Fly Boy: A Friends to Lovers Standalone Romance (Tobin Tribe Book 2)

by Caitlyn Coakley

Deb snorted. “You mean my bed-hopping son hasn’t had sex with the woman he loves?”

  For the first time in his life, BJ blushed. “You know about that? And here I thought I was being discreet.”

  Wine spurted from his mother’s nose and mouth. Man, that had to sting.

  “Seriously? There’s a website that compares the five of you. Fun fact: I know how much you’ve grown since the last time I helped you change clothes.”

  Heat spread over his face and down his neck. And to think he’d once been proud of his overall number one rating at Tobin Brothers dot com. He hoped Megan didn’t know about the site. And then there was Pete. How in the hell was he going to teach Pete to respect women when he himself hadn’t? Didn’t things stay on the internet forever? Shit.

  His mother touched his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Your father was a bigger man-whore than you could ever be. I tamed him. Megan will tame you.”

  Wait. His own mother thought he was a man-whore? His entire body burned with shame. The truth hurt. But Megan would fix that. She would fix everything.

  He was finally able to admit that was exactly what he wanted.

  CHAPTER 46

  BJ bolted upright in bed, shaking, sweating, panting. His heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest. His pillow perched atop his dresser on the other side of the room. The blanket and sheets wadded in a knot at the foot of his bed. He struggled to free himself from the sweat-drenched T-shirt that held his arms tight to his head. Despite the sweat and warm temperature, he shivered. With a mighty effort, he shredded the T-shirt, freeing himself. He screamed, “Anchovies! I fucking hate God damned anchovies!”

  The nightmare. Again. He hadn’t had it in years, but lately, since going into the basement with his mother, it was almost a nightly occurrence. Each night, more details, more violence, but tonight, the boy in the dream liked it.

  It’s not true!

  The boy did not like it, not at all.

  Or did he?

  Had he pushed the memories of that horrible day so deep that he had forgotten important details? Were those memories finally working their way to the surface? Was that what the nightmare was trying to tell him? Was that why, in the middle of his terror and revulsion, he was sporting one of the biggest erections of his life?

  He raced to the bathroom and was violently ill, the way he’d been that day. He pulled himself into the shower and blasted himself with pure cold water, desperately trying to wash away the memories, the feelings, but mostly to deflate his raging penis. He couldn’t take this anymore. He had to tell someone. He was finally ready to share the most terrifying day of his life. He wanted to share it with Megan. He looked at the clock on the bathroom counter. Almost two a.m. She’d understand. She had to.

  * * *

  He stood at Megan’s door, his finger hovering over the doorbell. He pulled his hand back, running it through his still-damp hair. He could back out—go home and open the first bottle he could find—and crawl in like he always had.

  Damn, when did he become such a coward? Truthfully? Hadn’t he’d always been a coward? Afraid to confront the reality of what had happened. Forcing himself into denial to present a façade of fearlessness to the world. Because in his world, appearances were everything and reality was merely what you wanted others to see. And BJ had never trusted anyone enough to let them see past the surface.

  But now he did.

  He pushed the button.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened.

  Megan opened the door wearing a ratty, stained bathrobe. Her hair stood out in some places and was flat in others. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

  “BJ, what’s wrong? You look like someone killed your puppy,” she said.

  “I... uh... I need someone to talk to. I’m sorry. This is a bad idea, I should go.”

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. “No way. Come in and sit down; I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Megan set two mugs and a carafe on the coffee table and joined him on the couch. She took his hand in both of hers and waited.

  BJ stared at the floor. “Tell me about the worst day of your life.”

  “Awfully bold of you to assume I’ve peaked,” she joked.

  BJ chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Humor in the middle of tragedy. You’ve been hanging around the Tobins too long.”

  Or not long enough. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

  “The jury’s still out.”

  “In that case, how much time do you have?” Now, that made him smile. But it was the saddest smile she’d ever seen.

  “As much time as you’ll give me.”

  “As long as it takes.” She pulled a hand back to stir her coffee. The worst. She had so many bad memories, picking one might be difficult. Like the library, she might as well start at the beginning and work her way to the end.

  “Have you ever seen Ethan without his shirt?”

  BJ jerked back, confusion clearly coloring his handsome features. “Uh, no, come to think of it, I don’t think I have. Even at the pool party, he wore a T-shirt. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I’m pretty sure he thinks I don’t remember. We talk about our childhoods from time to time, but we’ve never discussed this particular day. I was probably about four or five when our foster mother’s boyfriend tried to molest me. Ethan couldn’t have been more than six. He pinned me to the floor to protect me while the psycho boyfriend beat him mercilessly with a belt. Ethan’s back is crisscrossed with scars from that day.”

  “That’s pretty intense. There’s more?”

  Unfortunately, there was. “When I was thirteen, they moved us into a group home. I shared a bedroom with another girl. My bed was against the wall next to the kitchen. She got transferred out, so before the new girl got there, I moved my stuff to the bed on the other side of the room. Another girl came the next day and took my old bed. Her first night, a fight broke out in the kitchen, and someone fired a gun. The bullet came through the wall and killed her. It should have been me. For a long time, I felt as if I had killed her myself. That’s why I hate guns. I don’t remember her name, but that night was one of many times gun violence erupted, and she wasn’t the only who died. A couple of times, like that horrible day, Ethan put himself between me and gunshots. I’ve lived in some scary places.”

  BJ cringed. “Strawberry Mansion, Nicetown, Point Breeze, yeah, Ethan has mentioned those places. I wouldn’t drive through some of those neighborhoods. I can’t imagine having to live there.”

  “Nobody wanted to be there. The cops only came when they had to.”

  She took a sip of her coffee. Not because she wanted coffee, but to stall. As bad as the first two memories had been, they didn’t come close to that day. She had never fully discussed what had led up to her breakdown. It was finally time.

  She took a deep breath and plunged into her deepest, darkest day. “Pete’s birth should have been the best day of my life, but it was also the worst. Smitty died that day, and my world unraveled. The joy, the sadness, the betrayal, all swirled in my head. Sometimes it felt like I was trapped inside of a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle.”

  She squeezed his hand for the strength to continue. “I couldn’t stop crying, and neither could Pete. Poor Ethan. A sobbing woman and a screaming baby. No wonder he lost his mind and married Stephanie.”

  It was her turn for a sad smile. “Stephanie and I have buried the hatchet. None of what happened with Smitty was her fault, but it didn’t feel that way at first.”

  “I lived the other side of that. Steppie has quite a temper. I let her beat on me for a full hour until she got all her rage out. Then I held her while she cried. I’m glad you two have worked things out because you’re both important to me. I don’t want to have to take sides because that would mean losing the woman I’ve considered my sister since the day she was born,” he said.

  If he had to, he
’d pick her over Stephanie? Fueled with that revelation, Megan found the strength to forge ahead.

  “It was the first day Ethan had left me alone. He had to go to the office because he had a meeting with your father and Stephanie.”

  Did BJ flinch? “What did I say wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet, tell me more, then I’ll share.”

  “I hoped that if I took Pete for a walk, we’d both stop crying. It was a beautiful spring day. It had rained over the weekend so everything smelled clean and fresh. The flowers were blooming. Birds were singing. The exercise was making me feel better. I decided that I’d visit the bakery a few blocks over to show everyone my new baby. I got halfway across the street when a green BMW whizzed by. Damn, it was the ugliest shade of green I’ve ever seen, and I didn’t think there could be anyone crazy enough to buy an expensive car in that color. I mean anyone other than Smitty. He called it signal green. I called it Kermit the frog green. But he loved it. Anyway, I saw that car and snapped. I thought it was Smitty coming home in the middle of the day to surprise me. My rational brain knew it couldn’t be him, but I wanted it to be true so desperately, I convinced myself that it was Smitty coming for me. For us. And I froze. Right there in the middle of four lanes of traffic. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital room.”

  BJ reached out to stroke her face. “I’m going to go way out on a limb here and hope you have indeed peaked. When I said you’d lived through hell, I had no idea how hot your hell was.”

  “Yeah, but it’s a few degrees cooler now that I’ve shared it with you. Now that you’ve helped me shoulder my burden, let me carry some of yours.”

  Megan waited. Would he trust her the way she had trusted him? For the first time in her life, she understood the meaning of deafening silence.

  CHAPTER 48

  “Men don’t usually report sexual assault. Everyone figures you’re big enough or strong enough to fight. Today, I’d beat the shit out of anyone who tried, but I was twelve. I haven’t told anyone at all. Not my parents, not in confession. No one else knows about this. It might take me some time to get through it.” He looked into Megan’s eyes expecting to see pity, but that’s not what he saw. He saw understanding, strength, and love. He was sure of it. She hadn’t said it, but he could tell. She loved him. And he loved her. With her help, he could get through this.

  * * *

  It had started out small, a pat on the back, a hand on his shoulder, ruffled hair after sharing a joke. Nothing unusual; BJ had seen him do it to all of the boys. Father Clancy was a gregarious man, and everyone loved him.

  Once a month, one of the students won lunch with him. Sometimes it was the fourth-grader who had recited the multiplication tables the fastest or the fifth-grader who had memorized all of the state capitals first. Occasionally, it was random, but it was always an honor to have a private lunch with Father Clancy.

  But BJ was special; he had been an altar boy. Altar boys were the most exclusive group on campus. Membership was by special invitation—Father Clancy’s invitation.

  Even at twelve, it was obvious BJ was going to be a handsome man because he had been a beautiful boy. His dark blond hair surrounded an angelic face, punctuated by his indigo blue eyes, perfect nose, and full mouth. BJ had been honored Father Clancy had chosen him.

  Altar boys weren’t in the running for Father Clancy’s special lunches; they’d had lunch with him every Friday—a super deluxe veggie pizza with anchovies. BJ loved anchovies. At least he used to. Now, they reminded him of Father Clancy, and he wanted to forget everything about the man.

  It happened after one of those Friday lunches. BJ had gone through a growth spurt and his cassock no longer fit properly. Father Clancy asked him to stay behind to try on a few to find the right size. The storage closet was in a corner of the church basement, far away from the schools and the rectory. No one else had a reason to be there. That was probably why the priest had chosen it.

  Father Clancy went through a few cassocks, each time helping BJ pull it over his head then off, each time becoming more and more aggressive with tugging, pulling, and smoothing the garment over BJ. As BJ was pulling a cassock over his head, Father Clancy reached around, grabbed him, and squeezed hard. BJ, blinded by the cloth over his head, struggled to get his arms free. The harder he fought, the more entangled he became. BJ struggled helplessly while Father Clancy slid his hand under his boxers and pushed a finger into BJ while he continued to fondle his penis, squeezing harder, pulling and tugging until BJ was certain the man would rip it off. Finally, in desperation, BJ kicked Father Clancy and escaped.

  * * *

  BJ stared into the coffee cup he clenched with both hands.

  “What happened to him?” she asked in a soft low voice.

  BJ swallowed hard. “I don’t know. A few weeks later, he was gone.”

  She took the cup out of his trembling hands. “Do you think if a woman had done that, you would have gotten an erection?” she whispered.

  His head dropped; his shoulders slumped. “I guess.”

  She moved closer to him, put her arm around him, and pulled his head onto her shoulder. “It’s not that much different. You were caught off guard. You were essentially tied up and blindfolded. Your body responded automatically. It doesn’t mean you’re gay. Or bi, not that there’s anything wrong with either. You were a twelve-year-old boy whose sexuality had barely started to develop, and you didn’t have the coping skills to deal with it. And no one helped you. Nothing that happened that day was your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You have to accept that before you can move on.”

  “But I liked it, at least that’s what I think the nightmares are telling me... that I’m gay. I could be in denial, and I’ve been bed-hopping all these years to prove to myself I’m not gay. It could be the reason why I can’t commit. I’m afraid to, then finally figure out I’m not... normal. Then that day in the hangar when little miss pilot wannabe tried to seduce me, I couldn’t get hard for her.” He moved away, turned his back, and buried his face in his hands.

  She put her hand on his shoulder and barely squeezed. “But you got plenty hard for me seconds later. What does that tell you?”

  He raised his shoulder to pin her hand to his cheek. “This isn’t the way I wanted to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  He turned to her. “You deserve better. You deserve fireworks and hearts and flowers, not a broken old man in the middle of the night.”

  “Hey, broken old man, wanna know a secret?” She put her finger under his chin and gently lifted his head to force him to look into her eyes.

  He smiled weakly. “Shoot.”

  “We’re both broken. Everyone’s broken in some way. If you’re lucky, you find the right person to help you put the pieces back together.”

  He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “Then I’m a very lucky man. This isn’t the way I wanted to do this, but I’d better do it now before I talk myself out of it again. The simple truth is, I love you. I...I have for a long time now. I love you. And I don’t care how broken you are.”

  She laid her hands over his. “I love you, too. When Pete called you daddy that first time, and you didn’t freak out, I knew you were special, even though I didn’t want to admit it. I think I fell in love with you before we got to the church.”

  Megan pulled his head to her shoulder, put her arms around him, and put her head on top of his.

  He should say something. Anything. But before he could find his voice, Pete’s lusty cries from the other room, announced to the world that he was awake, hungry, and needed a fresh diaper.

  BJ groaned. “I should go.”

  Megan shook her head. “No, you haven’t slept all night, and your nerves are ready to snap. Go take a shower, and I’ll find something for you to wear. Get some sleep, and we’ll talk more later.”

  “You haven’t slept either.”

  “I’m a mom; I’m used to it.” She ruffled his hair. “Now be a good boy, a
nd I’ll come tuck you in when you’re done.”

  She might have. She probably did. But still dripping wet from the shower that made him feel completely clean for the first time since that day, BJ collapsed into a deep slumber almost before his head hit the pillow.

  CHAPTER 49

  Tantalizing smells gently pulled him from his near coma. Waking up in a strange bedroom wasn’t an unusual experience for him, but somehow, this morning was different. This morning, he felt a deep peace he hadn’t known in so long, that he hardly recognized it. He felt as if he’d come home from a long, grueling journey to find the love he’d been afraid wouldn’t be there for him.

  But this wasn’t his home or his parents’ home. Finally fully awake, he realized where he was. In Megan’s bed. Alone.

  Memories of their pre-dawn conversation set his nerves on edge, threatening to rob him of the tranquility he hadn’t had the time to fully explore or enjoy.

  This was the morning after of a different kind. Not the kind where he had to struggle to remember the name that went with the head on the pillow next to him. This was terrifyingly unfamiliar. This was the morning after he’d shared his darkest secret and confessed to his deepest feelings.

  Had she changed her mind?

  He couldn’t find out if he stayed in bed. He got up and put on the enormous pair of sweatpants she’d left on the foot of the bed. He used the bathroom and checked his face in the mirror. He needed a shave and a comb. He rubbed his scruff, then ran his fingers through his hair to make himself as presentable as possible before wandering into the kitchen.

  Piles of clean laundry sat on the dining room table including what he had worn last night. Next to his clothes sat a new toothbrush, razor, and various other items. “You went shopping?”

  She jumped, nearly sending the tray of cookies she was taking out of the oven crashing to the floor. “I’m sorry, you startled me. Yes, I’ve been to the BJ aisle of Mamma Tobin’s Emporium of Men’s Toiletries. In other words, I raided your mom’s linen closet. She also gave me her top-secret recipe for shortbread cookies. She told me they were your favorite.” She handed him a cookie and waited for his reaction. “She loaned me her cookie press and told me you liked raspberry, so it’s a good thing I put up a dozen jars of raspberry preserves last week.”