Landon
CHASTAIN CASTLE CONTINUES TO be intimidating and towering, no matter how many times you enter it. The front doors stand before me, daunting and beautiful as I take a deep breath.
He won’t be here, I assure myself. It’s a Saturday after all.
When Julian called and asked me to fly out, I was a little shocked. Sure, we’d had that conversation the other night, and a few texts had been exchanged since then, but a boys’ night? That’s new.
Growing up, boys’ night meant something else entirely. It meant video games or ripping our clothes off as fast as possible. And now? Now it means hanging out with two other couples as a fifth wheel.
Hooray!
I’m not complaining, though. I needed to get out of my parents’ house. Between my being injured and losing my power, Dad is constantly up my ass. It’s as if he believes that now that I’m… well, this version of myself, I’ll fall further down that rabbit hole of depression.
The worst part? They aren’t wrong.
In fact, I spend most days ignoring the fact that I’m an average guy now, trapped in pure denial. Sure, I can’t escape the blood-chilling feeling of being empty, but I can certainly refrain from dwelling on what it means.
That now, I’m not only the guy who is sad for nothing, the bratty partier, but also powerless. There is no longer a singular, unique thing about me.
The piece of me that I held closest to my heart has been ripped away—and so has the only person I’ve ever let truly see me.
If I could go back to hating Nate fully, I would be relieved. But for some reason, under all this anger and disgust, there is sorrow. And not the sorrow that normally makes its bed in my soul, but a new kind. A lonely kind.
Landon Presley is now two parts agony and one part fury. Should I put that on my resume? Dad might find it hilarious.
It was a battle to convince my family that I was really heading to Julian’s this morning. The only reason I believe they let me get on the plane is that I truly have never been hurt in Oregon, and I promised to only go to Chastain Castle.
I know I’m weaker now—less capable of protecting myself without the gift of coercion—but I’m not stupid. No way in hell am I taking a trip down memory lane at Nate’s cottage.
I’d simply rather die.
What a thrilling and terrifying thought.
I guess I’ve been standing in front of the main entrance to the estate for too long, because before I can get the courage to knock in the midst of all my reminiscing, the doors swing open.
“Lan!” Julian shouts as he grabs my good shoulder, pulling me into his arms. “What happened to you?! Your arm is broken!”
“Not broken.” I chuckle, basking in the warmth of his body. I’ve missed him so much, and like I’ve been gifted one last reprieve, I’m not sad to see his happy face. “I’ve dislocated it. I should be out of this sling in less than a week, though.”
“Jesus, man,” he breathes out. “You’re all over the place, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
Julian pulls away, staring at me with hard, concerned eyes for a moment before he smiles brightly and yanks me inside to shut the door. “Come on in. We’re all upstairs.”
“You sure it’s alright that I’m here? I feel like I’m intruding.” I sound misplaced, like I’m stepping onto an alien spaceship, even if this is my third time here.
Well, my second if you ask Julian.
“Not at all,” he assures me, guiding me up the grand staircase. “Bossman already gave us permission.”
“Oh. Okay, good.”
I expect us to go into one of the various rooms on the second floor of the estate, but instead, Julian guides me to a door hidden away at the end of the last hallway on the right.
Remembering the tour he gave us the day after New Year’s, I explicitly recall him telling us to never enter this door. It leads to the only tower connected to the estate.
“Should we be…?”
Julian laughs, pushing the door open with his hip as he waves me forward. “Things have changed. This is Atlas’s room, but I live up here now as well.”
That sounds a bit odd—though to be fair, he didn’t exactly take us into the other bedrooms either. But being barred so seriously? What was happening back then?
As we climb the dimly lit, steep staircase, I can hear voices from above.
“Cam, no! You can’t play a jack on a queen; it’s against the rules!” That sounds like Atlas, though I can’t be completely sure.
“Three Card sucks,” another voice responds. That must be Cameron.
“We’re playing cards,” Julian explains just as the entrance comes into view.
The door is wide open, with three guys sitting around a neatly displayed card game I don’t recognize. The room is clean and bright, with moonlight streaming in from a fancy skylight.
“Landon!” Atlas squeals, jumping to his feet as soon as he sees me on the top step.
“Uh, hey,” I greet. I’m still not sure how to interact with him or if he knows I used to fuck and get fucked by his boyfriend.
Cameron, who is still just as muscular and kind-looking as he was when we first met, gives me a small, distracted wave as he shuffles through his cards.
And Atticus, whom I only ever met at the sporting goods store, gives me a nod before returning his attention to Cameron.
“We’re so happy you came!” Atlas says, coming forward to grab my hand and drag me into the small circle they’re sitting in.
I shuffle after him awkwardly, giving Julian a startled look over my shoulder on the way. He shrugs, grinning widely as if everything in life is finally perfect again.
“This card game is so fun,” Atlas rambles as he plops down next to me on the floor. “I keep winning!”
“Because Julian is counting cards and giving you the upper hand,” Atticus mumbles, a frown permanently shaping his lips.
Julian makes no move to defend himself as Cameron snickers, leaning in to give his boyfriend a soft kiss on the cheek. At this, Atticus finally smiles.
It’s small and personal, but there all the same.
“Are you any good at cards, Landon?” Atlas asks, turning the full force of those big blue eyes onto me.
“This guy?” Julian teases. “Not a chance.”
Julian’s playful jab seems to loosen something inside of me, and I release a deep breath before I shoot back, “I distinctly remember being better than you, at least.”
This earns a few chuckles, and I settle further into the group as my heart rate slows.
Everything is fine. This is okay. To these guys, I appear completely normal. I am not a shell of the man I was only so long ago—I am not broken.
Julian continues to make targeted jokes, garnering a few warranted glares from Atticus, whom I’m quickly understanding isn’t Julian’s biggest fan.
But as the card game continues, with me just watching, I can feel another emotion building inside of me. Something different than the nervous energy I felt coming in, or the fear that these people will be able to see how thoroughly I’ve fallen apart.
No, instead it is something spiteful and envious. Every time Atticus leans over to guide Cameron’s next play, their hands brushing and eyes lingering, I want to rage.
And as Julian smiles so gently in Atlas’s direction, with Atlas batting his lashes and squirming where he sits, I want to run from this estate and never look back.
The constant reminders of what this intimacy felt like—even if my version was like the coked-out, violent edition—are suffocating me. It’s making me desperate and angry.
“I’m thinking we should have some late-night snacks; what do you guys think?” Julian asks after Atlas wins yet another round.
I think I’m siding with Atticus on this—Julian is most definitely helping his boyfriend cheat.
Cameron’s head snaps up, staring wide-eyed at Julian as if the idea of snacks offends him.
But before I can comment on it, Atlas speaks up. “Sure! I’ll have some cheese and crackers, please.”
Julian nods dutifully before looking between the two others in our company. Cameron continues to stare—eyes round and his mouth slightly ajar.
“I’m fine,” Atticus says. “But Cam will have sliced apples.”
Is it just me, or is this Atticus guy a little presumptuous? He didn’t even ask if Cameron wanted sliced apples; he just assumed it!
As I’m trying to decide if I should suggest an intervention to Julian, my eyes dart to Cameron, who is sending a grateful look in Atticus’s direction.
Like he appreciates the odd gesture. As if it soothes him.
Huh. I guess he likes the controlling, presumptuous type.
What an interesting way to live. One that is definitely not for me, thank you very much.
“Want anything, Lan?” Julian prompts, and I shake my head, still trying to wrap my mind around Atticus and Cameron’s dynamic.
A moment later, Julie has disappeared, and an awkward silence cloaks the room. He kind of is the center of this group—as far as I know, Cameron and I were his friends first, only meeting Atticus and Atlas through him. And now that he’s gone, there’s a weird tension between us.
“How’s working at the auto shop, Cam?” Atlas suddenly asks, and knowing that they all live together and probably talk daily, I assume the question is more for my comfort than genuine concern.
Cameron lights up, leaning forward as he responds. “Good! I worked on this Ford F-150 today, and it was so cool. It’s a 1956, so it has that wraparound windshield you only ever find in vintage car magazines.”
“That’s awesome,” Atlas beams. “I want a car so bad, but Papa keeps telling me that I don’t go anywhere without Julie anyway, so there’s no point.”
He’s pouting, jutting out his full bottom lip in distaste. It strikes me again how strange I find his and Julian’s relationship. I mean, he only ever liked guys like me, and yet here he is with the prettiest boy I’ve seen in my entire life.
But he’s happy, and that’s all I truly care about. If this is what appeals to him now, good for him.
“Father is right,” Atticus chimes in, sending his brother a pointed look. “There is no need to buy you a car.”
“Says the guy with a BMW,” Cameron murmurs, and I catch the little hint of a smile on his face.