Freddie #2
I shake my head. “I’m pathetic.”
“You’re not,” Liam says. “It’s him. It’s that arsehole dad of yours.”
“He didn’t do anything.”
“Yes he did,” Ryker says. “We know he did.”
“He . . . he didn’t hit me, or abuse me—”
“We saw the bruises on you,” Liam says.
I bite my lip. “Those were from—”
“Playing catch,” Ryker says. “We know. Except it wasn’t really catch, was it? It was a way for him to hurt you; it was a way he could put bruises on your skin without anyone accusing him of any wrongdoing.”
“That man is a grade A arsehole.” Liam says.
“I . . . I never told you we played catch.”
“Do you remember that day in PE when Eric Granger launched that tennis ball at you?” Ryker asks.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Yeah, I remember . . .”
I had a full-blown panic attack in front of everyone and had to be carried by a teacher into the school.
Ryker continues. “Your mum came to pick you up, and we were with you in reception.”
I remember them sitting beside me, refusing to attend their lessons. I couldn’t look either of them in the eye.
“We heard her talking to the receptionist about what happened, and your mum says it was strange because you loved playing catch in the garden with your dad, and that’s when Liam and I both knew what those bruises we sometimes saw on your body were from.”
“It’s pathetic—”
“It’s not pathetic,” Liam growls.
“Two months later he broke your eye socket.” There’s a tremor to Ryker’s voice.
“Even your mum said it was an accident, but we knew, and I’m sorry we didn’t do more, Freddie.
We wanted to keep you at ours, keep you safe, and our parents tried, they contacted social services, but they said nothing was wrong. ”
I remember when two women came round to the house and sat with my parents drinking sweet tea. My dad told them he had nothing to hide, that the injury to my face was only an accident, and my mum sat beside him, nodding like a dutiful puppet.
“It wasn’t just the bruises from playing catch,” I say tentatively.
“As soon as he came back, he’d change things, little things that don’t seem like a big deal, but my home wasn’t mine anymore.
It became his, an expansion of him, and I’d feel like I wasn’t welcome.
Mum would look at me like a stranger, or even worse, a hinderance, and I’d come to yours and you’d make me feel like a real person again. Your parents were always good to me.”
“They love you Freddie, just like we do.” Ryker clears his throat. “Well, not exactly like we do,” he amends. “That would be fucking weird.”
“Ryker . . .” Liam growls.
I laugh, and the tension I’d been holding seeps out of my muscles.
Talking about my dad, brief as it had been, lifts something from my shoulders.
But he, my job, Keegan, they’re all things that happened that I should’ve been able to talk to them about before.
It’s not the root of our issue, and that’s the reason we need to talk.
“Do you know what I realised when I walked in on Keegan?”
“Freddie . . .” Ryker murmurs. “You don’t have to—”
“I realised as hurt and as humiliated as I was, as I am, it was worse losing you.”
And it’s true. My unanswered calls and messages, the weak excuses from Ryker and the blunt refusal from Liam . . . even now while I’m talking to them, the pure hurt resurfaces, and it’s stronger than any emotion I’ve felt before.
“You’ve not lost us,” Liam says.
“Why . . . why did you shut me out?”
Ryker sucks in a breath hard enough it whistles. I know it’s him, he’s much more forthcoming with his reactions than Liam.
“We couldn’t handle it . . .” Ryker says.
I ease myself down until my head is supported by my rucksack. My chest aches, but I keep my hand splayed over my sternum to feel it rise and fall.
“You couldn’t handle being my best men?”
“We couldn’t handle watching you get married, not with how we feel about you.”
“We’re best friends.”
Ryker sighs. “Yeah, of course we are, but for us it’s more. We’ve always wanted it to be more, and we were okay with it not progressing that way—you’re straight, we’re not—but then . . . marriage.”
“I’ve had girlfriends before, and you’ve not cut me off.”
“Marriage, Freddie,” Ryker says. “I know that’s final for you, and neither of us could’ve handled standing at the alter with you and watching you declare your love for someone else.”
“You wouldn’t have gone? You wouldn’t have been there at all?
” My heart thumps against my ribs. They’re already weak from the panic attack.
I have mental images of them splintering and bursting through my chest, but I don’t care, I’ve got to keep going.
“Is that why you pushed me away? So I’d hate you—so you’d have your reason not to go? ”
“Freddie—”
Ryker attempts to cut in, but now the words are flowing I can’t stop them.
“Then what? What would've happened next? You would never have spoken to me again? Is that what you wanted? For eighteen years of friendship to end?”
“We didn’t want that. We don’t want that.”
“Do I mean so little?”
Ryker coos in sympathy. “You mean everything.”
“You weren’t there!”
I squeeze my eyes shut while inwardly counting to ten.
A few minutes ago, I’d been struggling to breathe, but now my lungs are pumping air in and out with too much force, and it leaves me lightheaded.
I press my lips together, but air leaves my nose in a rush, like I’m an angry bull about to gouge its tormentor.
“You weren’t there, and I needed you, and I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong.”
Liam comes back viper fast. “You did nothing wrong.”
“It’s us,” Ryker says. “We fucked up, okay, big time. And we want to make it right. We want to fix this.”
“And go back to how we were?” I ask.
They don’t reply for a long time, and I wonder if there’s a silent conversation going on between the brothers. Then Ryker sighs. “No, I mean yes, of course, if that’s what you want . . . back to normal . . . but yesterday . . . the day before . . .”
A blush warms my cheeks. I know what he’s referencing.
The two times they contained my hurt and anger with physical touch.
The two times they made me come.
“Things are happening between the three of us,” Ryker says softly.
“But you can’t . . .” I pause, wet my lips, then continue. “You can’t possibly want me?”
Ryker laughs. “We do. Have done for a long time.”
“But you . . .”
I scrunch up my face, not wanting to offend.
“Say it,” Ryker says.
“You’re into casual, no-strings stuff. And Liam . . . he’s been in relationships. Serious ones that have lasted years.”
“Only when you were in them too,” Ryker replies. Then adds, “And yeah, I have a lot of casual sex, but we both cope with unrequited love in different ways.”
“I do love you,” I tell them, and I’m so thankful I can’t see their faces and we’re twenty miles apart, because even though I do mean it, the words come out awkward and mumbled.
“Unrequited lust, then,” Ryker concedes.
I have no reply for that. I’d not thought about them sexually before, although I found Ryker’s sex life intriguing and thought Liam keeping his private life private showcased his protective side.
Myself in relation to them that way had never crossed my mind.
But two nights ago, wounded and angry I’d ended up getting aroused at their bodies rubbing against mine.
It still makes me go shivery when I think about it.
They’re huge, alpha-type men, and I’m painfully ordinary.
“Freddie?” Ryker says. “You okay?”
I nod before remembering they can’t see me, then blurt out, “Yes.”
It’s breathless, too breathless for Ryker apparently, who shushes me and breaths loudly and slowly for me to mimic. I do, because the alternative is admitting I can’t think back on what happened over the course of those two nights without my blood rushing south.
“You good again?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I’m good.”
“Did . . . did you like it when we touched you?” Ryker asks.
I’m sure I covered this question earlier. Ryker just wants to hear me say it again. Weirdly, I want to tell him. Again and again. They’re my best friends after all; they’re the only two people in the world I’d tell all my secrets to.
“Yes,” I admit shakily. “Both times were amazing.” I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for shouting out that name. I’m sorry for hurting you.”
“It’s forgiven,” Ryker replies bristly, then he slows his voice to a drawl. “Would you be interested in us touching you again?”
I slip the hand on my chest down my body until it hits the top of my jeans. “Maybe.” I ease out a breath. “I . . . what is it . . . what’s . . .” I trail off, battling for control of my tongue. It’s suddenly too big for my mouth and I can’t ask what I want to.
“What is what?” Ryker asks.
I savage my tongue with my teeth for a few seconds, before releasing it to ask, “What’s the goal, like . . . the target?” I’ve butchered the question completely. I can’t make things much worse, but I can at least clarify what the hell I’m on about. “What do you want to do to me?”
I’ve ended up making it sleazy, like a bad line from porn. They must be cringing on the other end, staring at each other while twitching their eyebrows, a silent conversation of “This guy? Are we sure we want this guy?”
They can’t possibly, and I wait for the call to cut out.
“Do you want the PG-thirteen version?” Ryker chuckles.
“Huh?”
“We want to fuck you,” Liam growls.
I stare at the lights above me for too long, and when I dart my gaze away, green splodges follow. They want to fuck me. My hand jumped of its own accord from the top of my jeans to my erection inside them.
“Christ, Liam,” Ryker hisses.
Liam snaps back, “He asked.”
I close my eyes before the pulsing green makes me nauseous. “You want to fuck me,” I whisper. That’s their end goal. “And then what? That’s it?”
“What’s it?” Ryker says.
“You make a mark on your bedpost? Or do you both tick my name off on some list somewhere. Best friend: done.”
“Freddie,” Ryker murmurs. “It’s you, okay. We want you. There’s no bedpost or list.”
“We’re fucking you forever,” Liam adds.