Chapter Twenty
Laken
Last night had devolved into a supercharged conversation after Laken had given details—even sketchy ones—about the worst part of his childhood.
It left him emotionally drained and thoughts of doing it again had made for another sleepless night.
Dawn had barely broken when he entered the office this morning in the hopes that some busy work would occupy his thoughts.
When he’d surfaced, he’d called Booker to double check it wasn’t going to be an issue with Frey keeping quiet.
He’d had a moment of doubt that Frey, being close with Isley, may be inclined to let slip about his confession.
Booker being Booker had gone on about what he needed to do.
Booker’s encouragement to tell Isley was due to their close working relationship and nothing more, but it hit far too close to the line he’d crossed just two nights ago in Isley’s apartment.
There was no going back, he’d concluded.
Whatever came next between him and Isley, he would accept it gracefully—possibly.
And that right there was what held him back, the possibility Isley would see him differently.
Laken put off the inevitable conversation after Isley had come to his office that afternoon to update him on timetables of deliveries, beaming happiness.
To take that happiness away would be like snatching an infant from its loving parents.
The sheer number of files they needed to work through kept them busy for over four hours and it was drawing to the end of the day.
His previous plan to go to Isley’s after work was scuppered by the planned family meeting Popi insisted upon.
Last night, Dad had argued with Laken that it was too late to get Silas, Taylin, Kari—wherever he was—and Rue on video chat, when he didn’t want to change the arrangement he had with Isley.
The latter video chat needed a secure line, meaning the call link wasn’t easily sorted.
Dad didn’t want the call to be intercepted by anyone using a listening device.
It was all a little high tech for Laken, but he’d agreed more reluctantly, when he couldn’t explain his issue without giving away whatever was going on with Isley.
The dilemma now was how best to deal with Isley.
Carefully.
Thinking of ways to bring up the conversation, which was definitely going to result in pissing Isley off, was proving difficult.
He was willing to bet his last dollar the tiny sugar glider wasn’t going to be fobbed off with platitudes easily.
His stomach clenched in expectation of Isley’s reaction as he coughed around the tickle in his throat.
He was nervous. Fucking hell what was wrong with him?
I’m a grown man.
About to get his ass handed to him by a tiny devil, his wolf supplied, laughing.
Not fucking helping, he growled back. This is gonna change everything.
It changes nothing. Get over yourself and give our sugar glider some credit with the truth.
Christ, he fucking hoped his animal was right more than he cared to admit.
He was sweating at the prospect of laying out his past for Isley to examine in his tenacious way.
It was going to be hard enough to talk about it again with the rest of his brothers and their partners, without telling the one person whose rejection would cut the deepest. It was a kicker, for sure.
It didn't matter how he’d tried to convince himself otherwise, it was the truth. He couldn’t stand the thought of Isley looking at him differently. He just couldn’t and that scared him more than those fuckers who abused him. More than the blackmailing scumbag.
“Do you need me to handle anything else?”
Isley’s question jolted him from his thoughts and, for a second, he couldn’t remember exactly what they’d been doing. When his gaze landed on the Haymarket file, he shook his head.
“We’re done for the day, just send David the updated costings and I’ll do the rest.”
He gave Isley a dismissive nod, not ready to start the conversation when he could taste his own fear.
Don’t be a dick, talk to him now.
Isley had risen and was nearly to the door when Laken groaned in distress under his breath. His shoulders sagging under the weight of defeat at the need to be truthful.
“Isley, a minute more, please?” Did he sound like he was begging? Gods, he hoped not.
Before he changed his mind once more, he pointed to the seat. “Could you sit?”
Isley, who had come back to the desk, frowned, fingers turning white as they gripped the ever present iPad in front of his chest in an almost protective manner, like he knew something bad was coming.
Christ! Why is this so hard? It was a stupid question, when he knew in this moment everything would change and there would be no going back.
“I can’t come tonight—”
Isley’s head tilted to the side and Laken witnessed the moment hope died. It punched him in the gut. He visibly flinched when Isley spoke.
“What! You clearly said we would talk about what happened two nights ago, tonight.” Anger snapped in those expressive eyes, but it wasn’t alone. There was hurt, too, And betrayal.
“Are you quite finished having a hissy fit?” he snapped back, anxiety winning out.
Isley’s nostrils flared, and two bright pink dots of color appeared on his cheeks as he nodded curtly. “Of course. Go ahead and explain why you’re avoiding being an adult.”
The sugary sweet tone gave Laken a toothache as he breathed in deeply, holding it to work on his control.
Nice shot, his brothers would be proud!
The anger would be aimed at the wrong person if set free. Isley wasn’t the one blackmailing him. Threatening his world. “I have a family meeting to attend tonight. It’s important.”
The air crackled with tension, like an electrical storm happening between them. “More important than… discussing us?”
It was spoken so quietly, yet Isley might as well have yelled it for the impact it had on Laken’s shuddering heart. Isley made no attempt to hide his obvious sadness.
Laken rubbed his hands over his face, a weariness making his shoulders hunch.
The pressure was invisible, but he felt the weight of it pushing against his chest until he could hardly draw breath.
The urge to say there was no us, to push Isley out the door of his heart was strong.
It fought over the protective layers he’d built to keep himself safe.
To keep anyone from finding out his secrets.
Those secrets aren’t secret anymore, are they?
The realization—though he’d known it—sank deeper past the protective shell, which was already cracked, to the fear nestled inside. There was no going back. There was no hiding. When he dropped his hands, he came to a decision. He pointed once more to the chair.
“Please,” he begged, “sit. I can’t do this with you hovering over me.”
There was a long enough pause that Laken thought Isley was going to argue. When he took the seat, the iPad remained clutched to his chest, a defence mechanism Laken recognized from spending so much time with Isley.
The breath he released was all relief and the sound he made softened Isley’s expression.
“I heard Booker talking this morning, was he talking to you?”
Laken started in surprise while his mind ran through the conversation, unsure what of his side of the conversation Isley could have overheard.
“I could only hear Booker,” he replied to the unspoken question, Isley reading him easily. “I was outside his office door on my way to collect Emmy.” The blush covering his delicate skin darkened. “Jupiter caught me, and he got angry—like, real angry. He scared me.”
Laken had tried not to think about how haunted Jupiter had looked, gray and pale, as he’d listened quietly with the others to his story.
“He…” Laken blew out a frustrated breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, at a loss.
Why did this have to be so hard? He’d done it once.
It wasn’t Isley.
A fact he could not deny.
“You don’t need to do this. Clearly it’s upsetting you.” Isley made to stand and Laken shook his head.
“Don’t leave.” Laken’s nose burned at how hope flared in Isley’s eyes as he settled himself back into the chair.
“I’ll stay.” He placed the iPad down, and that action said more than anything how open he was to whatever Laken wanted to say.
He sucked in a breath, an ache developing in the center of his chest as he took a second, then another to steady himself, his hands clenched in his lap for something better to do with them.
“Somehow, I’d always known I differed from my family.
It wasn’t one particular thing, just lots of little ones.
Where my brothers shifted when they hit puberty, like most shifters, I didn’t.
My biological parents had… have no tolerance for divergents and therefore neither did my brothers.
” Isley released a sound of distress, and Laken paused to lick his drying lips. Please don’t cry, he silently begged.
“I found myself homeless, with just the clothes on my back and no way to support myself. Feed myself.”
As he said it, he could recall that dirty stench of filth that emanated from him after weeks of living on the streets.
Remember the painful hunger cramps that made it impossible to sleep.
Not that he could have with the terror of those first few weeks—months—alone on the streets.
It was hard to find the exact moment he chose to fight to survive when all he’d wanted was to die at the pain of that absolute rejection.
The look in his family's eyes that spoke to him being dead to them because he was different—nothing.
To know that he was utterly alone, and no one cared whether he lived or died.
“How long?” Isley choked out, eyes glistening.
Laken understood the question. “Two years.”
Isley bit his lower lip and Laken could scent the coppery blood before red oozed around his pearly white teeth.
“I’m not telling you this to gain sympathy, I… I…” Laken got up and strode to the window, hands shoved into his trouser pockets. Looking out, he could see nothing but the reflection of Isley’s tear laden eyes. Ones he couldn’t bring himself to meet when there was worse to come.
“I s-survived… by any means I could… b-by selling m-myself.” The shocked gasp-sob at his stuttered confession kept him rooted, unable to face the man behind him and see the condemnation for his actions. Some days, Laken couldn’t look at himself either.
He stiffened at the hand touching his arm.
The layers of fabric between it and his skin didn’t prevent the warmth seeping through.
He shuddered and reluctantly turned towards Isley when he wedged himself around Laken.
Tears clung to long, dark eyelashes. Sorrow surrounded Isley but when Laken searched he witnessed no judgement.
His jaw ached at his own struggle to hold back a tide of emotions roaring through him like a thrashing, volatile sea.
“You did those things to survive. Do you believe I’d think less of you for it?
” He reached up and cupped Laken’s bearded cheeks and held him firmly so he couldn’t look away from tear-drenched eyes that cut him open and left him bleeding as he nodded.
“I don’t know what it’s like to be rejected, and I won’t offer silly platitudes.
But know this, nothing in your past changes who you are in the present.
You aren’t the same person you were then.
None of us are. Every day we are shaped by experiences and they change us.
Some for the good and some for the bad. You haven’t let it define you, the bad.
You fought to find your place in the world.
Find those things you want to cherish. Work hard for.
You work harder than anyone I know, including your dad.
You take nothing for granted, Laken. Those wonderful qualities are what your past gave you.
They are the sum of who you are, not the actions of a boy working to survive an awful situation. ”
Thumbs wiped at his cheeks, and it was only then Laken realized he was crying. Isley’s words had taken him apart at his very core. Ripped open the past and left him bare—exposed by the simplicity of his thinking. Others would not be so kind.
They don’t matter.
Popi, therapy, and his brothers hadn’t made him cry, not once. They hadn’t brought out the black ooze festering inside his soul. He had never allowed it to escape, by hiding from things that couldn’t be changed. Can’t be changed.
The choked, anguished sound he made was that of a wounded animal.
He couldn’t stop the next anguished cry, or the next.
Once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. He shook uncontrollably at the sudden release.
Isley moved his body closer. His diminutive size didn’t stop him from taking control and supporting Laken’s trembling limbs, tugging his body into him to take his weight, hands slipping around him, holding tightly.
“Hold on to me. I’m here for you, my love.” Those whispered words undid him as he sobbed into his neck, clinging unashamedly.
“Is tonight’s family meeting… connected to this? To you?”
Laken couldn’t find a voice to speak with how thick and raw his throat felt. He gave a jerky nod against Isley’s neck.
“Then I’m coming too. And before you feel the need to argue, remember my animal is not meant to be trifled with.”
How was it possible to release a wet chuckle? This was the wonder of his tiny devil. He didn’t argue. He had no strength to.
If that’s what he needed to tell himself, so be it.