The way he said that last bit was like he regretted it or that we shouldn’t be on this bench when Erica arrived. And again, I condemned myself for reading into his tone at such a time.
Spencer paused once more. “Thank you for coming. I needed y—” He winced. “I needed someone I trusted, someone who loves my son as much as I do.” To my shock, he hugged me again, sudden, hard, and fierce. The stubble on his cheek scratched against mine. He whispered, low and hot against my ear, “Thank you.”
Then he stepped away, not meeting my eyes.
For weeks I battled with that memory. One moment taking his touch, the sound of his voice, him calling me as more than it was. Him needing me, him wanting to feel me, him choosing me. The rest of the time I crucified myself mentally for even considering such nonsense. For even entertaining the notion. Not only because of Erica and the fact that Spencer was my brother-in-law, but because that time should have been about my nephew. Who I truly did love as much as if he were my own. There should’ve been no thought other than his safety. But in the dark of night, the memory of Spencer’s hand in mine, the strength of his body, the scrape of his beard, the masculine smell of him would come back. Fill my dreams, haunt me in my lonely and weak moments. Make me imagine things I shouldn’t. Increase a desire that I should be killing instead of stoking like a fire.
“There’s something wrong, I don’t know what it is, but you might as well tell me and get it over with. You know I’ll figure it out.” Mom tapped the table. “But give me a spoiler at least. I don’t need to be worried about anything health related, do I?”
“No, Mom. Healthy as a horse.” And that was probably true, especially considering the amount of physical exercise I’d dived into in the two days since Spencer had joined me in the shower. Every evening after work, it was like I was training for a triathlon. But it was the only time each day when my brain finally shut down. Despite the occasional protest from my muscles and joints, I almost felt like I was thirty again. Although, any benefit the cardio provided to my heart, the stress was taking away.
“I’m glad you’re healthy, but something’s wrong. Even your nephews didn’t make you laugh tonight, and I don’t remember that ever happening before.”
If there was ever a parent who would understand what I was going through, it would be my mother. She was always a realist and rarely sugarcoated anything. Even her own faults. Wanda Betts Carlisle was the definition of practical. I suppose me pining after my brother-in-law for the past decade wasn’t exactly practical, but neither would it shock her. She might be the only one on either side of the family who would be able to claim that.
Maybe I gave in because my therapist was away and wouldn’t be returning for several more days and I was feeling a bit desperate. “I’m not giving you details, but I’m afraid I’ve done something the family won’t be happy about.” The unspoken truth was that wasn’t a huge factor. Not ultimately, at least. I had made a list in my evenings alone. The con list outweighed the positive. But the cons mostly revolved around everyone else. The family, rumors, drama. Maybe such things would’ve stopped me a decade before, but not now. Still, I felt I needed to offer Mom some sort of warning.
Her eyes widened, her tone was worried. “You and your brother seemed fine tonight. I know Tiffany can be a little bit abrasive, but—”
“No, Mom. Not us, the other side of the family.”
She let out a relieved sigh and visibly relaxed. “Oh, good.” She straightened, correcting herself before I could interject. “Not that I want anything bad to happen there either, but I’m glad things are okay with us.” A smile played on her lips. “I don’t suppose you finally told your father where he can stuff it?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Didn’t figure.” She shrugged. “Oh well.” She motioned toward our waitress, who veered off from the direction she was headed. “Can we put in an order for two decaf coffees and some of Mabel’s peach pie? We’re going to be here awhile.”
“Mom.” I let out a warning growl, regretting opening up already.
She waved me off, addressing our server instead. “Ignore him, he’s a party pooper. We’ll take some ice cream too.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The waitress nodded and headed off to the kitchen once more.
Mom looked back at me and folded her hands together on top of the table, leveling her gaze. “Fill me in, Donovan. You know I’ll keep my mouth shut and I won’t judge.”
That I did know. My mother never judged anyone, except for my father. But even that was sparing. Mom had been John Carlisle’s second wife. They’d gotten together while he was still with his first. Though I didn’t remember their divorce, I’d always felt that Mom believed she deserved it when he left her, as well, for a younger woman. The only difference being, she was pregnant with my younger brother at the same time as his mistress was pregnant with Erica’s older brother. I knew she’d understand matters of the heart not being clear-cut, but as close as I was to her, talking about sex had never been one of our things.
After a minute of me trying to decide what to say, she let out a huff. “Spit it out, Donovan.”
“I’m in l—” No. No way in hell was I doing this. I shook my head as if trying to clear away whatever fog had entered my brain to make me think talking about any of this with my mother was a good idea. “Sorry, Mom. It’s just too weird. I can’t.”
“Oh.” Her voice perked up. “So it’s about sex.”
I covered my face with my hands and rested my elbows on the table, refusing to look at her. “My God.”
She chuckled. “Oh, come on. You’re a forty-five-year-old man. I think by this point we can talk about sex.”
I glanced at her through my fingers. “I’m forty-two, Mom. And you’re the second person to do that recently.”
“Talk to me about age when you’re sixty-four.” The teasing left her voice. “I’m sorry whatever is happening is causing you worry, but I’m glad that there is someone. You’ve been alone for so long. I don’t want that for you.”
Our waitress came over with coffee and dessert, thankfully. She was walking away when Mom’s eyes widened. I followed her gaze over my shoulder. Erica and Cody had just entered the restaurant. Erica halted instantly. She smiled at me and gave a half-hearted wave toward my mother. I could tell she was trying to decide whether to stay or leave. Probably deciding it was more awkward to back out now, they took a seat on the far side of the restaurant.
“This town is too damn small.” Mom took a large forkful of pie and ice cream and stuffed it in her mouth. She swallowed it too quickly to have either chewed or tasted it. “I don’t know why I stayed so you and your brother could have a relationship with that man. It would’ve been better for all of us if I had moved us back home to my parents.”
I stayed silent and let the dessert do the distracting for me.
“I’ll tell you one thing; your little sister comes by it naturally. Although cheating on that Spencer, I just can’t imagine it. You couldn’t ask for anyone nicer.” It sounded like the dessert wasn’t doing such a great job of distracting my mother. Her voice lowered. “Although, I guess I’m in no place to judge.” Over forty years later, and I doubted a day went by that my mom didn’t rake herself over the coals for her affair. Every heartache, every sorrow, and every stress had been viewed from the lens of her getting what she deserved. Even the battle with breast cancer and the double mastectomy. It hurt to watch.
The pie was gone, and we were on our second cup of decaf when she finally returned to the topic at hand. “You’re worried about something sexual tearing up our families. Honestly, Donovan, I can’t even imagine what’s worrying you. What sexual scandal hasn’t happened in our family? And yet we’re all still here. Unless you’re in love with a goat or something. There’s nothing you can do that your father or I would have any room to pass judgment on. Although, I do hope you’re making choices that won’t haunt you for the rest of your life.” Once again, her gaze flicked over my shoulder
toward the door, then away distractedly. She sucked in a breath and looked back. “Oh, well, here we go and speaking of the devil.”
I turned around. Spencer and the kids stood in the doorway. I followed his gaze to Erica and Cody. He started to back out the door, but Ethan noticed me and let out a happy yell. “Uncle Donovan!”
As Ethan rushed over, Spencer whipped his head around to look at me. At any other time, with any other person, or in any other situation, the clash of emotions over his face might’ve been comical. But humor was the last thing on my mind as Ethan smashed into me with a hug. Spencer looked completely terrified, though he masked it as quickly as he could.
Across the table, as Emma joined in the hug as well, I heard my mother sucking a little gasp of comprehension. It seemed he hadn’t covered his reaction as quickly as I’d thought.
Despite Emma’s and Ethan’s protestations, my mother and I left quickly. We stayed long enough to say our hellos and other such pleasantries that nobody truly cared about, and dashed out the door. She didn’t even comment on me tossing down a wad of cash to pay for the dinner. I walked her to her car, and she met my gaze after I gave her a hug. “I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. Maybe it’s because I haven’t spent very much time with the two of you in the same room. Or maybe I just never would’ve considered….” Her tone was sad, not judgmental. “Honestly, I don’t care about John or the rest of his stupid family. Though the kids are innocent. My only worry is you. And this could tear you up.” She patted my cheek before she stepped into her car. “I love you, Donovan. I don’t want you to hurt.”
Eight
Spencer
I drove straight from the firm in San Francisco to Donovan’s. I’d been a beast in the courtroom all day, even more than normal. Actually, that had been truer with every passing day. Part of me pretended it was due to stressing over everything. That worrying about the fallout of Donovan and I was getting to me and I was taking out my frustrations in the courtroom. The truth was so much worse. My feelings were hurt.
I had made every single move on Donovan. Granted, the first one was sort of anonymous, but still. After our time in the shower, it made sense that he needed time to think things through. But I wanted to believe he wanted me as much as I wanted him. That he’d throw caution to the wind. Now that we’d crossed that line, every fiber of my being needed him. The Donovan-shaped matches I’d kept dousing with water since the night I met him had been struck, and I was on fire. Every moment the kids weren’t with me was a struggle to keep from going over to Donovan’s. It seemed he wasn’t having that problem. So, yeah, I was a raging terror in the courtroom, locking up cases right and left, all because I was acting like a butt-hurt teenager.
After yesterday’s little scene at Mabel’s, I’d had enough. Pausing at his front door, I collected my emotions. The last thing I wanted was for him to see how hurt I was. It was embarrassing enough to admit such ridiculous things to myself. I didn’t need him being aware of it. I knocked and only had to wait for a moment before Donovan answered.
He only looked partially surprised. “Hi. I wondered if you’d stop by soon.”
That served to irritate me further. Obviously, he saw me as a pathetic little puppy who was going to come begging. My irritation was short-lived, or at least distracted, when I glanced down at his shirtless chest. Pathetic puppy or not, it took every ounce of my willpower not to reach out and touch him.
“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Donovan shut the door.
I almost expected to hear the click of the lock, guaranteeing that I wouldn’t follow him into the shower or something this time. And fuck me if that wasn’t tempting. More as an act of rebellion than anything else, I turned and walked across the porch and took the same place on the swing as I had the other day.
Within a couple of minutes, the front door opened and Donovan emerged, a loose T-shirt covering his sexy chest. I needed to pick which emotion I was going to stick with. Irritated or aroused.
Donovan paused on his way across the porch. “I should’ve asked, do you need the restroom? Can I get you something to drink or eat?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m good, thanks.”
Donovan also took the same seat he had the other day.
“So, I figured we needed to talk. Especially after running into each other at Mabel’s.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I didn’t invite you in. I figured we’re more likely to actually talk out here.”
I couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “You think it’s safe we won’t give the neighbors a show?”
He shrugged, his lips curving into a wicked half-grin.
God, the thought of that. Pouncing on him out here, in front of everyone. Not giving a shit. Maybe we weren’t much safer out here than inside.
“Sorry about last night.”
That wasn’t what I wanted him to be sorry for. Though I hated that I wanted him to be sorry for anything. “It wasn’t your fault, Donovan. If anything, it was mine. I guess I’m not used to having to consider where Erica is having her date. I could at least look in the damn windows and see who’s there before I walk in.”
“Small town.”
“Yeah. Tell me about it.” Words failed me after that, and I used my heels to make the porch swing rock slightly. I started to fidget with my wedding ring, then remembered it was gone. Instead, I loosened the knot of my tie. I hadn’t even realized I was still wearing it.
He cleared his throat, and from the corner of my eye I noticed him adjust himself. I couldn’t help but look, then lifted my gaze to his. Donovan’s cheeks darkened. “Sorry, you’ve always looked crazy hot in a suit.”
I glanced down at his crotch, and sure enough, his bulge was growing. A suit, huh? I dropped my hands away from my tie. I wasn’t going to get distracted by sex, no matter how much I wanted to. “I kinda thought you’d call or stop by after….” Shit, even I could hear the hurt in my voice.
Donovan flinched. “You wanted me to?”
I met his gaze but couldn’t answer. I’d already been too vulnerable the way it was.
“Do you honestly think I didn’t want to? I’ve spent the past couple of days running so much that I need to buy new running shoes. And I’m not even saying that figuratively.”
Relief cut through me at the sincerity of his words. Unfortunately, it allowed the irritation to return. “Donovan, of course I wanted you to. I’m not sure how I could be any clearer.”
He snorted. “I guess you couldn’t be really. I just….” He shrugged. “It’s a lot, you know? So many complicated details that I thought I needed to figure out. I know I want you. I guess the possibility of maybe being able to actually have you is a bit mind-blowing. Up until a few days ago you were my straight brother-in-law. The epitome of the untouchable fantasy. I still can’t quite believe this is happening. I’d chalked up the times I’d thought I felt… something from you as just projecting my own desire.”
I’d spent so much of my life terrified that someone would notice it in me that part of me believed everyone saw it. That they all agreed to look the other way or pretend that they didn’t notice, just to be nice. But there was proof, even Donovan, who had known me for so long, and made his living off understanding people, had been fooled. I glanced around, checking to see if anybody was walking by. No one was, but I lowered my voice anyway before looking back at him. “You really didn’t know? All this time?”
Donovan hesitated, his mouth moving but no words coming. “I, ah….” He scowled. “Like I said, I thought I felt an attraction from you from time to time, but I didn’t dwell on it. I didn’t let myself consider that you might actually be gay. Which… you are. Obviously.”
I hated that talking about this still stirred up so much shit in me. “Does it really matter? If I’m gay, if I’m not, do we really have to label it? Does it change things?”
“Honestly, Spencer, I don’t know. On the one hand, I feel like a shit brother to Erica for lusting after her husband for the past
ten years. On the other, I’m trying to decide what’s best for the family, what’s best for the kids, what’s best for you, and I keep coming back to the fact that I want you. Pure and simple.” His words tumbled out, like rapids over stones, so fast and forceful that they were almost hard to understand. “Part of me thinks I should stop this right now, should’ve stopped it before it started, but I don’t know how to turn away from you. I don’t want to.”
The night I met Donovan Carlisle was emblazoned in my mind. It was a moment I’d never forget. A moment that broke me, and one I still couldn’t believe I’d survived. I’d thought I had put all my homosexual desires away. Believed that all the prayers of my family, and my own prayers, had finally been answered.
From the night I’d met Erica, it seemed like the miracle we’d all been waiting for had finally occurred. Those short months had been the happiest of my entire life. The happiest of my family’s as well. They didn’t like that we were going to live in Lavender Shores; they knew its history and what it stood for. They didn’t approve of me taking her last name, and they would never understand the founding families’ obsession with being a founding family. There were a million things they didn’t like or support about our relationship, but ultimately, they didn’t care, and neither did I. Because I was in love with a woman, and that surpassed everything. It was the will of God, and the thing everyone had been praying and fasting over for so very long. Despite our beliefs around premarital sex, when they discovered Erica was pregnant and we were engaged, even that didn’t matter. Not only had their prayers been answered with a wife, but confirmed by procreation. Truly, from the night I met Erica to the night of our engagement party, I had not a single doubt about my transformation.
The Veranda (Lavender Shores Book 3) Page 8