Owen watched as the cars drove through puddles, splashing past the bakery. The rain started last night and hadn’t stopped, making it a slow Saturday for the store. Most people were home, probably cuddled under blankets and snuggling with someone they loved. Damn, he’d really been feeling sorry for himself lately. Jonah had moved all of his things out and had been working extra hours to make up for being away for a week. Owen was truly alone in the house now.
Well, except for Brody.
Owen hadn’t meant to distance himself from him. He knew it was a dick move—but awkward didn’t even begin to cover how he felt every time Jonah and Brody were in the same room. Jonah moving out while Brody was in the kitchen was seriously fucking with his head. Now that he’d barely spoken to Brody all week, it was even more difficult to start up a conversation. Brody was probably feeling it too, because he’d already left by the time Owen got home the day before. What did Owen expect? This was the second time he’d avoided Brody after something happened between them.
Owen couldn’t help but wonder if it was for the best. There were so many reasons that being with Brody was not a good idea. Aside from the fact that he shouldn’t jump into a relationship so quickly, Brody wasn’t staying forever. The room he rented above Max’s was temporary, and when the time came, he would leave again. Plus, Owen was pretty sure no one else besides Gabe and Jonah knew that Brody was gay. He had to wonder if Brody wanted it that way.
Pulling back before things got too serious was probably the best thing to do.
Too late.
Things had already passed that point for Owen. As much as it made him feel like a dick, he couldn’t get Brody off of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of what it felt like to have Brody’s mouth on him. When he lay in bed at night, releasing the stress he’d been feeling all day, it was Brody’s face he saw until the tension was released like steam in a pressure cooker.
“Owen?” Les flicked Owen’s ear—an annoying habit she’d done for years.
“Ow! What the hell, Red?” Owen rubbed his smarting ear and glared at his cousin.
“Snap out of it. You’ve been moping all day, cuz.”
“I’m fine. Just the rainy day, I guess.”
“I’m sorry, have we just met?” Les said, her words dripping with sarcasm. “I know you’re thinking about that sexy man in your house. He’s all…touchin’ your wood.”
“Leslie,” Owen warned.
“Yankin’ your faucet.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Pullin’ your knobs. Hammerin’ your nails,” she continued. Owen hung his head and laughed.
“Waxin’ your floors.”
Owen looked back at her with a cocked brow. “Waxing my floors?”
She curled up her tiny mouth in a smile. “I ran out of kinky contractor puns. Whatever. The point is, this thing is bothering you, and you ignoring him isn’t helping.”
“I’m not ignoring him.” He was totally ignoring him. When she gave a look that said she wasn’t buying it, he changed the subject. “Why don’t you head home? It’s been dead all day and there’s no way we’re getting a rush in this weather. I’ll probably close up shop early.”
“Normally, I’d call you on your shit and yell at you for evading interrogation—but I’m taking this one and running.” Leslie smacked a big kiss on Owen’s cheek. “Love ya.”
“Love you too, Red. Text me when you get home.”
“So, like…in three minutes?” she teased, seeing as how she lived around the corner.
“Humor me.”
Owen watched as she put on her raincoat and ran to her car in the pouring rain. He was happy she’d moved here. She added atmosphere to the bakery, and she already knew the routine. Plus, the customers loved her. It made things easier when his mind wandered like it had been doing so often lately.
The last couple of hours dragged, and by the time Owen pulled onto his street, he couldn’t wait to crawl into bed and forget about the day—make that the week. He saw the black convertible in front of his house when he was a few houses away. The top was obviously up in this weather, so the person sitting in the driver’s seat was still a mystery. When he got close enough, he realized who it was.
Gabe.
What the hell is he doing here? As he pulled into his driveway, he caught a glimpse of the man jumping out of his car and running up under the cover of the front porch. Owen really wasn’t in the goddamn mood for this right now. Getting out of his own car, he bolted up the driveway and up the steps to stand next to Gabe, putting his house key in the door.
“You don’t strike me as the type of man that likes to get his hair or designer clothes wet.” Owen pushed his door open and held it for Gabe to pass through.
“Never judge a book, my friend. Rain can be sexy as hell and don’t even get me started on a wet, white T-shirt.” Gabe shivered, and Owen wasn’t sure if it was from the rain or from the thought of a soaked, see-through shirt on a gorgeous man. He has a point.
Despite himself, Owen laughed and dragged a hand through his dripping hair. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Gabe held up the bottle of merlot he’d been holding. “Mind if we have a glass? Take the chill out a bit? That is, if you drink wine. I came prepared in case you’re like my dear friend, Brody, who only keeps beer in that dreadful room he calls an apartment.”
Just the way the guy spoke told Owen that he came from money—every word dripping with copious amounts of formality. Fucking annoying as hell.
Owen took the bottle over to the box that had his bottle opener in it. “I enjoy a glass of red every now and then. Something we have in common, I guess.” He glanced at Gabe. Yeah, he was sure it was the only thing they had in common.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” Gabe winked and walked into the living room, making himself at home as he sat gracefully on the couch.
“You’re going to have to settle for a plastic cup though. Kitchen isn’t done yet and everything’s in boxes.” Owen handed him the red cup—he’s probably never touched one of those before—and sat down, leaving plenty of room between them.
Gabe held the plastic cup with both hands, like he was afraid the thing was going to fall apart. “I always love seeing the work Brody does. The man knows how to use those big hands of his.” Gabe pinned Owen with a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Wouldn’t you agree, Owen?”
Heat rushed to Owen’s face as the guy looked at him, obviously proud of himself that he made Owen feel uncomfortable. If you only knew what happened in the very spot you’re sitting your pompous ass in. “Why are you here, Gabe?”
The challenge in Gabe’s eyes seemed to fade, his features softening. “I apologize.” Well, that was unexpected. “I tend to be overprotective of my dear friend. It comes with years of seeing the man torture himself, I’m afraid.” Gabe took a sip of his wine, pausing as if debating his next words. “Did Brody ever tell you about the night we met?”
“No.” Though Owen would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious.
Gabe huffed out a short laugh. “I’m not surprised. Not exactly the best night of his life.” He held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, meeting me was the highlight of his evening, but he was...heartbroken that night.” Gabe glanced at Owen, but then his eyes shifted away. “I’m not sure I should be telling you any of this―and I won’t tell you all of it―but I think you need a little...push, if you will, in the right direction. Brody has been hurt, far worse than someone should ever be, and it holds him back. If I thought, for one minute, that you would hurt him, I wouldn’t be here right now.” He pinned Owen again with those eyes, but this time Owen felt a chill down his spine, a threat that didn’t even need words to back it up. There was no doubt that Gabe was protective of Brody. “Please, don’t disappointment me.”
Owen only nodded. Wherever Gabe was going with this, he wished he’d hurry the fuck up.
“I know he told you very little about Ryan, but he did tell you he loved him. I won’t go into detail about Ryan, because first of all, I didn’t know him and second, that’s something Brody should tell you.” Gabe crossed his right leg over his left, relaxing back into the couch. “When I met Brody, it was in a gay club in Boston.”
That wasn’t what Owen expected to hear.
“Surprised? That was my reaction when I saw him across the room, downing drink after drink like he was a parched man in a desert. I tell you, when I caught a glimpse of that manly man, all bulging muscles and broody sexiness, surrounded by the perfectly manscaped, bolder than bold regulars of the club, well my mouth went so dry―” Gabe looked up and must have seen the fire of jealousy in Owen’s eyes. He cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, as you probably already guessed, I made my move, stalking up to my sad, lonely prey. My gorgeous body stealth as I―”
“Are you always this dramatic?”
A wide, knowing grin spread across his face. “You have no idea,” he put his hand up, “but I’ll spare you. So, I approached this sad man, but wasn’t prepared for the pain I saw in his eyes. Needless to say, I asked if he wanted to get out of there. He agreed, and we went back to my place.”
“Is this really a story that I need to hear?” Owen got up and grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring himself a generous amount then added to Gabe’s before he sat back down with a huff.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” Gabe asked and laughed at the hard look Owen gave him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Are you getting to the point anytime soon?”
“Hmm…so, where was I? Ah, yes... We went back to my place where Brody continued on his quest to forget, using my very expensive Remi Martin XO cognac as his weapon of defense. He sat his hulking, powerful body down on my Italian leather sofa and slowly, I sat beside him, taking the glass out of his hand as I began kissing his neck.”
Owen stood back up, his heart pounding; if he had any hope of not beating the shit out of this guy, he needed to put some space between them. Brody said they hadn’t fucked so that couldn’t be where the story was going, but if Gabe didn’t change directions soon Owen was going to lose it—and he had no idea why. Brody wasn’t his and he wasn’t even sure he wanted him to be.
“I placed my hand on that beautifully sculpted face and turned it toward me,” Gabe stopped and waited until Owen looked over at him, “and it was covered in tears.”
Owen stared at Gabe, not wanting the guy to stop now, but to tell him why. Why was Brody crying?
“You see, his heart was broken, and he came to the bar to try and drown out one of the worst days that he’d ever been through. I can’t regret that day, because I never would’ve met Brody, and in all seriousness, that man is my closest friend—my brother. I would do anything for him. The day he met me will probably always be bittersweet for him, because the day he met me―the day he came in that bar looking to numb the pain,” Gabe stood up and walked to stand in front of Owen, “was the same day that Ryan married someone else.”
Owen didn’t know what to say; his hands trembled, squeezing that stupid plastic cup so hard it was probably going to break.
“Gay marriage had only been legal in Massachusetts for a few years at that point. So at the time, it wasn’t something that Brody had ever given a thought—until it happened. I think, in the back of his mind, he always thought that he and Ryan would get back together. Run into each other on the street and have some dramatic, romantic reunion. But instead, he’d lost his chance at a college degree and all the friends that he’d had there, his parents had cut him out of their lives, and now the man that he loved was lost to him forever.”
Owen swallowed hard and asked, “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I made a promise to someone that I wouldn’t let Brody pass up this chance to be loved, to be happy.” Gabe’s facial expression shifted slightly, his hard stare settled on Owen—and there was protective Gabe again. “I also made a promise to myself that I would never let someone hurt Brody again. So, if you aren’t that person, if you aren’t the one who can love Brody, then do the right thing and tell him. He doesn’t deserve to be strung along, hoping you’ll come around if you never will.”
Owen crossed the room and flopped down on the couch. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to hurt him.” He faced Gabe again, if only to show the sincerity in his words. He felt the truth in them. He didn’t want to hurt Brody.
“I don’t think you do. Look, no one can blame you for being confused. This whole situation is a little out of the ordinary. Guy falls for high school bully? The very sentence screams Lifetime movie.” Gabe sat on the coffee table in front of Owen. “But you and I both know that’s not who Brody is. The troubled, brutish boy doesn’t exist anymore. I’m telling you right now, that man has the biggest heart of anyone I know, and right now, it’s in your hands. Now, it’s your decision whether or not you hold onto to it or let it go. Regardless of your opinion of me, or what you think my opinion of you is,” he stood up and set his cup down on the table, “I’m hoping you hold onto it. Hold on to him.”
Gabe started to walk toward the door, and Owen followed. “Well, I think I’ve taken up enough of your evening. Finish the bottle of merlot, think about what I said.” He wiggled his fingers at Owen. “You know the drill.”
Before Gabe opened the door, Owen grabbed his arm and said, “Thanks, Gabe.”
Gabe smiled, replying, “Anytime.”
Owen closed the door and leaned back against it, closing his eyes. He didn’t know what to do with all of the information Gabe had just given him, but against his better judgment, the guy was growing on him. And Gabe obviously cared a lot about Brody.
It was only four, but Owen was exhausted. Picking up the cup of wine along the way, he headed back up to his bedroom, hoping to block out everything and go to sleep. He stripped down to his boxers and lay on his bed, listening to the rain falling outside. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, making its way toward the town. He tried to focus on the sounds, tried to close his eyes and not see Brody’s face.
It was impossible.
How many years had Owen spent hoping that karma paid back those assholes ten-fold? Brody had always been included in that. But the whole time Brody was making Owen’s life hell, he was living in a hell of his own. It didn’t excuse it, but it sure as hell put some things in perspective.
Owen had been angry for so long, so fucking pissed at the world—for the shit he went through, for losing his dad. It was exhausting.
Gabe’s words repeated in his head. Should he tell Brody he couldn’t do this? Whatever the hell this was? He never in his life thought he would give a shit about hurting Brody Walker…or breaking his heart. But Owen wasn’t sure he could give Brody what he needed. Hell, Owen wasn’t even sure he knew what he needed. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.
The whole thing was a fucking shit-show. The right thing to do would be to stop it before it went any further. But who always did the right thing anyway?
~ɤ~
Brody had been lying in bed wide awake for hours, staring at the cracked ceiling. He picked up his cell phone and saw it was after eleven. The storm hadn’t let up any. If anything it was coming down harder than it had been all day. He focused on the glowing street light outside of his window and watched as the hard rain pelted down in diagonal lines.
Other than going to see his mom, this was pretty much what he’d done all day. Gabe had stopped by in the morning, but Brody wasn’t really up for company. Probably the weather. Most people didn’t want to get out of bed on a rainy day, right?
Who the fuck was he trying to fool. This thing with Owen was fucking him up. He just wished he could turn it off; turn off the memory of how Owen gave in to the pleasure, his porcelain skin flushed…the way Owen’s smooth, hard cock felt in Brody’s mouth.
Forget about the guy and focus on why you came here!
Like that’s any better to focus on, asshole.
Shit, he was losing his fucking mind.
His mom was getting weaker by the day, and even though he wanted to run from all this shit, he knew he couldn’t. When Brody found out that she still loved him―and she always had―it changed everything for him. Coming here went from feeling like a debt owed to the woman who gave birth to him, to a healing for both of them. Despite the fact that it wouldn’t heal her body, it was healing her soul and that’s all he could ask for now.
His business was growing in Haven’s Cove. Word-of-mouth in a small town spread like wildfire. He already had a job lined up after Owen’s kitchen was done. Unfortunately, that was something else he had to make a decision about. Should he be thinking of it as a business, or as something to get him through however long he was going to be there? There would be things to settle with the house and take care of after...
He hated to think about after.
He just had to finish Owen’s kitchen so he didn’t have to be near him. He couldn’t leave early again like he did yesterday, or he’d never get it done. God knows, it wasn’t easy seeing Owen. How do you stop thinking about someone if you have to see them every goddamn day?
A flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a booming crack of thunder rattling the old window. At the same time, there was a hard pounding on his door, and Brody practically jumped out of his skin. Jesus Christ, get a grip, Walker.
“Who the fuck is that?” Brody growled, throwing the sheet off and getting out of bed.
The pounding started again, and Brody yelled, “Hang on, I’m coming!” Swinging the door open, Brody barked, “What the hell―”
There the man stood—the very man Brody couldn’t get out of his head. The rain came down in sheets around him, dark hair sticking to his face, clothes soaked through, intense blue eyes shining from the overhead light.
“Owen? What are you doing here?”