Wrecked

by Deanna Wadsworth

  “That’s not true!”

  Rief arched his brows. “The day Dad died, you made it pretty clear you wanted me and all of my troubles gone from your life. At least he pretended to like me.”

  “He wasn’t pretending,” Cole insisted, looking indignant. “He loved you.”

  “He might have loved me, but he didn’t like me,” Rief argued. Like Pandora’s Box, once opened, there was no closing it. He couldn’t keep the sour jealousy from his tone. “Not the way he liked you.”

  “And Mother liked you a helluva lot better than she liked me,” Cole snapped, his entire body tense, his cheeks red. “So I guess we both lose.”

  The sad truth of those words, the pain they’d endured, quelled Rief’s mounting irritation. Feeling suddenly very sorry for both of them, he stared at the journal, unable to look upon his brother as he confessed, “I never asked to be this way, Cole.”

  “Yeah,” he whispered. “I don’t suppose you did.”

  Rief didn’t bother to ask what “way” Cole thought he was referring to, because frankly he didn’t want to know.

  While the silence spread out between them like the Straits reaching across the Florida coastline, Rief leafed through the pages of the journal. It surprised him to see drawings among the entries, and rather good ones, at that. “So what am I going to read in here that’s supposed to help me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is it going to fix me? Make the sight go away?” he muttered, lips thickening with a grief he couldn’t squash. “Will it bring Mother back?”

  Cole remained quiet for a long uncomfortable moment. “You could never have stopped her, Rief,” he finally said, his face screwed up in confusion. “I don’t think any of us could’ve changed her mind.”

  Fighting the swell of tears he had no intention of allowing Cole to witness, he averted his face. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

  “We can’t change the past, no matter how badly we both want to. But Uncle Richard seems to think you might find something in that journal to make things easier. So you don’t....”

  When his voice trailed off, Rief looked up in surprise. “So I don’t what? Kill myself?”

  “Rief—”

  A bitter laugh escaped his lips despite the pained look on Cole’s face. “Though it would make everyone’s life easier, and I admit the thought has crossed my mind, don’t worry. I have no intention of taking my own life.”

  Not when he finally had something worth living for.

  “I’m glad,” Cole said.

  As he studied his brother for truth, that foolish need for acceptance he’d felt since boyhood consumed him worse than any vision or fit of painting. He’d spent years pretending to ignore that need, heaping it with a thick layer of anger. Even allowing himself to be hurt in the name of passion, just so he could forget he was unwanted, unloved. Most of his life he’d carried a sense of emptiness within, a haunting desperation to belong. If his own family could not love or accept him, how could anyone else?

  Then the unimaginable had happened.

  The man of his dreams had walked right off the canvas and into his life, loving and accepting him without question.

  With his innocence, his patience, and confident touch, Mathew had made Rief feel wanted. Loveable. And in a heated promise last night, he had vowed to stay by his side.

  To love him forever.

  At the dawn of this new beginning, could his relationship with Cole be healing too?

  “So where do we go from here?” Rief asked carefully, not wanting to strain this tenuous start.

  Cole shrugged his shoulders. “You’re my brother. I don’t know if we can ever be friends, but I’d like to put things behind us. Leave the past in the past.”

  “We can do that,” he said, wisely refraining from saying that it still wouldn’t change who and what Rief was. At least Cole seemed to be trying, something no one in his family had done before. If his time with Mathew had taught him anything, perhaps life was not always consumed with the shadows and darkness of grief.

  Sometimes the sun really did shine.

  They remained quiet, both of them looking everywhere but at each other. He shifted his aching leg, shuffling up some ash and sending the acrid smell of smoke to permeate his nostrils. He didn’t think he would ever be able to not smell smoke again.

  “Bunden sent a boy ’round the house this morning,” Cole said, startling Rief with his shift in conversation. “Mr. Weston dropped the charges.”

  “Matt? He dropped the charges?”

  “Yes, apparently he took over his father’s portion of the business. He spoke with an arbitrator and agreed to settle out of court and pay us a fair twenty percent for our services.” Giddy excitement danced in Cole’s eyes, the pride that his first job as wreck master brought such a good payout—and with it, bragging rights. “He’s a good friend,” he added.

  Unsure if his brother could handle the truth but refusing to pretend, Rief said, “He’s not just my friend. But you know that, don’t you?”

  Cole blustered, fidgeting and pursing his lips. “Yeah, well, I don’t understand that at all.”

  “You don’t have to,” he snapped. His old friends, Anger and Distrust, returned in a hurry to protect his heart. He bunched his fists. “We don’t have to discuss it—”

  “That would suit me fine,” Cole interrupted with a bemused chuckle.

  Crushed that their love made his brother so uncomfortable, Rief sat up straighter, indignation quelling the pain. “I didn’t ask to have the sight, and I didn’t ask to prefer men over women,” he hissed, careful not to speak too loudly. “But it is who I am, Cole. Take it or leave it, I don’t care anymore. But know this”—he raised a trembling finger to point—“if you’ve extended a false hand of friendship to me today, then I will declare to the world that I have no brother. We will go back to the way it has always been, when you felt nothing for me but hatred.”

  “How many times do I have to say that I don’t hate you?” Cole demanded loudly, his chest puffing up.

  “You’re drawing an audience,” Rief warned when two men checking out the fire damage looked over.

  Breathing in deep through his nose to contain his temper, Cole lowered his voice. “I do not hate you. Do I understand you? No. Have I been embarrassed by you? Yes. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t make me mad that you aren’t normal, or that people always have to ask me what’s wrong with my brother or if our parents dropped you on your head. It hurts me.”

  “How do you think I feel?”

  “I’m truly sorry about that, but this—” He waved his hand around as if unable to find the appropriate word. “—this thing with Weston, how can you? I mean, with a man? You know it’s wro—”

  “Stop, right now,” Rief ordered, his face boiling with fury. “Don’t say what you’re thinking, or I’ll make you regret it.”

  His brother’s eyes widened at the brash threat. He glanced over his shoulder, but the men nearby were not paying them any heed. “Why do you make this life harder on yourself than it needs to be? I swear, it’s almost as if you want people to hate you.”

  Those words were like a knife in the heart, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Could there never be a part of his life that he didn’t have to hide or defend? Couldn’t he just live, or would he forever have to qualify everything? He had finally found happiness and acceptance in the arms of someone who loved him, yet their love would have to remain a dirty secret, too disgusting in the eyes of others to dare mention. Mathew’s father had called their relationship nauseating, immoral.

  And Rief could read those same words written clearly across Cole’s face.

  Somehow he found his voice, broken and pained though it sounded. “Do you know what I want, Cole?” he asked, fighting tears of anguish as he confessed things he was barely able to admit to himself. “I want someone to love me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I have been completely and utterly alone since Mother died. Most touch or affe
ction I’ve had to pay for. People on the street spit at me. My own family barely tolerates my presence. Though you might be trying today, you cannot change the past. I’ve finally found love, yet it sickens you and you say that it’s wrong. Well, everything about my very existence has always been wrong. But tell me this, brother, what is so wrong with wanting to be loved?”

  Cole’s face scrunched up in puzzlement. “So that’s what this is to you? Love?”

  “Yes!” he cried, brushing angrily at his face with the back of his hands, wishing he could contain his emotions and shake his brother until he understood. “I love him and he loves me. All of me, even this curse I cannot stop and do not want. If you want to pretend it isn’t real, fine. If you want to condemn me and ignore all the things you don’t like or understand about me, just like Dad always did, that’s your prerogative as well. For my part, I am done trying to make people accept me.” Rief gave a throwaway gesture, knocking his crutch to the ground with a clatter. “To hell with all of you!”

  The two men who had been gawking took his outburst as their cue to leave, but not before whispering and pointing at Rief. But he didn’t care, not even when one of them crossed himself. Let them talk, let them stare. He was used to being the center of gossip, of being on the outside looking in.

  At least he didn’t have to stand there by himself any longer.

  “That’s not fair.” Cole looked around awkwardly.

  Rief fought to keep his voice level, because if he didn’t get a hold of himself, he might begin weeping and he would be unable to stop. “Well, it’s not fair that you intend to stop hating me for one thing, only to despise me for something new.”

  His brother looked as if he’d been slapped. And for the first time in memory, Rief did not see anger or contempt in Cole’s face. Nor pity.

  It was shame.

  Rief heaved a weary sigh and wiped at his eyes, the anger receding as fast as it had come. He’d been foolish to think Cole would accept his relationship with Mathew.

  No one ever would.

  It seemed Cole had finished with the conversation, however, and he steeled his face. “Yes, well, let’s not fight over this. Do what you have to, I guess. Just thank Weston when you see him for paying us fairly.”

  Movement from the corner of his eye caught Rief’s attention, and any remaining foul temper dissipated immediately. The tightening in his chest eased and a smile teased his lips. He pointed behind Cole. “Looks like you can thank him yourself.”

  Startled, Cole turned.

  As dapper as usual in a brown top hat and a fine linen frock coat, Mathew was picking his way toward them over the uneven ground. His impeccable attire and peaceful presence in the burned setting was a ray of sunshine through a storm, only eclipsed by the wide smile he wore.

  “I knew I would find you here, Rief.”

  Drawing courage and happiness from those crystalline blue eyes, Rief only smiled, afraid of his reaction to the arrival of his lover in front of his brother.

  “Have you found Sully?” Mathew asked, looking around.

  The ache of loss hit him again, and he swallowed back the lump in his throat. “No.”

  Brushing off a bit of charcoal from the hem of his printed trousers, Mathew offered him a reassuring smile. “Oh, I’m positive he’s fine. I imagine he’s down at the docks scavenging for a fish head or some such. He’ll turn up, don’t worry.”

  He nodded, noting that Cole wore an uncomfortable expression as he took in their exchange, his stares itching across Rief’s skin. What did he think of their easy camaraderie? Was he trying to understand, or was he pretending the previous conversation had never happened?

  Mathew tipped his hat at Cole. “Good day, Captain Lawson.”

  “The same to you, Mr. Weston.” Cole gave him a curt nod. “And thank you for honoring our contract.”

  “You’re very welcome. But how could I cheat the man who saved my life?”

  “True,” Cole said, nodding fast. “It was good luck that Rief was there to save you.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, you’ve misunderstood me,” Mathew said at once. “Your brother may have saved me from dying in the storm, but last night, when you pulled Rief from the fire, you, Captain Lawson, saved my life.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, then glanced quickly at Rief. His face went crimson, and he muttered, “Oh, yes, I suppose, uh... yeah. I understand, um... well? I’m trying to.”

  “That is all we ask,” Mathew said with a somber bow.

  Cole nodded, fidgeting with his hands. “All right, then, I need to get going. Busy day,” he muttered before looking at Rief. “Are you staying at Richard’s, then?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied, as it dawned on him that he was now homeless. He’d slept in his uncle’s home last night, but he couldn’t remain there forever.

  “Perhaps I can be of assistance.” Mathew placed his hands against his lower back, smiling as if he had a great secret. “I recently purchased an inn. We have plenty of availability.”

  “You bought the inn?” Rief said, taken aback.

  “Yes, I am thinking of calling it Pembroke House. What do you think?” he said with delight. When he raised mischievous brows, Rief noted with chagrin most of the hairs had been singed.

  He shook his head. “It’s a fine name, but why?”

  “Because it is my legacy, silly.”

  Cole looked perplexed and Rief chuckled and asked Mathew, “No, why did you buy it?”

  Mathew laughed, an air of drunken giddiness about his demeanor. “Ah! Supervising the repairs for the Lucky Clipper may take up to nine months, and I’m also thinking of purchasing land to start a salt farm. You promised to assist me with that, if I recall.”

  The twinkle in his eye widened the smile on Rief’s lips. “I did, Mr. Weston.”

  “I plan to hold you to all of your promises, Mr. Lawson,” he told him, with a stern but playful look laden with meaning. “Seeing as my endeavors require me to stay in Key West, I’ll need accommodations, will I not?”

  Rief let out a disbelieving sniff. “I suppose so, yes.”

  Mathew chuckled again. “Not to mention, this town is the ideal place to pick up bargain prices on goods. After my ship is repaired, I will merely wait for another inevitable wreck with which to fill its holds. Why should your lot make all the money? And if I am being honest, I’ve grown rather fond of this little island.”

  When their eyes met, the real truth of those simple words sank in to Rief’s mind.

  Could it be this easy?

  “All right, then,” Cole said, his anxiousness to leave apparent. “I suppose I’ll see you around.”

  Contemplative, Rief watched his brother walk away. He’d been wrong about so many things already. Maybe it was time to stop being angry and defensive, and give his brother the benefit of the doubt. A relationship such as theirs would never be something others accepted easily. Though it exhausted him to think about the trials they would have to tackle just to remain together, he needed to remember the words he’d once uttered to Mathew atop the lighthouse—a man had to go with his gut, follow his heart, no matter what the outcome. And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, anything was worth the risk to have Mathew by his side.

  Anxious to learn if they would even get a chance to start the life they both wanted, once they were alone, Rief asked, “What happened with your father?”

  “Well, after he tried to blackmail us, I recalled your suspicions about Torino,” Mathew explained. “So I went looking for my errant captain and found him at the same gambling house. It did not take much coin to get him to confess that my father had taken a secret insurance policy on the Lucky Clipper with himself as the beneficiary, as well as the name of this adjuster. My father offered Torino a portion of the settlement to run the ship aground on the reef. The bastard actually believed he would get a third of the first claim and the entirety of this secret policy.”

  “You went into the Bloody Hog with a purse full of coin?�
�� Rief clarified, hardly able to believe the courage of his once timid lover.

  “How else was I to prove their fraud?” he argued. “Torino’s confession was had quite cheaply, the threat of prison breaking any loyalty. I’ve always known my father’s greed knew no bounds, but the depth of his corruption still astounds me. However, my involvement with him has come to an end this day.”

  “How so?”

  Mathew then recounted the details of his loan contract with his father, and it pleased Rief that his lover had come out of the entire deal with the winning hand. But despite Mathew’s bravado, the hateful loss of family still wounded, and he would need time to heal. Cole’s thoughtless comments hurt Rief, but for all his brother’s faults, he had never tried to destroy Rief’s life. Apathy was indeed the better alternative to outright hatred. He’d been on the receiving end of both enough to know.

  “I just escorted him to a ship in the harbor,” Mathew finished. “We do not have to worry about him ever again.”

  “And Miss Kirkwood?” He held his breath, fearing the answer.

  Mathew’s mouth creased with a pained smile, and he rubbed both hands over his face. Looking at Rief through his fingers, he took a deep inhale, then composed himself. Though he stood straighter and looked calm, Rief could see the anguish in his eyes. “She and her father are returning to London within the week. We are still friends, but that is all.”

  Sensing there was more to the story Mathew was not ready to share, Rief asked, “Are you okay?”

  He gave him a weary sigh. “In time, I will be.”

  “So you really bought the inn?” Rief said after a while.

  “Indeed.”

  “And you’re going to live there?”

  “Yes,” he said, bunching his fists at his back with a grin. “Did you know Pembroke House boasts a husband-and-wife suite with large north facing windows where an artist could paint his next masterpiece in ideal lighting?”

  Rief cocked his head to the side. “Are you implying what I think you are?”