Page 11 of The Sunday Brothers Novellas

CHAPTER FOUR

JOHN

The wind picked up as Teagan and I stood on the curb outside BarZ waiting for our ride, and Teagan shivered despite being tucked against my side. I let him go just long enough to pull off my jacket and wrap it around him.

“I’m f-fine,” he said, pushing half-heartedly at my hands as I zipped it up. “It’s going to get all sticky and ruined.”

“Shush.” As if I cared about that. As if I cared about anything but Teagan.

I zipped it all the way to his chin, and he finally, reluctantly, pushed his arms through the sleeves.

It was too big on him—the hem fell to the top of his thighs, and the cuffs covered his hands—but the sight soothed some caveman impulse inside me.

An impulse I only ever felt around this one particular person.

I wrapped him back up in both my arms this time and savored the feeling while I could, the image of him dancing cheek-to-cheek with another man still throbbing in my brain.

Get used to it , I told myself. That’s gonna be your life .

After I’d dragged Teagan off the dance floor, I’d been mere seconds away from spilling my guts and telling him every one of my secrets—how much I loved him, how much I wished he’d be mine, how I wanted to build a life with him in Vermont as so much more than his very platonic best friend—but then he’d stopped me in my tracks, literally and figuratively, with his pick-one question.

Would I rather have friendship or sex?

I wasn’t sure where that question had come from, but there was zero question which one I would pick, even if it meant my right hand was going to continue to get a workout until the end of time.

Even if it meant I was gonna have to learn to watch him dancing with other guys without wanting to break things.

Teagan—having him whole and happy and in my life —was the most important thing.

It always would be.

“Four minutes until our driver arrives,” I told him after a glance at my phone.

“When we get home, I’ll order us some dinner while you warm up in the shower, and we can…

” I hesitated. I wanted to ask what had happened to his plans with Other-John, but I wasn’t sure whether that would upset him more. “We can watch Knightfall if you want.”

Teagan shrugged. “Don’t worry about me if you have other stuff to do,” he said dully. “I’ll be okay on my own.”

My arms tightened around him in concern.

Teagan didn’t do dull .

He was sometimes sad, and occasionally outraged, especially over injustices. He spoke with conviction about everything. His energy was inspiring and soothing at the same time. But right then, it was like the light inside him had gone out.

Had he been into that bossy, overbearing Knox guy?

Had things not worked out with Other-John and their date for tonight?

Was he pissed that I’d left the apartment earlier without hearing his news?

Once again, I wanted to ask, but for the first time since we’d met, I couldn’t sense his mood, and Teagan wasn’t sharing .

I hated it.

He stayed quiet the whole ride home, and my worry increased with every minute. Was he more badly injured than he’d let on? Was he depressed? Had Other-John hurt him? Had Knox?

“I wish you really had me,” Teagan had whispered outside the bar, so softly the wind had chased the words away. The idea that Teagan felt like I wasn’t there for him, that there was anything I wouldn’t do for him, made my chest go tight.

“Sounds like Monica and Fern are playing Hamilton ,” I said as I unlocked our apartment door while someone across the hall sang a very off-key rendition of “Satisfied.” Seemed at least someone was enjoying Mischief and Margarita Night.

“Did you want to go over there and be the third Schuyler sister?”

Teagan rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Not tonight.”

This was more serious than I’d thought.

I wanted to cuddle him against me and kiss the life back into his eyes. I wanted to protect him and fight back anything that might dare to steal his spark. But I wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong with him at that moment, so I didn’t know how to make it better.

But I kept trying.

“Okay, here we go.” I opened our door and steered him inside. “Get in the bath. I’ll be back in twenty minutes with medicinal dessert, okay? Please don’t leave or… or… make any other plans in the meantime. Yeah?”

The real Teagan would have gone on a short-lived but very outraged rant about how “ he had not been the one who’d made a habit of walking out on people this night, John ,” but this imposter-Teagan nodded meekly, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door behind him with a click .

Fuck .

It took me only fifteen minutes to jog to the expensive little bakery cafe two blocks over, beg them for their last cheesecake even though they’d just closed up for the night (“Please, Pauline? It’s for Teagan.

”), make a quick stop at the liquor store on the corner for a bottle of Teagan’s favorite sweet wine, and jog back.

When I got home, Teagan was still in his bathroom.

The apartment was dark, chilly, and silent, with no scent of bread or fall candles in the air.

A blanket my mom had crocheted lay in a haphazard puddle on the floor by the sofa.

Everything was dull and empty, just like my life before Teagan had been.

I put the food and wine in the refrigerator and knocked cautiously on the bathroom door. “T?”

He didn’t reply, so I knocked louder.

“Teagan? I got cheesecake from PJ’s.”

He sighed softly.

“You coming out of there at any point?” I asked gently. “I got wine, too. We can still have our Netflix Night.”

“No.” Teagan’s small, quiet sniffle made me want to beat down the door to get at him, but I refrained, and after a moment, he added, “I’m not coming out. I’m going to stay in the tub until I die of exposure. They shall find my corpse here in the water, like Tennyson’s Lady of Shalott.”

As usual, I had no fucking clue what he was talking about. And also as usual, Teagan knew it. But the very fact that he was saying anything at all was a relief. I forced myself to sound casual.

“Was the Lady of Shalott kinda pruny and wrinkled, like grapes that have been sitting in the fridge for a week? Because that’s kind of how I’m imagining you.”

An outraged noise was followed by a loud splash and then the sound of water gurgling down the drain.

The door opened so quickly I nearly fell forward into the bathroom, and my roommate, my best friend, my…

my Teagan … emerged in a billowing cloud of steam, with one enormous to wel wrapped around his hair and another, much smaller towel wrapped around his waist.

“You make a compelling point,” he said in a dignified way.

I nodded.

To be perfectly honest, I’d forgotten the point I’d been making the second I’d laid eyes on him.

The smooth, creamy perfection of his skin where it flared over his hip bones, his high, sharp cheeks and pouty lips, the long, lean muscles of his body that I’d been salivating over while he was dancing with another man, were way too distracting.

I wanted my hands on him. I wanted to know what the precise texture of his nipples was if I sucked on them. I wanted…

I am not going to have sex with my roommate .

I swallowed hard, praying for my cock to deflate, and the two of us stood in the hallway staring at each other in our first-ever awkward silence.

“Well.” Teagan cleared his throat and folded his arms over his chest. “I really could have gotten home on my own, but thanks for the assist. I think I’ll go to bed early. But if you leave now, Goodman might still be up.”

“Huh?” I lifted my gaze from my focused non-contemplation of Teagan’s nipples. “Who?”

Teagan rolled his eyes impatiently. “ Gage , then. The guy you were dancing with.”

“Oh.” I shook my head and managed to say, “No, I… I’m staying in. With you.”

“Suit yourself.” He uncrossed his arms and went to slide past me, toward his room. “G’night.”

“No, wait!” I blurted. “Are you… is your hand okay? Did you hurt it when you fell?” I reached for his wrist, but he snatched his arm behind him.

“It’s fine. It hardly stings anymore.”

“Good. That’s… good. Did you, um… did you want to talk about anything? Anyone?” I gritted my teeth, dete rmined to be supportive if it killed me. “Like the guy you went out with last night? I caught his texts to you when I was shutting off your alarm earlier. He seems very… passionate.”

“Yeah, right.” Teagan huffed out a half laugh. “No, I don’t want to talk about him.”

“T, please. Are you mad at me for leaving earlier? I was being selfish, and I’m sorry?—”

“I’m not angry,” he said bleakly.

“Then talk to me!” I demanded. “Yell at me. Sing Sondheim at me. Recite haikus. Make today a holiday so you can refuse to celebrate it. Pour all your emotions into baking a pavlova, like you did that one time, and then drop it out the window. Give me one of your Teaganisms, like you usually do when you’re feeling sad.

‘I may never feel joy again, John!’ Or ‘Why are mortals born only to suffer?’ That one’s a classic. Anything, Teagan. Do anything ? —”

“Jesus Christ, John!” He clapped a hand to his head to hold his hair towel in place, blushing furiously. “You make me sound deranged. I’m trying to deal with this situation rationally and not be as fucking extra as I usually am. I’m trying to be normal for once.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” I yelled back. “You’re not normal, you’re Teagan .”

“Thank you! Delightful. It’s good to know what you really think of me.” He sniffled. “Jerk.”

What?

“T, that’s not what I?—”

“You want to know what’s wrong with me?” He threw back his slim shoulders and his lovely eyes filled with tears. “I’m broken,” he said, as serious and sorrowful as I’d ever heard him. He swiped at his nose. “And I don’t know how to fix me.”