Page 9

NINE

Brody

I didn’t want to do this, so to avoid answering immediately, I took the bowls to the sink as if the world depended on my washing up.

“Brody?” Noah prompted and tugged me around, so I faced him.

“Didn’t you Google me?” I asked, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed.

Noah shook his head, one of his curls bouncing free from behind his ear. “I’m not a stalker like you,” he teased.

I huffed a laugh, staring at the floor for a second before shrugging.

Where did I start? Right at the beginning? Or with the news I'd been living with since last November? Doc had finished the appointment—no change blah blah, but then, he'd paused and added the kicker.

“I need you to understand the long-term implications. Even if the aneurysm remains stable, it will not go away. You may eventually need surgery. And if that happens, there’s a chance it could affect your motor skills. Your coordination. Possibly even your speech.”

Yeah, telling Logan that wasn't happening, and I wasn't laying that on Noah. He was my focus, my sunshine, my hope, and I refused to add that shit to the already steaming pile of crap I was about to lay on him.

I wanted him to like me as a strong man, not someone with a ticking time bomb in their head.

I want him to kiss me.

Take me to bed.

Make me forget.

I cleared my throat. “Okay, so long story short, my grandfather was a Formula One racer in the eighties—Jason Vance.” I waited for Noah to recognize the name, but he shook his head. “Well, he won a world championship and built a small empire on his celebrity. He put his work first. Had my dad—his only son—who married my mom, a Brazilian model. Picture-perfect life, right?”

I glanced at him. Noah wasn’t smirking anymore. His brows had drawn together, and his face shifted through several emotions. I ignored the fact that he was picking up on the unspoken stuff, or reading things into what I was saying, and pressed on.

“My dad was a racer, like me. He never had a chance to make it big, though. Lots of pressure on him from his dad. He drank, smoked, took drugs, slept around, and enjoyed all the trappings of too much money and not enough sense.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, well, my mom filed for divorce when I was five. They reconciled a couple of years later, but it was messy. If you want the details, it’s in every media post about me.” I waved a hand as if I was dismissing all that shit.

Noah stayed silent, but the way his eyes narrowed, and lips pressed together told me he was biting back a comment. I kept going.

“So, I have an older brother, Logan, and he’s my best friend. He’s married to Sadie and is Avery’s dad. He turned his back on a career in driving, got thrown out of the house by my grandfather, and cut off from the family money, but survived. He’s now my agent, so that’s a fuck-you to the old man.”

“Brody—”

I forged ahead. “But there's also my other brother…” I swallowed—the pain of childhood loss was still there. “Charlie was two years younger than me.”

“‘Was’?”

This was always the hardest part, and I swallowed, the words sticking slightly. “Mom, Dad, and Charlie died in a light aircraft accident when I was seven. Dad was piloting—he’d been drinking or was high. End of story.”

Noah’s face was a storm of emotions now—pity, sadness, anger, and something else I couldn’t name. He stared at me like he was trying to determine if I was messing with him.

I didn’t want his pity. I didn’t want to make him sad or angry. I didn’t want any of that.

“Jesus, Brody,” he said after a long pause, his voice quiet but heavy. “That’s… a lot.”

I shrugged again, keeping my expression neutral. “It is what it is.”

“No, it’s not,” he snapped, his brows furrowing deeper. “It’s not just ‘what it is.’ You were seven, and your dad—” He bit his lip as if he wasn’t sure how far to go.

“It’s fine,” I said. “It was a long time ago.”

“It’s not fine,” Noah said, his voice softer now, but still full of frustration. “And you saying it like that doesn’t make it fine.”

I glanced at him, his expression open, raw, and unguarded. “What do you want me to say?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended. “That it screwed me up? That I still think about it every day. Because I don’t. My biggest rival wasn't on the track, but in my own family, and proving myself made me strong and a winner.” My chest was tight because I wasn’t a fucking winner. I had no clue what I was doing with whatever remained of my disordered life.

Noah’s lips parted as if he wanted to argue, but he kept quiet, studying me. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“No,” he said, his voice steady now. “But it still sucks. And I’m still sorry.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Noah’s gaze stayed on me. For once, I didn’t feel the need to look away.

“Tell me what your grandfather did to you,” Noah said, calm but unrelenting.

“That's between me and my therapist,” I shot back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Noah didn’t flinch. “Does he know you’re attracted to men?”

“I’m not. It’s just you… it’s…” I scrubbed my eyes. “No, he doesn’t.”

Noah tilted his head, studying me with that steady gaze of his. “Why not?”

I let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Because he has plans for me, okay? World champion, legacy, a stunning woman by my side, creating a brand-new generation of Vance kids to carry on the name. That’s the plan. His plan.” I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me, every expectation he’d drilled into me since I was a kid. “He made me the best driver I could be,” I continued, my voice growing quieter. “He forged me out of bitterness as if I was a weapon he could wield.”

Noah stayed quiet, but I could see his jaw tightening, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“And now?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Now I’m just…”

My legs gave way, and before I knew it, I was sliding down the wall, the cold surface biting into my back until I hit the floor. I rested my arms on my knees, staring at the space between my feet as the words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered.

“Used up and fucking lost.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but Noah didn’t leave. He didn’t try to fix it or fill the space with meaningless platitudes. Instead, he crouched in front of me, his expression fierce, grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed.

“You’re not done, Brody.” His steady voice was full of conviction. “You just need to figure out what you want—not what he wants or anyone else expects. You.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening even more. I wanted to believe him, but the truth was, I didn’t know where to start. Maybe I should start with the one thing I could decide.

“I want you for however long I can have you.”

Noah's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it softened into something warmer. He scooted forward, crossing his legs in front of me, our knees almost touching.

“Okay,” he murmured, reaching to cup my face with his hand. His thumb brushed across my cheekbone, sending a shiver down my spine.

I leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against my skin, and before I could second-guess myself, I closed the distance between us. The kiss was tentative—I was afraid this moment might shatter if we moved too fast. But then, Noah's hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepened. His lips were warm and insistent against mine, and I felt something inside me begin to unravel.

I reached out, my fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, desperate to anchor myself to him as he kissed me back. The cold of the cupboard door at my back faded away, replaced by the heat of Noah's body as he pressed closer.

When we finally broke apart, breathing heavily, I rested my forehead against his. Noah's eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and a flush had spread across his cheeks.

He looked as dazed as I felt, and something about that steadied me.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” I admitted. “I'm selfish and stupid.”

“If you're going to tell me the kiss was a mistake…” Noah shuffled back, but I caught his wrist before he could move. My heart raced.

“No,” I said, my voice hoarse. “That's not what I meant.”

Noah paused, his eyes searching mine, and I tugged on his arm, pulling him towards me.

“I meant I shouldn't be doing this because I'm a mess,” I explained, my words coming out in a rush. “But I want to. God, Noah, I want to so much.”

“Sex is just that. It doesn’t have to mean anything, Brody.”

“I know.”

Relief flooded his features, and he moved, closing the distance between us. I guided him onto my lap, my hands settling on his hips as he straddled me, his weight warm and solid.

This time, when our lips met, there was no hesitation. I slid my hands under Noah's shirt, exploring warm skin as he pressed closer. His fingers tangled in my hair, and I groaned into his mouth.

We broke apart for air, both panting. Noah's forehead rested against mine, his breath hot on my face. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart where our chests pressed together.

“Brody,” he whispered.

I surged forward, capturing his mouth again. My tongue traced the seam of his lips, and he opened for me. As we kissed, Noah rocked his hips, creating delicious friction. I gasped, breaking the kiss to trail my lips down his face.

Noah's head fell back, exposing more of his neck as I kissed and nipped the sensitive skin. His hands gripped my shoulders, fingers digging in as he ground down against me. I bucked my hips up to meet his movements, groaning at the feel of him hard against my belly.

“God, Brody,” Noah panted, voice rough with need. “You feel so good.”

I captured his lips again, swallowing his moans as we rocked together. My hands slid down to grip his ass, guiding his movements as we rutted. The heat between us built, tension, coiling tighter with each thrust.

My hand slipped beneath the waistband of Noah's sweatpants, fingers grazing skin. He gasped into my mouth, hips jerking at the contact. I wrapped my hand around his cock.

“Is this okay?” I murmured, searching his face.

“Please, don't stop,” he pleaded.

I stroked him, reveling in the way he shuddered. His head fell to my shoulder, breath hot on my neck as he panted. I could feel him trembling, little whimpers escaping with each movement of my hand.

“Brody,” he moaned, voice muffled. His hips rocked, pushing into my grip. “I'm close, I'm gonna?—”

I tightened my hold.

Noah's words cut off with a gasp as I quickened my pace, twisting my wrist on the upstroke. His body went taut, muscles trembling as he approached the edge. I pressed open-mouthed kisses along his neck, tasting the salt of his skin.

“Let go,” I murmured into his ear. “I've got you.”

With a choked cry, Noah came undone. He shuddered in my arms, spilling hot and wet over my hand. I stroked him through it, gentling my touch as he whimpered at the oversensitivity.

As Noah's breathing evened out, he lifted his head from my shoulder. His face was flushed, eyes hazy with pleasure. He cupped my face in his hands, kissing me deeply.

“You didn’t come,” he whispered against my lips, lifting his ass a little, then pressing down again.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I’m a gentleman.” He smiled at me, cheeky, flushed, and so damn sexy.

I couldn't help but chuckle at Noah's words. “A gentleman, huh?” I teased; voice rough with want.

Noah's smile widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh yes,” he purred, rocking his hips. “My dads brought me up the right way, and a gentleman always ensures his partner's satisfaction.”

Before I could respond, Noah was sliding off my lap. He knelt between my legs, hands running up my thighs as he looked up at me through his lashes. My breath caught.

“Let me take care of you,” Noah murmured, toying with the waistband of my pants. “Please?”

I nodded, unable to form words, as Noah pulled down my zipper. His hand slipped inside, wrapping around my length, and I groaned at the contact.

“God, Noah,” I muttered, hips bucking involuntarily.

He smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of my cock. My head fell back to the wall with a thud as Noah's warm mouth enveloped me. His tongue swirled around the head before he took me deeper, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked.

I threaded my fingers through Noah's curls, not guiding, just needing something to hold on to as pleasure overwhelmed me. He hummed, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my body.

Noah's free hand cupped my balls, rolling them as he bobbed his head. The dual sensation was almost too much, and I could feel my orgasm building way too fast.

“Noah,” I gasped, tugging at his hair in warning. “I'm close.”

Instead of pulling away, Noah redoubled his efforts. He took me deeper, the tip of my cock hitting the back of his throat. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, dark with desire, and that was my undoing.

I came hard with a strangled cry, shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over me. Noah swallowed around me, working me through my orgasm until I whimpered.

He released me with a pop , pressing a gentle kiss to my hip before crawling back into my lap. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close as we both caught our breath.

“Was that gentlemanly enough for you?” Noah asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“More than enough,” I said, pulling Noah closer and pressing a kiss to his temple. “You're amazing. You know that?”

Noah hummed, nuzzling my neck. “So are you,” he murmured against my skin.

We sat there for a while, tangled together on the floor, our breathing returning to normal. The weight of Noah in my arms felt right in a way I couldn't explain.

“What happens now?” I asked, voicing the question lurking at the edges of my mind.

Noah lifted his head to look at me, his eyes warm and sincere. “Whatever we want to happen,” he said.

“I’m not out; I’m…”

“Closeted, I get that. It’s the nature of the job, sponsorship, management, and all that crap. Up until my Uncle Ten, well, hockey was a bad place to be queer, then my dads came out, and the Railers became this safe place.”

“Can you be my safe place for a while? Is that too much to ask? I’m so fucking sorry I can’t give you more, but this… I’m sorry, Noah.”

Noah's expression softened, and his eyes shone with emotion. He gently cupped my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones. “Don’t be sorry. We can be friends,” he murmured. “I'm here.”

“Just friends?” I asked with a smile.

“Friends with benefits,” he said in complete seriousness, then pressed his nose to mine and bopped it.

I leaned into his touch, feeling a lump form in my throat at the sincerity in his voice. “I don't know how to do this,” I admitted. “I've never… with a guy…”

“You seem to manage okay,” Noah teased.

I twisted my finger through one of his curls. He was sunshine and happiness, and I was…

… fuck knows what I was.

“This can’t last,” I said.

“It’s okay,” Noah assured me, kissing my forehead. “One day, you might tell the world, and we'll be a thing that matters. Or you won’t; I'll want more, and it ends. Either way, it will be okay for a while.”

I nodded. I wished that world was now. I wished I was brave enough to destroy people’s perceptions of me. I wished everyone would leave me alone. I wished I had time. I wrapped my arms around him, and he nestled in my arms. Even though this floor was hard and cold, I never wanted to leave this space.

“We should move and clean up,” Noah murmured, jumping up before extending a hand to help me. We took turns in the bathroom before moving to the sofa, and then, the roles were reversed; it was me cuddling into him.