Accidentally Yours: A Friends-to-Lovers Gay Romance (Superbia Springs Book 3)

by Rachel Kane

  “The basement!” the Roth brothers said in chorus.

  “You’re crazy,” said Toady. “He’s not going in the basement.”

  “Ten dollars?” asked Alex.

  “Come on!” said his brother. “You kidding me? The Widder Woman will eat your bones!”

  Never in his young life had such a clear, intellectual certainty dawned on Alex. Maybe it was the thought of what ten dollars could buy. Comics, paperbacks, candy, a wealth of treasure for a boy. Or maybe it was the need to prove he was right, that everybody was making things up, that there never had been an old ghost haunting the house, there never had been anyone glowing in the windows.

  “I’ll do it,” he said.

  “I’ll tell—”

  “You won’t. Hush. Mason…you better have my money.”

  “Yeah, well, you better bring me some proof you were in the basement.”

  There is no silence like that of an abandoned mansion. Living houses creak and groan, their joists straining against the change of temperature as the sun goes down. There would be no groaning from the great red stones that made up the walls of Cooper’s Folly. No clicks and pops of settling. Any sounds he heard would be the scuttling of mice…or worse.

  Years of childhood reconnaissance meant everyone knew how to get in to Superbia Springs. The thick doors were all locked tight, but there were certain windows which, if nudged the right way, would creak open. And everyone knew that twenty years ago, Robbie Ward had climbed through one of those windows, which had slammed shut, locking him inside, and he was never seen again.

  It’s just another of those stories, Alex told himself, as he knelt to press against one small window in the back of the house. It’s a lie. There never was a Robbie Ward, and he never did get lost inside the house. Even so, he looked back at Mason and Toady for moral support.

  The heavy window creaked and surrendered, rising narrowly, but just enough for a skinny boy with slim shoulders to slide through.

  Then the window crashed shut behind him, with a noise that seemed to echo through the house.

  He stopped breathing, whether voluntarily or not, for long seconds where his pulse pounded in his ears as he strained to hear further sounds. He looked back outside, but the window-grime prevented him from seeing his brother and friend.

  He was on his own.

  A flashlight was basic equipment. His was aluminum with two D-cells, bright enough to light up the entire room. In his pocket he had his knife, a slingshot, some pebbles he’d picked up at the river, two quarters and the key to his front door. With one shaky hand he held the flashlight, the other in his pocket, clutching the key for good luck.

  He’d landed in a side-room near the kitchen, one with shelves for either jars or linens, he didn’t know which. But close by was the goal, the door to the basement. The door swung open silently as though its hinges had just been oiled. The beam of light jabbed downward, illuminating the narrow steps, catching a thousand motes of dust disturbed for the first time in decades. He took the first step down.

  There ain’t no Widder Woman, there ain’t no Widder Woman—

  There is not a Widow Woman, he corrected himself. There is no such thing as the Widow Woman.

  In his gut he could feel a rising fear that even by thinking of her name, he might be invoking her, summoning her spirit to leave the upper reaches of the house, to travel here, to walk beside him with her quiet, ghostly step. He swung the light around to assure himself he was alone.

  Ten dollars. Ten dollars. Ten dollars.

  The basement seemed bigger than the house itself. Rather than being one huge, open space like he had expected, it seemed to consist of a long, coiling hall, like a hedge maze, leading to a center where there could be no exit.

  The glimmer first caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, when he was swinging his light around to see what was in the rooms on either side. At first he hadn’t understood what he’d seen—the reflection off a doorknob, perhaps—but something made him pause and swing the light around.

  A boy who is far from his friends, and further still from the safety of home, in a place where no sunlight has ever reached, must be very brave, almost inhumanly brave, to keep his wits about him when surprised.

  Alex tried to be brave. He really did. But when he lifted his light, and saw the two snarling faces staring at him, the sharp, shining teeth, his knees turned to water, and he could barely turn under his own power and rush back towards the entrance, all thought of ten dollars gone, all thought of anything but survival gone, feeling the hot breath of monsters on his heels as he plunged forward through the dark hall.

  “So they’re real,” he said now, looking down at Judah’s phone. “I knew it. I always knew it. Mason owes me ten dollars.”

  His heart was beating so fast, some echo of that remembered terror. Did his hand tremble as he gave back the phone?

  Judah was staring at him, perhaps still mulling over the story of childhood trespass. “That’s good,” he said. “I mean, not the part about you getting scared.”

  “I ran so fast back to Mason and Toby, you should have seen me. The window was lucky I was able to get it open, otherwise I might’ve just burst through it.” He looked over at his crutch. “Guess I’m glad there was a time in my life I was spry and quick.”

  “I found them kind of the same way, just exploring the basement,” Judah said. “They seem like they fit the house. You know? They seem original. And I’d like to get them out of there. All hidden away where nobody could see them, what good is that? I’d like to display them. Everybody says no. But I thought, if I could prove they were there when the house was first built—”

  “So you need some history. Some pictures.”

  Judah gestured around the store. “You’ve got all these maps of Superbia, stuff like that. I thought maybe you’d have some evidence.”

  Alex shook his head. “Aside from my brief encounter with them, I haven’t seen anything. Of course, I’m not the town historian.”

  Pausing from where he was placing the books into their pyramid, Judah stared through the window into the street. “Town historian. Yeah. I can’t ask him.”

  “Why not? Thaddeus loves nothing better than talking about old monstrosities. Of course, usually he’s talking about people who were monsters, but…”

  “Thaddeus is a Mulgrew, and Mulgrews are the mortal enemies of Coopers.”

  Oh, of course. That old feud again. The Mulgrews had been fighting the Cooper brothers tooth and nail over the renovation of Superbia Springs, to keep them from reopening. Gossip said that the Coopers had finally done something to get the Mulgrews to leave them alone—something to do with Dalton’s arrival a while back—but nobody was clear on the details, and since the Mulgrews owned this building where Alex’s shop was (not to mention the building that held Toby’s bar, and half the other buildings in town), Alex hadn’t thought it wise to pry too deeply into it.

  “Thaddeus is different, though. He doesn’t care about your fight with the rest of his family. I’m sure he’d help.”

  Judah looked uncertain.

  “Look,” said Alex, “I’ll ask him, okay? That way you don’t have to go near him. Send me the pictures.”

  “You’d do that for me?” His face lit up.

  “Sure.”

  On the one hand, he was happy to volunteer. It was an easy enough task.

  On the other hand, he hoped it wouldn’t mean Judah was going to linger around here. As grateful as he was to have been brought into work, and grateful too for Judah’s work on the display, Alex couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with him here, with his obvious guilt hanging over him like a dark cloud.

  There was the other matter, too.

  The business of being picked up.

  It was silly—foolish, really—but nobody had really touched Alex in a long time.

  Not since Ian.

  Yes. Not since Ian had decided Alex simply wasn’t good enough, his dreams too small, his ambiti
ons too constrained.

  There had been men after Ian, men of the moment. Driving out of town, finding himself at dinner with men who didn’t read, who didn’t think, who thought that abs and a beard were enough to make a connection. The pain of getting through the night with someone you knew wasn’t right, waiting until the evening could officially be over, pulling away from the offered kisses, awkward handshakes replacing the consummation the date assumed would happen. Promises to call, preloaded with guilt, knowing you’d delete his number as soon as you were safely in the car.

  It had been a long time since he’d felt a man’s arms around him.

  That’s just loneliness talking, he said to himself, looking at Judah, whose back was to him now, stacking the last of the books. Judah’s a friend. He is doing you a kindness. Don’t mistake loneliness for interest, or his guilt for attraction. That’s just asking to get hurt.

  But he couldn’t deny there was some kind of charm about Judah. The enthusiasm with which he’d shown Alex the lions. The conversations they’d had over books, and the way Judah even now was studying the books he was putting on the display, reading their backs, flipping through, smiling to himself over some remembered passage.

  Don’t do it, you moron. He generally gave himself very good advice…though he very seldom followed it. This time had to be different.

  “Well, that about wraps it up,” said Alex, handing Judah the sign to put atop the display. “I’ll let you get back to your mansion.”

  “Are you sure? Don’t you need me to—”

  Alex shook his head. “I’ve been running this store for long enough that I could do it in my sleep. I’ll just stay off ladders and away from heavy boxes. You go on.”

  Judah looked like he wanted to say something else, and Alex knew he had to interrupt that thought.

  “I’ll find out about your lions, and call you when I hear something,” he promised.

  Judah nodded, giving him one more searching look before heading for the door.

  “I’m okay,” Alex insisted. “Go on.”

  He’d half-thought Judah would insist on staying.

  Had he wanted him to?

  6

  Judah

  “Oh my god, where were you?” asked Liam. “You have to pick up the uniforms for the staff.”

  “The uniforms,” Judah groaned. “I’m sorry, I was helping Alex—”

  He hadn’t seen his brother this flustered since those early days of meeting Mason. “I need you right here,” his big brother said. “I mean, I know Alex is in a rough spot right now, but if we don’t have the uniforms for the staff, what are they supposed to wear, jeans and t-shirts?”

  Judah glanced down at his jeans. And his t-shirt. “I’ll go now. But listen, I wanted to tell you about the lions. Alex says—”

  “Not the lions again!” Liam came around his desk, perching on the edge of it. “Judah…baby boy…please. I need you to focus. You know what a crunch we’re in. If we’re going to open on time, we need everything to be perfect. Not good, not great, but perfect. The people who are coming here are used to splendor and luxury. I can’t run this operation without you. Can you please stay on one track for a while? Just forget about the lions, at least until we’re done opening?”

  Forget about the lions.

  It felt like Judah was having to forget about everything he liked these days. There was no time to get really immersed in a game, no time to catch up on all the shows he’d missed since the renovations had started. By the time he dropped into bed at night, he was usually so tired that he could only read a few pages, his to-be-read stack of books looming accusingly.

  Maybe they didn’t loom quite so much as the stacks at Alex’s apartment. God, what would that even be like, to be surrounded by that many books?

  Alex understood his interest in the lions. Alex was the kind of person who really understood being interested in things. You could talk to him about books, and he’d listen, and he’d offer opinions…not like the blank stares Judah got around here when he’d talk about whatever he was reading at the moment.

  Is he going to be okay over there? He pictured Alex teetering from shelf to shelf like a man on stilts. Would he fall? What if he did, would he be able to get back up, would he be able to call for help?

  Okay. Maybe it was a little weird that he kept imagining Alex on the floor, unable to move. Shirtless. Possibly with a thin sheen of sweat on his skin.

  Help me, Judah, you’re my only hope…

  “Is everything okay?” Mason said, sticking his head in. “Liam, the chef is here, he wants to talk about opening week menus.”

  Liam slid off the desk. “Everything’s fine. Judah’s about to pick up the uniforms. Maybe you should go with him, Mason. Make sure he doesn’t get lost on the way. Make sure he doesn’t wind up in the basement staring at those statues for a few hours.”

  Once he was gone, Mason looked back at Judah. “You have to forgive him.”

  “For being bossy? Liam was born bossy. I’m used to it.”

  “It’s just hard for him right now. All the work he’s done, all leading up to the big moment. It’s almost like stage fright. He hasn’t been sleeping well. Hey, did I hear you mention Alex? I wanted to stop in and check on him, see how he’s doing with that cast.”

  Now that Judah thought about it, Mason was the perfect person to talk to. He was one of Alex’s oldest friends. “I’ll tell you all about it, if you’ll drive us to get the uniforms.”

  “Hah, that is just like him,” laughed Mason. “I’m surprised he let you stack books yourself. He won’t let me touch a thing in that store. Literally, I’ll pick up a book, and he’ll take it out of my hands, dust it off, and put it back on the shelf just so. He’s as bad as Liam.”

  “I feel so guilty,” Judah said, watching the buildings pass by as Mason guided the truck out of town. “If it weren’t for me, he’d be able to walk.”

  “Nah, I thought you said he twisted his ankle in the gutter?”

  “Still. I startled him. I nearly hit him! And even so, he’s researching the lions for me. I owe him. I just don’t know how to help.”

  “You really need to drop the subject of the lions around Liam,” Mason advised.

  “Believe me, I’ve noticed. I won’t bring them up again for a while. I don’t need my head bitten off. I notice he doesn’t do that around you. With you, it’s always suggestions. Mason, don’t you think it’d be nice if you— Do you suppose, Dear Mason, Mason My Love, that you could please—”

  Mason chuckled and shook his head. “You know your brother. It’s just nerves. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Once we’ve got the place open, he’ll be a new man.”

  “I’m not sure about that. I keep picturing this future where I’m nothing but a bellboy wearing one of those little hats, and he’s barking orders at me for the rest of my life.”

  It made him think about Alex. The bookseller seemed to have a perfect life, to Judah. Well, not the broken ankle part. But the part where he was surrounded by books every day. Nobody bossing him around, nobody telling him what to do. He was his own man. Add an XBox or a Playstation to the mix, a 50-inch TV, and it would be the perfect life.

  Then why didn’t Alex seem happy?

  Because you nearly killed him, and now he can’t walk? Isn’t that enough?

  But it felt like there was something more, a somberness that had sunk over him, as though he were grieving. Just in the past couple of days, too. It was a big change from the normal happy Alex, the Alex who always brightened when Judah came by the store. But why grief? Judah could’ve understood anger. Frustration. But why did Alex seem so sad?

  And why did Judah feel such a duty to cheer him up? No, that part was easy. Problems were simple to fix. All Alex needed was some troubleshooting. Some minor practical details. He’d be good as new.

  That sadness, though…

  He started to ask Mason, but Mason was already talking. About Liam, naturally.

  “The thing about y
our brother is, he has had to survive a lot. You were there, you know the story. How he became a single dad. Having to bring up Roo all by himself? I can’t imagine the strength that must have taken. Well, I don’t have to imagine it. I see it every day.”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t do it alone,” Judah pointed out. “He had me and Noah and Mom to help. He has always had us around to help. I don’t know why suddenly he’s treating me like I’m some lazy bum lounging around the house, just because I’m interested in these historical artifacts.”

  Mason grinned. “Well, I always swore I wouldn’t get involved in any brotherly fights. God knows, Alex and Toby used to have enough of them, and I learned my lesson.”

  “Speaking of people having to do things themselves, I’m really worried about Alex.” Judah described how he’d found him in the upstairs apartment, and the difficulty in bringing him down to the store.

  He left out the part about how Alex felt in his arms. The feel of his skin. How the scent of him had remained on Judah’s t-shirt, something Judah hadn’t realized until he was back in the car, when he’d inhaled deeply, taking it in.

  That was one thing he knew he shouldn’t think about. It was kind of like that vision of Alex on the floor, helpless, raising his arms to Judah. There was something about it Judah found dangerous. He knew he should skirt around it.

  Alex was classy, intelligent, handsome…out of Judah’s league. He didn’t concern himself with video games or dragon battles or ancient starships with artificial personalities. So every time Judah thought about him—about the heft of him, how he’d felt so real when Judah touched him—he tried to put it out of his mind. I’m not good enough for a guy like that, he’d tell himself.

  Although he’d said that about pretty much every guy he’d ever met.

  Dying a virgin is still a popular option, right?

  Of course he couldn’t say any of this to Mason. Mason didn’t know what it was like to go through life without a boyfriend, without anyone who was interested in you that way. Guys like Mason always had admirers.