Page 27 of Heartbreak Honey

Now

Skyler’s thrilled to be hanging out with his sister, but he’s worried about Trevor getting wasted beside him. Asking him to go out like this was probably a bad idea. He just wanted to have fun with Layla, and he mistakenly thought it would be fun for Trevor too.

Granted, Trevor looks like he’s having fun now, but that’s the result of three drinks and three shots. Skyler passed on the previous round of shots that Trevor and Layla took together, and he’s still nursing his first drink. He never lets himself drink too much anymore, and besides that, he needs to watch out for Trevor.

When Trevor tries to take another sip out of his empty glass, the slurping sound echoes obnoxiously around them. “Want another,” he mumbles.

He’s already trying to stand and push Skyler out of the booth, but Skyler doesn’t budge. “Let’s hold off on that for a bit.”

“But I want it now,” Trevor whines.

And Skyler’s brain instantly goes to a different, much dirtier place.

He takes a deep breath, fighting the desire to shove Trevor into the wall of the booth and kiss him senseless. Because they’re in public, his little sister is right in front of them, and oh yeah, they’re not freaking together.

“Let me out,” Trevor urges impatiently.

He reflexively grips Trevor’s thigh, fingers digging into the muscle harder than they should. “You can wait,” he says firmly.

Trevor’s eyes widen in a way that makes Skyler think his brain is also in a different place now. Then Trevor’s body relaxes back into the seat. Like he’s forgotten his desire for alcohol and is waiting for something else Skyler can give him.

Skyler has to remind himself that Trevor’s drunk. And again, that Layla and Mike are right here. He asks Mike to get Trevor a water, then loosens his grip on Trevor’s thigh. But before he can remove his hand completely, Trevor reaches for it, lacing their fingers together. Trevor would never do this in public if he were sober—not after that first year together when everything was still relatively simple. But they’re the only ones in this place, and Skyler wants to keep him relaxed and not asking for another drink, so he squeezes Trevor’s hand and goes back to talking to Layla.

She’s filling him in on her dating life, which, due to her busy schedule, consists less of actual dating and more of hooking up with guys she meets in bars. He tries not to act all over-protective-big-brother about it.

After one story of her snagging a guy who started out flirting with someone else, Trevor cheers, “Hell yeah, get it, Lay-lay,” and they all laugh. But Skyler secretly revels in him using Trevor’s old nickname for Layla. He only wishes Trevor didn’t need to be drunk to do it. He wants him to be comfortable around his family like he was before.

At Skyler’s insistence, Trevor slowly sips the water Mike gave him. Now that he’s taken a break from drinking, he seems to be getting tired. He scoots closer to Skyler and leans into him more, curls his fingers around Skyler’s bicep.

Skyler doesn’t miss the looks Layla shoots him as they talk. He can read the hundreds of questions in her eyes, and he’s sure he’ll have to answer them when they can talk alone. Not that he knows the answers.

What are he and Trevor doing?

He has no fucking clue.

He gave Trevor a pass this morning, not wanting to cause him any more embarrassment. He understands that last night with the fire was overwhelming and Trevor didn’t mean to kiss him in that moment. But is there a chance Trevor might want to kiss him when he’s thinking more clearly?

That’s the million-dollar question.

The connection is still there between them. He can feel it like a tether. Five years apart from each other wasn’t enough to sever it. And he’s sure Trevor must feel it too. He’s just not sure Trevor’s ready to acknowledge it.

Eventually, it gets late, and since Layla has to go in for another shift tomorrow afternoon, they decide it’s time to leave.

Trevor manages to do another shot when Skyler goes to the bathroom, bringing him up to three and four. He’s going to feel like death in the morning. And it’s strange seeing him this way because Trevor was always the responsible one, leaving Skyler free to drink as much as he wanted.

Skyler knows he started drinking too much once things got hard between them. Knows how he let himself get out of control, how he forced Trevor to take care of him and worry about him. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t smart, and it didn’t do anything to help their situation. But it was the only way he knew how to cope at the time.

He doesn’t like that Trevor’s coping by drinking now. It’s not that he minds taking care of him—he loves being able to take care of Trevor—but he’s worried about where this could lead him.

When they get in Mike’s SUV, with Layla up front, Skyler has to help Trevor climb in the back and buckle up. Then as soon as he gets himself settled beside him, Trevor is all over him, testing the limits of his seatbelt to reach for Skyler’s thigh and hip, tugging Skyler closer so he can rub his nose along his neck.

Layla, ever observant (and might he mention, nosy) turns in her seat to watch the two of them. Skyler gives her a pleading look, but he’s not sure if he’s pleading with her to give them some privacy or to do something to stop this.

There’s no way Mike is oblivious to what’s going on, but he keeps his eyes firmly on the road. He probably deserves a raise.

This reminds Skyler of all the times he and Trevor tumbled into the backseats of cars together after awards shows or performances, buzzed from alcohol or adrenaline, and hungry for each other. They’ve gotten each other off clumsily like this more times than he can count. It’s no wonder their drivers were required to sign NDAs.

But he knows they can’t do this now. He does his best to keep Trevor’s hands at bay, even when the little whine Trevor lets out goes straight to his dick.

Layla must hear it too, because she whips back around to face forward, quickly jamming her finger into the stereo button to raise the volume. Mike chuckles silently, eyes still trained on the road. Definitely deserves a raise.

When they reach their building, Skyler helps Trevor out of the vehicle and up to the door. Trevor’s clinging to him. He used to call Skyler a koala, but he’s more fitting of the title now.

They stop the elevator on Layla’s floor, and Skyler reluctantly passes Trevor off to Mike so he can walk Layla to her door and get a moment alone with her.

“Will I get to see you again before you leave?” she asks as she fishes her keys out of her purse.

“Yeah, I’m not sure when I’ll go back to L.A. Don’t think I’m ready yet.”

She gives him a sharply appraising look. “So what are you doing? Are you guys—”

“No,” he cuts her off, already knowing where she’s going with this. “We’re not back together, not at all. I would have told you.”

“You’re aware that it totally looks like you’re back together, right?”

He nods, because yeah. But that’s only because Trevor got drunk tonight. “We’re not though,” he insists. And then, because he can tell his sister anything, and she’ll only tease him when it isn’t something serious, he adds in a slightly pathetic voice, “I don’t know what we’re doing, but I wish I did.”

Her eyes soften. “Sky.”

“I know.”

It’s messy and complicated and could explode in their faces, and he knows that.

“Don’t let him hurt you again.”

“I hurt him too, you know.” God, he hurt Trevor so badly.

“True,” Layla says. “And Trevor’s a wonderful person who doesn’t deserve to be hurt either. But you’re my damn brother, so you’re who I’m worried about right now. Just don’t let him hurt you.”

She sounds fierce, so he tells her he won’t. But honestly, he doesn’t think he has any power to stop it. Whatever is going to happen between Trevor and him, good or bad, it’s probably inevitable.

It’s like his entire life’s path was forged the day Trevor Blue stepped into it.

When he gets back in the elevator, Mike offers to come up and help him with Trevor, but Skyler assures him they’ll be fine. So Mike gets off on his floor, and then Skyler digs in his pocket for the penthouse key, which is made more difficult by Trevor reattaching himself to his side.

He’s sure Trevor is so drunk he has no idea what he’s doing when he says, “Let me help you with that,” and snakes his hand down to rub Skyler’s crotch over his jeans.

He jerks his hips backward, but they hit the elevator wall and there’s nowhere else for him to go. He grabs Trevor’s wrist to stop him, and the disappointed look in Trevor’s eyes nearly kills him.

“Don’t you want me?” Trevor asks, voice thick with alcohol and hurt. “I know I’m not as hot as I used to be, but I can still make it good for you.”

Skyler opens his mouth to tell him he’s perfect. He’s perfect and he absolutely doesn’t need to prove anything to him. But before he can get a word out, Trevor drops to his knees, already reaching for Skyler’s fly.

And shit, this night has really turned into a test of his self-control.

All those lonely nights of jerking off while he replayed images exactly like this one come back to his mind, and to have the real thing here now is almost enough to make him fall to his own knees.

But he can’t let anything happen.

Not like this.

He leans down to hook his hands under Trevor’s armpits and hauls him up to his feet. “We need to get inside.”

“Then can I suck you?” Trevor asks him hopefully.

Fucking hell.

Skyler breathes in deeply, wanting to cry. This is too much.

He leads Trevor into the apartment and over to the couch, propping him up against the arm. Then he promises he’ll be right back and goes to get him a glass of water and some Tylenol.

Stella, who’s lying on the rug, opens her eyes to watch him moving around, but then she promptly goes back to sleep.

When Skyler returns to the couch, Trevor’s managed to take off his shoes and shirt. Skyler’s eyes zero in on the familiar tattoo on his chest, the hearts-flush poker hand that spells all in where the numbers should be, and it takes him a few moments to remember what he was doing. He sits down beside him, careful to keep some distance, and hands him the water and Tylenol.

Trevor eyes them with disinterest, but after Skyler says, “Please,” he tosses the pills in his mouth and swallows.

Skyler watches him as he drinks the rest of the water. When Trevor’s finished with it, he sets the glass on the table and angles his body toward Skyler. He’s settled down a bit, no longer grabbing frantically for him. But by the expectant look on his face, he’s clearly waiting for Skyler to make a move.

Skyler’s eyes keep drifting down to the tattoo. The person who got that tattoo for him is the same person sitting on his couch looking at him like he either wants to devour him or be devoured, and like he really doesn’t care which. So many things have changed, but Trevor is still Trevor.

And that makes it so damn hard to do the right thing.

They could fall into each other right now. Let their bodies take over and fuck each other senseless like they’ve done hundreds of times before. But Trevor would almost definitely regret it in the morning, and Skyler can’t trick himself into believing that one more night could ever possibly be enough for him.

If he gets a real taste of Trevor again, he’ll never be able to give him up. He’ll latch on to him, disregard what Trevor actually wants, and beg him to stay. And there’s a chance Trevor might do it, just because he’s used to giving Skyler anything he wants.

But no, he doesn’t want it to go like that. Doesn’t want to guilt Trevor into being with him.

He forces himself to stand, and when Trevor stands to meet him, Skyler finds himself with the love of his life so close that Trevor’s warm breath hits his collarbone through his shirt. Taking a step away, he almost falls over the coffee table.

Trevor laughs and reaches for his waist to steady him. It sort of has the opposite effect though.

Skyler gets himself under control and says, “Time for bed.”

The side of Trevor’s mouth quirks up. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”

Lord, help me.

He directs Trevor into the guest room where he helps him out of his pants. When Trevor grabs at the hem of Skyler’s shirt, he shakes his head and gently pushes away his fingers. “Get in bed.”

Trevor frowns. “Aren’t you—Don’t you want to—”

Smoothing his hands over Trevor’s bare shoulders, Skyler guides him backward until he hits the bed. Trevor gets on it willingly but doesn’t have the coordination to get under the covers, so Skyler helps him. He looks confused and hurt again, and it makes Skyler want to punch himself in the face, because Trevor should never have to look like that. He should always look like sunshine.

He tells himself that Trevor will fall asleep within minutes of lying down and he probably won’t remember much of this in the morning.

Skyler urges him to lay his head on the pillow, and then leans down to card his fingers through Trevor’s hair, just once, unable to help it. But as he goes to move away, Trevor catches his hand and holds on tighter than he should be able to in his drunken state. Trevor’s other arm winds around Skyler’s neck to pull him back down. And then, before Skyler has the chance to resist, Trevor kisses him.

It doesn’t have the urgency of his earlier movements when he was pressing into Skyler, groping, driving him wild. But the kiss is solid and sure, and it sets Skyler’s blood on fire all the same.

And it takes him longer than it should to pull away.

He expects Trevor to whine again, but all the fight seems to have gone out of him. Trevor gives him a look of resigned acceptance before letting go of his hand.

Skyler’s free to leave now, but it takes a while for his body to get the memo. Finally, he does what he has to do. He says goodnight and turns for the door. He makes it all the way there and flips the light switch, but before he can slip out of the room, a soft voice calls out to him in the dark.

“Can you just stay with me?”

Oh.

He only hesitates a moment before giving in, going back to the bed and climbing in beside Trevor. It might not be what Trevor needs or wants in the long run, but if it’s what he wants right now, Skyler can’t deny him.

Skyler barely gets the chance to lie down before Trevor grabs his arm and rolls away from him, onto his side, pulling Skyler into position to spoon him. Skyler used to prefer being the little spoon. Even though he’s taller than Trevor, Trevor always made a great big spoon. But this is really nice too.

As he predicted, Trevor falls asleep almost immediately, but it takes Skyler much longer. Not only because he’s still fully dressed in his shirt and jeans, but because he wants to relish this. They’ve been sharing a bed, but they haven’t properly cuddled this way. And after Trevor didn’t come to his room last night, Skyler worried that he’d never get to sleep beside him again.

This isn’t real though. This is three Jack and Cokes and four Mind Erasers, and he knows that. He thinks of what his sister said about not letting Trevor hurt him, and this probably counts as hurting him—or it will in the morning when reality sets back in.

Still, for tonight, Skyler lets himself lie here and pretend.

But tomorrow…

Tomorrow the pretending needs to stop.