Chapter 5
Adrian
I’d been staring up at the ceiling for longer than I wanted to admit. But considering I’d been awake to watch the sun rise off the neighbors’ roof, I’d been up a while. But being awake and being ready to face the day were two different things.
I wasn’t sure how Saturday had snuck up on me so fast.
Normally, the week seemed to take forever. Classes would drag on, then the mad dash from school to the accounting office downtown where I was interning made the day even longer. And that didn’t even count the endless hours I spent working at less than minimum wage when you totaled everything out.
I kept telling myself it would be worth it when I could get a full-time job in just a few months, but some days it was hard to believe that. The future seemed too bleak and too fucked up to see a rosy future where money wasn’t an issue and I could buy anything we wanted at the grocery store.
I’d thought things couldn’t get harder, but somehow, I’d jinxed myself because it had. I just didn’t know how to fix it. Or fix myself. I hadn’t realized I was that broken. Now I was desperate to keep Owen from finding out, but I wasn’t sure that was possible either.
How was I supposed to hide it?
How was I supposed to fix it?
How was I supposed to handle being attracted to my brother?
I didn’t even know how it happened. One day he was ignoring me as usual, and the next he was talking to me about the things he’d done and was running his fingers through my hair like I mattered to him. The project was partly to blame.
Something had changed for me when he’d walked in and saw me on the floor that day but that couldn’t be the only thing. I’d done my best to apologize for the hurtful things I’d said, but that wouldn’t have made him nicer to me. If anything, that would have made him angrier.
Had he realized how broken I was inside? Was that why he’d been so nice to me? Had he felt sorry for the damaged guy who was drawn to things that were wrong? He said he’d experimented with BDSM, so he wouldn’t have thought the research was weird. It had to be the other part, the part that was warped and twisted.
But the guy I knew, the Owen I’d grown up with, wouldn’t have felt sorry for me like that. It would have been the best ammunition — too good to ignore. So what changed?
Something in me, clearly.
The easiest thing to do would be to blame it on the class, but making me look at fetishes online wouldn’t give me one. It wasn’t like some kind of virus or plague that passed from one person to another.
He’d just been so nice.
No one had ever made me feel like that. And it wasn’t just the sexual part. It had felt so good to just relax and let go. For those few seconds while he was touching me and feeding me the cookies, there was nothing else to think about and nothing to worry over. He’d been in charge and he’d wanted to feed his good boy… the puppy kneeling at his feet.
And then I’d run.
The realization of how it felt and how wrong it was had just come crashing around me, and I’d panicked. I’d thought that after a few days of ignoring each other, things would have gone back to normal, but they hadn’t.
He hadn’t teased me about kneeling. He hadn’t made scornful remarks about how the “research” was going. He hadn’t commented about the need for locks on the doors or even made a joke about me needing to tie a scarf around the door to let him know when I was researching.
It was getting harder to hear his tight, angry voice in my head. It was softer since that night at dinner, warmer and calmer, and not like him at all. I wasn’t sure how to handle it. The gifts only made it more difficult as well.
They’d just been little things, but I couldn’t even remember the last time he’d even wished me a happy birthday, so the extra money for the bills and the leash had been… surprising. The wicked part of my brain that I hadn’t even realized was there kept pushing that it had to mean something.
But it didn’t. He’d never look at me—
“No, you’re not going to even think about it.” That was a path I wasn’t going to follow again. I had more willpower than that. I wasn’t going to think about him that way. Not again. Just thinking about what I’d done the other night made my stomach twist.
I hadn’t been able to get the sight of him out of my brain. The thin towel, draped low around his hips, the tattoos on his arm and shoulders, the way he’d looked at me… He hadn’t meant anything by it, but my mind had twisted it into something dirty.
I’d woken up that night, drenched in sweat and I’d—
“No, remembering won’t help.”
I had to push it away, but the guilt and the… desire both kept trying to bring it back to the front of my mind. Two sides to the same coin, and neither would let me forget. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to. Maybe my penance was going to be knowing there was something out there that I wanted more than anything and I could never have it.
It was a fitting punishment.
It was also going to make me fail my human sexuality class if I couldn’t get a handle on it. I hadn’t been able to touch the toys in days, and when I’d tried to do more online research, I’d just found myself watching the blog videos of the master and his pup over and over.
The master’s face was never in the videos, but when he spoke, I could almost pretend that Owen had sounded the same way. It was just too hard and too confusing. If I was going to do a good enough job on the project to get a decent grade, I was going to have to move forward, but I wasn’t sure how.
I was no closer to getting the tail… where it was supposed to go, and every time I looked at the collar and leash, I could hear Owen calling me a good boy. It was all getting tangled up in my head, and I wasn’t sure how to fix it. There had to be a way.
The knock on my door scared me so badly my heart stopped for a moment. The sound of Owen’s voice didn’t help any either.
“Hey, you up? I know it’s early for a Saturday, but I made coffee so we could get started.”
The tone in his voice was still calmer and more understanding. He knew how hard this was going to be, so maybe it was that. Was he just trying not to make it worse so we could get it done?
“Um, yeah, sorry. I… I’ll be down in a minute. Um, thanks.”
There was a short pause, then a quiet, “Welcome.”
If I didn’t count the half-naked, wet interaction, and I was trying not to, it was the longest conversation we’d had in days. Maybe hiding all week hadn’t been the best idea because spending the morning with him was feeling a bit like I was planning to climb Mt. Everest.
Only mountains couldn’t laugh at you when they learned your deepest secret.
****
Stumbling downstairs was harder than I’d imagined. I’d been up so long that my body was ready to go back to bed, or at least take a nap. I was hoping coffee would help, but I’d bought the cheap stuff at the store last time I’d gone shopping. It wasn’t nearly as strong or as good as the name brands, so I wasn’t feeling confident in its ability to wake me up.
“What do you like in your coffee?” Owen asked without looking at me, and for a moment, it felt almost like a rejection. But he had two chipped coffee mugs out, and he was stirring sugar into one of them already. “I wasn’t sure what kind you liked, so…” He glanced at me, expression unreadable. “Medium roast, unflavored.” He lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug.
This was somehow every bit as shocking as the fact that Owen hadn’t been tormenting me lately. He’d gone out of his way to buy coffee? He’d thought about what I might want?
Of course, neither of us knew what the other liked. Not what kind of coffee, or what we liked in it, or anything that might’ve seemed easy.
“Um, thanks.” This was almost as startling as finding the leash on the table had been. “Um, just sugar. Milk’s good too, but we never buy that so…” I was rambling, and Owen must have realized it too.
He looked over at me and cocked one eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
I watched as he put sugar in what I was assuming to be my cup.
He glanced up at me again. “More?”
“Please.”
It felt awkward, like we were strangers standing together at the Starbucks counter, but at least we were talking. Most people wouldn’t have thought it was much, but it was incredible to me.
I mumbled a quiet, “Thanks,” as he brought me my mug. Taking it, I went over to the table and sat down.
When he was being that nice, running back to hide in my room seemed… mean.
I fought for something to say. “Um, did you have a plan on how to start?”
Hopefully he did, because I sure didn’t.
Owen took a sip of his coffee and nodded, walking over to the table. “Yeah, I thought we’d set aside the stuff we know is important first, then we can start going through the clothes we just want to donate.”
I nodded. It sounded like a reasonable plan. “And we just start setting aside things that might be worth some money as we find it?”
“That'll work.” It was a short answer but politer than I was used to, so I wasn’t sure what to say back. “Did you eat yet?”
He kept weirder hours than I did so I wasn’t sure how long he’d been up. He shook his head. “Not really hungry yet. I figured I’d make something after we were done. There’s enough eggs in there to make a real breakfast if that sounds good to you.”
Was he offering to cook?
“Sounds good.” My brain was still in shock with how well it was going so I was struggling to respond. “I think there’s some sausage in the freezer. Just the microwavable kind, but they were on sale last time I went shopping.”
I’d given up putting a real list together in favor of just picking out the cheapest sale stuff in the grocery store. It made meals weird sometimes, but at least there was enough food in the house.
“That works.” He nodded, and we both took another sip of coffee.
It seemed like we were both hiding behind the old mugs, but I wasn’t sure what he was struggling with. I knew the crazy running through my head, but did he? Was that why he wouldn’t look at me unless he had to?
When we’d finished our coffee but had been too quiet for far too long, there was no way to put it off any longer. I had to speak to him or clean out their stuff. Both were going to be hard. Together, they seemed impossible.
“You ready?” Again, his voice held more understanding and was nicer than I was used to.
“Sure.”
We both stood up awkwardly and headed out of the kitchen. I couldn't help looking at the spot where I’d knelt — and I could feel him watching me, doing the same. It was probably stupid, but I knew I’d never be able to walk through the kitchen without remembering that moment.
The walk through the small house seemed longer than normal and the stairs almost endless. Standing in front of the door left more awkward silence. Finally, Owen reached out and opened it.
I hadn’t been in the room in months and the air had a musty smell to it, but Owen must have come in at least a few times because it wasn’t as bad as I’d been picturing. There wasn’t any dust on the shelves or even cobwebs in the corners. It was probably the cleanest room in the house.
I gave him a quick glance and gestured with my head toward the room. “Um, thanks.” Thanks for cleaning up our dead parents’ room seemed… tactless. But I wanted him to know I’d understood.
He just shrugged and looked away. “So… Wedding dress and stuff first?” Without really waiting for an answer, Owen turned for the closet. “She probably had it in here, or in the chest under her bed. I don’t think it’s with the photo albums, but if we don’t find it there…”
He opened the door to the closet, and as outwardly calm as he seemed, I couldn’t help but wonder how real it was. A few months ago, I might’ve thought he didn’t care at all, but there was something about Owen that just never reached the surface. He wasn’t emotional so much as he was reactive, explosive, and I never knew what would set him off.
I watched, not wanting to move. I didn’t want to make Owen do all of this on his own, but I felt paralyzed by the sight of our parents’ room. It made it feel real in a way I wasn’t ready for, yet another way to force my acceptance.
“Photo albums,” Owen reminded me without turning back.
I blinked then turned for the bed, kneeling so I could reach under and pull out the cedar box they’d kept their most prized possessions in. I inhaled deeply, not wanting to open it.
Owen appeared back in the doorway to the long closet, leaning with his hip against it. “You don’t have to help,” he said, his face impassive.
I still wasn’t sure what to say. “I… It’s just… I’m fine.” I was going to stick with that. It was easier than trying to explain the crazy in my head.
“No, you’re not.” He shook his head and started walking over to me. Kneeling beside me on the floor, he reached out and opened the chest.
The smell of the wood brought back countless memories. She’d had that chest for as long as I could remember. Getting the chance to look inside it had been incredible as a child. It was like our very own treasure chest, but one that was off limits and not to be touched by children.
“Do you remember watching her sort through the stuff in here? I could never figure out why, but some days she’d just take everything out and rearrange it.” Owen looked inside the box like he wasn’t really seeing it.
I gave a half-hearted shrug. “I was never allowed to play with it. I only saw inside it a few times when she was putting something away.”
I had to tell myself that he’d had a different relationship with her. It didn’t matter that she’d shown him the box.
Owen finally looked over at me, confusion showing on his normally blank face. “Guess she just got tired of finding me digging through it all the time,” he admitted. “Third or fourth time, she just showed me then told me not to go through it alone.”
“I listened the first time.” It was a pathetic response and sounded whiny to me, but I couldn’t stop the words before they’d popped out. “I always listened the first time.”
That was what they’d wanted, wasn’t it?
I wasn’t so sure anymore. I’d gotten sent to my room the first and only time I’d tried to look in the box. I remembered getting told later that it was wrong to touch things that didn’t belong to me. I’d wanted to make them happy, so I’d left the box alone.
“You were probably the only reason they didn’t die of a heart attack instead.” His dark humor made my stomach tighten up, and I shook my head. He just grinned and ignored me. “Mom said I gave her enough gray hair that she had to start dyeing it early. She never had to fuss at you. I’m sure she appreciated that.”
It felt like he was stretching to find something nice to say, but at least he was trying. “Probably. Thanks.” I looked into the box. “What did she keep in here besides the pictures?”
Owen started with the linens on one side, delicate lace that looked as though it had been hand-sewn too long ago to remember. There were other pieces of cloth, monogrammed and carefully preserved. He pulled out a small box, tapping it, though he didn’t open it. “Jewelry,” he explained.
He flipped open one of the neatly stacked folders on the other side, scanning its contents before moving to the next.
“Birth certificates, marriage certificate, things like that,” Owen murmured, but his brow furrowed in concentration.
It was like he was expecting something else to be there, and he was surprised that it wasn’t. He glanced at me as he pulled out another box.
“She never let me look in this one,” he remarked. “Just said that it was hers, thank you very much, and she was allowed to have secrets.” A small, lopsided grin briefly crossed his lips, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. “You wanna?”
It felt like she was looking over my shoulder and I fought the urge to turn around and apologize. “Are you sure?”
He gave me an are-you-kidding look and nodded.
Maybe it was because I’d finally gotten permission from someone to open the box, but it was easier as I reached for it. My fingers brushed against Owen’s, and I fought not to respond. I could feel his fingers against my lips, and I just wanted to close my eyes and savor the memory.
All I could do was pray he didn’t see my reaction to his touch as I set the box on the floor in front of me. Lifting off the lid of the small box, we both held our breaths as we looked inside for the first time.
“Blankets?”
“Baby teeth?” Owen barked out over me.
I looked up, questioningly. “This was the important box she said you couldn't touch?”
He started to laugh. “Her most prized possessions were your old baby teeth and our old baby blankets.” He reached in and picked up the little plastic container labeled simply with my name.
“Why did she save my baby teeth? Gross.”
“Women are weird, and moms are even worse. Who knows. You were the first, and she was probably trying to save every memory or something. See,” He pointed to the stacks of papers at the bottom of the chest. “That has to be every art project from when we were kids.”
Part of me expected to just see Owen’s, but even just giving them a quick glance, I saw an art project we did one year for Christmas and a Mother’s Day card that I thought had gotten thrown away years ago. She’d never kept pictures on the fridge or set out the things I’d made for her, but it looked like she’d still cherished them, just in her own way.
Owen’s voice broke through my mental wandering. “You want to look through this stuff some more or look at it another time?”
He had a look on his face that was serious and… something else that I couldn’t define. I knew he’d be okay with whatever I’d said. Having that kind of confidence in his reactions was so new it tightened something inside my chest.
“Let’s put it away for now.” I gave him a questioning look. “But you’ll go through it with me later?”
“Sure.” His hand came up and brushed my hair back. “We’ll do it together.”