A Beautiful Disaster

by Marguerite Labbe

  “Enjoy. Try to leave some bacon for the rest of the city of Richmond.” Felipe stacked the game books into a neat pile, then whistled for his dogs. Dakota had never understood his love for critters. He was always going on about them, but to Dakota, it seemed as if they needed constant attention. “I’m taking the girls for a quick walk. Hey, Dakota, you staying in town or headed back?”

  “Heading back.” Though, depending on how his conversation with Morris went, he might linger while he worked out arguments in his head. Damn, he hated this introspective shit. Dakota said his goodbyes and retreated to his car before anyone else tried to lure him into a conversation.

  While he waited outside the diner for Morris and Lincoln to arrive, he sent a quick text telling Aden he’d call him back in a few minutes. He slipped the phone into his pocket as Morris’s car pulled in. Dakota rolled down the window. “Morris, come here a sec. I need to talk to you. Lincoln, get us a table. We’ll be in soon.”

  Morris and Lincoln exchanged looks, and then Lincoln shrugged and headed for the diner without any questions. Morris headed for the driver’s side window. “What’s up?”

  “Get in.”

  “But….”

  “Please. I wouldn’t ask, but I need to talk to someone, and you are the only one I can think of who’ll listen without having a meltdown.” Dakota had been trying to figure out how to say this all week, and now he just wanted to get the words out.

  “Okay.” Morris went around to the passenger side and slid in, his dark eyes afire with curiosity. Fair enough, Dakota didn’t lean on Morris often. He was Felipe’s best friend and he hadn’t wanted to upset that prerogative, and Morris had to wonder why the hell he wasn’t talking to Brenden.

  “I need you to hear me out. This might blow your mind a bit.” It was blowing Dakota’s mind enough. “Brenden and I slept together at the Kent Island show.” He paused. That could be a bit misleading. What if Morris took it to mean they shared a room or something? But he didn’t want to say they screwed because that seemed disrespectful when he was talking about Brenden. “What I mean is we—”

  Morris held up a broad hand, cutting off his words. “I get it. I don’t need details.” He cocked his head and studied Dakota’s expression. “I’d wondered when that was going to happen.”

  That was not the reaction Dakota expected. Morris didn’t look surprised, and it left him at a loss for words. Dakota hoped Felipe wasn’t spreading his stupid theory among all their friends. “Well, uh, okay. The thing is, I think Brenden may be in love with me. It’s not conceit. He’s been acting weird ever since I moved in, and he’s upset. I know he’s upset, though he won’t freaking admit it. He tried to talk to me about it and I panicked. He saw my panic and completely retreated and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Oh boy.” Morris tapped the side of his fist against the window. “I’m no good at this, man, except, I’d say you’re right. I got that vibe from Brenden. I wasn’t so sure about you. I mean, that’s not the thing you ask a friend to verify unless you’re sure they’re an item.”

  “What do I do?” Dakota stared at his hands, still locked on the steering wheel. He always had a plan, a direction, something, even if the plan was to have fun and move on. But this was different and Dakota was lost. He couldn’t go to Brenden with this, and it left him feeling like his anchor had been cut away.

  “Oh God, why the hell are you asking me?” Morris asked with a thread of apprehension in his voice. “I’m not the relationship doctor.”

  “You’re getting married, and don’t say Felipe’s hooking up too because that would be mean. Even if he is happy now, he blames Brenden in the first place for our breakup.” Dakota shot him a pleading look. “And you’re the only one of my friends who won’t freak out at first about the fact that we’re foster brothers, technically.”

  “Well technically, yeah you are. If we’re going by the definition. But it’s not like you grew up in the same family. Okay, okay, give me a second.” Morris crossed his arms and stared out the window with an intent frown. “I can’t believe I’m giving out relationship advice to you of all people. I guess you have to ask yourself first if you love him in return.”

  “Of course I do!” Dakota’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “That’s a dumb-ass question.”

  “No, it’s not. You know what I mean. He’s in love with you, and everything about that makes you break out into hives.” Morris turned in the car seat to face him. “And I know you love him, but I’m asking you if you love him the same way. Because if you don’t, you don’t, but don’t string this out, then. If you don’t love him, it’s going to break his heart, but better to break it now than to give him hope you might come to feel the same way. Stringing it out will crush him. So if you don’t, let him go.”

  Dakota’s eyes stung, and he roughly cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah you’re right.” It mirrored what was in his heart. What he didn’t want to face. The thought of letting Brenden go. It went against everything in him to hurt Brenden deliberately. Sure they argued and snarked and roughhoused, but that was just fucking around. And they’d hurt each other with words before, but not on purpose. Great, he was going to have to punch himself for breaking Brenden’s heart.

  Hindsight was an evil bitch. He never should’ve pestered Brenden for a kiss. That was on him. Brenden knew what would happen, which was why he’d had the sense to say no. Brenden always had been wiser than him.

  Dakota didn’t want to never kiss him again, never touch him. Or watch Brenden fall in love with someone else and move on without him. But he didn’t want to have to look Brenden in the eye a couple of months down the road and tell him he was bored with the relationship and ready to chase someone else either. He couldn’t live with that.

  “But you should know,” Morris said into the awkward silence. “If you and Brenden became a thing, I’d be on your sides. I always saw you two as a duo, partners and friends, not brothers.”

  They’d never talked about it. Hell, until they’d done the deed it wasn’t something that needed to be talked about. But even without the conversation, Dakota knew Brenden would be mortified at the thought of his love life being the subject of speculation and judgment. Dakota had thought and stated no one needed to know or give a damn because it was their own business, but facing the reality was different; they couldn’t lock themselves away in a bubble and ignore the world, no matter how tempting that thought might be.

  “Thanks, man, I appreciate it.” Dakota nodded and took the keys out of the ignition. “You’ll keep this between us, right?”

  “Yeah, of course. I mean, I’ll talk to Theo, but no one else.” Morris thumped his fist against his heart. “Not even Felipe.”

  “Please, not Felipe, and not just because of what I said.” Dakota eyed the diner and Lincoln sitting at a window perusing a menu. He felt a little better. He still didn’t know what the hell he was going to do, but talking it out to a sympathetic ear eased the weight off him. “Felipe would try, but he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. The pressure of trying to keep it in would make him explode. He told me his suspicions about us, and clearly he told you too. You don’t think he talked to anyone else, do you?”

  “That rumor didn’t come from Felipe. It came from me.” Morris gave him an apologetic smile when Dakota turned accusing eyes on him. “I’d tried warning him off you. I didn’t want him to get his hopes up, but he wasn’t listening. After you broke up, he was so frustrated about the Brenden, you, him triangle, I had to say something. I thought he hadn’t believed me.”

  “Well, it’s been poking at his brain. But he probably won’t say anything to anybody else if he hasn’t yet.” At least he hoped so. Dakota hadn’t confirmed it, and Felipe had other things on his mind, which reminded him. “What was that between you and Felipe in three weeks?” He needed some distraction from his depressing thoughts.

  Morris hesitated and worried his lip. “Okay, I guess a secret for a secret, right? Theo and I are sort o
f eloping.”

  “How do you sort of elope?” Dakota asked, mystified. Either you did or you didn’t. “Don’t you have a wedding in May?”

  Morris made a strangled sound of panic that Dakota didn’t get. He was the one to panic over the idea of committing. Morris acted blissful with the whole notion. “Yep, that’s the plan for wedding number two.”

  Dakota couldn’t see going through it once, but he kept his mouth shut. “So, wedding number one is in three weeks?”

  A delighted smile crossed Morris’s lips and his eyes softened. “Yeah, that’ll be the official one, but don’t say a word to any sisters or mothers, please. We wanted something fun and small for ourselves.”

  “That would be the technical definition of eloping,” Dakota said as his phone rang again. He sighed and pulled it out, noting Aden’s number. “I’ve got to take this before my cousin loses his mind. I’ll be in right after. Hey, thanks again.”

  Morris clapped him on the shoulder and got out of the car.

  “Aden, what’s going on? I was going to call you back.”

  “How much weed did you put in those stupid brownies of yours?” Aden asked in an exasperated voice.

  “Hey, stay out of my damn brownies. That’s my special stash.” What was it with cousins being so damned annoying? “Who said you could go through my pantry?”

  “I haven’t touched the damn things except to throw away what’s left. Brenden got into them and lit himself the fuck up. He could practically float he was so high.”

  Dakota couldn’t help himself; he snickered at the mental image. Oh man, he wished he’d witnessed that. “Chill out, Aden. It probably did him some good. Brenden needs a break.”

  “I agree with you on the break part, but not this way, because he’s going to be pissed when he wakes up and realizes what happened, and he’s going to know who the fuck to be mad at, and it isn’t me.”

  That was also true, but Brenden only had himself to blame. He should’ve known any brownies Dakota hid had to be laced. Even if he was such a rule follower he’d never have them in the house to begin with. “A little weed isn’t going to kill Brenden. I might for eating them. How many did he have?”

  “I have no flipping idea. Between the con crud, the meds he was taking for that, and the weed, I’m surprised he had any coherency left when I found him. He was getting ready to have another brownie as he watched Tron.” Aden huffed with exasperation. “And somebody hurt him, but he won’t tell me a damn thing about it. Do you know who? Because I’m personally going to eviscerate the person who made Brenden cry like that today. I mean, half of it was because he was sick and loopy, but not all of it.”

  Dakota’s heart sank with a painful wrench. He’d put Brenden in that state, and Brenden would hate it if he knew Dakota heard. “Hey, don’t let Brenden know you told me he cried. It’ll hurt his pride, and you know how serious he takes that.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be home in an hour. I’ll take care of Brenden.”

  “The only way you’re getting here in an hour is if your car sprouts wings. He told me you were in Richmond.”

  Aden was as bad as Brenden when it came to being practical. Dakota rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. I’ll drive at a decent speed and get there in one piece.”

  “Good, I’ll probably be gone by the time you get here. I’ve spent most of the day with him, keeping him company and babying him as much as he’d let me. He should be down for the count until tomorrow, but if his fever’s returned by the time you get home, give him another dose. I left everything on the nightstand.”

  Dakota hung up, sent Morris a quick apology text, and headed out. During the drive home, he went over Morris’s words and his own decision. He had to go right back to treating Brenden like he had before without the flirting and trying to steal kisses. It was the decent thing to do.

  The house was dark by the time Dakota arrived. He shouldered his game bag and went in, tossing the bag on the couch. Brenden really had cleaned. Everything was spotless. Aden either felt duty bound to keep up with Brenden’s work, or Brenden had tottered out to tidy up after he’d left. With a sigh, Dakota picked up his bag again and dropped it inside his bedroom.

  Brenden was snoring louder than usual when Dakota slipped into his room. Dakota touched his hand to Brenden’s forehead. He was warm, not burning up, but warmer than usual. Brenden stirred and coughed weakly, then went right back to snoring. The man needed to take care of himself, not just the damned items on his to-do list.

  Dakota checked his watch to see when he should have another dose. Not for an hour. He eyed the bed and moved to stretch out beside him. There wouldn’t be any harm in being there, and then he’d know if Brenden needed anything.

  A black shadow detached itself from Brenden’s neck and hissed at him.

  “What the fuck?” Dakota growled as three other dark shapes shifted around Brenden. He caught the glint of moonlight off teeth from one of the shapes and the amber eyes of another. His heart beat faster as he flipped on the bedside light, hoping it wouldn’t wake Brenden.

  Four balls of black fluff stared at him, the one by Brenden’s head puffing up twice its size. Dakota shook his head. “Brenden got himself some guardians. Okay, guys, I get the hint. No touchy-touchy.”

  Kittens. Dakota shook his head in bemusement. He pulled over Brenden’s comfy chair, grabbed a blanket to curl up in, and sat down to wait for Brenden’s next round of medicine.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “GET OUT of the kitchen and back on the couch before I take drastic action,” Dakota threatened.

  Brenden glared at Dakota and didn’t budge from the entryway. “If you don’t let me cook, I’m going to brain you. I’m not dying. I can’t stand the idea of having tacos again.”

  If Dakota didn’t stop acting like a damned mother hen, Brenden would lose his cool. He’d come down with pneumonia, not the plague. Maybe it had taken him a few weeks to bounce back, but that was his own damned fault. He’d run himself into the ground. He’d let stress take over his life. So his body had finally said fuck it and knocked him down. It happened. He’d learned his lesson and was getting over it.

  Dakota banged the cutting block on the counter and came toward him with a determined expression. “Wrong, my friend, tonight we’re having nachos.” He caught Brenden by the shoulders, turned him around, and gave him a light shove toward the living room.

  Brenden dug in his heels and turned back to face Dakota. His strength was returning. Dakota couldn’t manhandle him the way he had been. “You do realize it’s pretty much tacos, but on flat chips instead of folded shells. Which is the same as your fajitas only in a larger soft shell.” Brenden hid a smile as Dakota drew himself up in affront. “Even if you change around the meat and toppings, it’s still—”

  “Excuse me? Do I say that about your cooking when you’re doing stuffed shells one night and baked ziti another? Both have pasta, red sauce, and ricotta. Not to mention the bazillion other Italian dishes you make. Who’s the taco/nacho/fajita expert here? Me.” Dakota slapped a hand against his chest and pointed a finger at Brenden. “No Corona for you tonight, Chef Naysayer.”

  “Okay, you have a point,” Brenden called after Dakota as he marched off in a pretend huff toward the refrigerator. “Still, I’d like to say I make other things. Not just Italian. Maybe you could try burgers one night? Or something baked. Apparently baking is among your skill set, because those damned brownies didn’t taste a bit like grass.”

  Dakota shot him a level look. “I wondered how long it was going to take you to bring that up. I’m sorry you were fucked-up, but it’s your fault. You stole my stash. Flat-out raided it. That was your penalty. If it had been a D&D game, I would’ve rigged those suckers with a fireball spell, and then where would you be?”

  “In jail, because I would’ve murdered you for blowing up my kitchen.” Brenden glanced down at the soft bump against his foot. Minime stared up at him and then climbed his leg to get to his favorite perch on Brenden’s s
houlder. Brenden winced at the poke of needle-sharp claws. Aden had managed to find homes for Rorschach and Inkheart. Brenden had been sad to see them go, though he hadn’t missed his toes being chased under the blankets. He could ignore two, but when four decided to pounce and nibble, it had been a problem.

  “When are you getting rid of that fluffy parasite?” Dakota asked, pointing a finger at the kitten. “I can’t believe you of all people are letting animals into the house. You have to pick up after them.”

  “I’ve had lots of practice picking up after you,” Brenden retorted, gently scratching under Minime’s chin. “And Toothless dotes on you.”

  “Toothless is tragic-looking. That face will scare babies. It’ll never get adopted, so I’m exercising mercy.” Dakota hauled out ingredients, and Brenden sighed. It had been nice having Dakota take care of him. It had been a relief when Dakota had stopped flirting with him and running around naked. Brenden mourned the loss of what could’ve been if they’d met under other circumstances and if Dakota had been the committing kind, but he refused to dwell on it. Neither of them had brought up the night in Kent Island, and while Brenden hated to leave that hanging, what could they say that wouldn’t be awkward and uncomfortable?

  “Kinda like your face,” Brenden said blandly. Dakota was a sucker for that kitten whether he wanted to admit it or not. He didn’t even move the little guy when it had fallen asleep on top of his dice bag, and Dakota’s dice were sacred.

  “You’re not winning any beauty pageants yourself. Especially with that hissing growth on your neck.” Dakota lined up all the toppings, and Brenden had to admit that whatever he had going in the slow cooker smelled sinfully good. Tonight he was doing scallions and tomatoes as toppings and whipping up something that involved cilantro, limes, avocado, jalapenos, and sour cream.