Page 36

Alex’s dad was pretty much his older, more silver doppelganger. Which was as shocking as it was…ah… stimulating . I couldn’t stop stealing glances in the rearview mirror. Every time I did, my cheeks became more red.

Alex…because he was Alex , found the whole thing incredibly funny.

He’d clocked my attraction the second his dad had exited his front door dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit—a suit that perfectly complemented the gray in his hair. Honestly, it wasn’t my fault. I’d have to be dead not to notice his dad was good-looking.

And besides…there was something extra attractive about the fact it felt as though I was catching a glimpse of what Alex might look like in a few years, silver at his temples, laugh lines around his eyes and mouth.

I felt robbed that I’d never see that.

“Are you sure you don’t want the front?” I confirmed as we pulled into a gas station. I’d already offered what felt like fifty times, but it genuinely felt wrong to be sitting in the passenger seat. I didn’t want to relegate Mr. James to the back. It felt disrespectful.

“I’m sure.” Alex’s dad was entertained. His eyes danced the same way Alex’s did, lips curled up. “Though I am a bit parched.”

“Oh! Right.” I unbuckled. Before I could even touch the door handle, the older gentleman was shaking his head. I paused, confused.

“Alex?”

“Yeah, yeah. Iced tea and lemonade. I know, old man.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, shoving his own door open. He was dressed in blue jeans today. Jeans that cupped his thighs so obscenely they should be arrested. The outline of his cock was difficult to ignore—easier, knowing his dad was nearby.

Still challenging though.

Especially when my ass was a little sore from sitting on it.

Once out of the car, Alex leaned back into the space. “You want anything, baby?”

I shrank, glancing surreptitiously toward his dad. His very hot, very nosy dad. Who was watching us. Smirking. “Um.”

“Water? Juice? A donut? Whatever you want.”

“Water is fine.”

“Alright.” Alex paused. His pale gaze darted to his dad in the back seat before his attention was mine again. After a second of deliberation, he pecked me on the mouth. “Be right back.”

My hands drifted up, tracing the memory of his touch as he disappeared. The door slid shut with a thunk.

And then it was just me.

Me and Alex’s dad.

His hot dad.

Who was hot.

Did I mention that?

Flustered, I didn’t know what to do. Was it polite to speak to him? I’d never met the parents of anyone I’d dated before. Not that we were dating. I was under no illusions. Roderick’s family didn’t count. They were practically my aunt and uncle.

“It’s—” I started, unsure what I was about to say, at the same time Alex’s father spoke.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he purred. He leaned forward, an imposing figure—or he would’ve been, if his energy didn’t feel so welcoming.

“Likewise.” Likewise? Who the hell even says that? C’mon, George. I twisted to look at him. “Alex is uh…um. He’s—” Oh god. Why had I began the sentence this way? Anything that came out of my mouth was going to sound horrible.

“Alex is smitten with you,” Mr. James finished for me. My heart lurched. I shook my head.

“No. He—I mean.”

“You don’t need to be so nervous around me,” he reassured, eyes dancing. “I’m not going to bite.”

“It’s not that—it’s just…”

Apparently more time had passed than I’d accounted for, because Alex’s door swung open and Alex was leaning back into the car.

“He thinks you’re hot,” Alex said. “Don’t tease him.”

Like an idiot, I belatedly realized that the window had been rolled down and he must’ve heard the whole thing.

Alex was the one teasing. The shit.

“I do not—” I gasped, offended. “That would be wildly inappropriate.”

Mr. James chuckled. “Would it? Considering he’ll look like this in a few years if another puck doesn’t mar his pretty face.” He gestured toward himself. “Maybe slightly less handsome though,” he added with a wink.

“Ha, ha . So fucking funny.” Alex rolled his eyes, moving to chuck the aluminum tea can he was holding at his dad. Only he paused, rethinking the motion, and carefully handed it to him instead. Suddenly, the air in the car thickened, tension growing .

Until that moment everything had been lighthearted.

“I’m not going to break,” Mr. James growled, popping the tab on his drink with a grumpy huff. It was so unlike his earlier amusement I shrank back. “Jesus Christ. You drive me nuts.”

“Feeling’s mutual, asshole.” Alex flipped him off, and I was genuinely shocked speechless. If I’d flipped my mom off I don’t know what would’ve happened. The apocalypse probably. Even thinking about it made me shudder.

Was this…because of the car accident Alex had mentioned?

I wasn’t surprised if that was the case. Alex cared a lot, was attentive. I could assume he’d been babying his dad the same way he babied me when I was hurt.

Alex turned his attention back to me, offering me a bottled water after popping the lid open. “I got you some fruit too,” he said. “They had these fruit cup things? I dunno. I hoped you’d like it.” The “fruit cup” he was talking about looked genuinely delicious. Cherries, peach slices, a few chunks of pineapple. The perfect snack to stress eat while Alex play-not-play-fought with his dad.

“I also got you a donut.” He handed me a paper bag. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to. Just…you know. Variety . I figured I’d give you options.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Oh, aaaaand I got you more pickles.” My favorite brand. Yum! I’d left the other jar in his fridge. A fact that had filled me with immense sadness. “Not apology ones. These are ‘good morning’ pickles.”

“Thank you.” My cheeks still felt flushed.

“Where are my pickles?” Mr. James teased from the back. Alex’s cheeks darkened, his tan skin adorably pink.

“I’d bet it’s in your pants, Dad,” he responded without missing a beat.

“Alex!” His dad scoffed, offended. I nearly choked on air. Alex ignored him, smooched my cheek, then disappeared to fill up the tank.

The rehearsal dinner went off without a hitch. Alex invited me as his plus-one—officially, and to June’s utmost glee. He’d had this eager grin on his face the whole time. Smile growing even brighter as he stood beside Roderick at the altar as his best man. Juniper, as always, looked incredible in her usual puffy skirt and cowboy boots.

She kept adjusting her dress—not her wedding dress, at least, not yet—as she walked down the dirt path that they’d made the “aisle”. “When you get fake boobs, no one ever warns you about the boob sweat,” she whispered to me as she passed where I waited in the audience.

I snorted, and she beamed.

Even though it wasn’t the real ceremony, Roderick cried. Tears dripped down his face, smearing across his chin. Snotty, and hardly attractive at all—and yet, Juniper looked at him like he was the epitome of beauty itself.

Roderick wasn’t the only one with wet eyes. Mr. James sniffled as he clung to her arm, leading her toward the wooden platform that would act as the altar. He kissed her head before parting and taking his seat.

Alex’s eyes took in his sister, full of love, his smile blinding.

There was no denying how proud of this he was—as the person who had planned it. Alex was devoted. It was obvious in the way he ducked his head, his heart in his eyes and on his sleeve, for once.

The night came to a close with stars in the sky and the wedding party populating their tents early in preparation for the early morning—and ceremony—the next day.

I should’ve been with them.

Should’ve joined Alex in our tent. Should’ve soaked up his heat and taken advantage of my last night here in Hocking Hills with him. But…I couldn’t.

Not yet.

Not without speaking to someone about the feelings that had plagued me since the dirty socks—and my epiphany.

I’d learned that being vulnerable was the price for love .

And even though I’d spent my entire adult life projecting perfection, when I felt truly lost—the first person I went hunting for was my mother.

I found her where I always did, in the kitchen, bustling about in a dress as colorful as her personality. Mom smiled my way, though her smile dimmed when she saw the expression on my face.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft.

I shut the door behind me, debating if I was going to open my mouth or not. Ignoring it would be easy—in its own way. I could pretend that this was what we’d set out for it to be.

Casual.

Temporary.

A lesson for both of us.

But I didn’t want to.

I needed to tell someone what Alex meant to me or it was going to eat me from the inside out.

“I’m in love with Alex.” The words were barely a whisper. Saying them aloud hurt, but it was freeing too. Like a weight that had been constricting my chest was gone. I could breathe again, an overwhelmed gasp escaping—and evolving—into something more like a sob.

“Oh, George ,” Mom’s voice was soft. “I know.”

I fell into her arms, tears soaking into the floral of her dress, my truths laid bare. “I love him but I can’t have him,” I choked, arms stiff at my sides. She enveloped me, squeezing me close, the warmth of her round frame as soothing as only a mother’s embrace could be. As always, she smelled like sunscreen, cookies, hairspray, and laundry detergent.

“Why not?” she asked, hand scrubbing over my back. Back and forth. Like I was five years old with a skinned knee. Like I was still the little boy whose problems could be fixed with a Band-Aid and a kiss.

“Because I’m leaving .”

And I was .

I was leaving.

It felt more and more real with every hour that passed.

Tomorrow night. The ceremony would wrap up and I’d be on my way to the airport—and back to my life. My real life. The tall, shimmering buildings. The job I’d worked so hard for. The ex that wouldn’t leave me alone. The horrible, awful texts on my phone. The career I’d stubbornly stuck with, though now I was starting to wonder why.

Back to the same fucking Mondays I’d suffered through for nearly a decade.

At least I’d see Mr. Pickles, right?

And Missy.

And my manga collection.

My bright points.

And yet…I felt…so fucking empty.

So empty.

“What if you didn’t?” Mom said, still rubbing back and forth. “What if you stayed? What then?” I had never in a million years expected her to say that. The same woman who bragged about me to every single one of her clients. That made a point to mention my job and my “big city life” every chance she got.

I was…confused to say the least.

Wrong-footed.

“I’ve spent…I’ve spent so long building the life I have.” My voice broke. “Won’t it…mean all of it was for nothing if I leave it behind? That all those years I was away were a waste of time. That moving to New York in the first place is just…another failure? Like—” It was hard to breathe all of a sudden, all my rawest insecurities laid bare. “Like Brendon.”

“Sweetheart.” Mom’s voice was firm, her arms tightening. “Life is about the journey, not the destination.”

“W-what?”

“It takes a lot of bravery to change paths so far down the road,” she murmured softly. “But turning back when you’ve realized you’re going the wrong direction? That’s not failure—it’s wisdom. There’s no shame in changing your mind. It’s how we grow. If you never try new things you might never discover what matters most.”

“I could get a job here, yes. But I’d be starting from scratch, abandoning everything I’ve built. And why? Because I spent a week in the woods with a stranger, and decided I was in love with him? It’s illogical,” I said.

“So?” She squeezed me tight. “The best things in life are.”

My chest hurt, and my worry slipped free. The same worry that’d kept me up at night for years. The worry that made all my other concerns pale in comparison.

When I spoke, my voice was barely more than a croak.

“You won’t…you won’t be less…proud of me?”

“Oh, honey, no.” She shook her head, and her blonde hair tickled my cheek. “ Fuck no.” I laughed, but the sound was brittle.

“You won’t get to brag about me to your friends anymore.”

Mom pulled back briefly to glare at me. “I will brag about you no matter what you’re doing—no matter where you’re doing it.”

My eyes burned.

“I want you to do what will make you happy—not what you think will make me or anyone else happy. You’ve always been such a sweet, loyal boy. You put everyone else first. But maybe it’s time to do something selfish. Maybe it’s time to choose your own happiness.” She wasn’t the best with words. Wasn’t a philosopher. Wasn’t a psychologist. Wasn’t my therapist.

And yet…her words struck a chord. Like she’d reached inside my chest and enveloped my heart in her embrace directly. I was no longer cold. No longer half as worried—even if I was nervous. So fucking nervous.

Maybe it’s time to choose your own happiness.

“Alex…makes me happy,” I confessed. “Even when he pisses me off, he makes me happy.”

“I know. ”

There was a lump in my throat that I couldn’t seem to swallow. It clogged me up from the inside, made me feel like a stuck drain. “What if he doesn’t want me too? What if I implode my entire fucking life?—”

“Then we’ll pick up the pieces and build something new.”

We’ll pick up the pieces.

We .

As though she considered my problems hers. Like I was part of a team. A family.

God.

Had I really let myself forget what that was like? Suddenly, the We Hate Brendon Club made a lot more sense. All this time…had they been waiting for me to remember that I wasn’t alone? That I could rely on them? That they were in my corner?

I was struck again, the levity of that driving the breath right from my lungs.

“If he wanted me…wouldn’t he say something?” I asked, trembling. “He’s the most honest person I’ve ever met. I…trust him. Don’t you think he would?—”

“Alex is a nice boy,” Mom said. “But he’s not perfect. Maybe…” Mom’s voice was loving, her rubbing continuing. “A lot of these worries could be solved if you’d talk to him?”

I quaked as I nodded. “I know. I just?—”

“Brendon did a number on you, I know.”

“That’s not it.” For once, Brendon hadn’t factored into this at all. “I’m scared I care more about him than he cares about me. That I’ve misread this. That I’ll ruin what could be a good memory by being honest.”

“Honesty very rarely, if ever, ruins good things,” Mom promised.

Mom’s advice was helpful, but difficult to implement. As I retired to our tent after showering off my emotional funk, I couldn’t seem to get my mouth to open. Not when Alex was already stressed, and on the phone—despite the late hour—talking to a vendor. The night before the wedding. Apparently the company that was supposed to be dropping off the chairs for the guests early that morning was pulling out.

It was wildly inappropriate and unprofessional. Which was what Alex told them, an angry fire in his eyes, his jaw jumping with tension as he sprawled on our mattress, legs spread. Immediately, I took a step back, ready to retreat and give him privacy but he shook his head. Deliberately, while he was politely, but sternly telling off the vendor, he patted his thigh in invitation.

I took a seat, pleased when some of the stress in his frame eased the moment he had me in his lap. His lips found my neck, a single peck that sent a shiver down my spine.

“I understand that you are apologetic,” he responded, kissing my neck again. “But being sorry doesn’t change the fact that my sister’s wedding is tomorrow morning and we now have no seating. If it’s a matter of money?—”

He and the vendor went back and forth for a while until they found a compromise. Benches would be delivered as opposed to the original chairs. Which was frustrating, but workable.

Alex hung up the phone with a groan.

“Jesus Christ.” He looked stressed, sweat at his temples, his hair mussed from the way he’d been angrily tugging on it. “That was a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, shifting on his lap to alleviate the pressure between my legs. Apparently, listening to him go all “corporate” on the phone while I was straddling his thighs really did it for me. His voice went growly and flat with anger—a tone I’d never heard him take.

He was kindness personified.

“ Are you sorry?” Alex shifted his hips up, our dicks aligning. “You don’t feel very sorry.” He arched a brow, and I flushed, chastened. “Mmm, that wasn’t an admonishment, baby. I’m just…” His phone dropped to the floor unceremoniously as Alex found my hips, fingers digging in. “Really? Seeing me pissed off really revs your engine, does it?”

My nose scrunched, because the question itself was horrendous—even if the answer was yes.

“Now I really wish I could take you to one of my hockey games,” Alex laughed. “They’re just for fun, but I can’t help but get pissed.” I shivered, ignoring the sad reality of that statement and instead focusing on the part that mattered. “You like that? You like me mad?” One of Alex’s hands cupped my throat, giving it a squeeze. “Fuck, I should’ve guessed. You always fight with me. Is that why? You wanna get me all riled up. Want me to fuck you like I hate you?”

Okay. I hadn’t realized that was a thing I desired until he said it.

Breathless, all thoughts of talking about our relationship flew out the window. Alex growled, jerking me onto the mattress with a grunt I felt right between my legs.

And then he made good on his promise, yanking my pants down with no finesse. Insistent, lubed fingers snuck between my cheeks. His cock followed—filling me up till he was all I could think about.

Till he was all I could breathe.

Till I was simply a hole for him to pound his frustrations out on. Eyes rolled back, his hand covered my mouth to keep me from alerting the neighboring tents to what he was doing. With feigned disregard for my wishes—Alex fucked me brutally enough, I swear to god, my ass was bruised.

Sweat dripped down his temple onto the mattress, his blue eyes wild.

Betraying him, as always, because despite how rough he was being, there was no denying the affection in his gaze. The awareness, never to push too hard. Never to hurt me.

When he finished, my hole felt as sore as he’d wanted it to. Well-fucked, stretched, and full of his cum. He tucked his fingers up inside me, scraping it out, then made eye contact as he slurped his own cum right from his filthy fingers. He sank back over my body, reaching for his cock and aiming it at my hole again like he planned on shoving back in despite the fact it was only half hard.

I was a limp sated mess, and therefore didn’t protest when Alex’s other hand covered my mouth again.

“You want my cock back in your pussy?” he purred against my ear, his crown notched against my loose hole. “Want me to breed you nice and full, Duchess?”

“Guyyyysss,” a tired, annoyed voice echoed—way too close for comfort. “Seriously? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

I didn’t know who had spoken—and was glad for that. A horrified eep escaped me.

“Fuck off, Martin,” Alex called—before burying his face in the back of my neck with a dry laugh. “Apparently our ‘quiet’ isn’t so quiet,” he chuckled, totally unrepentant about the trauma he’d caused his extended family.

“I want to die,” I told him when he removed his hand from my mouth. “I want to—” Alex put his hand back.

“None of that.” He clucked his tongue, kissing the back of my neck. Still, his cock pushed against my ass. “We’re just sleeping,” he promised. “Gonna fill you up so you can rest.”

He was shameless.

Seriously shameless.

And I loved him for it.

Just like I loved the puff of his breath on the back of my neck, echoing in the silence as Alex settled in for the night. His fingers looped my wrist, playing with the bracelet there absentmindedly.

Awake, despite the fact he’d promised we were only sleeping.

His cock was softening inside me. It slipped out of its own accord—a shame, really.

“Are you asleep?” Alex asked several long, quiet minutes later.

Now’s your chance .

“No.”

“Good.” He pecked my neck. And then he was moving away from me. I frowned, twisting to glare at him only to be floored by what I saw him doing. His watch came off with an easy click, like he’d done it so many times it took no effort at all. He was oddly reserved as he crowded against my back again and wound the watch band around my wrist. It was a tad big. He had to close it all the way on the last hole.

“Looks good on you,” Alex said, running his fingers across the band, underneath it, against the sensitive fragile skin where my veins stood stark and blue.

“Alex?” My heart skittered as he linked our fingers together, pulled my hand up, and leaned over me so he could kiss along my wrist.

“This was my grandpa’s,” Alex explained between tender presses of dry lips. “Dad gave it to me when I turned sixteen. He’d worn it his entire life until that point.” Another kiss. “Grandpa was dead and gone by that point—a horrible man, if you listen to my dad’s stories. But still…important.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“It was the only nice thing grandpa ever did for him,” Alex murmured, lips skimming up along my palm. “He told him it was a ‘symbol’ of what he expected from him.”

“And your dad…gave it to you.”

“He said it was because I’m important,” Alex replied. “That he wanted to give me the most important thing he owned, so even though he couldn’t be around as much—busy as he was—I’d always know he loved me.”

My eyes were burning. Which was unfair. Because this was Alex’s heart-wrenching story, not mine. And yet…

He kissed each of my fingers, still looming over me.

“He could’ve died,” Alex’s voice cracked. “And he’s okay now—but I can’t…” He pressed his face to my skin, body shuddering. Seeking comfort. From me. Like simply holding my hand, simply seeing the watch on my wr ist, was helping. “When it was lost, I kept thinking what if…what if this was all I had of him?”

“Alex.” I didn’t dare hug him. Even though he was quick to offer them, I got the feeling when he felt this…torn apart he didn’t appreciate being huddled. Not the way I did. “I think that’s perfectly understandable, given the circumstances.”

“You do?” Alex clutched my hand to his face, hiding against it, his watch hanging on my wrist.

“It sounds like June isn’t the only one that’s had a rough few months.”

He laughed, but his voice cracked. “Y-yeah.”

And then he curled around my back again, his big frame cuddling up like an overgrown octopus. “Thank you for finding it,” he said softly.

He’d already thanked me.

“I told you not to do that,” I sighed. Alex snickered—lighter this time.

“Whatever guy you date next better treat you so fucking good,” Alex growled. “Or I’ll fly to New York and—” He cut himself off. “I shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Shouldn’t you?” My heart was skipping.

Now, George.

Just tell him.

Tell him how you feel ? —

“We should sleep,” Alex deflected. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow. If you want to wake up early with me, we could get ready in June’s cabin together?” He unknowingly interrupted me, his brain back in planning mode. “Otherwise, I’ll hardly see you. There’s too much to do, unfortunately.”

It was our last day together.

Of course I was going to wake up early to spend what time with him I could.

“I want to,” I admitted, ashamed that I’d missed my opportunity once again.

“Good.” Alex squeezed me tight, his earlier sadness forgotten. He cleaned me up with wet wipes he’d stolen from somewhere, making sure I was safe and comfortable before we actually fell asleep.

He left his watch on my wrist.

All night long.

I returned it in the morning, obviously.

But I felt the whisper of its touch.

Like an omen almost, of what I couldn’t have—but wanted, more desperately than I’d ever wanted anything.

Illogical as it was.