The problem was he couldn’t imagine doing that with anyone but Owen.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, lost in his personal suffering, but footsteps on the dock made him look up distractedly. He forced a smile. “Seamus. You made it.”
Stephen’s twin sat down beside him, knees bent and arms wrapped around his legs. His hair was a little longer and wavier than Stephen’s precision cut, and he wore a faded flannel over a washed out t-shirt instead of a suit and tie. Other than that and the scar that curved roguishly on Stephen’s chin, the two were identical.
Their personalities, however, were polar opposites.
“Mom has a plate waiting for you in the kitchen. She’s putting on a good show, but I can tell she’s starting to get a little worried. Are you ever planning on coming in again? It is your house.”
Jeremy shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude, I know. I just needed a minute.”
“You’re being human,” Seamus told him. “It’s allowed, considering the bombshell that just dropped on all of us. My vote was for maiming, in case you were wondering. Torture and maiming. Sadly, Stephen shot me down. Apparently his constituents frown on that sort of thing.”
“I would’ve backed you up,” Jeremy said grimly. “I still will. It’s not too late.”
“It’s done. He knows better than to come near us again, and we all had a cathartic laugh when Jen sent him that picture. And then posted it on Instagram. She earned that, but now it’s time to move forward. If I were talking to my kids, I’d tell them there’s a lesson in this. More than one.”
“Oh yeah?” What? Always listen to your first instincts? Don’t sleep with men who aren’t gay? Never kiss in public because all phones have cameras?
“Secrets rarely stay secret for long, so you may as well be honest from the start,” Seamus said. “And love is a blessing, no matter what form it takes.”
Jeremy looked at him and sighed. “Wise words. No wonder women keep leaving children on your doorstep.”
Seamus chuckled at the familiar line. “Father of the year, that’s me. I had a good teacher.”
“I didn’t.”
Seamus studied him. “No, you didn’t. But you’re still one of the better men I know. And if you’re as smart as we all know you are, you won’t give in to defeat and despair so easily. I don’t think things are as dark as they might seem.”
With Owen? “I think you might be wrong about that one.”
“Both my brothers are good men, Jeremy. Good talkers as a rule, except when it comes to their feelings. It doesn’t mean they don’t have them.”
Did he think there was still a chance? And was Seamus Finn giving Jeremy his approval to date his previously straight brother?
Seamus suddenly smiled. “You brood too much. Don’t go Van Gogh on us, Porter. You draw comics, not sunflowers. Just come and have breakfast and smile at my mother so she knows she can leave.”
Feeling better but still afraid to hope, Jeremy stood. “Yes, sir.”
As they walked slowly back toward his house, Seamus glanced at him curiously. “Speaking of secrets, did you know about Stephen and Natasha?”
“Never had a clue.” And he should have.
Seamus whistled. “That is a long damn time to keep something like that from us. Kind of blows my advice all to hell, doesn’t it?”
“You didn’t know either?”
Shaking his head, Seamus said, “Just because we’re twins doesn’t mean we’re connected at the hip, and we must have been standing in the other line when they were handing out psychic bonds. Stephen plays things pretty close to the vest—the stronger he feels, the less you know.” He shrugged. “I’m more upset with myself to be honest. Apparently, I’m the only Finn brother not doing something exciting or scandalous enough to lie about. How sad is that?”
Jeremy’s smile was rueful. “There’s always tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow I’ll still have four kids, a family business and a life full of to-do lists. Doesn’t exactly leave a lot of time for bad behavior.”
“You’re a Finn. You’ll find a way.”
And Jeremy would have a lot of free time on his hands now that needed to be filled. Maybe he could babysit.
Chapter Twelve
The sound of a crash from another room woke Jeremy from a restless sleep. Everyone had gone home hours ago, so he jolted out of bed, instantly alert. If someone had picked tonight of all nights to break into his damn house, whoever it was would be sorry. He was eager to hit something. Someone. All he needed was the right excuse.
He walked silently down the dark hall, listening.
Somebody was in his office. Swearing.
Recognizing the voice, Jeremy ground his teeth together. He leaned on the doorjamb and flipped the wall switch, blinking against the bright light that flooded the room. A familiar figure knelt on the floor beside his drafting table, trying to pick up the shards of what used to be a porcelain collectible of one of his comic book characters.
“You broke my demon.”
Owen looked up and winced. “Hell, I’m sorry. I’m not as light on my feet as I used to be.”
Jeremy looked at the open window and shook his head. “You climbed in through my window?”
“You bolted the door.” Owen stood and placed the shards on the table, brushing off his hands. “It’s the strangest thing. My key doesn’t work when you bolt the door. But since I know you always forget to lock this window I… Yeah. I guess I should have knocked.”
“Yes.” Jeremy wanted to be glad to see him, but it hurt too much. “You missed your family. All of them. Tasha too.”
Suddenly thirsty, he turned and headed for the kitchen.
Owen followed. “I know I did. There were a few things I had to do first and I figured you’d have so much company you wouldn’t notice. Then the day got away from me. I heard Jen spent the night, though. Thank you for that. I think she needed to step away from everything for a while.”
Jeremy got a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, taking a deep, much-needed drink before he spoke again. “Why are you here, Finn? It’s late.”
Owen’s expression changed from apology to surprise, then it hardened. “What do you mean, why am I here? I’m staying here. I have a key, remember?”
“Don’t play this game, Owen. If you wanted to slip in while I was asleep to grab your things, I get that. I won’t stop you.”
“You won’t stop me?” Owen crossed his arms, his biceps straining against the short sleeves of his white shirt. “Then you’re a better man than I am, Porter. If our roles were reversed and you tried to sneak away like an adolescent tool, I’d tie you up and punish you until you apologized and begged to stay.”
He’s defensive, that’s all. He doesn’t want to look like the bad guy.
Jeremy tried to slow his racing heart. “I’m fine, Owen, and according to your brother, the problem is solved. We’re good. No explanations necessary. Do you want me to help you with your bags? I put them in the guest room.”
“You packed my bags?” Owen turned away, anger in every stride as he headed down the hall, glancing back to make sure Jeremy followed him. “So now what? I walk away in the dark of night and we forget about the last two weeks? I’ll meet you for darts at the pub and you can tell me about the new man you’re breaking in with Tasha? Unless she’s busy with my brother, that is. Is that the plan?”
Jeremy was unable to remain silent. “Are you drunk or just cruel? You’re the one who didn’t come back last night, who didn’t answer my calls when you had to know I was worried as hell about what was going on.”
“I sent you a text.”
“Will talk later,” Jeremy sneered. “Yeah, I got that ode to man-speak. I also noticed that you were the only member of your family who didn’t come over today. The only one, and I don’t have to be a genius to get that message. So don’t stand there and blame me so you can feel better about yourself for ending your curiosity experiment.”
“Gonna hit me? Go ahead, Master Finn,” Jeremy fired back. “You couldn’t hurt me any more than you already have.”
Light blue eyes clouded in confusion and worry as they studied his face. Jeremy didn’t look away or struggle. Let him see what he’s done, he thought wearily. What did it matter now?
Even in this, he was weak. He never thought he’d be this close to Owen again.
When the hands gripping his shirt unclenched and started to touch him, he let out a shaky breath. Owen’s hands were on his chest. His shoulders. Cupping his neck.
“Hurt you?” Owen repeated softly. “That’s the last thing I mean to do. I thought you knew...” He slipped his hand under Jeremy’s shirt and pressed it against his hard stomach. “Here. It didn’t need to be said. You’ve always known, Jeremy. Haven’t you?”
Owen kissed him and Jeremy tried to turn his head away but the stubborn man followed, thrusting his tongue inside and taking what he wanted. Jeremy shivered, melting against the wall. Damn him. Did he want to take everything with him when he left, including his pride?
Jeremy moaned when Owen’s hand slid into his sweatpants and gripped his hardening erection.
No. If he’s leaving he needs to go. It feels good now, but you’ll hate yourself when it’s over.
“Owen, stop. Yellow, damn it.”
The hand on him disappeared and Owen stepped back, surprising him. He turned away and punched the wall so hard it left a dent. “Mother fucking—”
“Jesus, Owen. Did you break something?”
“No doubt,” Owen laughed raggedly, leaning against the damage. “I fell in through your window and landed on my bad knee, broke your demon into slivers that I’ll be finding for weeks and punched your very solid wall like an idiot. But that’s not what really hurts.” He looked into Jeremy’s eyes. “You mean it. You really want me to go, and it’s my fault. I made a decision and just acted without thinking again. Without talking. I gave you this smooth speech about communication and honesty when I wanted to paddle your ass, but when it comes to us—to you and me—I keep getting it wrong.”
The pained frustration in his voice got to Jeremy. They had too much between them for it to end like this. “Getting what wrong, Owen? Talk to me. We’re still friends, right?”
Owen shook his head, rubbing his sore knuckles. “No, I can’t. Not until I show you something. Come with me.”
Jeremy hesitated before following him toward the front door. “Can it wait? We should get some ice on that hand.”
“Come to the door, Jeremy.”
Owen unlocked the front door and waited for him, looking defeated. “You know I actually thought it would be a good idea, having the family come over for breakfast without me. ‘He’ll see that everything’s really okay,’ I thought. ‘That they aren’t pretending to accept him, us, for my sake.’ Of course, my brilliant plan neglected to take into account the fact that nobody else knew about it.”
He sighed and pushed open the door. “Then I got a flat tire. ‘I can’t call now,’ I thought. ‘I’ll ruin the big surprise.’ Once again, I didn’t think about how long it would take me to change a tire by myself in the dark, or that you’d come to the conclusion that I wasn’t coming back. That I would do that to you. It never crossed my mind, so why would it ever cross yours?” He pointed toward the driveway. “Look, damn it. Underneath the streetlight.”
Jeremy stepped onto the front porch and stared. Then he blinked. It was still there. A U-Haul trailer was attached to Owen’s truck. A moving trailer? It couldn’t mean what he thought it did. Could it?
Licking his dry lips, trying to curtail the swelling of hope in his chest, he asked, “So…is that apartment roof too expensive to fix?”
“It’s not my problem since I don’t live there anymore. I handed the landlord my keys this afternoon. Sucker kept my deposit too. I’m officially homeless.”
Jeremy turned toward Owen, a million questions in his mind, but all he could ask was, “Why?”
Owen reached out and pulled him back inside, closing and locking the door before leaning against it. “Why didn’t I call you last night? I’ll admit the first meeting of the brothers after that text was rough. Mostly because we don’t keep secrets, as a rule. At least, I thought we didn’t. Stephen should have told us about Natasha years ago, and I—well, they were as surprised as you might imagine about you and me.” He sighed. “By the time all the confusion died down, it was so late I didn’t know whether I was coming or going, and I fell asleep on the floor in the family room while listening to Stephen make deals and plot villainous deeds on the phone.”
“You should have called.”
Owen nodded. “I should have called. But let’s address the question of the trailer. Am I right in thinking that you want to know why I brought my lucky, ugly lounge chair, my shamrock lamp and the rest of my things over to your house when we’ve never actually discussed the prospect of living together?”
“I would like to know that, yes.”
He smiled tiredly and Jeremy felt the hope swell out of control, filling his heart painfully.
“You know how I am when I get an idea in my head, Porter,” Owen told him. “I had this crazy notion that we could live together. That I could stay with you. Be with you and only you. I wasn’t ready for these two weeks to end and I… well, I knew I never would be. I didn’t want to give you the chance to overthink it and say no before I could convince you it was a good idea.”
Be with you and only you.
Fighting for breath, for calm, Jeremy ran both hands through his hair. “This isn’t a temporary agreement you’re talking about, is it? What you’re talking about is living together. Other people are bound to find out. People you work with. You’re talking about a relationship. With me, after only a few weeks. With me, your male friend from high school who remembers how excited you were for months after Janet Leary let you touch her—”
“Yes,” Owen interrupted, raising his voice in frustration. “I admit it, I love the female body. I respect and adore the goddess within. I’ve worshipped blissfully at the altar of the pussy for decades.”
Jeremy covered his mouth to hide his unexpected smile. “I know that altar.”
“I’m aware, and if Natasha hadn’t been secretly rocking my brother’s world, I might have convinced you to let her join us on holidays and special occasions. Hell, maybe for our tenth anniversary we can talk about it, or something like it.”
“Wait…” Jeremy blinked at him. “Our tenth anniversary?”
Owen sighed again. “Damn it, Jeremy, what is it I have to say to get through to you? You know what you mean to me. You’ve always been the first one I want to tell my news to, good and bad. You’ve always been the most important person in my life who wasn’t related to me by blood. But…well, I’ve been thinking about you differently for a while now, since your date with what’s-her-name—”
“Darla?”
He nodded. “Since Darla. Don’t ask me why, but after that I went through a lot of women trying to get the idea of being with you out of my mind. Then the party at Tasha’s happened and you looked at me for that split second and I thought there was a chance you thought about me too. And after that first night? The last few weeks? What you make me feel… I’ve never felt like that before. Like I can be myself and more than myself at the same time. I spend my day watching the clock because I can’t wait to come home to you. Just to be home with you. I wake up earlier than I have to so I can watch you fucking sleep, and I’m not stupid enough to let something that good get away. Bisexual, kinky, gay, straight—I don’t give a flying fuck what you or anyone else wants to call it. You’re my best friend and I happen to be in love with you. Does the rest of it really matter?”
He’d said it. The only words Jeremy had ever needed to hear.
“Nothing else matters,” he assured him, joining
him in three long strides and pulling him into his arms for a blistering kiss.
Then he lifted his head with a breathless laugh, relief fizzing through him, making him feel lighter than air. Jesus, he’d thought it was over. He hadn’t known, hadn’t had any idea that Owen would ever love him back. That he was even thinking in terms of forever.
“You suck at communicating outside of the bedroom, you know that?” he complained.
Owen was staring at his lips. “I’ll do better. You’ll teach me. Until then, let’s go communicate where I’m at my best.”
“What about your hand?”
“Forget it. I need you now.”
“You’ve got me.” He took Owen’s good hand and led him to the bedroom, joy and lust and love battling for dominance inside him. Owen was here, where he belonged. And he wasn’t going anywhere.
He loves me.
Jeremy went to the dresser and pulled out his suspenders, and Owen paused at his belt after taking off his shirt. “Those uncomfortable things better be for you.”
He shook his head, stalking his prey. “Over twenty-four hours of torture, Owen. Of loving you and wondering if I was losing my only family, my best friend and my lover in one fell swoop. Twenty-four hours of forcing myself to breathe and eat and talk to people when I just wanted to stop the world until you came back to me.”
“Loving me?”
Jeremy nodded. “Completely and, until ten minutes ago, hopelessly. I’ve loved you for a long time. I never thought I could have you, and not just because you didn’t like men. Your family is my family. You are my family, Owen. If I lost you…” His voice broke. “All I want to do now is tie you to my headboard, kiss every inch of you and make love to you with the cock you say you can’t get enough of. Nothing else, I promise. I just need you not to distract me.”
Owen’s cheeks were flushed. “For you, Jeremy. Only for you. But just one time.”
We’ll see.
He watched Owen finish undressing, studying the body he couldn’t get enough of. No agreements, no rules, no limits or labels, just Owen. It sounded too good to be true, but here he was, naked and kneeling on Jeremy’s bed. “Where do you want me?”
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