Page 22

Flashes. They’re all I see.

Abi’s face, inches from mine. Mom and Dad hovering over me, asking if I’m okay. Scotty poking me in the cheek, repeatedly stating, “Wake up, wake up, wake up.” There are visions of faces I don’t know. Men and women in white lab coats who look like doctors. Brody carrying me somewhere. A bumpy ride. Light barreling into my vision, making me wince. A familiar room, though I can’t really place it. Then, darkness.

It feels like I’ve slept for decades. My body is stiff and sore all over, and as I try to stretch, I realize my leg is restrained. Opening my eyes, I’m shocked to find I’m back at home, lying in our bed. I’m not exactly sure how or why I’m back at the Winawana Wagon House, but somehow, I am. I look to my left, expecting to see Abi, but the bed is empty.

Jolting up, I glance around the room, hoping to find Fee or Scotty, but the room is empty. Thankfully, my phone is on the bedside table, and the handcuff used to secure my leg to the bed frame doesn’t prevent me from reaching it.

Once I’ve got the phone unlocked, I’m greeted by a new background selection. It’s an overhead image of Abi and myself cuddled up next to each other in the trunk of his car, fast asleep. I’m assuming it was taken on the ride home, but aside from the mental flashes, I have no recollection of leaving Tallulah.

I bring up my contacts and attempt to call Abi, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. When he doesn’t answer, I bring up my biffle’s contact and hit call. It doesn’t even fully ring once before Scotty’s voice comes through the speaker.

“Tater Tot! You’re awake!”

“I am,” I say, my voice strained, my throat dry and cracked. There’s a bottle of water on the bedside table, and I take a swig; it stings as the liquid trickles down my sore throat. “When did we get home?”

He doesn’t respond, and when I look at the phone’s screen to make sure he’s still there, I realize he’s hung up on me. Rude.

Seconds later, the door to our cabin bursts open, and I have to do a double take. For reasons I don’t understand, Scotty’s wearing a hot-pink jockstrap and a magenta crop top. Why the hell is he wearing my signature ensemble?

“It’s about time, Tatum,” Scotty says, scowling at me. “I’ve been waiting for hours. We all have.” He reaches into the jockstrap, and for one truly terrifying moment, I think he might start masturbating for my viewing displeasure. Thankfully, that isn’t the case. When his hand emerges, he’s holding a small, silver key. There’s also a rather long pubic hair stuck to the key, but I choose not to point that out for fear of a vicious tongue lashing. He slides the key into the handcuffs and unlocks them, tossing the key over his shoulder when he’s done. I sit up, watching as he whirls around and heads toward the chest of drawers in the corner.

“Scotty?” I ask. He glances over his shoulder, smiling softly. “When did we get home?”

“Two days ago. Daddy said we should let you sleep, so he dosed you with the one of the heavy-duty serums he stole from the agency. I told him you’d be real mad if he did, but he said he’ll throw a toaster in the bathtub next time you shower if you give him hell for it. Please don’t give him hell for it, I don’t want you to die, Tatum.”

I roll my eyes. “Where’s Abi?”

“He’s in our cabin. Daddy’s helping him get ready. He said I should help you get into your outfit when you wake up, so here we are. Stand up so we can get this over with.” He turns around, and there’s another pink jockstrap in his hand, and my Abi’s Boy crop top. “So, here’s the thing.” He chucks the jockstrap at me, and it’s only now I realize I’m completely naked beneath the blanket. For fuck’s sake. How many people have seen my penis during my unconscious road trip, and why does the mental image of hundreds of men staring at my cock whilst I was sleeping have me leaking against the blanket? “We were going to stay in Texas for a few weeks while Kincaid recovered, but Daddy and Fee said it would be better to get you both home so you’re more comfortable. Don’t worry, though. Your mom and dad, and your shitty ex-boyfriends are here, so we’re not missing anyone for the big day.”

Beneath the blanket, I slide into the jockstrap. Scotty tosses the crop top to me once I’ve got the jock on, then he bends over, grabbing my makeup case from the floor. Unfortunately, with Scotty wearing only a jockstrap, his entire asshole is on display. I make the decision not to call him out on it, because last time I did, we got into an hour-long war of words over which of us has the prettiest hole. Spoiler alert: yours truly. I put on the crop top and push pack the blanket, slowly rising out of the bed. Every muscle aches, but I’m able to push past the pain.

“Wait, what big day?”

Scotty rolls his eyes as he sets the makeup case on the bed. “Your wedding, silly. Listen, I’m real sorry. I asked Daddy to break the news, but he refused. He said I’m a big boy, and big boys have to take accountability.”

“What the hell are you blabbering about?” Standing on my toes, I stretch my arms as high as they’ll go, trying to loosen my stiff body. Scotty’s already pulled out a pink eyeshadow pallet and a tube of bubblegum-pink lip gloss and set them beside the case. Next, he places black eyeliner and a tube of mascara at their side. Patting the empty space on the bed, Scotty welcomes me over.

“See, the thing is, I couldn’t wait any longer. I know I promised to get married with you, but I didn’t want to wait another day to become Scotty Frost. You understand, don’t you? You were asleep for so long, and I really, really wanted to finally be married. Please don’t be mad, Tater Tot.” He bites his bottom lip, studying my expression. Truthfully, I don’t really care if he married Brody without me, but it does sting knowing I wasn’t there for him. He reaches over the makeup case and squeezes my hand. “Don’t be mad, okay? I love you.”

The admission makes me smile, and I squeeze his hand. “I love you, too.”

A wide, bright smile splits his face as he hands a makeup brush to me. “I’m glad. You don’t know how scared I was.”

I tighten the grip I’ve got on his hand and lean in, kissing his forehead. It’s an action that would earn me a death threat if his overbearing boyfriend—well, husband now, I suppose—were here. “I just wish I could have been there for you, babes.”

He lets go of my hand and grabs his phone. He’s had it wedged between his hip and the elastic band of his jockstrap the whole time, so when he pulls it away, there are beads of sweat across the screen. He rubs the screen against his jockstrap’s pouch, and whether he’s doing it to dry the glass, or if he’s just feeling a little horny, I’m not entirely sure. He tinkers with the screen for a second before holding out for me. He’s got a picture pulled up, and as I study it, my mouth falls open.

In the photograph, Scotty’s standing at a small, makeshift altar in the concrete waiting room, back at the agency. Scotty and Brody are standing in front of each other, their hands locked together, their gazes unwavering. To my horror, I’m in a wheelchair, my eyes closed, my mouth hanging open, drool trickling down my chin. I’m wearing a hospital gown with no underwear beneath. For some reason, the gown is hiked up past my knees, giving anyone present an unobstructed view of ... Jesus Christ. My cock is fully erect in the photograph.

“What the fucking fuck?” I shriek. “Please tell me my family was already gone.”

Scotty shakes his head. “Everyone was there. I just told you that. Keep up, please.” He sighs dreamily as he stares at the picture. “It was such a beautiful ceremony. I wish Meadows didn’t drug you and Kincaid. You would have loved it if you’d been awake. Especially the part where ... well, swipe left and see for yourself.”

I’m too scared of what I’ll find to follow his instruction, so he grabs the phone and sighs. When he hands it back to me, a video of Brody and Scotty is playing, me in a wheelchair at their side. Scotty mentions Abi’s name in his vows, and to my horror, the moment the name leaves his lips, my hard cock swells and I ejaculate onto my hospital gown.

“Oh, my fucking Goddess,” I whisper, shaking my head in disbelief. “Tell me no one saw.” As my on-screen orgasm subsides, there’s a loud, thunderous round of applause from the onlookers.

I want to fucking die.

After sending the video to myself for research purposes, I swipe right again, wanting my cum-coated cock off the screen. The next picture eases a lot of my worry because of how heartwarming it is. It’s Scotty and Brody’s wedding kiss. How can I be upset about semen when they look so fucking happy to finally be married. Their joy is contagious, and it makes me a little jealous, if I’m being honest. Scotty’s married now, and I was supposed to get married alongside him. If Abi had never been shot, I would be Tatum Kincaid. Or Abi would be Abi St. James. We should probably discuss the name situation soon, but right now, I just want Daddy. I want to get to him and demand he marry me on the spot, because it feels like I’ve been left behind. It’s kind of like that feeling I used to get when the Bens and Austin would go to sleep at a reasonable hour, leaving me to prepare my makeup kit for clients the next day. With them upstairs, fast asleep, it always felt like I was the only soul left in the world. I hated the feeling then, and I hate it now.

“Scotty? If you’re married, does that mean Abi and I aren’t getting married too?”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “What the hell do you think we’re doing right now?” For emphasis, he picks up the eyeshadow and shakes it mere inches from my face. “Earth to Tater Tot; you’re getting married in a few minutes. The longer you procrastinate, the longer it’ll be before you walk down the aisle, so hurry up.”

My jaw drops. “I’m getting married ... today ?”

He bites his bottom lip and nods. “Yeah. But don’t worry, I’ve got everything sorted. You don’t have to worry about anything. Your mom and dad are here. The Bens. I invited Austin, too, but his creepy stepdad wouldn’t let him come. It’s probably for the best. If this were one of Fee’s romance books, it would seem like you’re trying to shoehorn in the next couple in the series of your life.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “This isn’t a romance novel.”

Scotty sighs dramatically. “Keep telling yourself that. Anyway, my point, asshole, is that there’s no need to hype up another set of potential love interests when the Bens have already been present for weeks.”

“Can we please just get on with it? I’m so sick of these ridiculous ‘if your life was a romance novel’ jokes. It’s a bit too meta for my liking.”

“If you insist. Anyway, Daddy and Fee said you’d want to wait until Kincaid was fully healed to get married, so we’ve been drugging both of you until he recovers. We didn’t need to knock you out, but you would’ve just made an absolute spectacle of yourself, playing the sympathetic near-widow, and I didn’t want to hear you rant about Kincaid’s condition for two weeks, so here we are.”

“You drugged me for two weeks?” I stare incredulously at him before deciding to let the subject die. Arguing will get us nowhere, and apparently, I’m going to play the blushing bride today. “Whatever. Let’s do this.”

When we walk out of the cabin I share with Abi, I gasp at the scene laid out before me. The parking lot has been completely transformed. Where once only sharp, jagged pebbles rested, the ground is now covered in a lumpy pink carpet. I have no idea where or how they got enough carpet to cover an entire parking lot, but with my idiotic found family, I know there’s no use asking, because I’ll just be given an answer that makes me groan due to its utter ridiculousness.

In the center of the parking lot, two rows of white chairs line the carpet. There’s an aisle between them, and there, standing proudly is Abi Kincaid. He looks more handsome than ever. His dark brown hair is parted at the side, giving him a classic, All-American-boy look. The suit he’s wearing is a stunning shade of pink, matching my ensemble perfectly. The moment he spots me, his jaw trembles.

“Tatum?” he says, loud enough for me to hear over the hum of the crowd. “Everyone stand. The little one is making his grand entrance.” His eyes narrow as he scans the crowd. “You will not speak, nor will you avert your gaze. No one ignores him. There will be consequences. Is this understood?”

The crowd murmurs their agreement. There are maybe twenty guests present, but the only person I see—the only man I ever see—is my Abi.

Someone approaches from behind and stands at my side. When I finally force myself to look away from Abi, Dad is grinning at me, hooking his arm through mine. “Dad?”

“Hey, Tate. Hope you don’t mind me tagging along for the wedding.”

I should probably feel some semblance of shame, because I’m only wearing a jockstrap and a crop top, but I don’t. All I feel is an overwhelming level of love. Dad traveled across the country to see his son get married. His wife just left him, his entire world is in shambles, and still, he came. I wrap my arms around him, giving him the tightest hug I can manage.

“Are you staying?” I whisper into his ear.

“I’m sorry, son. I wish I could, but I can’t leave everything behind. You’ll have your mother, though. While you were sleeping, she and Fiona convinced the nice farmer across the street to sell them his home.” He clears his throat and looks away, his cheeks red. “Well, I think Fiona may have threatened to put him in the woodchipper out back if he didn’t, but the point is, your mom’s going to be around enough for the both of us. Besides,” he says, pointing at the Bens, standing on my side of the altar. “I think they’re going to need someone, now that Benito is out of the picture. They’re going to stay with me for a while.” He looks over at them, giving the men a protective nod. Benji’s shifting back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He motions my dad forward, almost urgently. “He’s still worried Benito’s going to come back and steal him. I tell him over and over that he’s safe, but he doesn’t seem to believe me.”

“He’s always been a worrywart. Just keep reminding him, and it’ll eventually stick. He did the same thing each time Real Housewives came to the end of a season. I had to remind him that it would be back in a few months, but it was always a waiting game.” I watch as tension drains from Dad’s shoulders, and it’s as if his entire body relaxes.

“You don’t know how worried I’ve been that I’m just messing him up even more.” There’s a level of affection in his eyes that makes me more than a little uncomfortable.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, son?” He turns his head to meet my gaze.

“You’re not ... into them, are you? Because I’m going to be honest, I don’t think I’d be okay with you dating my exes.”

Dad’s jaw practically hits the floor. “Where in the world did that come from? I’m not gay, son.”

“No one said you are. You could be bi or pan. There are all kinds of labels now. They're all valid.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m a licensed sexologist, Tatum. I know all the labels.”

“I know, I’m just saying, sexuality exists on a spectrum.”

“It does,” he agrees. “And there are ends to that spectrum. I fall into the purely heterosexual side, just like you fall into the completely homosexual side. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Of course there isn’t. I just meant that if you were exploring, I’d be okay with it. Just not with the Bens.”

Dad just rolls his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous, and I’m not going to entertain this topic another second. They’re like sons to me.” He slides his hand into mine and squeezes, darting his eyes back toward the aisle. “Are you ready?”

When I look over at Abi—when I see the pure, untethered love in his eyes—I realize I’ve never been more ready for any of this in all my life.

And, so, we walk the aisle, my eyes never leaving Abi’s. When I’m right in front of him, Scotty and the Bens at my side, Brody and Barb at Abi’s, I take his hands in mine.

“Daddy,” I whisper.

He bends forward and kisses the corner of my mouth. “Oh, how I have missed you, little one.”

“We’re getting married,” I say, my voice cracking. “We’re really doing this.”

He nods. “Is this still what you want? ”

I fucking beam at him. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. Do you still want this with me?”

A tear falls down his cheek, but he lets it rest there, not wiping it away. “Always ... You will never escape me, Tatum. If you try, I will find you.”

I squeeze his hand tighter. “You fucking better. If I run off, you fucking drug me, Abi, and then you drag my ass back here kicking and screaming. Don’t let me run. I don’t want to spend another day without you, Daddy.” To my surprise, Abi leans down and picks me up, wincing. I slap his shoulder furiously. “Put me down. Jesus Christ, you’ve just been shot, and you’ve had extensive surgery. You’ll pop a stitch.”

Behind us, Brody clears his throat. “Stitches are pretty close to being healed, queer boy. You’ve been sleeping, remember?”

I cup Abi’s cheek, wrapping my legs around him. “Are you sure you won’t hurt yourself?”

Abi presses a quick kiss to my lips. “It would hurt worse without you.” He brings his finger to his mouth, and my eyes widen, because if he thinks he’s about to finger-fuck me in front of my friends and family, he’s got another thing coming.

“Your future mother-in-law is in the audience, Abi. Show a bit of self-restraint, please.”

He just snickers. “Fine. But the moment we are done here, I am carrying you into the cabin. I have not felt you wrapped around me in weeks. I need it, Tatum.” He kisses my cheek. “You need it, too, don’t you?”

His voice is filled with worry, but there’s nothing for him to worry over. I’m officially in this, just as much as him.

“Like the fucking air I breathe. I’m empty without you.”

Fee clears her throat. “If you boys are done doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing, I’d really like to get the show on the road.”

I arch an eyebrow. “I apologize for hoarding your time on my fucking wedding day, Fiona. Far be it from me to monopolize your daily agenda. I’m dying to know what could be more important than making sure this day is special for me. Slutting it up with the farmer across the street?”

Without missing a beat, Fee leans in and whispers, “With your mother, actually. I plan to eat her like an all-you-can-eat buffet.” As I recoil in disgust, Fee smiles cheerfully at the crowd. “Alright, let’s do this. I’m not going to lie, I paid Scotty to impersonate me to get ordained for this shitshow, so I have no idea how this thing’s supposed to go, but I’ve watched a lot of chick flicks with cheeky boy these last few months, so I think I’m safe winging it.” She taps her shoulder, literally giving herself an unearned pat on the back. “Who the hell is giving these men away?”

Mom, Dad, and Brody step forward.

Brody places a hand on Abi’s shoulder. “I am.” Abi turns to look at him, beaming ear to ear. I guess this is a surprise for him as well. “You’re my brother. You hear me? You’re my best friend, and I couldn’t be happier for you. Get your goddamn happy ending. You’ve earned it.”

Abi sniffles and nods, his eyes a littler damper than before. “Thank you, Brody.”

Dad places a hand on my back and beams at us. “Us too. We’re so proud of you, Tatum. I’m just so dang happy.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “As for you, son,” he says to Abi. “You’re ours now, son. We’re never letting you go, so I guess you’re stuck with us.”

“That’s right,” Mom says as she smiles at him. “We love you, Abi.”

Abi holds his breath as they speak, like the moment might fade if he allows himself to truly experience it. I want him to have this. A family. It’s been so long since anyone’s loved him the way I know my mom and dad will love him, so I bring my lips to his ear and whisper, “Do you want to call them Mom and Dad?”

His jaw trembles against the side of my face. “Little one.”

“It’s okay. I promise, I don’t mind.” Pulling back, I cup both his cheeks and try to force my sincerity into him with my eyes. “You deserve a mom and dad again, baby. I’ve got two of the best, and I want to share them with you.” I give him a quick kiss, then look over my shoulder, motioning them forward. I know this probably isn’t standard wedding protocol, but I don’t really give a damn. My wedding, my rules. If anyone has a problem with it, they can cry, bye, die.

Mom and Dad wrap us up in a hug, whispering words just meant for us. By the end, Abi’s got a new family, and I’m a weeping mess.

When the wedding’s over and Abi is officially Abdulov St. James, our family scatters around the parking lot like hornets at a hive. There’s a long table just off to the side, covered in a vast selection of snacks. Abi takes my hand and leads me away from the chaos, guiding me toward our cabin.

“We will need to head back out there soon, but I wanted to show you something,” he says. I follow Abi into our bungalow, my hole twitching in anticipation. Even if we can’t fuck until the crowd disperses, I want a few moments with his finger inside me, reminding me I belong to him. Abi’s already one step ahead of me, sucking his finger and getting it wet for me. Once it’s done, he snakes his arm around my back and delves between my cheeks. His finger touches my hole gently, giving it a loving stroke. “Deep breath, sweetheart. Here it comes.”

I follow his instruction, inhaling deeply as he enters me. His fingertip touches my prostate, making my body shake. It’s been so long since I’ve had him inside me, it’s as if my body is making up for lost time, sending rushes of pleasure through me like an electrical current. Abi points at my prayer closet and smiles. “Your surprise is in there. Brody and Scotty organized it while we were drugged.”

When I open the closet door, I gasp. There are a few new additions to the closet, the largest of which is Benito Blankenship. His hands are bound together, as are his legs. He’s kneeling in the corner, his face downturned .

“Nito?”

He blinks a few times before looking up, and when he does, he doesn’t look as hateful as before. He looks exhausted. Emotionally drained. There are tears in his eyes and he’s trying to speak, but his mouth has been gagged.

“Brody says it’s our decision what we’d like to do to him. I leave that decision in your hands, little one. If you would like me to kill him, I am happy to oblige.” Nito makes a panicked sound, but I ignore it, unable to look away from Abi. “If you do not have it in you to allow the man to die, that is fine, too.”

“Daddy,” I murmur. I’m at a loss. My tormentor is captive in my closet, and I get to decide if he lives or dies. As much as I hate him for what he’s done to me and to the Bens, I don’t know if I could live with myself if I asked Abi to end his life. “Can I think it over?”

Abi smiles at me. “My love, he is not going anywhere. There’s no rush.” He reaches past me, flipping a small LED lamp and illuminating Rinna’s altar. When I look down at my Goddess, I gasp, because she isn’t alone. There, right beside Lisa Rinna’s face, is a picture of me. Abi’s taken a picture of me in a speedo and framed it.

I watch as he picks up the bedazzled lighter he bought me and lights both of my rose-scented candles. He kisses the tip of his finger and presses it against Lisa Rinna’s forehead. Kissing his finger again, he places the tip against my smirking face in the photo.

“I hope this is not too strange for you,” he says, his voice low.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I admit, because I don’t. I’m at a complete loss.

“I made a promise to a deity once,” he says. “After the accident, I told him, if he allowed me to see your face one last time, I would pledge to him my eternal soul.” He turns to face me, tears in his eyes. “It was you, sweetheart. When the world went black around me, it was your face I saw. Comforting me. Welcoming me home. You are my God, Tatum. My Goddess. You’re my everything. I will worship you from this day forward. When you pray to your reality television icon, I will pray to you.”

“Abi,” I say, my voice breaking. “I don’t understand how any of this is real.” Reaching him, I cup his face, whimpering as he strokes my prostate. “Stuff like this doesn’t happen to people like me. Before you kidnapped me?—”

“I do not kidnap, Tatum?—”

I slap his face softly, my cock thickening as his eyes go dark and sinister. “I know; I just like saying it. As I was saying, before you kidnapped me, I was so fucking lonely. This asshole stole my boyfriends, but he also stole my confidence. You gave that back to me. You give it back to me day after day when you treat me like I’m a queen.”

“Because you are,” he insists. “My queen.”

I sniffle. “I still don’t know how much I believe that, but I know you wouldn’t lie to me, so I’m going to try to convince myself it’s true.”

“I will remind you as many times as it takes.” He leans in, his lips parting. When our mouths connect, it feels like coming home. Like all the hurt we’ve experienced along the way has simply been speedbumps meant to get us to this precise moment, in this exact place. He kisses me with abandon like he’s trying to convince me he’s in this just as deeply as I am. I don’t need to be convinced, though.

I am his. He is mine.