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9

Oliver

It’d been almost a week since I’d heard from Lane. It wasn’t like we spoke every day, but we’d usually text a bit here and there, or he’d send pictures of Chloe, or memes, or just something .

The only reason I was able to work today was because I promised myself that I’d stop by his apartment after closing. My anxious mind kept telling me that I must’ve done something wrong and Lane had blocked me; if that was the problem, maybe we could hash it out in person. I was also terrified that his stalker might’ve hurt him. If that were the case, I’d never forgive myself for waiting this long to help. I took a big breath in and released it slowly.

Lane was probably fine; I was overreacting.

Everything was fine.

It had to be.

I nodded resolutely, continuing to fold and hang the new vintage clothes I’d received. I needed to focus on work, and then everything could be sorted out later.

“Darling, where are you hiding?” A voice crooned.

Oh joy. Which one of them was it today?

I sighed and left the small back room where I kept my new finds.

“Can you please stop with the pet names? Especially at my place of business,” I asserted, turning past the large wooden pillar at the center of the floor. I held back a groan–both Hayes and Hudson stood at the counter.

“We’d stop if you agreed to a date,” Hayes said as his eyes roamed up and down my body. I looked down at myself, wincing as I realized I still had my yoga pants on. At least I had a baggy knit sweater on, so they couldn’t really see the shape of my upper body. I hated wearing form-fitting clothing in front of others. Though honestly, I’d gone to bed last night wearing this outfit and had been too focused on Lane’s radio silence this morning to change.

Hudson piped up, “One date. We pay for everything. No sex.” They looked at me like expectant puppies, but I was confused. I thought they only wanted to hook up with me.

“Just dinner? No strings attached?” I asked hesitantly, chewing on my bottom lip. I gulped when I saw Hudson’s eyes zero in on the action.

“How about it? We take you to dinner tonight, get to know each other, and drop you back home safe and sound. We won’t touch you intimately even if you beg.” Hayes winked, earning a confused chuckle out of me.

“I mean… You guys promise you won’t try to coerce me into anything?”

“Pinky promise,” they both replied with blinding smiles.

Something told me I was going to regret this.

“Okay.”

* * *

I closed and locked up the store early, around 5 p.m. I’d already changed out of my embarrassing yoga pants after the twins had left. Loose, baggy jeans hung from my hips, and a brown sweater vest covered a short-sleeved white shirt.

Hudson and Hayes weren’t supposed to be picking me up until 7 p.m., so by closing at 5 p.m., I had more than enough time to bike over to Lane’s apartment and hopefully figure out what had been going on.

As I rode over to his apartment, I couldn’t help but admire what a gorgeous night it was. The sky was clear, and the temperature was comfortable enough for late winter.

I tried and failed to not hold my breath as I locked my bike to the bike rack and rode the elevator up to Lane’s floor. By the time I was standing outside his door, I felt lightheaded.

I gulped in air like a fish out of water before reaching my hand over to ring the doorbell.

And again.

And maybe a third time, because what if he didn’t hear the first two?

And then a few loud knocks just in case the doorbell was broken.

Nothing.

I fidgeted, unsure of what to do next. I didn’t do well under pressure. Glancing at my phone, I noticed it was already a quarter till 7 p.m. Had I really been at Lane’s door for that long?

I knocked again, softer this time, as if I could coax a response out of the silence like soothing a spooked animal.

“Lane?” I called, pressing my ear to the door, hearing nothing. No music, no hushed voices, no footsteps, no laughter, not even the faint hum of his television.

My fingers hovered over my phone, tempted to call or text again, but I’d already sent him a lot of messages and even left a few voicemails. No response and no read receipt. I didn’t want to be that friend—the one who couldn’t handle a little space without spiraling—but something about this silence didn’t feel like space. It felt like absence.

My stomach clenched, a cold wave of unease settling behind my ribs.

He was probably fine. Maybe he needed a break from me. Or maybe he went on a trip and forgot to take his phone with him.

I glanced at the time again. 6:51 p.m.

The twins would be at my place soon. I needed to give it a rest for the night and relax. I would go out, have fun, and just forget about this for a few hours.

I swallowed hard, pushing away the panic that was starting to build. Lane didn’t just go silent. He ranted , he voice-noted, he spammed emojis in a dozen messages at once. He wasn’t built for quiet. He was the kind of friend who’d send you five different cat videos within two minutes.

I lingered one more minute before backing away from the door, heart heavy with a worry I didn’t know where to put.

* * *

The twins were already parked outside of the store, both of them leaning against the side of their sleek black car. I rode past them into the alleyway, securing my bike to the bottom of the stairs leading to my apartment.

I felt the weight of their stares as I nervously wandered over to them.

“Where were you just now?” Hudson probed, his voice weirdly serious.

“Not like it’s any of your business, but I went to Lane’s place,” I muttered wearily. Hudson opened the passenger side door, ushering me inside, while Hayes slid into the driver’s seat. I buckled in, admiring the cushy leather seat.

Hudson climbed into the back. “And how was he?” My lips tipped down as I thought about how to respond.

“He wasn’t there,” I stated, grimacing at the wobbly quality of my voice. Hayes turned to make eye contact with me.

“That’s too bad,” he said, although it didn’t really sound like he cared one bit. “For dinner, you’re choosing between our favorites: Mexican or Japanese. Or if you hate those options, we can just go wherever you want.”

“Um… Mexican sounds good,” I replied.

Hudson exclaimed from behind us, “Hell yeah, I won!” I watched, amused, as Hayes’s grip on the steering wheel tightened momentarily as he sneered at his brother through the rear-view mirror. He then grunted, and his face returned to its neutral state.

“Sorry, Hayes,” I quipped with false sincerity.

“I’ll win at other things,” he stated, eyes flickering to me for less than a second before returning to the road.

The drive to the restaurant was relatively short, but we filled the minutes with surprisingly lighthearted chatter. I learned that Hayes played piano, enjoyed classic literature and medical journals, and was born eleven minutes before Hudson.

Hudson liked running and cooking and had obvious resentment towards his brother for their birth order.

As we entered the restaurant and were seated, an uneasy feeling stirred in my gut. It was almost frightening how easily they’d managed to get me to relax and genuinely enjoy their company.

“So,” I hesitantly asked, “What do you guys do for work?”

“We’re contractors with our uncle’s company. That’s why our hours are so flexible. We only work when he needs us,” Hayes answered smoothly.

Contractors? That was like… construction, right? I didn’t want to seem stupid by asking.

I smiled, “Oh, that’s cool.”

“How long have you been working in antiques?” Hudson questioned, taking a sip of the Mexican beer he’d ordered.

“A couple of years now, but I spent most of my teens hanging out in the store, so I’ve been learning about it all for quite a while now,” I beamed. “I can’t remember if I’ve told you guys before, but I inherited my shop from my grandmother. I lived with her for a lot of my childhood.”

“That’s a great legacy for her to pass on to you. I’m sure she’d be proud of the work you’ve put into it,” Hayes surmised, his eyes soft as he looked at me from across the table.

Hudson added, “I agree. Although I’m sure she’d agree with us that you should hire at least some part-timers to help out.”

“Ugh, I feel like everybody’s been saying that lately,” I groaned, dipping a chip into the salsa cup before me. “My friend, Josh—he works at the coffee shop in town—has been bringing that up practically non-stop since the vandalism incident. I just… I’m not great with people, and I don’t know how well I’d be able to manage workers.”

“Have you ever thought about selling it? Or maybe hiring a manager to run it for you?” Hayes asked.

Shrugging, I said, “I wouldn’t sell it. Maybe a manager, but I don’t really know how to go about doing that. Besides, it’s not like I have anything to do aside from my work.”

The conversation ebbed and flowed throughout the night as we ate and drank to our hearts’ content. Each passing minute lowered my defenses even further. I found myself thinking that maybe I could pursue something with them. Maybe I could covet the attention of those ocean blue eyes for longer than just tonight.

As our waitress dropped off the check at our table, Hayes turned the conversation to topics I would never have entertained telling them if not for the two and a half strawberry margaritas I’d downed. “Is it weird to be on a date with two men? Or is this a common occurrence for you?”

I burst out in giggles, the alcohol causing my face to flush. I explained, “Considering that this is my first date, yeah—I’d say it’s pretty weird.”

“First date? So, if it were a second date, you’d be fine with it?” Hudson joked, pushing a shiny credit card on top of the bill.

“No, no. I mean, this is my first date ever.” Both of them froze, exchanging a heated glance with each other.

Hayes teased, “So you’re more of a dating app sorta guy? That’s unexpected.”

I blushed, mumbling, “N-no, I haven’t done that either.”

“You haven’t used the apps, or you haven’t had hookups?”

“Neither,” I muttered, not meeting their eyes. It was silent for a beat, a groan from across the table causing me to peer up.

Hudson purred, his pupils blown, “You mean to tell us that no one’s ever touched you, sweetheart? No one’s ever made you come?”

“O-oh, no—nope, um…” I stammered, an awkward laugh bubbling up out of my throat.

“We might have to train you for a bit before taking us then,” Hayes stated matter-of-factly before lowering his voice to a seductive whisper. “Our cocks aren’t exactly beginner-friendly.”

“Oh. Uh—”

“Don’t worry, we’ll start with just one,” Hudson mused, licking his plump lips.

I had no words.

Wait.

“ Start with just one?” I repeated nervously. Maybe I’d just heard him wrong?

Hudson grinned, the intensity in his eyes matching that of his brother’s. “Come on, let’s drive you back home.” I shook my head to pull myself out of whatever haze they’d caused me to go into. I’d been so distracted that I’d completely missed the waitress returning with his credit card.

I felt dazed as they walked me out of the restaurant to their car. It didn’t help that they were practically giants compared to me; I felt enveloped in their presence.

My brain was so scrambled, and my response time delayed, that when Hayes locked his huge hands around my waist and hoisted me up onto the trunk of the car, I just let him. Once I was up there, I just stared at them both in shocked confusion.

“Open up, pup,” Hayes commanded, surging forward to take my head in his hands and ravage my lips.

I opened my mouth as he’d ordered, allowing his tongue entrance. A moan rumbled out of me as his tongue wrapped around my own. I didn’t even notice that Hudson had drawn near until his lips met my neck and latched on. I moaned.

My body melted into their arms, and I was glad I was sitting, as my legs would have collapsed underneath me.

With one last suck of my tongue, Hayes fell back, letting Hudson replace him.

Hudson took my mouth with just as much ferocity as his twin; biting, nipping, and sucking. I whined into his mouth as Hayes bit down on my neck, leaving me marked and feeling owned.

By the time they relinquished their hold over me, I was panting heavily like an animal in heat. I shifted my hips, biting down on my bottom lip as I felt the warm, achy feeling in my front hole. My eyes remained out of focus as I looked up through my lashes at the men standing over me.

“Fuck,” Hudson hissed. Hayes gently lifted me off the rear, carrying and depositing me into the back seat. He buckled me in before joining his brother in the front.

The ride back to my place was quiet–the brothers spoke in whispers to one another as I stayed zoned out and sleepy.

As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, needing nothing more than to pass out under the covers of my bed, my phone beeped with a notification.

A text.

Lane: Sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I promise I’m safe! I moved in with Greyson–my therapist, remember?

* * *

I loved Lane–I really did. But like what the actual fuck? He’d sent me probably the most nonsensical, crazy-ass text and then acted like he didn’t understand why I was so concerned.

He was genuinely going to cause me to die young from all of this stress.

I tried to calm my breathing as I stared at the looming door in front of me. After threatening to call the police on Greyson for kidnapping, I was given his apartment’s address and very passive-aggressive instructions to visit the next day and “see for myself” that Lane was okay.

My brain kept telling me that it was most definitely a trap and that Greyson was waiting behind the door with a knife. At the same time, I couldn’t leave Lane in this situation; he needed my help. My fingers worried the frayed edge of my sweatshirt as my mind reeled, trying to find a way that we could escape unscathed.

You can do this.

Be brave, Oliver, be brave.

I straightened my spine, hopefully portraying the confidence I desperately needed, and rang the doorbell.

Hearing shuffling on the other side, I braced myself for a fight. The door opened, revealing a nervous-looking Lane. Exhaling deeply, I pushed past him into the foyer; my eyes frantically scanned the open area for his captor.

“Where the fuck is that bastard?” I yelled, mustering up courage, my hands clenching rhythmically at my sides. Lane was silent, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Greyson’s at work, so it’s just me home,” he mumbled faintly, rubbing his chest like it hurt.

“He left you alone?”

“Yeah… Um, he started going back to work, so it’s just me for most of the day.”

“We’re getting you out of here right now!” I tried tugging him towards the door, but he dug his feet into the floor and wriggled out of my grasp.

“No! I don’t want to leave, Ollie. Besides, all my stuff and Chloe are here. Please, just let me try to explain–please,” he begged. “Come on, he made snacks for us. Please!”

I grimaced, wondering if this was all an elaborate plan to drug and then murder me. “I’m not eating or drinking anything until you try it first.”

Why wasn’t he running with me already? We needed to go before Greyson returned from wherever he was. We didn’t have time for this.

Sitting on the couch, Lane walked me through his relationship with Greyson. Nausea was ever present throughout his story. It was so glaringly obvious that Greyson had abused his power as Lane’s therapist to groom him into having a sexual relationship.

I fought back tears as I listened to my friend.

“Fuck. Lane, do you even hear yourself? He literally told you point-blank that he manipulates you. You haven’t been outside in like two weeks! He controls everything from your diet, your hygiene, your clothes. I’m your best friend, Lane. Please, I’m begging you to think for yourself and realize how fucked up this all is. He was your fucking therapist , Laney. None of this is okay!” I shouted, unable to keep from crying any longer.

“It’s not like that, Ollie. I really like him, and he loves me.”

I scoffed, frustrated that he couldn’t see what I saw, “He doesn’t love you, Lane. He’s abusing you. You’re just too blind to see it since he’s giving you attention.” I didn’t mean that last part—at least, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. It wasn’t his fault; this was the result of being brainwashed by his therapist, and I couldn’t take it.

I saw from the beginning that something was wrong with Greyson. Sure, I warned Lane several times about it, but I could’ve done more.

I should have done more.

“Don’t say that!” He choked out.

“Is this how you were with your cousin?” Oh my god, why had I said that?

No, no, no, no. I didn’t mean that. What was wrong with me? It was like my brain and mouth weren’t wired correctly. I needed to calm down; I needed to backtrack. I needed to apologize and drag him out of this fucking cage. To my most profound regret, my mouth still didn’t pick up the signal from my brain, and it was like vicious word vomit spewing out of my mouth.

“What?” Lane looked like I had punched him in the gut. And yet, like the garbage I was, I continued hurting him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“I’m not dumb. I know you used to fuck him.” I mean, I had guessed a while ago, after putting together the pieces of the story that Lane probably unknowingly gave me. “He probably just told you that incest is okay, and you smiled and went along with it. Greyson is exactly the same.”

“Greyson isn’t like him,” Lane trembled, breaking my heart.

Finally, my mouth connected to my brain, and I cried, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. I just… I’m so scared for you, Laney. Please… just listen to what I’m about to say, please.”

“Okay…” Lane looked apprehensive—as he should’ve after I all but spit on him. I just needed to get him out of here. I felt like we were running out of time. The seconds ticked by in my head, sounding like a countdown to both of our demise.

I steadied myself, taking a deep breath. I didn’t know how to break someone out of Stockholm Syndrome. I didn’t know how to do this. I was going to fail.

I was going to be complicit in his abuse if I left him here.

I trembled, but tried to keep my voice as steady as possible as I attempted to reason against his brainwashing. “If you stay here, he’s either going to kill you or throw you away once he gets bored. Have you even considered that he could have these kinds of relationships with other patients? He’s just using you, Lane. You’re convenient and young and easily manipulated.”

“He’s not… He’s not like that…” Lane stuttered, brows drawn together.

He has to understand. “If a teacher fucks a student, is that okay? If a doctor fucks a patient, is that okay? No, it’s not. And almost every time, there’s more than just one victim.” I pleaded with him, my voice wavering, “Lane, would someone with your best interests in mind really keep you from contacting your own parents? What is he worried about you saying to them? If he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he wouldn’t care.”

“Please, go. Just go, please. I can’t—I can’t—” Lane’s breaths came quickly, signaling an oncoming panic attack.

I was failing.

I was failing the one person who’d shown me such beautiful, unconditional love.

“Lane, please. Come with me. Don’t become just another victim,” I miserably begged, standing up and taking his hands in mine. “Please. For me.” My heart stuttered as he shook his head. No, no, no. “Think about it. I’ll help you.” He opened the door, gesturing for me to get out.

My feet moved before my brain caught up, and I walked out.

I left.

I left him .

Was he going to die thinking that I thought he… that he “smiled and went along with it” when he was coerced into incest? Would he die thinking that?

I slid down the door, falling to the floor with my knees pulled to my chest.

I didn’t mean it.

I didn’t mean it, Lane.

I would never.