a tiny demon in a hamster's body.” That gets a smile out of Jamie, and for the first time since he came back into my life, I see an old familiar sparkle in his green eyes.

We fall silent again, finishing off our breakfast. The tension in the room is still there and I feel like we’ve been dancing around the topics that really need to be talked about. Jamie must feel the same because he says, “So, last night. Oliver.” I turn so my hip is resting against the counter and I’m facing him. Jamie takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “He was the last person I expected to see you with.” I want to talk about anything but Oliver. Anything at all.

“Can we not? Things with Oliver are -” Don’t say complicated because they’re not, not at all. They’re as simple as not picking up the phone. “Casual,” I say instead.

Jamie’s eyes bore into me at the same time his hand reaches out and touches the side of my lip. My body shudders as he pulls it away to show me the jam on his finger. Heat pools low in my belly when he sucks his finger into his mouth, giving me a glimpse of his tongue.

“Casual. So last night wasn’t a one off? You see him often,” Jamie says, a gravelly edge to his voice. He’s moved closer now, close enough that I can see the faint scar on his forehead. “He’s not a good guy, Caiden.”

My laugh is dry. “You only know what Cooper told you. Maybe he’s not perfect like you, but he’s fine. What we have… the arrangement we have is…it’s good.” There’s no reason for me to be defensive other than that I hate the thought of Jamie judging me, and right now, that's all I can see in his eyes. Judgement and pity.

Jamie hums, clearly not believing me. Along with the look in his eyes, it makes my blood heat and my hackles rise. God, he’s still the same judgemental prick he always was. Why did I want him here again? Suddenly, all the fuzzy, confused feelings I had about him since he walked back into my life morph into irritation.

Putting my coffee down, I turn my back on him and grab a cloth then start hastily wiping the counter. It’s time to stop tiptoeing around the big question hanging in the air.

“Why are you here, Jamie?”

He doesn’t answer me immediately and I watch from the corner of my eye as he walks to the stove, removes the pan and scrapes the eggs into the bin. Then, he puts it in the sink and turns on the water. When he starts using a metal brush on the pan, I clench my teeth and look away.

“You called me, remember? Or had the hospital do it.”

“Big fucking mistake,” I mutter under my breath but loud enough for him to hear, given how close we’re now standing.

“Look, Caiden,” Jamie starts. The water has stopped running and I’m cleaning the same spot over and over but I don’t turn towards him. “Can you at least look at me? Please.”

Throwing the cloth down, I blow out a breath then turn so we’re face to face. My kitchen is small, and I press my back against the counter to maximise the space between us as much as possible.

“I was hoping we could talk. Maybe try and find a semblance of neutral ground between us.” His hands are at his sides, still wet from the sink, one moves forward a fraction before he drops it again. “We don’t need to be enemies and we don’t have to be brothers if you don’t want to, but we could be friends.” He takes a breath, his head dipping while he dries his hands on his shorts.

Before I can even consider his suggestion, he adds, “Cooper wouldn’t have wanted this for you. For us.” His eyes, full of pity, meet mine before he looks around my kitchen like he’s searching for all my mistakes and broken parts. I’m not sure whether he means the thing with Oliver, my life in general or this distance between him and I, but it doesn’t matter.

In the space of those few words, the idea of something existing between us is ruined.

Because I. Fucking. Know. I don’t need Jamie Durand to remind me how much I’ve let my twin down.

It hits me then, like a bullet to the heart, why he’s really here. Fuck, I’m such an idiot. For a heartbeat there, I let myself think that Jamie wanted back in my life because of me. But, it’s not that, it never was. Him being here was never about me. It’s about his guilt over failing at the things he thinks Cooper would have wanted.

“ Oof , playing the dead brother card,” I say, sarcasm bleeding into my words while hiding the tremble in my voice. Being mad right now is safer than letting him see how sad and disappointed I am. In him. In myself. I shake my head.

People will only disappoint you.

“Why are you really here, Jamie? Is it because you want to be here or because you feel like you owe it to Cooper?” When he doesn’t reply I nod, the answer right there in his silence.

“Caiden, it’s not like that. I’m here because…. It’s just, you don’t seem happy and -”

“You want to fix me? Want me to be happy like you are? I can’t possibly be okay, can I Jamie? Because I didn’t move on as easily as you did. I didn’t get over Cooper’s death with the snap of my fingers.” His mouth widens and hurt flickers in his eyes. Jamie starts to protest, the words ‘I didn't’ quietly passing his lips before I interrupt him. My next question is designed to land with a punch but also to answer a question that’s been bothering me since I learned about her existence.

“How long did it take you to jump into bed with someone else? A week? Two?” I take a step forward, closing the space between us, fuelled on by a thousand warring emotions. I am a wild fire, blazing a trail through the forest, wiping out everything in its path. I burn hot and I burn fast and I do it without a second thought.

“How long before you sunk yourself into some pretty pussy and forgot all about him?” Jamie’s nostrils flare and he shuffles his feet. “Maybe that’s what all this is about. You feel guilty that you moved on.” I've seen Jamie angry. I've seen him sad, and I've seen him annoyed. But this? This is nothing like any of those.

“Shut your mouth, Caiden. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps, his jaw clenching as he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the ends.

“Don’t I?” I tilt my head like I'm assessing him this time. “I think you want to appease that guilt by trying to save me. You can say you did it for him. The man you said you loved but forgot about so easily.” His lips flatten, the blood draining from them when he squeezes them tighter.

“Tell me, Jamie. Do you think of him,” I close the gap until I can feel the heat from his naked chest. Dropping my voice, I add, “when you’re fucking her?”

He swallows thickly, his throat bobbing and I run one finger along the soft underskin of his arm. “Or maybe you’re here because you think I’ll fill that gap he left behind. Is that it Jamie, do you want to fuck me and pretend I’m Cooper?” It’s a low blow, I know it the minute the words pass my lips but it’s too late to take them back - and I don't think I'd want to anyway. I'm so fucking tired of being nobody's reason.

My fingertip dances up his arm, and along his shoulder. His skin is warm but he shivers when I draw a line into the dip of his clavicle.

“Caiden.” My name is a warning on his lips.

Our eyes meet. My heart stills.

I don’t know who moves first or if either of us does. Perhaps the world tilts and throws us together in a sudden, fortuitous shift.

Jamie’s lips crash into mine in a kiss that is more a savage meeting of two mouths. I grab at his chest, digging my nails into his skin while trying to find purchase. His tongue fights for dominance, flicking against mine until he’s pushing it into my mouth. He bites at my lower lip and I groan, fighting him for control. My tongue slips into his mouth, my tongue ring clacking against his teeth before he sucks on it in a way that has my dick thickening.

Far, far, away in the back of my mind, there’s this thought that I’m a terrible brother, but it’s not enough to stop me. There is every possibility regret will eat me alive later.

Jamie’s hand comes up between us and he grips the front of my neck, his fingers digging into the sides of my windpipe as he squeezes. My eyes widen and he pulls away.

His own eyes are dark, the green of his irises swallowed up by his blown out pupils, and his lips are spit slick and swollen.

One, two, three breaths pass as we stand like this, both breathing heavily, staring like we're seeing each other in a new, unexpected light. He makes a sound like a wounded animal before slamming his lips back to mine, his hold on my neck still firm.

My arms come to wrap around his shoulders and I scratch lines over the muscles there. He flinches when I’m sure I break the skin, but he doesn’t stop kissing me.

“I do,” he says against my lips. “Think of him. All the time. Even when I’m fucking someone else. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He runs his nose from my cheek to the spot beneath my ear. “But you’re wrong, so fucking wrong.” He sucks at the spot and a shiver runs up my spine. “Will it make you feel better knowing you’re not the only one whose world fell apart that day?” He bites my ear lobe and my hand runs down his side and comes to land on his firm ass. I pull him closer, sucking in a gulp when I feel his erection rub against mine.

I won’t lie and say I’ve never thought about Jamie this way but, I never expected it to actually happen. He’s always been a secret fantasy that was never mine to have.

“Are you thinking about him now?” I ask, knowing full well the answer could sting. I may have put the thought out there but I don’t want it to be true. Jamie spins me around and slams me into the counter, pressing my chest onto the cool marble. His body folds over mine, blanketing me, his cock resting in the gap of my ass cheeks.

“Is that what you want, Caiden? You want me to be thinking about Cooper?” He grabs at the waistband of my sweats and I do the same. Together, we hastily rip them down, my naked ass rubbing against the fabric of his running shorts.

“Or do you want me to tell you that no, right now, I can only think about you. That I came here for you.” He moves behind me and I feel the moment his cock is free. It’s hot and hard as it presses against me.

“Which of those will make you feel better?” Both. None. Neither. I don’t know. Jamie stands up and the heat of his body leaving has goosebumps breaking out on my skin. He reaches for his wallet on the counter near my head and pulls out a condom.

He wraps one hand around my face and presses two fingers into my mouth. I suck on them, my eyes closing under the salty taste and the wickedness of the action. Then, he rips them out of my mouth, slides his hand between my ass cheeks and presses one spit covered finger into my hole. I whimper when he adds a second, pressing my forehead into the counter while arching my back. The burn is unreal and I pant and moan as he thrusts them in and out of me.

“Tell me to stop, Caiden. Tell me this is wrong. Tell me, Caiden,” he begs and I ignore the turmoil in his voice because I can’t tell him to stop. No more than I can push him away. We’re on a rollercoaster that’s lost control. We will crash but not before the ride is over. Not before we’ve felt the rush that comes with falling.

Behind me, Jamie spits and I feel his cock head at my hole. I’m barely stretched and spit is hardly sufficient lube. He spits again - I feel it running down my crack before he’s rubbing it in, pressing his finger along my rim where his cock is entering me.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper. Tears coat my lashes and I move my hips back and forth to get him to move. He ruts into me, keeping one hand on my back so I’m stuck plastered to the marble. Jamie changes his angle, moves his hands to my hips and fucks me harder. His cock hits my prostate and I shudder. The pain is still very present but it’s fading, making my body heat with a sensation of pleasure that starts in my toes and ricochets through my limbs.

Jamie is silent behind me, save for the heavy breaths he's taking as he moves inside me. I wish I could see his face, wish I could read his expression. A hand comes up and wraps around my neck and he uses his grip on me to pull me up so that my head rests against his shoulder. His other hand brushes against my cock but I bat it away. Instead, he places it on my stomach.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says over and over, in time with his thrusts. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Why do you… you….keep,” I try to get the words out but he’s fucking the air right out of my lungs, “apologising?”

He doesn’t answer me, just moves faster and brings his lips to my neck where they latch on. From the way it pinches, I’m sure he’s leaving a bruise over the one Oliver left there yesterday.

My dick throbs and my balls draw up tight and I take my own cock in hand and give it a few hard strokes. My head feels light and my entire body tingles. He squeezes my throat tighter as his movements shudder. “Because. Because you didn’t deserve any of it.”

I’m crying now. Crying and floating and so close to coming that I can’t control the words that fall out of me. “I did. I did. I was bad, I messed up.”

His hand on my neck loosens and he tilts my head so I’m looking back at him awkwardly. His eyes are wet, though the lust is still there - deep, dark and wanting. He shakes his head, his brown waves falling over my face, then rests his lips against mine. “No. You’re so fucking good.”

I come on a shudder and a gasp. Thick ropes of cum shoot out, over my hand and the kitchen counter. He wraps his arms around me and holds me to him. My body continues to quake - a mixture of arousal and regret, a tumultuous mess inside of me. Jamie pulls out, and I spin around, watching as he retreats. He’s still hard, the condom still on when he pulls up his shorts.

He’s pale and looks….fuck. He looks ashamed. Of what we just did. It hurts so badly.

When he doesn't say anything, I do. Saving us both from the reality of what we did.

“Just go,” I say, resignation heavy in my heart. What was I thinking? This time, I can’t say I wasn’t. This time, the truth is that I was taking something that was never meant to be mine.

Jamie dips his head and opens his mouth. I’m sure he’s about to argue so I shake my head.

He nods, his eyes not meeting mine. “I’m-” he starts but I cut him off.

“You’re sorry, I know. So am I.” Truth be told, I no longer know what specifically either of us are apologising for. There’s a list a mile long of the mistakes we’ve made.

Jamie disappears into the lounge and comes back with his t-shirt and shoes on. When he’s at the front door he looks at me.

“Are you going to be okay alone?”

“Yeah, Jamie. I’ll be fine. I’m not your problem to worry about.”

Please don’t go. Say you came here for me. Please.

The sound of the door closing echoes through the small space and I walk up to it, resting one hand on the wood before locking it and taking myself back to bed.