Chapter Twenty-Two — Good Boys Don’t Bite
Chapter Twenty-Two — Good Boys Don’t Bite
RONAN
Ronan had imagined Rebecca finding out about him and Elliot before.
Not often. Imagining disaster had never been particularly useful, and there were enough actual disasters in their lives now without inventing more.
Still, the possibility had existed. A door opening at the wrong time.
A hand lingering too long. One of them forgetting where they were.
A text appearing on a screen. He had imagined shouting.
Disgust. Confusion. Maybe crying. He had never imagined walking downstairs at one thirty in the morning while two police officers searched the backyard because someone had climbed a tree to photograph him asleep beside her son.
Apparently life had lost interest in subtlety.
Elliot walked beside him. Not touching. Ronan noticed that too.
They had spent weeks learning how to touch each other when nobody was looking.
Now they were learning how not to. Rebecca stood in the kitchen.
Thomas beside her. Fantastic. Ronan stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
Elliot stopped too. Thomas held Detective Vance’s phone.
The photograph filled the screen. Ronan immediately wanted to die.
Not because of what the image showed. Because there was absolutely no believable explanation for it.
He was shirtless. Elliot was half on top of him.
Ronan’s arm was around Elliot’s waist. Elliot’s face was pressed against his chest. They were not sleeping like brothers.
Stepbrothers. Whatever. Nobody with functioning eyes would look at that photograph and think familial affection. Thomas looked up.
“What is this?”
Ronan opened his mouth. Elliot answered first.
“We’re together.”
Ronan turned. Of course. No easing into it. No strategic wording. Just detonation. Rebecca closed her eyes. Thomas stared.
“What?”
Elliot’s expression remained calm. Too calm. Ronan recognized the performance immediately.
“We’re together.”
Thomas looked at Ronan. Ronan sighed.
“Yeah.”
Silence. A police officer walked past the kitchen window carrying a flashlight. The timing felt insulting. Thomas put the phone on the counter.
“How long?”
Ronan looked at Elliot. Elliot looked at him. That question was somehow more complicated than the murder investigation.
“Recently,” Ronan said.
Rebecca laughed once. Not humor. Disbelief.
“Recently.”
“Yes.”
“You’re stepbrothers.”
“We know.”
Thomas looked at him sharply.
“Ronan.”
“What?”
“Do not get smart.”
Ronan’s temper flickered. Elliot touched the back of his wrist. Tiny. Hidden by the island. Stop. Ronan hated that it worked. Rebecca noticed anyway. Of course she did. Her eyes dropped to the touch. Then lifted.
“How serious?”
Elliot answered.
“Very.”
Ronan looked at him. Elliot didn’t. Something tightened in Ronan’s chest. Thomas dragged a hand over his face.
“Jesus Christ.”
Rebecca looked at Elliot.
“Does Claire know?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“Not really.”
“Not really?”
“Dylan suspected.”
Ronan immediately wished Elliot had chosen literally any other name. Rebecca’s face changed.
“The boy who is in the hospital?”
“Yes.”
Thomas stared.
“And now someone is photographing the two of you through a bedroom window.”
“Yes.”
“And police are investigating murders involving people you both know.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow nobody thought this relationship might be relevant?”
Ronan stiffened.
“To what?”
“Everything.”
Elliot’s hand disappeared from his wrist. Ronan looked at him. Rebecca caught that too. Thomas continued.
“I’m not accusing either of you of anything.”
Good. That made one person in the house.
“But if someone is targeting Elliot because of Ronan—”
“They aren’t.”
Elliot said it too quickly. Ronan turned. Thomas frowned.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
There. Ronan almost laughed. Elliot heard it too. His own forbidden word. Rebecca crossed her arms.
“I need to understand what is happening.”
“So do we,” Ronan said.
“That isn't good enough.”
“No offense, but none of this is currently waiting for us to catch up.”
Thomas looked toward the window. The officer outside disappeared behind the carriage house. Rebecca’s expression softened. Not much. Enough.
“Are you safe?”
Ronan almost answered. Elliot beat him again.
“Yes.”
Ronan looked at him. Elliot’s face was perfect. Calm. Reassuring. A lie. Ronan had learned the difference.
“No,” Ronan said.
Elliot’s eyes snapped toward him. Rebecca went pale. Thomas straightened.
“What?”
“We’re not safe.”
“Ronan.”
Elliot’s voice contained warning. Ronan ignored it.
“Someone was outside our bedroom. Someone has been sending pictures. Dylan was abducted. Whatever this is, saying we're safe because cops are parked outside doesn't make it true.”
Rebecca looked frightened. Ronan hated that. But he was tired of lies. Which was fucking hilarious considering what he had spent the last several hours doing. Thomas picked up his phone.
“You’re both coming to the main house.”
“No,” Elliot said.
Ronan turned. Thomas stared.
“Excuse me?”
“We stay here.”
“Absolutely not.”
Elliot’s expression hardened.
“This person knows this house.”
“All the more reason—”
“They know the windows. The property. Our routines. Moving into the main house puts you and Mom closer to whatever they’re doing.”
Rebecca went still. Ronan looked at Elliot. That was actually reasonable. Thomas didn’t like it. Ronan could tell. But he understood it too.
“We’ll install cameras tomorrow,” Thomas said.
“Every angle,” Elliot replied.
“Yes.”
“Motion lights.”
“Yes.”
“Window sensors.”
“Fine.”
Ronan stared between them.
“Great. Family bonding.”
Rebecca gave him a look. He shut up. For approximately four seconds. Then Thomas asked the question Ronan had been waiting for.
“Are you sleeping together?”
Ronan closed his eyes.
“Dad.”
“I’m asking.”
“You clearly know the answer.”
“Ronan.”
“Yes.”
Silence. Elliot looked suspiciously interested in the floor. Coward. Rebecca inhaled slowly.
“Both adults.”
Thomas looked at her.
“I know.”
“Then we are not having that conversation at one forty in the morning.”
Ronan could have hugged her. Probably inappropriate considering the current topic. Rebecca looked at both of them.
“I don't understand it.”
Elliot’s face changed. Tiny. Ronan saw. Rebecca continued.
“But I love you.”
Elliot looked down.
“And you.”
She looked at Ronan.
“You're family.”
That word landed strangely. Family. Still. Different now. Complicated. But not gone. Thomas exhaled.
“I need time.”
Ronan nodded. Fair. Elliot said nothing.
Rebecca stepped toward him. Elliot tensed.
Then she hugged him. Ronan watched his face disappear against her shoulder.
For one second, Elliot looked completely lost. Then his arms came up.
Slowly. He hugged her back. Ronan looked away.
There were some things he did not need to witness too closely.
Especially tonight. Especially after learning what Elliot was capable of.
Because moments like this made the contradiction unbearable.
Five people. His mother’s son. Both true.
Ronan still had no idea how to hold them at once.
They returned upstairs at 1:57. Elliot shut the bedroom door.
Ronan sat on the edge of the bed. Neither spoke. Then:
“That went better than expected.”
Ronan looked at him.
“You expected execution?”
“Possibly.”
“Dramatic.”
“Says you.”
Ronan smiled faintly. Elliot sat beside him. Not touching. Again. Ronan looked at the space between their thighs. Two inches. It felt like miles.
“You can touch me.”
Elliot went still.
“What?”
“I said you can touch me.”
“I heard you.”
“Then why are you looking at me like I proposed?”
Elliot’s mouth twitched.
“Because I don’t know what the rules are anymore.”
Ronan’s chest tightened. Neither did he. That was the problem. He reached across the space and took Elliot’s hand. Elliot stared down at their fingers. No violence. No sex. No desperate kiss designed to make either of them forget. Just a hand. Elliot squeezed. Ronan let him.
“I meant what I said downstairs,” Elliot whispered.
“What?”
“Very.”
Ronan looked over. Elliot stared ahead.
“How serious.”
Ronan swallowed.
“Yeah.”
“I wasn't lying.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Silence. Then Ronan said:
“I still might turn you in.”
Elliot’s fingers tightened.
“I know.”
“Tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“Next week.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Sorry.”
Ronan laughed softly. Elliot did too. Then the laughter died. Ronan looked at their joined hands.
“Are you scared of me doing it?”
“Yes.”
“Would you stop me?”
Elliot didn’t answer. Ronan turned.
“Elliot.”
His face had changed. There was the answer. Ronan’s stomach tightened.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“Would you hurt me?”
“No.”
Immediate. Certain. Ronan believed it. That frightened him for an entirely different reason.
“You’ve hurt people you cared about?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“Then what would you do?”
Elliot looked at him.
“Beg.”
Ronan froze. The answer was so unexpected he almost laughed. He didn't.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You’d beg me not to tell?”
“Yes.”
Ronan stared. Elliot looked uncomfortable now. Embarrassed. Almost.
“I’d ask you to choose me.”
Ronan’s chest tightened. The watcher’s words returned. He’ll choose the monster he knows. Fuck.
“You already did.”
Elliot frowned.
“What?”
“You asked me to choose.”
“When?”
“Every time you lied.”
Elliot looked away. Ronan continued.
“Every time you gave me enough truth to stay but not enough to leave.”
“That wasn’t—”
“It was.”
Silence. Elliot nodded.
“Maybe.”
Ronan squeezed his hand.
“I’m not saying that to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“I’m trying to understand how we got here.”
Elliot looked at him.
“Do you regret us?”
The question came quietly. Ronan hated how quickly the answer arrived.
“No.”
Elliot’s expression changed.
“That's probably fucked up.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”