Chapter 26
James
I’d been walking around all morning in a state of shock.
From the moment Kent agreed to get back with Brittany, I’d barely been able to speak.
I stayed in the kitchen while they packed, making myself look busy.
I couldn’t bring myself to even glance up at Kent, not when the sight of him would break me.
Once everything was packed, Brittany and Kent left taking Mom with them. They were all going out to lunch together before dropping Mom off at the hotel. Brittany did not invite me to go with them.
All at once I was alone in my apartment again, just like before.
But now, instead of just the general humdrum of life, I was so brokenhearted I could hardly think.
Kent, the man I loved, was gone. And the worst part was…
he didn’t even say goodbye. I thought we were in it for the long haul, that we were something.
But he’d agreed to get back with Brittany so quickly that I found myself wondering if he’d ever cared about me at all.
Was I just a couch to crash on to him? Just a warm body to play with until his life got back to normal?
I’d been so stupid, letting myself believe that Kent had changed, that what we had was real. But the moment Brittany showed up with her perfect hair and her practiced smile, he’d folded like a cheap suit. No hesitation. No fight. Just a simple “Of course there’s nobody else,” and that was that.
I paced around the apartment, unable to sit still.
Everywhere I looked, I saw remnants of Kent.
There was a coffee mug he’d left on the counter, the indentation of his favorite spot on the couch, and the rustled covers on the bed where he’d slept beside me so many nights.
I grabbed the blankets and tore them off the bed onto the floor where they lay in a heap.
My phone buzzed, and for a split second, my heart leapt, thinking it might be Kent. But it was just a client email, something about the new project I couldn’t bring myself to care about right now.
“Fuck,” I muttered, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. Our bed. The bed where he’d held me and made me feel like I mattered to him.
I should have known better. People don’t change overnight.
The Kent who had tormented me as a teenager, who had spent years making homophobic jokes at my expense…
that was the real Kent. This version, the one who’d seemed so tender and caring, so passionate about me.
.. that had been the illusion. And I’d fallen for it.
The worst part was that I couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. Who could I possibly tell? “Hey, I’m heartbroken because my stepbrother dumped me for his ex-girlfriend”? That would go over well.
A knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. I froze, my pulse quickening. Could it be Kent? Had he changed his mind? Had he realized what he’d done?
I practically ran to the door, not bothering to check the peephole before yanking it open.
But it wasn’t Kent.
It was Trevor.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, anger flaring instantly.
Trevor looked different than the last time I’d seen him. He was less cocky, more subdued, and a lot less angry. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
“I saw them,” he said without preamble. “Your stepbrother and that blonde chick. They were loading stuff into her car downstairs.”
I stared at him, suddenly too exhausted to even be properly angry. “And you came up here to what? Gloat?”
“No,” Trevor said quickly. “I came to see if you were okay.”
I laughed, the sound harsh and bitter even to my own ears. “Oh, now you care about how I’m doing? After threatening to tell everyone about us? After calling us fucking disgusting? That’s rich.”
“Look, I was an asshole,” Trevor admitted, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I was hurt and I lashed out. But I never actually told anyone.”
I leaned against the doorframe, suddenly feeling like my legs might give out. “What do you want, Trevor?”
“Can I come in? Just for a minute?”
“No,” I said, blocking the doorway. “Not today.”
Trevor looked disappointed, but he just nodded. “Alright. Well, I just came to say I’m sorry and that I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I… I couldn’t live with myself after what I said.”
“Thanks for apologizing,” I grunted. “I’m still pissed at you.”
“That’s fair…”
“Now, if you don’t mind,” I added. “I have work to do.”
“Right. Okay.” Trevor backed away from the door. “See you around I guess—”
I shut the door before he could finish. The last thing I wanted to hear right now was some shitty apology from Trevor.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure I believed that he meant it.
The timing was awfully convenient for him to try to swoop in and get me to fall into his arms with a few sweet words while I was hurting. That wasn’t a game I wanted to play.
I thought maybe my work would distract me for a while, so I went to my desk and flipped open my laptop. It looked like my clients had sent me the new contract and a few files about what they were looking for. I’d been reading for maybe ten minutes before there was another knock at my door.
“Go away, Trevor,” I called. “I told you to leave me alone.”
Another knock, more insistent this time.
“Jesus fucking Christ…” I grumbled, pushing myself up. “That guy can’t take a fucking hint.” I stomped over to the door, practically tearing it open. “I told you I don’t—”
But it wasn’t Trevor. It was Kent. And all the breath left my body.
“James…” he said, rushing through the door. He reached up, grabbing the sides of my face and pressed his lips to mine before I could get a word out.
Any other time I would’ve melted under his touch. Any other time I would’ve longed for this feeling. But the only thing that rose up was an inferno of fury in my belly.
I yanked myself away from him, reeled back, and fucking punched him in the face.
Kent stumbled back, clutching his jaw, his eyes wide with shock. “What the fuck?!”
“Get out,” I snarled, my hand throbbing from the impact. I hadn’t punched anyone since high school, and I’d forgotten how much it hurt. But the physical pain was nothing compared to what was raging inside me.
“James, please—” Kent reached for me again, but I stepped back, putting distance between us.
“No. You don’t get to walk back in here and kiss me like nothing happened.” My voice cracked embarrassingly, but I was beyond caring. “You left with her. You chose her.”
“I didn’t choose her!” Kent’s voice rose in frustration. “I was trapped, James. My dad’s cheating on your mom, Brittany showed up out of nowhere! What was I supposed to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I spat, “maybe not tell everyone there was nobody else in your life? Maybe not pack your shit and leave without even saying goodbye?”
Kent winced. “I know it looked bad—”
“Looked bad?” I laughed, the sound hollow and harsh. “You let Brittany kiss you right in front of me. You let her help you pack. You left with her, Kent. You fucking left.”
“It’s not like that—”
“Then what is it like, Kent?” I barked. “Did you tell her the truth?”
“I…” he faltered. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”
“No, you won’t. There’s a big fucking difference.”
Kent’s brows furrowed, the fury in his eyes all too familiar. “That’s not fair and you know it. This is hard for me, James.”
“Oh, it’s hard for you?” I scoffed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s all about you. I should just be grateful that you used me like your personal fleshlight for a month until your shitty ex showed up and took you back. Fuck my feelings, right?”
“That’s why I came back,” he said, forcing himself to speak in a calmer tone. “I know how to fix this.”
I just stood there, arms crossed, waiting for his explanation.
“I want to be with you, James. But I still need time to figure this all out. To come to terms with what I am.” He looked up at me, his eyes full of hope. “So… why not just have both for now? I’ll live with Brittany and then I can still see you. She won’t miss me anyway.”
My jaw nearly hit the fucking floor.
“Nobody will have to know,” he added. “It’ll be perfect for us both.”
I stared at him for a long moment, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife.
“You want me to be your side piece?” I was so stunned I could barely get the words out. The audacity was breathtaking.
Kent had the decency to look uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “That’s not what I meant—”
“That’s exactly what you meant!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls. “You want to play house with Brittany and then sneak over here to fuck me when it’s convenient for you?”
“James, please—”
“No.” I held up my hand, cutting him off. “Do you know what this makes you? This makes you just like your fucking father.”
Kent recoiled like I’d hit him again. “I am nothing like my father.”
“Really? Because your dad is cheating on my mom with his secretary, and you want to cheat on Brittany with me. Sounds pretty fucking similar to me.” My voice was trembling now, rage and hurt making it hard to keep steady.
“Is that all I am to you? A dirty secret? Someone to fuck on the side while you maintain your perfect straight image?”
“That’s not fair,” Kent protested, his face flushing with anger. “You know how complicated this is. You know what people would say if they found out about us.”
“I don’t care what people say!” I yelled, slamming my fist against the wall. Pain shot up my arm, but I barely registered it. “I was ready to face all of that. To wait. For you. Because I thought what we had was worth fighting for.”
Kent’s expression softened slightly. “It is worth fighting for. That’s why I came back.”
“No.” I shook my head, bitter laughter bubbling up in my throat. “You didn’t come back to fight for us. You came back to see if you could have your cake and eat it too. If you could keep your perfect relationship with Brittany and still get to fuck me on the side.”
“That’s not—”
“Get out,” I said, my voice suddenly ice cold. “Get the fuck out of my apartment and don’t come back.”
Kent stared at me, disbelief written all over his face. “James, come on. You don’t mean that.”
“I’ve never meant anything more in my life.” I walked to the door and yanked it open. “We’re done. Whatever this was between us, it’s over.”
“You can’t just—”
“I can and I am.” I met his eyes, letting him see all the hurt and betrayal I felt. “You know what the saddest part is? I actually thought you’d changed. I thought you were becoming someone better. But you’re still the same selfish asshole you’ve always been.”
Kent’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Fine,” he spat. “If that’s how you want it.”
“It’s not what I want,” I said quietly. “It’s what you deserve.”
The words hung between us like a physical thing, heavy and final. I watched Kent’s face go through a series of emotions, anger, hurt, and disbelief, before finally settling into that cold mask I remembered from our teenage years.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I thought you of all people would understand.”
“Understand what? That you want me to be your dirty little secret?” I laughed bitterly.
“I spent years hiding who I am. Years being ashamed of myself because people like you made me feel like there was something wrong with me. And now you want me to go back into the closet for you? To be the person you fuck when no one’s looking? ”
Kent flinched at my words but didn’t deny them.
“Get lost, Kent,” I said, suddenly exhausted. “Go back to Brittany. Go back to pretending.”
He hesitated in the doorway, looking like he wanted to say something else. For a moment, I thought he might fight for me, might tell me I was wrong. But then his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Goodbye, James,” he said quietly, and then he was gone.
I slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, sliding down until I hit the floor. The tears I’d been holding back finally came, hot and angry, streaming down my face. I pulled my knees to my chest and let myself break apart completely.
I don’t know how long I sat there crying. Long enough that my legs went numb and my throat felt raw. Long enough that the light coming through the window had shifted, casting long shadows across the apartment.
Eventually, I dragged myself up, my body feeling heavy and foreign. I stumbled to the kitchen and pulled out what was left of the bottle of wine I’d bought to celebrate my new project. Was that really just yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago.
I didn’t bother with a glass, just twisted off the cap and took a long swallow straight from the bottle. The wine was good, expensive, but I barely tasted it. I just wanted the numbness it would bring.
My phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at it, half hoping it was Kent, half dreading it was. But it was just a text from my mom.
Mom: Just checked into the hotel. Thank you for everything. Love you.
I stared at the message, trying to figure out how to respond. Did she know what had happened? Had she seen through Kent’s act? Or was she still blissfully unaware that her son had been fucking his stepbrother for the past month?
Me: Love you too.
It was all I could manage. I took another long drink of wine and carried the bottle to the couch, collapsing onto it. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty. Kent had only been gone a few hours, but it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room with him.
How had I let this happen?