Page 13 of A Matter of Fact

“What?” he snapped, answering it once again without looking.

“Rhys.”

Rhys closed his eyes and let his cum-soaked hand fall against the sheets. In contrast to the hot mess tangled between his fingers, the sheets were cool and soft to the touch. He was painfully aware of the difference in temperatures…in textures.

In feelings.

“Callahan,” he whispered, clearing his throat. Everything came into sharp focus, like the worst kind of tunnel vision. Rhys listened to Callahan breathe on the other end of the line, and he wiped the cum off his fingers onto the bedding, suddenly feeling ashamed. He’d deal with the emotions—and the laundry—later.

“Is everything okay?” Rhys asked, half out of instinct and half out of genuine concern.

“Even if everything wasn’t okay, I wouldn’t call you.”

“Right.”

“Are you really staying in town?” Callahan asked, and the answer he hoped for was clear in his tone.

But once again, Rhys was on deck to break the other man’s heart. “Yes.”

“Alright.” Callahan sighed, then hung up.

Rhys stared at the phone until the screen went black. The cum on his hands had already started to dry and it just made him feel dirty. He threw himself off the bed and shuffled into the bathroom, washing his hands in that godforsaken copper sink. He wet a washcloth and wiped down the length of his cock, then went into the kitchen to find himself something to eat.

The champagne from brunch jostled around in his stomach when he bent down to open the fridge. Righting himself, he waited for the nausea to subside, then peered once again onto the shelves. He was surely not going to let a bottle of mid-range champagne take him out.

He scavenged some lunch meat and made himself a sandwich, then he sat at the counter and nursed a glass of water and replayed the exchange he’d shared with Jace over brunch.

“I hate this, just so you know,” Jace said, using his thumbnail to shred the end of the celery stalk in his drink.

“That’s fair.”

“Agreeing with me isn’t going to make me hate it less.”

“I know,” he’d agreed again.

“Fucking Christ.” Jace looked like he wanted to lean over and strangle him.“You’re an asshole, Rhys, and we all know it.”

“You’re not wrong.” He sighed.

“For what it’s worth,” Sebastian chimed in,“he does know he’s a prick.”

“Thank you ever so much, brother.”

“Isn’t there anywhere else you can go?” Jace asked.

“You don’t own Myers Bluff.”

“But youdoown Mallardsville. Can’t you just stay there?”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” he said, shrugging in Sebastian’s direction. He’d tried. He’d come to brunch. He’d sat beside Jace Dare and he hadn’t said a single ruthless word. He’d been polite and he’d managed to keep the snark to a minimum. It was all very out of character and horrible for him, but he would endure it.

“Brunch is a fine idea,” Jace snapped.“We have brunch every week. You being here is the bad idea.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“No.” Jace interrupted him, standing up sharply and glowering down at him. He saw it then, he saw what Callahan found so attractive in the other man. Jace was fierce and he was devoted. He loved Callahan in a devastating way, and Rhys frowned, recognizing another surge of jealousy flare up the base of his spine.

“No?” he asked, curling his fingers around the stem of his champagne flute.