Chapter Fifteen

 

 

CHRISTMAS HIT him like a tinsel-covered brick to the face—harsh, painful, and unwelcome. Jackson didn’t have the luxury of ignoring it, since he was shipping orders up until only a few days before the big day itself. His parents were expecting him, like they did every year, and he wouldn’t have the excuse of needing to tend to his beers to escape early. That didn’t work anymore, not since his mom did her own research and figured out that he didn’t actually need to babysit them twenty-four seven.

Jackson agreed to stay with his parents for two weeks, if only because his mother was willing to feed him almost constantly and his father disappeared off into his workshop, content to let Jackson and Brandon be coddled while he got some work done. Plus, Brandon had taken time off work to be home for the holidays, and Jackson wanted to catch up with him.

Halfway through the visit, Jackson took his brother to his house, mostly to show him around and let him pick a few beers to take back to California with him.

“You’ve been quiet,” Brandon commented as he wandered through the stock room.

Jackson hummed. “Been busy.”

He’d been thinking a lot about what Valerie had told him—that Brandon was asexual. He’d done his research on that too, trying to understand what made his brother that way.

“You’ve spent the past four days on the sofa getting fat and letting Mom wait on you hand and foot. Hardly busy.”

“I’ve been working,” Jackson protested. It was almost true. He’d brought his laptop home with him, meaning he could monitor sales through the website and respond to any emails. There hadn’t been many. Everyone else, it seemed, was enjoying the holiday.

Brandon pulled a few bottles of IPA from the rack and set them to one side, then picked a bottle from the next row.

“You don’t want that,” Jackson said, taking the beer Brandon was studying out of his hand.

“I don’t?”

“No. I’ve got a new Stout you should try instead. It’s more like dessert than beer. It tastes almost like treacle.”

“That does sound like something I want,” he said, scratching at his beard.

Even though they were brothers, Jackson and Brandon looked nothing alike. Brandon took after their dad—taller, broader, and darker hair. These days he wore a beard too. San Francisco did that to a guy. When they were younger, Jackson was always the more middle-of-the-road student. Valerie was the dreamer, and Brandon was the intellectual. It hadn’t surprised Jackson when Brandon went off to UCLA to study math and later got a job that he couldn’t really explain in layman’s terms, though Jackson thought it might have something to do with manipulating stock markets.

“You’re never going to make any money if you keep giving away all your product,” Brandon said, even as he selected another beer.

“I’m cultivating loyal customers.”

“Is that what you call it these days?”

“It’s a solid business decision.”

Brandon laughed at that. “Sure it is.”

Jackson watched him for a while as his brother slowly walked up and down the aisles in the stock room. This was as close as he came to a storefront, and he treated the space with due respect. His dad had outfitted most of the room, from the dark-paneled boxes that housed the beers to the bigger crates and the little placards that held Jackson’s handwritten notes on each beer. With the cobbled stone floor and dim lighting, this was the perfect atmosphere for beer. According to Jackson’s sensibilities, anyway.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Jackson asked.

“Probably.”

“Valerie told me you’re asexual.”

“I told you that myself,” Brandon said mildly. He paused at the end of an aisle and looked back at Jackson. “It’s not a secret.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Apparently I didn’t really get it the first time round.”

“I didn’t think you had, but I wasn’t about to give you a pop quiz.”

Jackson huffed a laugh. “So… what does it mean in terms of your soul mate? Do you even have one?”

“I don’t know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve never found them, so I can’t really say for sure.”

“Oh. Did you know Dad found his soul mate?”

Brandon turned back again, wide-eyed and horrified. “No.”

Jackson recounted the story quickly, wanting to ease his brother’s obvious concern for their parents’ marriage.

“I was just wondering,” Jackson continued. “Because Dad obviously walked away from his soul mate. He wasn’t even curious. And you’re not attracted to people, right? Like, not sexually, anyway. Valerie and Mom haven’t found their mates either.”

“And you?” Brandon prompted gently.

“Mine’s a man,” he said, feeling an overwhelming rush of shame come over him.

“Ah.”

Brandon walked over to the little antique desk in the corner of the stock room and grabbed a bottle opener from the drawer. A moment later, he popped the lid from one of the bottles in his selection and handed it to Jackson, then did the same for himself.

“Not supposed to drink these from the bottle,” Jackson muttered.

“Cheers,” Brandon said, clinking the bottles together and ignoring Jackson entirely.

They drank in silence for a minute, Jackson considering how well the temperature was regulated in here without him having to do a damn thing about it, and trying very hard not to think about Leo.

“I have wondered,” Brandon said after a while, “about my soul mate. Probably not Valerie levels of wondering, but I do think about it. I guess I came to the conclusion that I might have a platonic soul mate out there somewhere.”

“You believe in platonic soul mates? Valerie doesn’t.”

Brandon nodded. “I think so. I like that more research is being done now, trying to find out more about the soul mate phenomenon. One of the theories I read was that your soul mate fixes something within you. Something that you’re lacking. And the reason why some people don’t have a soul mate is because they’re complete as they are.”

“You really think there’s perfect werewolves out there?”

“I know—” Brandon laughed. “—it’s a stretch. I like the idea, though. I’d still like to find someone to share my life with and have a family with, even if we don’t have a sexual relationship.”

“You want a family?”

“Sure.” Brandon shrugged. “Just because I don’t want sex doesn’t mean I don’t want kids.”

“I hate to break it to you, but that’s generally how babies get here,” Jackson joked, earning him a shove.

“Plenty of kids out there who need adopting.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

“If your mate is a man, though, and you’re not interested in men….”

“I’m not,” Jackson supplied for him.

“Then I wonder if I’ll end up with someone and have to have some very awkward conversations with them.” He lifted the bottle of beer to read the label. “This is good, by the way. The asexual dating scene isn’t all that roaring, despite living where I do.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“I expect so, yeah.”

“I have another question.”

“Go on,” Brandon said, clearly amused.

“You’re not sexually attracted to anyone.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Fuck off. Are you romantically attracted to anyone?”

“Mostly women. Though I wouldn’t rule out a nonsexual romantic relationship with a man. The opportunity never came up, though. You seem very confident in your own sexuality.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jackson snapped.

“You’ve never even been curious? I mean, I was curious a lot when I was a teenager. About all sorts of things. Got into a hell of a lot of interesting situations while I tried to find something, or someone, that would turn me on.”

“I’m not sure I ever needed to hear you say that.”

Brandon laughed. “It’s funny. I’m part of a forum for asexual people, and a few of them have said the same as me. Before I came to the conclusion that asexual is the best label for me, I explored plenty of other options.” He shrugged. “I wanted to know I was normal according to someone’s standards. Gay stuff, BDSM stuff—a lot of that, actually, it’s a very interesting subculture—transgender people, all sorts.”

“You’re all right with it now, though?”

“Yeah,” Brandon said. “I felt like there was something wrong with me for a long time. But I guess it’s like people who are born without a limb. If you never have it, you don’t really miss it.”

“Oh,” Jackson said. Then after a moment, “What if I’m gay and I never figured it out?”

“I don’t think you are, if that’s worth anything,” Brandon said. “And not just because of your dating history.”

“I could be, what’s it called, suppressing it.”

“Suppressing your secret gay desires?”

“I seriously don’t know how you’re my brother. You’re such an asshole.”

Brandon laughed and shrugged. “I’m going to do some research. See if anyone has studied soul mates with different sexualities. I’m assuming he’s gay.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Brandon tipped his bottle and drained his beer, then carefully left the empty in the recycling box. “Let me look it up.”

It was such a Brandon reaction, Jackson could only smile. He wasn’t quite done with the beer but abandoned it anyway, eager to get back to their parents’ before it got too dark. The roads out here could be treacherous in winter.

They locked up in the chilly late evening wind and headed back to Jackson’s truck. Brandon flew up whenever he came to visit, since he was part of that class of metropolitan elite who didn’t own a car. The radio in Jackson’s truck was always threatening to break down and frequently skipped between channels, so Jackson turned it down low and let the still-playing Christmas carols be background noise for the ride home.

“What’s he like?” Brandon asked once they were on the 291.

“Who?”

“Santa Claus. Who the fuck did you think I was talking about?”

“Leo?”

“Ah, his name is Leo.”

“You’re about as stealthy as Valerie.”

Brandon shot him a wounded look. “You already told Valerie?”

“She was closer,” Jackson said defensively. “I was emotionally traumatized. And it’s not like I’ve got a big group of best buddies who I call about stuff like this.”

“I don’t know if I should worry about you because of that.”

Jackson shrugged. “I have friends. I just don’t have a lot of friends. If I tell them stuff like what happened with Leo, they’ll think I’m coming out. I’m not coming out. I don’t have anything to come out with. Not telling them is just easier.”

“But not necessarily healthier. You need a support system, Jacks. Everyone does. Have you told Mom and Dad?”

“Dad, yeah. Not Mom. I don’t think she’d understand either.”

Brandon dropped his head back and thumped it against the headrest dramatically. Brandon wasn’t normally a dramatic person, so it worked well.

“She’s our mom.”

“Yeah, and she would tell me to suck it up and make a go of it. Which we did, I might add. We tried to make it work, and it just didn’t. We’re not in the right place in our lives. Who knows, I might meet him again ten years from now and it’ll all suddenly make sense.”

“You think you met too soon?”

“I think it’s a definite possibility.”

“I think you’re putting it off so when you do eventually meet him again in ten years’ time, you’ll be married with kids and you’ll have a fantastic excuse not to be with him.”

Jackson didn’t say anything. It was a little disconcerting how easily his brother could read him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Brandon said.

“I don’t know why everyone is so fucking obsessed with me being with Leo.” The words exploded out of him in a sticky mess. “It’s not like there isn’t a precedent for walking away from your soul mate in our own fucking family.”

“It’s not that,” Brandon said, his voice gone gentle again.

“What, then?”

“We want you to be happy.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Ugh. You have to be kidding me. I told you, didn’t I, that we don’t make each other happy.”

“And you’re happy right now? Because I know we don’t see each other that often, Jackson, but I’ve never seen you more depressed than you’ve been since I got home.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jackson muttered. “I’ve just got to get used to the fact that I’m not what he wants, and he’s certainly not what I want.”

“Wow. Harsh.”

“It’s true! The universe went wrong. That’s what happened. It happens sometimes, right? The universe gets it wrong and gives you the wrong person.”

“I don’t think so,” Brandon said, his voice even and measured. “I think that’s what people say when they decide they’re not happy with their lot.”

“Me.” Jackson waved a hand at himself. “Not happy.”

“The numbers don’t work,” Brandon said, looking out at the dark road instead of at Jackson’s slightly maniacal breakdown. “You have to find one person in 7.6 billion, and yet over 60 percent of werewolves do. That kind of mathematics should be impossible.”

“Soul mates don’t work out for all sorts of reasons. There’s no guarantee even if you do find each other.”

“Statistically, that’s not true.”

“Oh, fuck your statistics.”

Brandon gave a delighted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I understand why you’d feel that way.” He waited for Jackson’s response, and sighed when he didn’t get one.

“I’ve always thought, mates or not, you need to choose someone,” he continued. “You make a decision one way or another: to take what you’re given or reject it. It’s still your choice, Jackson. No one’s taking that away from you.”

“Except he already did.”

“Well, then, I suppose it’s your choice whether or not to go get him back.”

Jackson stared out at the highway and didn’t respond. He didn’t have an answer for that.