Chapter 18
Wesley
Ru was falling asleep on me, and guilt sliced through me.
We’d been close when he was tiny, closer than anyone, but when I had to leave home, he was twelve—and fuck, I’d left him behind.
The weight of that mistake pressed down as heavily as his head on my shoulder.
Hunter and I managed to get him upstairs to my bed, and I tucked the blankets around him until only his dark hair showed above the quilts.
He wasn’t shaking anymore; his words were clear, no mumbling. He just wanted to sleep.
His damp hair clung to the pillow, strands curling as they dried, and I smoothed one back from his forehead.
The faint smell of cold night air still clung to him, sharp and metallic, a reminder of how far he’d walked to reach me.
Under the quilts, he looked smaller than ever, fragile in a way that scared me more than the shaking had—as if I looked away too long, he might vanish.
I whispered a promise he couldn’t hear; I wasn’t leaving him again.
Still, worry gnawed at me. I’d already looked up symptoms of hypothermia on my phone, scrolling with anxious fingers, but Ru turned onto his side, curled into the warmth, and let out a sigh that sounded almost like peace.
He cuddled down, and I stepped out into the hall where Hunter waited on the landing.
“I should go,” he said quietly.
I reached for him before I could lose my nerve. “Can you stay for a while? Just… get cocoa? Talk?”
His brows lifted. “Cocoa?”
I smiled weakly. “I have Christmas cookies. In the shape of snowflakes. And stars. And a couple that were supposed to be angels but look more like lopsided ducks. Don’t judge me.”
That made him laugh, the sound low and welcome, and I realized how much I needed that—needed him.
We padded the few steps to the kitchen, and Hunter leaned against the counter, arms folded, while I fussed with mugs and cocoa powder.
My thoughts slipped, unbidden, to family—the way they’d cut me off, same as they had Ru.
He’d hidden his truth all this time. How could anyone turn their own blood away for wanting to live honestly?
The ache of it pressed hard in my chest, but when I looked at Hunter, steady and warm in the dim light, I felt something stronger than pain—hope.
I’d made it through and with me by his side, Ru would too.
The steadiness in Hunter’s posture kept me from unraveling completely. While my thoughts raced, he was a calm anchor in the storm. Knowing he was there steadied my breathing.
Hunter took the mug from my hand and blew on the cocoa before sipping. “How old is Ru?”
“Twenty-two,” I said after a moment of working it all out, wrapping my hands around my mug. “I’m the second oldest of four boys. Ru was the baby, the quiet one, always trying to keep out of the line of fire.”
Hunter’s eyes softened. “And your parents?”
“If you didn’t fit the mold, you didn’t belong.
” My throat tightened. “I told you they got rid of me when I came out. Same with Ru now. He kept his secrets, even from me.” That hurt more than I wanted to admit—I wished he’d called me, reached out somehow.
We’d been close when he was tiny; when I was encouraged to leave home, he was only twelve.
And fuck, I left him behind. All these years, I told myself—while pushing away memories of Christmas mornings when Ru had followed me everywhere, eyes shining with absolute trust. He’d trailed after me with toy soldiers, begged to help hang ornaments, and curled beside me under the tree as if I was his whole world.
Remembering that now made the ache almost unbearable.
I thought he’d forgotten me, the same as Benedict and Lewis, toeing the line, taking the money, believing our parents were right in all things, but now I knew he’d been fighting his own battles alone.
The memory carried more than just the image.
I could smell the sharp bite of pine needles from the tree, hear the crinkle of wrapping paper as Ru tore into his presents, his laughter bubbling so freely it filled every corner of the room.
For a moment, I was back there, his small hand clutching mine, eyes full of trust and love.
The ache of it slammed into me, and I blinked hard, dragging myself back to the kitchen and the man standing steady beside me.
“How old was he when you had to leave?”
“Twelve.”
“Then, maybe he’s only just realized who he was, Wes, maybe it wasn’t as clear for him as it was for you.”
“I know. I’m just being stupid.” I sighed, “A baby bi,” I murmured. “All alone with my fucked-up family.”
“Why did your family… I mean… what…”
“Religion, money, social standing, you name it, then being gay… well, hell, that broke whatever love they had for me, and now for Ru.” My eyes stung, tears pricking before I could stop them. “I’m done ever feeling sorry for myself, but Ru doesn’t deserve this.”
Hunter reached across the counter and brushed his knuckles over mine. “Sounds like you both deserved better.”
I swallowed hard, the warmth of his touch grounding me.
Inside, a raw voice screamed: If I lose Ru now after already abandoning him once, I’ll never forgive myself.
“We did. But at least Ru’s here. He’s got me, and I won’t let him down.
He can move in here with me, and...” I glanced back at the single bedroom.
Yeah, I hadn’t thought that one through.
A pang of worry hit me—where would Ru even sleep? My room was his now, at least until he was safe. I’d make up the sofa for myself if I had to, or trade off with Hunter, whatever it took. The thought of him not having a place under my roof made my chest tighten.
“And you can sleep next door with me,” Hunter finished, and I shot him a grateful look. “Not tonight, though. Tonight, you should stay with your brother.”
“Yeah.”
Silence stretched between us, and I stared into my cocoa, the steam blurring my eyes.
“I left him there, that I didn’t fight harder to stay in his life.
I should have contacted him, thought that maybe not all my family hated me, but the last time I saw him, he was crying and yelling at me and my parents, and he said he hated me, and fuck…
” I sobbed again. I’d taken that at face value, but he was only a kid still, lashing out with words he didn’t mean, and I should have known better. “If I hadn’t been forced to leave—”
“Wes,” he interrupted gently. “You said you were eighteen, right? You did what you had to do to survive. None of this is on you.”
I shook my head, throat tight. “But I abandoned him. He needed me. I was his big brother, and I wasn’t there. And now—now he shows up on my doorstep, and all I can think is how many years he was alone because of me.
“I remember one night,” I whispered, voice breaking.
“Ru was maybe eight, came padding into my room with tears all down his face after a nightmare. He didn’t say anything, just crawled under my blanket and curled up against me like he belonged there.
” I swallowed hard. “I told him monsters were scared of his stuffed bear, whispered it until he fell asleep, tucked into my chest. He needed me then, and I was there. Later, when he needed me most, I wasn’t. ”
Hunter’s glance softened, and he set his mug aside to take my hand fully in his. “You didn’t abandon him. You found your way back to each other. That’s what matters. And you’re here now—he’s not alone anymore. Neither of you is.”
I wanted to argue, to hang on to the guilt like a shield, but he wasn’t letting me.
“Can I tell you about them?” I asked suddenly, my voice low. Hunter just nodded, steady as ever.
I drew in a breath. “The night it happened; I didn’t even get a choice.
They found out, there was shouting, and then it was just—‘get out.’ I packed two cases, shoved what I could into my car, and left.
That was it. No goodbye, no chance to explain, nothing.
Just the sound of the door shutting behind me and knowing I couldn’t go back. ”
I remembered shoving clothes in at random, my precious stack of books crammed in until the zipper strained, and the troll-shaped mug Ru had made in art class that for some reason I had to bring with me.
Two cases, all I could carry, everything else left behind.
That was what I drove away with—my whole life whittled down to fabric, pages, and one chipped mug.
“I was okay, though, you know. I was fierce and running on temper. I had my car to sell, and I had savings, and all I could think was fuck them all.”
Hunter’s jaw tightened, and for a second, anger flashed in his eyes.
“They threw you out like that?” His voice was rough, incredulous.
“Christ, Wes… I can’t even wrap my head around it.
Any parent who could do that doesn’t deserve you.
” The heat of his fury stole my breath because it was for me, for Ru, for what we’d lost. He leaned closer.
“You deserved love. Safety. Not a slammed door.”
Tears blurred my vision again, and I ducked my head. “I keep replaying it, wondering if I’d begged harder, if I’d tried one more time to get them to understand who I was…”
Hunter shook his head firmly. “No. Don’t you dare take that blame. They failed you, Wes. You did what you had to do. And look at you—you built a life anyway. And now Ru’s here. You’re not alone in this anymore.”
Before I could answer, Hunter moved and pulled me into his arms. The hug was fierce, as if he could hold my pieces together with sheer strength, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head.
I let myself sink into it, hearing the steady thud of his heart against my cheek.
For the first time in years, I let someone else carry some of the weight, and the relief cracked me open.
I sobbed once, quiet and raw, and he held me tighter.
My tears soaked into his shirt, damp patches spreading as I clung tighter, my hands trembling with the force of everything I’d held back for years.
Hunter didn’t flinch—if anything, he held me closer, as if my breaking was something he could shoulder without question.
His hand slid down to brush away the wetness on my cheek, his touch unbearably gentle.
“Come here,” he murmured, tugging me until I buried my face in his neck, inhaling the steady warmth of him, clutching his shoulders as if he were the one solid thing in the world.
After a long moment, he tipped his head, his lips brushing my temple. “How about we move this to the sofa up here? Grab some blankets, take the cookies, and put on a Christmas movie? Just you and me, keeping watch over Ru?”
A laugh broke through my tears, shaky but real. “That sounds perfect.”
We carried freshly filled mugs and a plate of lopsided angels through to the small front room with its views over the square below, curled together on the sofa with every blanket I could find, with the flicker of Christmas lights painting the walls.
The movie played, some predictable holiday classic—big-city professional finding love in a small town at Christmas with a flannel-wearing toy shop owner.
I found myself rambling for half an hour about Santa granting wishes hidden in the plot, and Hunter chuckled, low and warm, and shifted me closer.
The heroine decides to stay right at the end as she falls in love.
Of course she did.
“Like anyone in their right mind would give up real life for small-town love,” I chuckled as sleep pulled at me. My last thought before everything went dark was a whisper inside: I wish Hunter’s choice to stay was at the ending of our story.