Chapter Twenty
CHAPTER TWENTY
LIAM LOCKED THE studio door behind him, then started the quick quarter-mile walk to the bakery down the street. Tate had mentioned last week that apple pie with a giant scoop of vanilla ice cream was his favorite dessert. Tonight, Liam planned to surprise him with exactly that. He picked up ice cream earlier in the day, and since he didn’t have the skills or space to bake a pie, he ordered one from the local bakery.
His calves twinged as he walked, sore from the six classes he’d taught that day. Thank God he had three interviews set up next week for additional teachers. He was sore from head to toe, not just his legs. Over the last week, he’d ramped up his workouts to make sure he was in the best shape to teach his students, and now he was paying for the few months he’d taken off to move and set up his studio.
Then there was the ache in his ass. The one that had him grinning like a fool as he remembered the furious way Tate had taken him last night. They’d both been so busy they hadn’t seen each other for a few days, and, apparently, that was too long for Tate. He’d been like a man possessed from the moment he walked into Liam’s apartment.
He shivered at the memory of Tate tearing off his clothes and fucking him right there on the floor by the door.
God, it had been good.
Liam glanced around. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be walking down Main Street with a tent in his shorts like some kind of pervert. Just what he needed when a third of the town already saw him as a deviant.
About halfway to the bakery, he spotted a woman walking—stumbling—on the sidewalk toward him.
He frowned but continued moving forward. After a few seconds, she dropped to her knees and vomited in the grass on the side of the road.
“Oh crap.” Liam rushed toward her. “Ma’am? Do you need some help?” He stood over her as she heaved and unloaded her stomach onto the ground.
Gross .
When she finished, she stared up at him with dilated pupils and bloodshot whites of her eyes.
The sour stench was hard to ignore, but he tried his best. “Here,” he said, reaching for the small backpack containing his phone, wallet, and water bottle. Grabbing the water, he crouched and held it out to her after uncapping it. “I haven’t had any yet. Please take it.”
“Twenty bucks,” she slurred as she took the bottle from him. Her unsteady hands caused some to slosh over the rim of the plastic bottle.
“Excuse me?”
“You want me to suck your dick? It’ll cost you twenty bucks.”
“Oh, no. No, that’s not… I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I don’t want… anything else.” Was she insane? She’d just thrown up all over the side of the road, and now she was propositioning him?
“Huh. You that new dance teacher?” Her stringy blonde hair needed to be washed at least a day ago. Despite being mid-summer, her skin was sickly pale, and her eyes had heavy purple rings beneath them.
“I am. My name is Liam.”
She guzzled half the bottle of water, swaying as she tipped her head back. Liam reached out and caught her shoulder so she wouldn’t fall over.
“I got a boy ’bout your age.”
It looked like they were having a full-blown conversation now. “Oh yeah?” he said as he sat on the sidewalk next to her, careful to avoid where she’d gotten sick.
“Yep. Name’s Tate. You know ’im?”
Oh shit. His heart sank. This mess of a woman was Tate’s mother? There was no way in hell he could leave her here wasted on the side of the road, soliciting random men for twenty freaking dollars.
“I do know him. He’s a… friend.”
“Mmm, I bet he is.”
What? He’d be ignoring that comment.
“Hey…” He climbed to his feet. “How about I take you home? My car is just down the road, and I know Tate would feel better if you were home so you could get some rest.”
“You got any booze?”
He had wine at home, but there was no way he’d be giving her any. She reeked of alcohol, and he wasn’t convinced it was the only substance in her system. “Sorry, fresh out. Here, let me help you up.” He held out a hand, which she took. Hauling her to her feet was no harder than if she’d been a child. This woman needed to gain some serious weight.
“Whoa.” She lilted to the right with a cackle.
“Easy there.” Liam slipped a hand around her slender waist. “Lean on me if you need to.”
The short distance back to the studio took twice as long as it should have since Tate’s mother could barely stand. Two cars honked as they whizzed by, and one person leaned a head out the window to shout something about junkies.
Lovely people.
“Okay, here we go.” He propped her against the car as he opened the passenger door. She practically fell in ass first. Liam had to lift her legs to turn her into the car.
“Remind me to give you a blowie as a thank you.”
His stomach turned. Poor Tate.
“I’m gay, ma’am. Sorry, but the offer’s wasted on me.” Even if he was the straightest man in the world, he’d never take her up on it.
“Oh. I could peg ya. You want that?”
“Uh, no, thank you. I’m good,” he said, nearly choking on the words. “Let’s just get you home so you can get some rest.” After making sure her limbs were out of the way, he shut the door and jogged to the driver’s side. “I’m going to need you to direct me where to go, okay?” he said as he started the car.
Her head lolled his way. “Uh-huh. How do you know Tate?”
Tate . Shit, he should probably text him and let him know what was happening. He grabbed his phone and shot off a quick text, letting Tate know he’d be taking his inebriated mother to their trailer. “Uh, he did some tile work at my dance studio.”
“He’s a good boy.”
“The best,” he said as a lump lodged in his throat. “So where are we going?” he asked after swallowing.
Thankfully, she managed to navigate them to the trailer park without issue. Liam soaked in his surroundings as they drove through the park. Some trailers seemed nice enough, well-maintained, and cared for. Others had been neglected and sat dilapidated on their lots. Tate’s seemed somewhere in the middle, though a bit closer to the cared-for side.
“Park anywhere,” she said, waving a hand. Before he’d managed to kill the engine, she was out of the car and stumbling toward the few steps leading up to the door.
“You good, Marissa?” A woman’s voice sounded from across the dirt road.
“Get off my ass, Whit. This nice boy’s just taking me home.”
Whitney. Wasn’t that Randy’s wife? God, hopefully, she wouldn’t think this was something it wasn’t.
He followed her up the steps and into the trailer. Before disappearing inside with her, he cast a glance over his shoulder and saw Whitney frowning at them with a wrinkled brow.
This was the first time he’d been in Tate’s space, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious as hell. He wanted to explore every inch of the place and see what else he could learn about the man he’d become smitten with, but he had a very intoxicated woman to contend with.
“I need a drink,” she mumbled as she staggered toward the refrigerator.
“Um.” Liam gently cupped her shoulders and steered her away. “How about you take a nap first? Which way is your room?”
Huffing like a disappointed child who’d just been told no, she turned toward a small hallway. “It’s down here.” She bounced off the wall twice but managed to make it into her room without incident. A queen-size mattress and box spring were shoved in one corner without a bedframe or headboard. There wasn’t room for much else besides the dark wood dresser. Piles of clothes were strewn around, and a crooked flower painting hung on the wall with a long cobweb dangling from one corner.
Marissa walked straight to her bed and fell face-first onto the mattress without taking off her shoes or setting down her cross-body purse.
Liam considered trying to help her remove them, but it seemed unnecessary. Better to leave well enough alone. “Marissa, is there a small trash can I could leave by the bed in case you get sick again?”
The only response he received was the soft sound of breathing. He took a moment to locate a tiny bathroom and retrieved the trash can, leaving it near her head. Hopefully, she wouldn’t need it, but better safe than sorry.
He glanced around with a sigh and an ache in his chest before making his way out of the room. Just as he was leaving, he heard a mumbled, “Tell Tate I’m sorry. He worries.”
“I will,” he whispered in response, though she seemed to fall right back to sleep.
With a heavy heart, he strode back down the hall toward the kitchen. The other hallway opposite Marissa’s room must lead to Tate’s room. His curiosity was at an all-time high, but he’d never invade Tate’s privacy by snooping without permission. Instead, he reached for his pocket to text the man and let him know Marissa was safe and sound only to come up empty.
“Right,” he muttered. “It’s still in the car.”
The door to the trailer flew open, and Liam jumped back about a foot. “Holy shit!” he yelped as his hand went to his racing heart.
Tate stood in the doorway wild-eyed and frantic. “Luxe?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Your mom’s okay,” he said as he rushed over to his man. “I got her settled. She’s sleeping it off.”
As soon as he reached Tate, the man pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace. “Fuck, I was freakin’ out.” He buried his face in Liam’s neck. “Are you okay? Did she… did she try anything?”
God, he hated to upset Tate with the things his mother propositioned, so he said, “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I saw her walking, and she got sick on the side of the road. When she mentioned her son named Tate, I knew I had to help.”
“I don’t deserve someone as good as you,” Tate mumbled into his neck.
“Hey.” Liam grabbed a handful of hair at the back of Tate’s neck and tugged. When Tate lifted his head, Liam said, “I do not want to hear that horseshit, okay?”
Tate nodded. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Actually, if you think about it, I kinda lucked out. I get to see you earlier than I thought today.”
Tate didn’t take the bait and fire back with a sassy quip as he’d hoped. Instead, he stared deep into Liam’s eyes, wildfire in his gaze. “Fuck, Luxe, I want you. I want you all the damn time.”
“You have me, Tate.” Always. Anytime.
They kissed. It started out soft and gentle, a comfort to battle the stress of the afternoon, but it quickly turned heated. Tate’s hands went to his ass, squeezing and lifting. Liam got the message. He jumped up and wrapped his legs around Tate’s waist, locking his ankles behind Tate’s back. All that strength was sexy as hell. Tate stalked across the small kitchen until he could press Liam against the refrigerator.
“I need to fuck you,” Tate growled in his ear.
“I’d kick your ass if you didn’t.” They both laughed, then went back to devouring each other. Once his head was spinning and his dick hard as stone, Liam ripped his mouth away. “Take me to your—”
“Tate?” The door flew open so hard it banged against the wall. “Whit said Mom’s got some dude ov… oh fuck no!”
They froze.
Their gazes locked, and Liam saw resignation in Tate’s. There’d be no getting out of this one. No zipping up and pretending nothing happened. Liam swallowed hard and tried to prepare himself for the fallout—for Tate to wall himself off and go cold.
But instead, he leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to Liam’s lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I knew it,” Randy shouted as Liam unwound himself from Tate’s body. “I fucking knew it.”
His feet hit the floor, and Tate made sure he was steady before turning to face his brother.
Tate’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Randy, take a fucking breath,” he said, holding up his hands.
“Goddammit, I fucking knew some shady shit was going on between you two.” Randy spun around and stomped out of the trailer, shouting and cursing the whole way.
“Randy, calm the fuck down.” Tate marched after his brother with Liam hot on his heels.
Once outside, Randy paced a dusty strip across the dirt road, jamming a hand through his hair the same way Tate did when frustrated. He looked up and speared Liam with a glare that had his blood running cold. This was what Tate had warned him about.
What he’d feared all along.
“What the fuck have you done to him?” Randy’s ice-cold tone would have penetrated six layers of snow gear.
“Randy, he didn’t do a goddamn thing,” Tate said, extending an arm in front of Liam like people do when they hit the brakes too hard and send their passenger careening forward.
“What the fuck have you done to my brother,” Randy screamed at the top of his lungs as he charged toward Liam.
Liam didn’t have time to react. No time to feel fear or decide whether he should run or fight. Tate dove between them, stopping Randy before he could touch Liam. “Don’t you fucking touch him.” He managed to coral Randy back a dozen or so steps.
“He’s trying to turn you gay. You’re trying to turn my brother fucking gay,” he shouted over Tate’s shoulder. They were nearly the same height, and Randy had a clear view of Liam over his brother’s shoulder.
Liam had no idea what to do or say. His normal cutting tongue and snarky comebacks wouldn’t work here. His heart was so heavy for Tate, and his head spun from the whiplash of what had happened over the last half hour.
Randy continued to scream and rant as he tried to get around Tate.
“For fuck’s sake, Randy,” Tate eventually yelled back in his brother’s face. “He can’t fucking turn me . I’ve known I was gay since I was fifteen-fucking-years old.”
Randy went eerily still. “What?” he whispered, stepping away from his brother.
Liam watched, helpless and heartsick. A few trailer doors opened, and heads popped out, but conflict must be common around here because he caught a few eye rolls, and then the observers disappeared back into their homes.
“Liam didn’t turn me gay,” he said in a more level tone. “I’ve been fucking guys since long before I met Liam.”
“What the fuck?” Randy’s fist came from nowhere, ramming into Tate’s face with so much force that Tate stumbled back.
“Stop!” Liam rushed forward.
“Stay back, Luxe.”
“Luxe?” Randy spat. “You have a fucking pet name for this queer?”
“Randy, I’m queer.” Tate’s voice held so much resignation and exhaustion that it seemed as though fighting this war for so many years had finally caught up to him.
“No, you’re fucking not. This is a goddamn prank.” He threw another punch, catching Tate’s chin.
Liam winced. Memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of granite fists tried to worm their way past his defenses, but he shoved them aside to focus on Tate. Tonight would bring a nightmare for sure, but he’d deal with that shit when it happened.
“Fight me like a man, you pussy!”
Shaking his head, Tate held his arms out to his sides. “Hit me all you want, Randy. I won’t fight you.”
“Goddamn right, I’ll hit you.” The next punch landed on Tate’s nose. Blood sprayed onto the dirt.
“That’s enough,” Liam shouted. “Fucking stop it, Randy. He’s your brother.”
Another car pulled up, and Daryl hopped out with a woman Liam had never seen. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Just caught Tate here messing around with the gay. They were practically fucking in the goddamn kitchen.”
If the situation weren’t so volatile, Liam would have snorted and rolled his eyes. Maybe Randy didn’t know how to fuck because all their clothes had been on and their cocks hidden.
“You ain’t fucking serious.” Spit flew from Daryl’s mouth as he yelled.
Randy swung again, connecting with Tate’s chin. This punch knocked him to the ground.
Enough was enough.
Liam ran to his car, where he kept pepper spray and a taser. After retrieving them from the glove box, he sprinted back to the fight and jumped between Randy and Tate.
“Luxe, get the fuck in the car,” Tate yelled, but it sounded nasal and all wrong.
He activated the taser. “Don’t fucking touch him again,” he growled in a sinister voice he didn’t know he was capable of making.
Randy lurched forward.
“Come at me, asshole. Tate might be too good of a man to hit you, but I have no problem making you jerk on the ground in a puddle of your own piss.” Daryl started forward. “Don’t do it.” Liam swung the taser in Daryl’s direction.
“Get the fuck outta here,” Randy said. “And take that pussy with you.” He spat toward his brother but, thankfully, was too far away from Tate to reach. Liam might have tasered his ass for the fun of it otherwise.
By now, Tate had climbed to his feet. Blood dripped down his chin and onto his shirt. One of his eyes was already swelling shut. Hopefully, his nose wasn’t broken. “I’m okay, Luxe,” he said before Liam could even ask.
Blinking away tears, Liam nodded. The entire afternoon was catching up to him, and he needed to get them the hell out of there so he could take care of Tate before he broke down. “Let’s go.”
They walked backward toward his car, unwilling to turn their backs on Randy or Daryl. As soon as they were seated inside, Liam locked the doors. Finally, he took a breath.
Tate stared at his brother through the windshield. Randy was having an animated conversation with Daryl, shouting, pacing, and flailing his arms. Tate’s face remained expressionless.
“Tate?”
Finally, he turned to Liam. “Get us the fuck outta here.”
Gladly .