by J. A. Rock
Bel wasn’t sure which idea he liked less—that Daniel’s family would treat him like dirt and leave him shattered, or that Daniel would have a great time and would be too tired to do anything with Bel tonight.
Then Bel felt guilty, because of course he wanted Daniel to have a good time.
Just if other people start treating him decent, you don’t get to be his savior.
Bel took another gulp of beer. He hadn’t asked to be anyone’s savior. But it was almost intoxicating to be needed the way Daniel needed him.
“Ain’t seen Whitlock around in a while.”
Bel whirled. It was Larry who had spoken, and he was looking at Bel.
The other guys laughed. “We miss him,” Matt said.
“Crazy fucker,” Bob agreed. “No one he wouldn’t bend over for. Worse’n ol’ Jake here.”
Jake had been trying to signal the bartender, but now he turned suddenly. “I got more standards than Whitlock.”
Bel gripped his beer glass.
“You tried him, Belman?” Bob asked. “Or you’re not into crazy?”
Bel got off his stool and walked over to the group. “Gentlemen. This is not a conversation I mean to have.”
“’T’s all right, Officer,” Matt said. “We don’t fuck and tell here.” His eyes were too wide and the left one was bloodshot.
“I don’t neither.” Bel took a swig of his beer.
“Just bein’ friendly,” Larry said.
“You all,” Bel said, trying to keep his voice even, “ought to think good and hard about what—”
“I always think good and hard,” Jake said. There was a pause, then he laughed at his own joke until he hiccupped.
“—about what makes you go after someone who obviously ain’t right.”
Fuck. That wasn’t how he’d meant to put it. He’d only meant that Daniel wasn’t in any state to be having sex when he was asleep. And why had he started this conversation when it couldn’t lead anywhere productive? Daniel was safe now in Bel’s care. He wouldn’t come back to Greenducks. So why the hell did Bel mind what this group said or did?
Larry’s gaze was stony. “Well shit, Officer. Maybe the system didn’t fuck him hard enough. So we’re making up for it.”
“You fuck each other while you’re tweaking. I get that. But Whitlock . . . when he comes here, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, okay? It’s a medical thing, and it’s pretty fucked that you all go after him.”
“Officer Belman.” Bob slid his glass back and forth on the bar. “You saying you believe his sleepwalking bullshit?”
“I’m sayin’ he’s got a medical condition he can’t control, and if he ever comes in here again, you’re gonna leave him alone. No matter what he says to you.”
Jake laughed again. Bob didn’t. Bob just kept sliding his glass. “You’d prob’ly be surprised how many of us said no to Whitlock. I ain’t ever fucked a freak. A killer. And I ain’t gonna.”
And damn if that didn’t make Bel burn just as bad as the idea of this lot fucking Daniel without caring that he was unconscious. Why the hell shouldn’t they want to fuck Daniel? Any one of them would be lucky to. “Well,” Bel said coolly. “I suppose that’s somethin’.”
“I’d fuck him any day,” Matt said. “He’s hot. And he’ll do some fucked-up shit.”
Bel slammed his glass on the bar, still a third full. He was sweating and angry and he wanted to get the fuck out of here.
Matt grinned. “Just because he ain’t right don’t mean he can’t have a little fun.”
Larry cuffed Matt on the back of the head.
Jake leaned across the bar. “Whitlock’s my superhero,” he said in a stage whisper. “Getting rid of Kenny Cooper. Cooper used to give me all kinds of shit in high school. I fuck Danny to thank him.”
There was a power Bel felt in certain moments—a power that came from being a cop. An authority that came with a uniform and badge. And then there were moments like this when he knew his badge meant nothing, when he felt outnumbered and useless. He thought about the mourners at Cooper’s vigil, and how he’d tried to feel sorry for them. There was an anger in him now that he couldn’t even begin to sort through.
“Well, he’s righter’n the head than any of you,” Bel snapped. He tossed a five onto the bar and left.
His cell said it was only nine. Felt later. No word from Daniel yet, which was probably a good thing.
Bel got in his car and drove awhile.
He ended up way out on 601, halfway to Goose Creek. Far away from town and far away from Daniel, who might text or call any minute. Bel drove partway into the apple orchard, stopped, and got out of his car. Walked over to one of the skinnier trees and sat down with his back against the trunk.
What do you want, Bel? A relationship you gotta keep defending? With someone you gotta keep protecting—from himself most of all?
But when had Bel really protected Daniel? Daniel had been on his own for years before Bel.
Does he really need you?
Do you really want him to?
Bel didn’t know what he wanted to be. Daniel’s hero? Daniel’s dom? Daniel’s boyfriend? He’d never dated anyone. Had never bullshitted himself that one day he’d fall in love with a man. But neither did he bullshit himself that he was gonna pretend to fall in love with some woman and settle down. True, a single man in Logan would get talked about, especially as he got older. But the nice thing about being a cop was you had an excuse. The long hours. The commitment you’d made to serving the public. People still preferred you had a wife and kids, but they cut you a little slack.
So was it enough? Was it enough to spend a lifetime in Logan arresting his former classmates for taking baseball bats to mailboxes or for turning up in their underwear in a ditch, high as the river in spring? Needed something more than that. And maybe that something more was Daniel, but Bel was scared. How many more nights could he spend with his arms around Daniel before something had to give? Before Daniel had to get better, or worse? Before Bel had to decide what he was to Daniel, and what Daniel was to him?
I ain’t gonna leave him.
Bel was slowly starting to feel the weight of what it meant to take sides. To make himself an outcast in the town. And the best way to ease the fear and the pressure was to strengthen his tie to Daniel. People ended up together for a lot of reasons, and very rarely was one of those reasons the kind of kissing-on-a-mountaintop-at-sunset bullshit you saw in movies. Mostly people were just too chickenshit to walk through the world alone.
It was ten thirty, and still no word from Daniel. Bel didn’t know if he was upset or relieved.
He sat under the apple tree and picked a stick into splinters. Thought about the guys he’d seen online who wore leather and had their partners on leashes or strapped to crosses or kneeling at their feet. Thought of the stuff he’d read about how all this bondage and leather shit was consensual. That it was really the guy who was being whipped who ran the show. Traffic light safewords—red, yellow, green; did Daniel know about all this?
It wasn’t that Bel didn’t believe it was consensual. He had known a guy in Goose Creek who liked to take it real rough, and another guy who’d visited Logan from out of town who’d wanted Bel to call him a whore about every two seconds. Had asked for it. Told Bel just how to say it too.
The trouble was that Daniel was so obviously not the guy from that online photo, kneeling at his dom’s feet. Okay, maybe that wasn’t true. Daniel was capable of looking that adoring, that lost in his own pleasure, that submissive. But Bel had also seen him look scared as fuck—when he was cuffed to the bed, hallucinating fire. When he was dreaming about the beating he’d taken from Kenny Cooper. Bel had trouble figuring out how tying Daniel up or whipping him wasn’t going to fuck with his mind after all he’d been through.
So what was the right thing to do? Tell Daniel that what he was asking for wasn’t all right, that he needed to find a better way of dealing with whatever was going on in his head?
&n
bsp; I like being in charge.
Didn’t even know I would, but I do.
Bel loved tying Daniel up. Loved seeing Daniel kneel—loved stroking Daniel’s hair while he knelt and having Daniel press his forehead against Bel’s thigh. He sure as hell liked fucking Daniel. He might not even mind giving Daniel a licking, if that was something Daniel wanted.
But something bugged him about the whole situation. And maybe if he knew more about BDSM—what it meant, for instance; he could never quite remember all the words the letters fucking stood for—he’d know what to do. But he was ignorant. Which was a big problem when it came to dealing with Daniel.
Bel jumped when his phone buzzed. Checked the text.
Heading to your place now.
Time to head back and meet Daniel at the house. Daniel knew where the spare key was. He could let himself in. Or . . .
Maybe it was time to be less ignorant about Daniel.
At the orchard. Get your ass out here.
He hit Send before he remembered that Daniel might be out of sorts after that family dinner. Might not be in the mood for Yes sir, No sir games.
Shit.
He texted: Please.
A little politer, at least.
Bel sat back and waited.
* * *
There’d been a time when a family birthday meant they’d all go out to dinner, or that the house would be full of people. Not for a long time now. Now it was just the four of them, sitting around the dining room table and trying to think of things to say to one another.
“How’s Charleston?” Daniel asked Casey.
“It’s good,” she said. “Expensive sometimes, but I got a nice place. Next semester, I’m gonna share with Aiden.”
“Oh.” Daniel had no idea who that was. A boyfriend, he guessed, from his mom’s disapproving frown.
“Did you buy your sister a birthday present, Daniel?” his mom asked.
“I—I didn’t expect to get invited,” Daniel said.
His mother stared at him. “Don’t make this all about you.”
“Jean.” His father’s voice was quiet.
“It doesn’t matter!” Casey said too brightly. “I don’t need a present.”
“Oh, honey,” their mom shook her head as though Casey was being a martyr to Daniel’s selfishness. She reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Mom.” Casey pulled her hand away. “Really. I don’t need a present.”
A silence settled over the dining room.
Daniel had been happy in this house once, but with every visit, it got harder and harder to remember those times.
“I’m going to meet some of the old gang at the Shack,” Casey announced over dessert.
“At this hour?” their mother asked.
“Sure.”
“You should take the car,” their dad said.
“It’s my birthday, Dad.” Casey smiled. “I’m gonna be drinking!”
“I’ll drive you then. How are you getting home?”
“I’ll get someone to walk me home after,” Casey said. “And Daniel can drive me there, right, Daniel? I mean, you gotta go down Main to get home.”
Daniel looked up from his pie, startled. “Um, yeah, sure.”
He was planning on going to Bel’s, but the family didn’t need to know that. This was Logan. Not like anywhere was more than five minutes out of the way. Why did Casey want him to drive her? Foolish to hope maybe she wanted to spend time with him, but he couldn’t help himself.
Casey pushed her plate away. “You want any help washing the dishes, Mom?”
“No, honey. But let your father drive you to the Shack.”
“Why?” Casey asked, jutting her chin out. “Why shouldn’t Daniel drive me?”
Their parents exchanged glances that Daniel couldn’t read. In the sudden silence, Daniel pushed his chair back. “Thanks for dinner. I gotta go.”
“I’m coming with you,” Casey said.
She followed him outside to his car.
“You really want a lift?”
“’Course I do.” She wrenched the door open and climbed inside. “They like that all the time with you?”
Daniel adjusted his seat belt. “Dad’s okay. Mom . . . Mom’s not okay.”
Casey sighed. “I was a bitch to you in high school. I mean, I was a bitch to everyone, but you especially. You ruined my life back then, you know?”
“I know.” Daniel started the car.
Casey reached out and touched his shoulder. “Yeah, but anything would have ruined my life. The wrong color nail polish, last season’s jeans . . .”
“A freak for a brother.”
Casey was silent for a while. “That time in Harnee’s, you took me by surprise. I didn’t know what to say, and I’m sorry. Mom said you never come into town, ’cept for work.”
“You asked about me?”
“Of course I did. You didn’t die, Daniel. You didn’t just vanish after you went to prison. You’re still my brother.”
Daniel fixed his gaze on the road. Didn’t want to Casey to see he was tearing up. “Thanks.”
Casey turned her head and stared out at the passing houses. “Why do you stay in Logan?”
“Parole board says I gotta.”
“You gonna leave when that’s done?”
“I don’t know,” he lied. “No. I—I almost got a handle on things here, Case. As good as I’ll ever have.”
“You could do better,” Casey said. “Why stay in a place where everyone hates the sight of you?”
Cut deep and hurt bad coming from her, even if it was mostly true.
“Got the cabin,” Daniel said. “Got a job. Got a routine.”
Got Bel.
He doesn’t hate the sight of me. You don’t know everything, you or anyone in this town. Think I can do better? I am doing better.
“You oughta come and visit me in Charleston when you can,” Casey told him.
Daniel turned wide onto Main. What the hell was she trying to do? Coming here, playing nice, saying he should visit her? Did she feel guilty? Was that it?
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but he didn’t take it out. “That probably wouldn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Because I still do it,” Daniel said bitterly. “Still sleepwalk. Still wake up not knowing what I’ve done. You don’t want me in your town, Case, not even for a bit. You know what I can do.”
“I know exactly what you can do,” Casey said as they pulled up outside the Shack. “I miss you, though. I miss the way we used to be friends.”
Daniel didn’t remember that. He remembered fighting with her. Remembered that any time their parents had to take sides, they took hers. Remembered her making friends at school and ignoring him as much as possible.
But there’d been more to it than that. Casey could be sweet, sometimes. Just because the good times weren’t what stuck with Daniel didn’t mean they hadn’t existed.
He’d been convinced everyone had written him off. Hadn’t occurred to him he might have shut people out too. Hadn’t occurred to him he had that kind of power.
When he’d moved back here after college, he’d stayed inside as much as possible, sure that his parents were embarrassed to have him in Logan again. After Kenny Cooper’d beaten him, he’d spent weeks in bed. His mom had done his grocery shopping, cooked for him, and he’d treated her coldly. His self-loathing and fear were great enough that he’d needed to project some of it onto her.
But he’d never known what she really felt. Maybe she’d pitied him, and maybe she’d cried for him. Maybe she’d hated Kenny Cooper with a force that scared her. Daniel had never looked at her with any hope of seeing love or sympathy. He’d needed to see loathing, disgust—deserved to see it—and so he had.
And maybe he’d done the same to Casey. Disregarded the complexity of her feelings for him in favor of an easy verdict: she hated him, and she wanted to forget he existed.
“That was a long time ago,” Daniel s
aid.
“So?” Casey unclipped her belt. “You want to come in for a beer?”
“No. Can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Daniel almost smiled. Same old Casey. Always asking her bullheaded questions. “Because it’s your birthday, and you don’t need your freak brother starting shit for you.” He did smile then. “Go and have fun, okay?”
She stared at him, and Daniel felt a flash of fear. She was judging him, he knew she was. Just wished he knew what she saw.
She shrugged suddenly. “What do I know? I’m just your little sister. But you ought to stop hiding on account of everyone else, okay?”
“I’m not hiding. It’s just easier this way.”
“You’re letting people push you around. Just like when we were kids.”
“I didn’t—”
“Remember when I had to punch Cody Miller for throwing rocks at you?”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
She snickered. “I really enjoyed it though.”
“And then you punched me.”
“For being a chickenshit.” She looked at him. “You gotta fight back,” she said quietly.
Because that turned out so well with Kenny.
He’d fantasized about retaliation for months after Kenny had attacked him. If only he’d been conscious when he’d actually gone to get his revenge. If only he’d stopped short of killing him. If only he hadn’t been such a coward, letting his subconscious do the dirty work.
Can’t fight back. I’ll always lose.
He scratched the back of his neck and tried to smile. “All right. Go on.”
“Okay.” She opened the door, then turned back and surprised him with a hug. “I’m heading back tomorrow. But you email me, okay? Promise me.”