Chapter 7
Kent
James hadn’t spoken to me since our fight, which was two nights ago now.
We’d done everything we could to avoid one another.
And I’d gone out of my way to not even catch his eye.
After the way he’d looked at me… like he was daring me to follow through on my strange and unsettling thoughts, I wasn’t sure I could resist.
And the worst part? The thoughts hadn’t gone away. If anything, they’d gotten stronger.
I caught myself staring at the bathroom door while he showered, imagining what he looked like in there.
The water running down his body, his hands sliding over that toned stomach and down to his cock, the one I’d gotten a full view of when he’d dropped his towel.
I’d jerk myself back to reality, disgusted with myself, but ten minutes later I’d be doing it again, my own dick growing in my shorts.
Work had become my refuge. I stayed late, volunteered for extra inspections, anything to delay coming back to the apartment. But eventually I’d run out of excuses and have to face the drive back to Capitol Hill, back to that suffocating studio where James existed in the same space as me.
Tonight was no different. I sat in my truck outside the building for twenty minutes, engine idling, trying to work up the courage to go inside. The lights were on in the apartment. He was home. Of course he was home. Where else would he be at nine o’clock on a Thursday?
My phone buzzed. A text from my dad.
Dad: Your stepmother wants to know if you’re coming to dinner this Sunday. She’s worried about you.
Of course she was. Stacey had that annoying maternal instinct that kicked in whenever she sensed something was wrong. And something was definitely wrong, even if I couldn’t articulate what.
Me: I’ll be there.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and finally killed the engine. I couldn’t sit out here all night like some kind of stalker. I lived there. I had every right to go inside.
The stairs felt longer than usual. Each step brought me closer to James, closer to whatever this toxic thing was brewing between us.
When I reached his apartment, I stood outside the door for a moment, listening.
Music played softly from inside. That same pretentious piano shit he always listened to.
I unlocked the door as quietly as possible and slipped inside.
James was at his desk, hunched over his laptop, wearing headphones. He didn’t turn around when I entered, didn’t acknowledge my presence at all. The tension in his shoulders told me he knew I was there though.
I set my keys down carefully, trying not to make noise. The apartment felt like a minefield. One wrong move and everything would explode again.
I grabbed a clean shirt from my duffel bag and headed for the bathroom, desperate for a shower. The hot water would help. It always helped.
Except it didn’t. Not anymore.
Standing under the spray, I found my hand drifting down, my mind conjuring images I had no business thinking about. James on his knees. James bent over the couch. James looking up at me with those amber eyes while he…
“Fuck,” I hissed, slamming my palm against the tile. This was insane. I wasn’t gay. I’d never been attracted to a man in my entire life. But here I was, stroking my cock in my stepbrother’s shower while thinking about his mouth.
I forced myself to think about Brittany instead. Her curves, her breasts, the way she used to moan when I—
Nothing. My cock remained stubbornly interested in the wrong person.
I gave up, washing quickly and getting out before I did something even more pathetic. When I emerged, towel around my waist, James still hadn’t moved from his desk. But I caught his reflection in the darkened window. He was watching me.
Our eyes met in the glass for half a second before he jerked his gaze back to his screen, his fingers frozen over the keyboard.
My heart hammered in my chest. I should say something. Apologize for the other night, clear the air, do literally anything to break this suffocating tension.
Instead, I retreated to the couch and pulled on my clothes, my hands shaking slightly. What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just act normal around him?
The music stopped. I heard James pull off his headphones and close his laptop. Every movement sounded amplified in the silence. I kept my eyes fixed on my phone screen, scrolling through nothing, seeing nothing.
“Kent.”
His voice made me flinch. I looked up slowly, reluctantly. James had turned in his chair to face me, his expression carefully neutral.
“Yeah?”
“We need to talk about what happened.”
“No, we don’t.” The words came out too fast, too defensive.
“Yes, we do.” He stood, and I had to force myself not to track the movement of his body. “We can’t keep avoiding each other like this. It’s making everything worse.”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“You’ve been coming home at nine o’clock every night for the past two days. You won’t look at me. You won’t talk to me.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s avoidance, Kent.”
He was right, of course. But admitting it meant acknowledging why I was avoiding him, and I couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that.
“Fine,” I said, sitting up straighter. “What do you want to talk about?”
James hesitated, like he hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his confidence wavering.
“The other night,” he started. “When you… when we…” He trailed off, searching for words.
“When I was a dick to you?” I offered. “Yeah, that’s kind of my default setting. Sorry if that’s news to you.”
“Don’t do that.” His jaw tightened. “Don’t deflect. You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
My stomach twisted. I knew exactly what he was talking about. The way I’d caged him against the door. The way I’d looked at his mouth. The jealousy that had poured out of me like poison when I’d thought about him with someone else.
“It was nothing,” I said, the lie tasting bitter. “I was stressed about work and took it out on you. Won’t happen again.”
“Kent—”
“I said it won’t happen again.” I stood abruptly, needing to move, needing space. “Can we just drop it? Please?”
James stared at me for a long moment, and I could see him weighing his options. Push harder and risk another fight, or let it go and maintain the fragile peace we’d barely established.
“Fine,” he said finally. “We’ll drop it. But you need to stop acting like I have the plague. We’re living together. We have to be able to exist in the same room.”
“I can exist in the same room as you.”
“Really? Because you won’t even look at me right now.”
He was right again. I’d been staring at a spot just over his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. I forced myself to look at him directly, to hold his gaze.
That was a mistake.
Because the second our eyes met, everything I’d been trying to suppress came roaring back. The want. The confusion. The horrible, undeniable attraction that made me want to cross the room and—
I looked away first, my breath coming too fast.
“See?” James’s voice was soft, almost sad. “You can’t even do it.”
“It’s not—” I ran a hand through my damp hair, frustrated. “It’s complicated, okay? Just give me some time to figure my shit out.”
“Figure what out, exactly?”
Everything, I wanted to say. Why I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Why the idea of you with someone else makes me want to punch walls. Why I’m questioning things about myself I thought were set in stone.
“Nothing,” I said instead. “Just work stuff. The Belltown project is behind schedule and—”
“Stop lying to me.”
The words hit like a slap. James took a step closer, his expression hardening.
“I’m done with your lies, Kent. Done with you pretending everything’s fine when it clearly isn’t.” Another step. “You want me to back off? Fine. But stop acting like I’m the one making this weird when we both know what’s really going on here.”
My heart was thundering now. “And what’s that?”
“You tell me.” He was close enough now that I could smell him, that same clean scent that had been driving me crazy for days. “What’s really going on, Kent? Why can’t you stand the thought of me with someone else?”
“I never said—”
“You didn’t have to.” His eyes searched mine, looking for something I wasn’t ready to give.
“I’m not Brittany,” he said, taking a left turn I didn’t expect, but was grateful for.
Anything to avoid talking about a truth I couldn’t explain.
“And I don’t need your protection. You had your chance to play big brother when we were kids, and you chose to bully me instead.
So don’t think you get to tell me what I can and can’t do now. ”
“I’m not trying to protect you,” I said, but the words sounded weak even to my ears.
“Then what are you trying to do?” He was so close now that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to control me.”
“That’s not—” I stopped, my jaw clenching. He was baiting me, pushing me to admit something I couldn’t even admit to myself. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “Tell me what you’re so afraid of.”
Everything. I was afraid of everything. Of the way my body responded to him. Of the thoughts that invaded my mind at night. Of the fact that everything I thought I knew about myself was crumbling like wet cardboard.
“I’m not afraid,” I lied.
“You know what? Fine,” he said, standing up from his chair. “I don’t have time to sit here and argue with you. I’ve got a date.”
“You what?!”
“Yeah,” he grumbled, grabbing the hoodie from the edge of his bed and pulling it over his head.
“Remember when you picked a fight with me and ruined my plans for the night? We rescheduled.” He marched across the room, pocketing his keys and phone.
“So, I’m going to go have fun and you can sit here and be mad about it or whatever the fuck is wrong with you. I don’t care.”
Something snapped inside me.
I moved before I could think, crossing the distance between us in two strides. My hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, spinning him around to face me.
“Don’t,” I growled.
“Don’t what?” He tried to pull away, but I held firm. “Don’t go out? Don’t have a life? Don’t do exactly what you do whenever you feel like it?”
“Don’t go to him.”
The words hung between us, raw and possessive. James’s eyes widened, and I saw understanding dawn across his features. Not surprise—he’d already known, hadn’t he? He’d been waiting for me to admit it.
“Why not?” he challenged, his voice steady even as his pulse hammered visibly in his throat. “Give me one good reason.”
I couldn’t. There was no good reason. Every reason I had was selfish and wrong and completely fucked up.
“That’s what I thought,” James said, tearing his hand away from me. “Have a good fucking night.”
The door slammed behind him, and I was left there, standing in the kitchen, torn between going after him and trying to protect this dark secret that had taken root inside of me.
It was at least a minute before I moved.
With no small amount of effort, I forced myself back to the couch and sat down, my face buried in my hands.
I needed to get out. I needed air. I needed anything other than sitting here imagining James with that guy downstairs, doing things that made my blood boil and my cock hard at the same time.
I grabbed my jacket and keys, not bothering to check where I was going.
I just walked, letting my feet carry me down the stairs and out into the cold Seattle night.
The streets of Capitol Hill were alive with people—couples holding hands, groups of friends laughing outside bars, lives being lived while mine fell apart.
I ended up at a dive bar three blocks from James’s apartment. The kind of place with sticky floors and cheap beer and absolutely no pretense. I slid onto a barstool and ordered a whiskey, breaking my promise to Brittany and myself. Then another. Then a third.
The alcohol didn’t help. It never did. It just made the thoughts louder, more insistent.
James’s mouth. James’s body. James looking up at me with challenge in his eyes, daring me to do something about the electricity crackling between us.
My stepbrother, for a reason I couldn’t explain, was haunting me. And I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to keep it a secret.