On the twelfth day of Christmas my fight club gave to me:
The empty house and the temptation
Christmas Eve
Nick wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He dragged his hands through his ruffled hair. He sighed when his fingers got caught in the tangles he knew he’d created in his frustration. He couldn’t find it in him to worry about what a mess it was when his misery intensified after he stupidly stomped his sore foot on the floor. He cursed long and loud, wiping at his wet eyes.
He glared at the closed bedroom door.
This is all Brody’s fault.
The voice at the back of his mind whispered.
No, not totally.
The nagging voice wouldn’t let him get away with that. It reminded him that if Aaden wasn’t dating Greg, then he’d be in Stuart’s bedroom, enjoying the sights with the other. No, instead, I’m stuck in my brother’s spare room, playing the avoiding game with Brody.
A Brody, he might add, who was downstairs at this very minute making himself right at home.
Nick let out a growl of disgust when he took off the orthopedic boot that was the bane of his life. His nose wrinkled at the smell of sweaty skin. He looked at the crinkled dry skin and his thinning calf muscle.
He rubbed at the self-inflicted ache in his left foot, considering his choices. Nick closed his eyes. His shoulders drooped when his mind decided that there was only one option, and as far as he was concerned, that was also the impossible choice
He grunted.
His fists balled tightly when all he wanted to do was hunt Brody down and demand to know why he’d kissed him, especially when he had a boyfriend.
Nick shifted, wrinkling his nose when the smell of sweaty skin rose on the warm air, making him think a soak in the tub should be next on his list of things to do.
At least in the bathroom I can’t get into trouble.
He grabbed his crutches off the floor. He winced when the cold metal grazed his bare legs, having stripped when he got home earlier. He gave his goosebumps a passing thought when his eyes stopped on the only piece of clothing he was still wearing.
He looked back at the door, his brow furrowing.
It wasn’t too far to the bathroom, and he could really do with a soak in the tub. He ignored the little devil inside him that told him he was asking for trouble roaming around the house in lace manties.
Brody’s already seen my manties, so what is the difference now?
Nick shrugged off the strident voice that said a big difference.
He lifted up off the bed and hopped to the door, opening it. He exhaled when it made no noise. He poked his head out and saw the coast was clear. He hobbled over the bare floorboards. His attention was caught by the shine of varnished wood.
Aaden had finally finished sealing the wood the day before. Sidetracked by how nice the wood gleamed, Nick failed to notice the shoe left lying outside the bathroom door. The left crutch landed unevenly. Nick staggered, trying to right himself and not put any weight on his injured left leg without the boot on. The rubber tip on the right crutch thought it would be fun to join in the “let’s trip Nick over party” as it slid on the new shiny floor he’d just been admiring.
He tried to brace himself. He watched in slow motion as the crutch slid away, making him topple forward. Nick flailed, losing his balance completely.
A loud clatter filled the empty hall as he was forced to release a crutch as he hit the wall with force. Nick howled as his shoulder took the brunt. He slid down the wall, landing in a heap on his bottom. Breathless, Nick let out a stream of curses under his breath, praying Brody hadn’t heard him.
Any hope died rapidly when the sound of thundering feet ran up the stairs.
Nick inhaled just as Brody crested the top of the stairs. Nick wasn’t sure who was more stunned, him from the fall or Brody from seeing him sprawled, nearly naked, on the hall floor. He did, however, know who recovered quicker when he found himself lifted as if he weighed nothing.
“Why is it, squirt, that you have suddenly become a clumsy git?”
Brody’s husky chuckle and minty breath slid over his face, clouding Nick’s mind and causing a full-body flush to rise. Brody continued talking as if he was oblivious to the reaction he was causing.
“I don’t ever remember you being an accident waiting to happen.”
Large arms bulged and flexed as they held him tightly against a solid wall of hard, warm muscles. Unable to stop, he reacted to the show of sheer masculinity. His body went pliant when engulfed in Brody’s fragrant scent and aftershave. An aftershave Nick couldn’t place but found way too intoxicating when he inhaled as it enticed all senses. Senses he wanted to smack over the head with a frying pan when his body betrayed him.
Nick willed himself to calm down. Even then, he found his traitorous arms sneaking around Brody’s thick neck and clinging on. His grip tightened when Brody strode back into his messy bedroom. Nick was astounded to note Brody was hardly out of breath.
It was only when Brody paused at his unmade bed that Nick took stock of his room.
The nights he’d spent tossing and turning were evident in the tangled grey sheets and chequered duvet that lay in a heap, with half of it hanging of the side off the bed, on the polished floor. A floor he noticed that was scattered with dirty clothes, parcels, and tools.
Nick avoided looking at Brody as he spoke. “You can put me down. I’m fine. I just lost my footing when I didn’t see the shoe outside the…” Nick’s lips flapped, no words coming out when Brody sat with him in his lap.
Stammering, he tried to dodge the large hand that had moved to touch his bare shoulder. “Err, you… em… don’t… need.”
“Shut up, squirt. Your shoulder is turning all shades of purple and black. Fucksake, you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself for a minute. You need a bloody keeper.”
“You offering?” It was out before Nick could register what he’d said. He sucked his lips into his mouth, clamping them tightly between his teeth to stop any more moronic comments from escaping. He silently cursed when Brody’s lips peeled back, showing his perfect white teeth as he gave him a predatory smile.
Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut and say nothing?
Why, why, why?
Nick lowered his gaze. It landed on his semi-hard cock that was attempting to push out of his pretty white lace manties.
Oh, shitting hell. Whatever next!
Nick’s head fired up, knocking straight into Brody’s forehead. Nick let out a screech when his vision greyed at the edges. He lifted his hand to touch the lump growing under his tangled hair as Brody sat him down on the unmade bed and jumped up. He rubbed at his forehead and stomped to the door, cursing with every step.
He turned as he opened the door. “Stay put while I get some ice for your shoulder and our heads. How the fuck can someone so fucking small cause so many problems.”
Nick didn’t respond as Brody crashed down the stairs.
He sniffed, scrubbing at his watery eyes. The throb in his shoulder and head dimmed under the sting of Brody’s harsh words. Nick got up and hopped to the door. Slamming it shut, he gave a small fist pump when he saw the key in the lock. Thanking the fates, he locked the door, jumping on one leg back to the bed. He dragged a pair of shorts and a T-shirt out of his bag and slipped them on. He climbed into the unmade bed. Yanking the duvet up off the floor, he buried himself under the cover.
The loud hammering and door handle rattling had him bury his head in the pillow, shutting out the noise.
“Merry fucking Christmas to me,” he muttered into the pillow, feeling the first tear slide down his cheek, followed by another. Once they started, Nick found he couldn’t make them stop. The stress of the last few days caught up with him. Fuck, who am I kidding? The stress was definitely not just from the last few days. He’d always felt stressed, anxious, and downright out of sorts when Brody was around him. And it had been that way since forever.
Nick rolled over onto his back, ignoring the shouts coming through the door. He sniffed, scrubbing at his wet cheeks. He swallowed the sobs back while he struggled to pull himself together.
Why did Brody have to move in next to us?
Nick could still picture the first time he’d met Brody.
Brody’s father had come over to introduce himself and had dragged an unwilling Brody with him. Nick had been sitting in the kitchen, chewing the tip of his pen as he’d tried to figure out a maths equation. His mum was at the cooker, singing softly to the music coming from the radio. A radio that was always playing whenever she was in the kitchen.
The sound of the doorbell had Nick leap from his seat, looking for any distraction from finishing his homework. The first year of high school sucked big time, and he couldn’t understand why he had to go when he only wanted to be a carpenter. He sulked as he ran to the door with his mother shouting behind him.
“If that’s one of your friends, you can forget going out. It’s teatime, and you still haven’t finished your homework.”
Nick rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
“I saw that.” The laughing shout had Nick cast a glance back over his shoulder to the kitchen.
How does she do that?
Nick shook his head as he opened the door.
He felt his head tilt back as his startled eyes travelled up the two figures towering over him. Both men were similar in stature, though one was slightly taller with a bulkier body, whereas the smaller man was leaner. He noticed they both wore similar clothes, blue jeans and sweaters, one grey, the other navy. Both had dark hair with glints of red that the sunlight pouring from behind them captured as they moved. But it was the grey-green eyes of the smaller man that caught his attention and caused his stomach to do a flip-flop.
No, not a man but a teenager, Nick corrected himself. With the light behind them, he hadn’t noticed initially that the leaner man was much younger. Though the aura he gave off was that of someone well beyond his years. Nick would bet his Marvel comic collection he was probably around the same age as Aaden, maybe a year or two older.
Remembering his manners, Nick wet his lips, hoping his voice didn’t sound like a croaking frog when his throat dried.
“Hiya. Err… are you looking for my dad?” Pleased when he’d only sounded a little croaky, Nick gave them both a big smile. The sound of an indrawn breath had him quickly look back at the boy. The odd look in his grey-green eyes did something funny to Nick’s body. It heated, making something stir inside his chest.
He didn’t hear what the man’s response was, not with all the blood rushing in his ears. Nick struggled to get his mind to work. Stepping back, unsure what to make of it, Nick did what any child would do. He called for his mum, not caring if he looked like a spaz.
“Mum, we have visitors.”
The stupid grin that formed on the younger guy’s face had Nick’s hands ball tightly at his sides. His slick palms had him worry there was something wrong with him. His palms never got sweaty, so why now?
He heard the sound of Aaden’s feet coming down the stairs as his mum came out of the kitchen.
Nick felt Aaden’s warm hand land on his shoulder, squeezing as if reassuring him everything was fine, as he joined him at the front door.
Aaden had always been his protector. Nick didn’t know what he was going to do when Aaden finally left high school. His miniscule height, pale complexion, pretty features, and white-blond hair made him the perfect target for bullies. Bullies that Aaden, on a regular basis, had to kick their arses to stop Nick sustaining too many bruises.
Aaden’s deep rumbling voice interrupted his pity party.
“Hey, can I help? I’m Aaden, and this here’s my brother, Nick.”
Nick felt Aaden pull him back slightly from the door when the boy kept his gaze fixed on Nick as the man spoke again.
“Hi. We just wanted to introduce ourselves. I’m Brody Quilliam senior, and this is my son, Brody junior. My wife, Lena, would have come with us, but she had some kitchen crisis.”
Nick felt his mum come up behind him before she gently moved him to the side.
She offered her hand, after she dried it on the tea towel she was holding. “Hello, I’m Rita, and you’ve met my sons. My husband, John, is round the corner there.”
Nick watched his mum point to the garage.
“He’s pottering in the garage if you want to stick your head in and say hello. I’m sure Brody would like to come in and have some chocolate chip cookies and get the gossip from Aaden on his new school.”
Nick would have taken his hat off to his mother if he’d been wearing one. Clearly that was not what Brody junior wanted when his brows disappeared under his fringe and his lower lip poked out. But somehow his mother had manoeuvred him into the kitchen and placed a cookie and fizzy drink in front of him before he could protest.
The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Nick could, however, remember how Aaden had warmed to Brody, laughing and joking. All the while, he sat knowing he was wearing a sullen expression. While his stomach and chest had done some weird kind of breakdance when Brody watched him with those strange grey-green eyes of his.
The quiet outside the door roused him from the past.
Nick sighed.
A hiccup escaped, then another. His head felt as if he’d stuffed it with cotton wool. And he was sure his eyes were swollen and red from crying. Moving his pillow to avoid the wet patch, he settled onto his side, hugging it closer to his chest.
He hoped his friends were having a better time than him, though he was sure that wouldn’t be difficult. He closed his eyes, praying he’d get some sleep, knowing that tomorrow was going to be hard enough when he had to face an angry Brody.
“He wouldn’t be angry if you had only opened the door.”
Christina’s haughty voice had him scrabble back. His backside hung off the bed as he grabbed at the duvet. “What the fuck are you playing at?” He hissed at the apparition now sitting perched on the end of his bed.
She fluttered her dark eyelashes at him, grinning. “Me? I’m playing at nothing, though you seem to be, playing that is, with Brody.”
Her chuckle had him move to get comfortable. He avoided putting his broken foot anywhere near her. He noticed she didn’t miss the move when she rested her hands back in her lap.
“I’m not here to hurt you. I’ve come to make amends for my silly little trick.”
Nick blustered. “Silly little trick, you fucking broke my foot with the stunt you pulled. I could feel your magic. You forget it’s not the first time you’ve used it on me. And I’m no longer naïve enough not to notice.” Nick pursed his lips when all she did was shrug her tiny shoulders.
“What do you want, Christina? You never give anything for free.” Nick chuckled when that earned him a scowl.
“Come on, spill. Some of us want to get some sleep.” He hadn’t finished speaking when she jumped off the bed and paced the floor.
“I just wanted to know if you’d seen Max. I’ve looked everywhere, and I can’t find him. And now his little Princess has disappeared as well.”
Nick felt a shiver skitter up his spine. Shit, when was the last time I saw Max?
Yesterday?
His forehead creased with concern. “I don’t know, to be honest. I’ve spent so much time helping Brad I couldn’t say. Not for sure anyway. I think. No, no, I know I saw him yesterday, but I’ve been at Brad’s all day today. And as he comes and goes as he pleases, I’m not sure if he’s been here today.” Nick felt his pulse rate pick up. Aaden would be distraught if anything happened to Max.
Nick tapped his head. “I’m so fucking stupid. Aaden can talk to Max wherever he is. When I see Aaden in the morning, I’ll ask him then. Max will be fine, I’m sure.” The slight edge of doubt he could hear in his voice had him chew on his lip.
His eyes narrowed when Christina gave the closed door a thoughtful look. “You leave them alone. I mean it, Christina. You’ve caused enough bother. And remember, they all know what you’ve proposed, so you won’t be met with open arms if you go over to Stuart’s demanding answers.” The sag of her shoulders told him he’d won for now. But for how long? Well, that was anyone’s guess.
Nick’s head flew to Christina. His mouth opened but nothing came out as she spoke.
“I’ll heal your foot. I’m sorry for the mishap.”
He felt a heat build in his foot before the ache that had been his constant companion disappeared in a flash.
Nick gulped.
His hands trembled when he pulled his foot free of the sheets. He touched the wrinkled skin. Feeling no discomfort at all, he put it on the ground and on shaky legs stood up. He blinked back the tears that gathered at the corner of his eyes. He rubbed at his eyes before he turned to Christina to thank her, only to find empty space.
Nick whispered into the silent room, “thanks,” as he strolled around the room grinning at nothing.
“Happy Christmas to meeeeee, happy Christmas to meeeee.” He danced and wiggled his backside as he sashayed back to the bed and lay down. A little breathless, he looked up at the pale sand ceiling. “Now all I have to do is explain how my foot healed so quickly!”
Piece of piss, right!