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by Sam LaRose

  “What happened to make you think we can’t do that?”

  “Where do I even start? I slept with Jordan. I coerced sex from my bodyguard. I found out that people ship us. I was asked if I was potentially manic depressive. My mentor died and left me his entire fucking estate that I don’t know what to do with—”

  Tyler silenced him, pressing his lips to the younger man’s. Dylan stilled, tensing. Then, he couldn’t help it. He relaxed, leaning into the kiss. He allowed himself to enjoy it. Not for long; just a few seconds of nostalgic bliss. His palm pressed to Tyler’s chest and he pushed the man away.

  “Don’t.” His voice was a barely audible whisper.

  “We can be happy, if you give us a chance.”

  “I can’t let you down again. That isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.” Dylan pulled away from him. “Please, just stop. I won’t ask again.”

  Dylan turned away before Tyler could say more, letting himself out of the apartment. Tyler felt his chest tighten and his shoulders tense.

  “You still up to the hair cut?” Simon appeared next to him, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder. “I can come back later if you want to be alone.”

  “No,” Tyler shook his head, “you’re already here and set up. Besides, I need the cut. It’s brushing my ears and driving me nuts.”

  “Come relax in the kitchen then. You can dump your woes on me. I’m cheaper than a therapist and a good listener,” Simon promised. He put an arm around Tyler’s shoulders, steering him toward the kitchen. “What is it about this guy that makes you so crazy?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Dylan, what are you doing here? I just dropped you off an hour ago.”

  “Did you mean it earlier, when you said you wanted things to be more serious between us?”

  Benjamin’s eyebrows knit together. He stepped out of the doorway, ushering the man back inside his apartment. “What happened?”

  “You know I’m an awful person, but you keep doing things for me. Like with the Molly. Like fucking behind David’s and my parent’s backs. Even though I’m treating you like shit. Is this a kink for you? Do you think you can redeem me or something?”

  “Take a seat.” Benjamin pointed him toward the couch. He closed and locked the door as Dylan sat down. “Where’s your jacket? How did you get here?”

  “I asked questions first.”

  Benjamin squatted, taking a seat on the footstool. He took Dylan’s hands into his. “I told you before. I like you. You’re not awful. A little self-centered, but you have good qualities too. You’re adamant about staying sober. You’re good with the kids at the Foundation. You’re talented in a variety of ways, not even including the art. You’re a beautiful person, Dylan. Even if you’re not into me the same way, I’m glad we’ve been spending time together.”

  “But why?”

  “Why what?”

  “What do you get out of spending time with me?”

  Benjamin shrugged. “I get to enjoy your company. Isn’t that enough?”

  Dylan leaned back into the couch cushions. “That’s it?”

  Benjamin looked down at their hands. His thumbs stroked along Dylan’s for a moment before he looked up at him again. “I get to feel like I’m helping you. Taking care of you. Being supportive. You make me feel needed. I like that.”

  Dylan drew in a deep breath. He pulled his hands free to scratch his fingernails against his scalp as his fingers pulled through his hair.

  “Are you going to tell me why you came back here, with no jacket? I know it’s been a warm fall, but it’s only fifty degrees outside.”

  “Tyler kissed me.”

  Benjamin was silent, not sure how to respond.

  “I don’t know how to be with him. I also don’t know how to stop wanting to be with him.”

  “You came here hoping that by some miracle, you might want to be with me instead?” Benjamin guessed. “Dylan, that isn’t how it works. I can’t love you enough for both of us.” He scooted a little closer. “I can be here for you. I can have sex with you, if the few minutes of dopamine are worth it. At the end of the day, I’m not going to fill the hole in your heart, if I haven’t already.”

  “I know. It was worth a shot though, right?”

  Benjamin shrugged, a soft smile playing his lips.

  “Can I stay with you tonight? I could use some Goliath cuddles.”

  “Just Goliath?”

  “You can join us,” Dylan offered, “but you know how possessive he gets with me.”

  Benjamin’s lips tweaked in a firmer smile. “He’s practically your cat at this point. The traitor.” He cocked his head to the side. “He went to hide in his basket in the closet. You can see if you can tempt him out. Are you hungry? I was just starting to make something. We can stream something and chill.”

  “I’m not hungry, but you go ahead.” Dylan stood up from the couch, making his way over to the closet. Goliath was cleaning his paws. He looked up perplexed as Dylan slid the door open further. He sat down in front of the oversize cat bed while Benjamin went to the kitchen. Goliath rumbled, getting up and stretching before pressing his head into Dylan’s hand and happily accepted the ear scritches. He came closer after a moment, splaying himself across Dylan’s lap for more petting between his bathing routine.

  Benjamin cooked in the kitchen. The apartment was filled with a spicy smell and warmth. After a while, he made his way over to the pair, crouching next to Dylan. He reached out, putting a hand on top of his head to give his hair a soft tug.

  “When you’ve had your fill of my cat, come eat,” Benjamin spoke up. “Even if you’re not hungry. I made quick chili.”

  Dylan looked up at him, fingers rubbing circles into Goliath’s fur. “Quick Chili?”

  “The hardest thing about it is browning the hamburger. Otherwise, it’s just emptying a bunch of cans into a pot, adding seasoning, and heating it through.” There was a low, long beep. “I made rice too. Would you like some?”

  Dylan nodded.

  “Do you feel better after the cat cuddles?” Benjamin removed his hand, straightening to stand.

  “A little bit. You should consider renting out his services,” Dylan teased. “You could make enough to get a bigger place.”

  “Wouldn’t work,” Benjamin replied. “He doesn’t take to just anyone. Maine Coons bond with family and are usually leery, but friendly, with strangers. I have no idea why he’s taken to you. I’m not kidding when I say he prefers you over me.”

  “That isn’t true. You’re still the one who feeds him.”

  The rice cooker lid clicked as he opened it, letting out a burst of steam. He used the plastic paddle to mix the rice before plopping a scoop of the perfectly cooked rice into each of two bowls. The bowls were scooted down the counter and topped with some of the chili.

  “You’re the first one to open a treat bag when you visit. You let him sleep with us when you stay over. You sneak him food off your plate when we’re eating something he likes the smell of.”

  “Okay, okay, so I spoil your cat.” Dylan gave Goliath one last ruffle of his fur before ushering him back to his basket. He got up from the floor and made his way over to the kitchen island. “I’ll point out, you buy the treats. He sleeps in the bed whether I’m in it or not. And, I always ask if it’s something he can eat first.”

  Benjamin handed over one of the bowls. “What would you like to drink?”

  “How spicy is this?”

  “On a scale of one to ten? Probably a six. I went easy.”

  “Water is fine,” Dylan decided. He waited for Benjamin to stick a spoon into the bowl. A moment later, a tall plastic glass with some ice and water was put into his other hand.

  “Would you like anything else? Cheese? Sour Cream?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Benjamin plunked a spoon into his own bowl after he added some shredded mozzarella cheese to the top. They carried their servings over to the couch. Benjamin had already set
up the laptop with something to watch for the evening. He clicked out of it to bring up the teen drama they’d been enjoying together. They ate and watched in silence. Afterwards, Benjamin took their dishes to the sink. While he did dishes, Dylan sank sideways on the couch. Goliath emerged from the closet to come rest on the back of the couch to “watch” with him.

  “Dylan.” Benjamin came to stand behind the footstool that the laptop rested on. He looked uncomfortable; his fingertips tucked into his pocket. “I need to tell you something. Something I should have been honest about the first time I brought you here.”

  Dylan raised an eyebrow. He sat up, looking expectantly at him. “What’s that?”

  The man drew in an uneasy breath. “I work for your parents. That’s never been a secret. What you don’t know is, I’ve been assigned to your detail since you came home in May. I’ve been following you any time you left the property. When you moved out, I’d keep an eye on you when you left your apartment. I even went with you when you visited Britannia in Boston.”

  “What?” Dylan looked confused. He had thought he’d gotten better after years of being followed, at telling when he was being tailed. If Benjamin had been on him for this long, either he was terrible at it, or Benjamin was much better at his job than he had thought.

  “I was told to gradually reveal myself after you destroyed your phone. The phone was always a back-up method to track you, in case we were separated. It wasn’t important, but keeping tabs on you was. I was told to use any means necessary to keep you safe.”

  “That night at the Rose Room, when we came back here, you were already authorized to give me the GHB then? Is that what you’re saying?” Dylan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “The any means necessary extended to sleeping with me?”

  “...Yes.”

  “I see,” Dylan nodded. “Our conversation earlier tonight. Was that a continued ploy to keep me in line? You want me to believe that you’re my boyfriend and sleep with you in the name of safety?”

  “No!” Benjamin exclaimed. “I was doing my job, but my feelings for you are real. I wouldn’t have slept with you if I didn’t want to do it. We never had sex while I was on the clock. I didn’t lie, Dylan.”

  Dylan chuckled. “You withheld information.” A smirk split his face. “I’m familiar with the concept.” He heaved a sighed, standing. He gave a look at Goliath. The cat paused from cleaning his paws to stare back at him for a moment. “It’s a shame. I really like your cat.”

  “Dylan, I told you because I don’t want to keep anything from you. I don’t agree with what I was asked to do. You’re a responsible adult. Your parents should trust you more.”

  “Who made the orders?” Dylan asked, turning back to him. “Was it David, just being over protective? Or was it my parents?”

  “David issued the orders, but I believe they came from your father. I don’t know your mother’s involvement.”

  Dylan sniffed, nodding again. He pulled out his phone. “Did someone follow me over here tonight?”

  “No. It’s just us.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Unless someone looks at your tracking, they think you’re home right now. That’s where I told them you would be for the rest of the night.”

  Dylan wrestled with the feeling of betrayal that stabbed him in the chest. Today was not his day, it seemed. He drew in a deep breath. “I’m going home.”

  “Let me take you.” Benjamin started to step around the footstool and laptop again.

  “I drove myself here. I can drive myself back.” Dylan stepped further away from him, his hands raised in a universal fuck off. “Thank you for telling me the truth. I know that was hard.” He forced a smile. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, Benjamin from Montana. See you around.”

  “Dylan,” Benjamin caught his arm as he started to open the door, “please wait.”

  “There isn’t any reason to stay.” Dylan jerked his arm free. “I know the truth now.” He stepped out into the crisp fall night. He was back where he’d been an hour before. Outside with no coat and nowhere to go.

  “Well,” he sighed to himself, “if there was ever a reason to start drinking again...this would be it.”

  He stopped to wedge the phone under the front tire before he got into the SUV. He clipped the seatbelt in place and started the engine. He heard the emphatic crunch as the tire destroyed the phone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Dylan, are you drunk?”

  Dylan recoiled as the living room lamp burst to life. He groaned, rolling off the couch to the floor, covering his face. “Fuckin’ A, Jack. What’d you do tha ‘fer?”

  “You are drunk,” Jack gasped. “Why? How?”

  “I wen’ to a bar,” Dylan spoke slowly. “They sol’ me alcohol.”

  “Dylan, you’ve been...I...” Jack was at a loss for words. “What happened?”

  Dylan sucked in a breath. He reached up onto the couch for one of the throw pillows. As he rolled onto his back, he pressed the pillow over his face to block out the light. “Where do I start?”

  “Uh, start with tonight when you decided to go to a bar.”

  “Benjimmin has bin followin’ me fer months. Per orders. High up the chain. My Dad, likely.”

  “Benjamin? The security guy?”

  “He’sis better at his job ‘un I thought.” Dylan groaned again. “Kin you shut tha light off now?”

  Jack obliged and the room went back to relative darkness. “How did you get home?”

  “Walked.”

  “How drunk are you?”

  “Oh, imma feel this t’morah. Major regerts.” He gave a snort filled chuckle. “Regerts.”

  “Dammit.” Jack sighed, unamused. While he was no stranger to a drunk, Dylan was the last person he expected to deal with inebriated.

  “I’m be fine,” Dylan assured him. “I’m not an addict.”

  “Really?” Jack crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Is what real addicts have been telling me for years,” Dylan insisted. “I’ll sleep it off.”

  “Do you need help getting up?”

  “Nope.” Dylan insisted. “I’m fine here.”

  “You can’t sleep in the living room.”

  “Is my ‘partment, innit?”

  “Let me help you to bed,” Jack pleaded.

  Dylan was quiet for a moment. He groaned, heaving himself into a sitting position. “Jack, I’m fine. R’lly. I got all my facilities. No, thas not right. Faculties.”

  “What’s going on?” Markus appeared at Jack’s shoulder. He pressed a kiss to Jack’s neck. He spotted Dylan on the floor, listing to the side. “Is he drunk?”

  There was a hint of amusement that was immediately lost as he took in Jack’s expression.

  “He is,” Dylan nodded emphatically. “It’s been a really shit evening all ‘round.” He straightened before he hit the coffee table. He drew in a deep breath, looking up at the two of them. His eyes widened as he tried to focus. “Did I wake you? ‘m sorry. I tried ta be quiet.”

  “You failed spectacularly,” Jack informed him. He turned to Markus. “Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “You two are so lucky.” Dylan started listing the other direction. “Youse got Kyle ‘n Heath too. Is that nice? Or compl’cated? Where do all the hands go?” His shoulder hit the couch and he grunted, straightening again.

  “Okay, I can’t let you help him alone.” Markus stepped forward. He knelt in front of Dylan. “Come on. Time for bed.”

  “I don’ need a demo’stration,” Dylan giggled. Markus pulled him up by one arm, then lifted him into a fireman’s carry. “Oh! Have you always bin this strong? Am I heavy?”

  Jack led Markus down hall to Dylan’s room. He opened the door for him. The drunkard was deposited unceremoniously onto his mattress.

  “Lay down,” Jack insisted as Dylan tried to sit up. He grabbed his foot, unlacing his sneaker. He tossed it toward the end of the bed. It
hit the floor with the a thunk. Its match soon joined it.

  “You’re handsy,” Dylan swatted at him as he reached for his jeans.

  “Then take them off yourself.” Jack lifted his hands. “Go to sleep.”

  “I’m not tired; still buzzed.,” Dylan scooted to the edge of the bed. “You’re both up too. We should turn on some music an’ dance.” He started to swing his legs over the side of the bed again.

  “You can’t even stand up.” Markus pushed him back onto the mattress as he tried. “Sleep it off.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Dylan squeezed his eyes shut. He was eerily silent until a gasping sob sounded. Tears burst forth and he hiccupped for a breath.

  “Oh, Dylan,” Jack exhaled. He pushed Markus toward the door. “Go. I got this.”

  Markus watched, uncomfortable, as Jack circled to the other side of the bed. He pulled Dylan’s head into his lap. Jack’s fingers stroked his hair as he continued to cry, his whole body shaking.

  “I’ll go back to my place. He needs you more,” Markus admitted. “Try to get him to sleep, okay? I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning.”

  Jack covered Dylan’s open ear; the other pressed to his thigh. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re a good a friend.”

  “I know.” Jack looked down at Dylan. “I’ll see if I can find out what the hell is wrong when he stops crying.”

  Markus gave him one last look before he strode away from Dylan’s room.

  Jack let him continue to cry against his thigh. He brushed a lock of Dylan’s hair off his forehead. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “Ty kissed me.”

  “Was it that bad?”

  “I’ve been sleeping with Benjamin.”

  Jack waited for more context. His free hand rubbed circles on Dylan’s back.

  Dylan explained, as best as he could, the evenings events. He ended his tale with running over his phone before parking his car back in the garage and heading to the nearby bar. He’d drank until the bartender refused to serve him, then made his way home. Where he’d promptly tripped over the coffee table and woken up Jack.