Candy Ever After (Hot Candy Book 2)

by Jo Raven

“I was asking what you will be doing now you’ve left your job. You could start a food company, you know.”

  “Um. Bry.” I tap her on the shoulder, lacking a magazine to slam her with. “J’s got a new job already, and I told you he wants to start a publishing company.”

  “Yeah, okay. But a food company would be great! Imagine it. I mean look at all the cakes you’ve baked, and the cookies! You could give the dishes funny names.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like… I dunno. I’ve been to a coffee shop where the cake slices have names like Eat me, or Bite This. You could name yours…”

  “Fart This,” Jet helpfully supplies. “Lick This.”

  “Fuck this,” Riddick adds, and smirks when we all stare at him. “As a dish name,” he clarifies. “For cookies, for instance.”

  And then he looks at Brylee who blushes crimson.

  “Or Suck This,” she says in a small voice.

  Jesus in a bottle.

  Jet is cracking up, trying in vain to stifle his laughter, and Joel is not much better, snickering quietly.

  “That’s enough tea for you, Bry,” I tell her. “And enough art magazines.”

  She huffs as she scoots back until her back meets the wall. “You guys are no fun.”

  Now I’m laughing, too, and the conversation stops until the pizza arrives.

  ***

  “So,” I say much later, as we all lie slumped back, stuffed with pizza, piles of pizza boxes littering the coffee table.

  Never underestimate the amount of food guys can eat in one sitting. It’s frigging impressive.

  “So?” Brylee echoes, sipping a newly brewed mug of tea she just brought in from the kitchen.

  I nod at Riddick. “How was Jet as a teenager? Did he… I don’t know, did he use socks or tissues to jack off in?”

  Jet sputters.

  “How’s that interesting?” Joel mutters, but he laces his hands behind his head, obviously listening. “I wanna know if Jet was always so obsessed with bananas.”

  “Goddammit.” Jet rubs at his face. “Rid…”

  “Relax, cuz.” Riddick’s gray eyes are dancing with mirth. “I won’t tell them it was a sock. Oh oopsy daisy! I didn’t mean to—”

  Jet grabs his cousin in a headlock and they roll off the couch to the carpet, landing with a thud. “Traitor!”

  Brylee lets out a little squeal, scooting sideways to avoid them.

  “And the bananas?” Joel insists.

  “I told you, asshole.” Jet pants as he pins his cousins’ arms to the floor. “That was because of never having any parents who gave two shits about us, even about feeding us, and we got what food we could. Between my parents and Rid’s, we were both fucked.”

  Silence falls as his last word fades.

  “Shit,” Joel says. “I didn’t think...”

  “Dammit.” Riddick shoves Jet so suddenly, he throws him off. “I’m out of here.”

  “Rid…” Jet groans a little as he picks himself up from the floor, and I fight the urge to go and check him over. He missed hitting his head on the coffee table by an inch. “Wait.”

  “We tried, okay?” Riddick jabs a finger at Jet, then Joel, his eyes a little wild. “Xavier and I, we tried to take care of ourselves and Jet. But it wasn’t easy, goddammit.”

  “Rid!” Jet climbs to his feet, but his cousin is already heading to the door. “Come on, man. Nobody accused you of anything.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just… gotta go.” He throws the door open and heads out. “See you around, Jet.”

  Jet staggers after him but the door slams and he jerks to a halt. “Fuck.”

  Whoa.

  “That was kind of extreme, wasn’t it?” Brylee is still curled up, her back to the wall, but her eyes are round.

  Joel approaches Jet cautiously. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” He rakes a hand through his spiky hair. “Brylee is right. Rid’s just stressed. He’ll get over it.”

  I get up and make my way to the two of them, slide an arm around Jet’s slim hips and the other behind Joel’s strong back. “Everything’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” Joel grabs Jet’s arm, pulling him until he’s squashed between us, his back against Joel’s chest, my boobs plastered to his front. “It’s not. It’s my fault. I was only teasing.”

  “It’s fine,” Jet says, his voice gruff.

  “I haven’t forgotten how screwed up your family was, how you told me that in your cousins’ house things weren’t that good, either. I want you to have a family.”

  “I do.” Jet pulls me more tightly against him, drops a kiss on my hair. “You guys are my family.”

  “Yes,” I whisper, burrowing closer to him.

  “We’re hiding in a closet,” Joel says, “and it’s all my goddamn fault. I’ve been so fucking wrapped up in myself, in my issues, that I never thought about meeting the family. I want you to meet my sister. I want us to meet Candy’s brother. And I want to invite your cousin again, make a better impression this time. What do you say?”

  “What are you saying? Throw a family party?” Jet snorts.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Joel says. “I’m throwing a party to meet the family.”

  I draw back, trying to look at Joel over Jet’s shoulder. “Are you talking about your parents? Are they invited, too?”

  Jet’s eyes widen.

  “Yeah about that…” Joel sighs and rests his chin on Jet’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to face them. But I will. I’ll talk to them. You two mean everything to me and I need to tell them that.”

  Jet’s lashes lower. He lets out a ragged breath.

  “It might seem like I’ve been hiding you from the world,” Joel goes on. “But I’m not. It’s gonna be a show down. My dad will fly off the handle. I wanted to avoid facing him, but you’re right, it’s been weighing on me. I feel as if I’m doing something wrong, but I’m not. If he disowns me, if he calls me names, so be it.”

  “I call you names all the time,” Jet mutters, but none of us laugh.

  Joel straightens. “So yeah, I’ve been hiding, pretending I don’t have to face my parents, putting it off. I’m gonna change that.” He’s silent for a beat. “I’m gonna be the boyfriend you both deserve.”

  Jet swings me around, turning in the circle of Joel’s arms and grabs us both in a hug. “You are the boyfriend we deserve. Always have been.”

  “We love you,” I add.

  We bend our heads together, and it’s sweet and my heart feels close to bursting.

  Then Brylee says, “Sweet Jesus, I just spilled tea down my blouse.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Joel

  If Jet can face his dad every night in his nightmares, then I should be able to face mine face-to-face, right? Even if I shatter his dreams for me. Even if my mom shuts herself up in her room for days afterward.

  Even if it feels like the end of the world. My world.

  There are words that need to be said, things that need to be put on the table.

  It’s time.

  Brylee excuses herself shortly after, and I take Candy and Jet to bed. We’re kinda wiped, and my mind’s whirring away, so by the time I take my turn in the bathroom and slip under the covers, I find Candy fast asleep, curled in Jet’s arms, and he’s gone, too.

  Only I’m wide awake. I spoon Candy and pull the covers over all of us, burying my nose in her sweet-smelling hair.

  Thinking.

  I meant what I said. They deserve more than this. They deserve someone not scared to face his parents. I’m twenty-one, for chrissakes. Not a child. If my parents disown me, if they don’t speak to me ever again, I’ll deal. I hardly talk to them these days anyway.

  I don’t care what my parents think of me, or of my relationship to Candy and Jet. I don’t give a flying fuck anymore about whether they approve of me and my actions or not. Fuck them. Fuck the world.

  And yet… Something has been pinching inside my ches
t, like a thorn caught under the skin. I’ve tried to ignore it, tried to pretend it didn’t bother me, but it does.

  I can’t keep my lovers buried forever. Can’t keep pretending I haven’t made my choice. I need to talk to my parents, openly, like Candy does with hers. I need to confront them, tell them of my decision to be with these two people I love, to change jobs, to be who I am.

  Because this is who I am. These are the people I love. This is what I want.

  My mind keeps replaying my dad’s words the last time I saw him, the words he speaks in my nightmares.

  “If my only son turns queer, I’ll throw myself off that fucking balcony.”

  He won’t do it, if I tell him. He won’t. He’s a bastard, but he’d never do that.

  Would he?

  Should I care? Should I keep hiding because of his words?

  No. I hesitated long enough—and this threat isn’t the only thing that’s kept me back.

  Let’ be honest for a second here: I’ve always feared my parents’ reaction to everything I’ve done, everything I am. Because of that, I almost lost Jet and Candy, almost lost my chance to be with them. If not for the wake-up call I got when Jet was stabbed and Candy stopped answering the phone, I might have gone through life in regret and sadness.

  I need to tell my parents. And one thing is clear to me: I can’t tell them over the phone. I have to face them for this.

  So I will. The sooner the better.

  ***

  Also, the party will happen.

  I think about it the next day at work, as I check accounts and make reports for the small company that hired me. I wasn’t joking when I said it. Sure, it was a spur of the moment thing, but the more I think about it, the more I like it. Get to know both of Jet’s cousins, Candy’s brother, and have them meet my sis and her boyfriend, too.

  Smooth things over with Riddick. I want him to be friends with me. I want the people who are important to Jet to at least not think I’m a butthead. And Candy’s parents not to think I’m always pissed at the world.

  Yeah, the parents should be invited, too. Candy’s, and mine. I’ll invite my parents in person. Perfect opportunity to tell them everything, right?

  The work is okay. Less complicated than my old job. Less challenging. More boring, sure, but it gives me time to plan what I want to do for real.

  Become a publisher. Do I really wanna do that? Thinking up stories, reading about history, archaeology and mythology, sitting down with Jet to create a comic book… this is the stuff I fucking love. Being a publisher would mean working with authors and illustrators to publish the kind of books I like. I loved the process of working with Jet to create a book as we both want it.

  But doing that presupposes a capital which I don’t have, not now. What if I work on more stories with Jet and publish those instead? Also, what if I buckle down and work on that historical guide on dragons and other monsters I’ve been dying to write for a while? And later on… who knows?

  One step at a time. Hell knows this year I’ve taken lots of new steps. I need to secure my footing. Make sure the people I love are well, healthy and happy. That they know I care for them. That’s my priority.

  And to give myself time to get used to all the changes. To adapt. To accept myself.

  Acceptance makes me think of other things.

  Okay, it makes me think of sex. Hey, I’ve always been horny, and living with my girl and my guy means I think of sex all the fucking time.

  Plus, lately I’ve been trying to figure out what Jet wants. Not that he doesn’t tell me. He’s one cocky bastard when it comes to sex. Both he and Candy have no trouble telling me what they like, so I don’t have any real worries on that front.

  Still, there’s one aspect of my sex life with Jet I’ve never discussed with him, and I’m not sure I trust him to tell me what he needs. Because I’ve had my head so far up my ass for so long, I doubt he thinks I’d ever want anything else up there, ever.

  Like his dick.

  In my ass.

  The thought should send me into a corner, hiding or rocking. It would have, a couple of months ago. But things have changed.

  Everything has changed.

  I want Jet like I want Candy—so much my body remembers the pleasure even as I’m entering numbers in a stupid spreadsheet for work—and I also remember how good it feels to be inside Jet.

  How lost in pleasure he seems when I fuck him. How he seems to crave it. He once told me that part of it is the feeling of being taken, branded by me. He’d been on some good drugs at the time, still in the hospital after the attack. I bet my right arm he doesn’t remember his ramblings.

  But I do, and I wanna know what it feels like to be taken, branded by him. If it feels as good as he says it does.

  Christ. What happened to one step at a time?

  Still, I’m grinning as I finish up with my boring task and move on to the next. Maybe it’s time to stop being so cautious and jump in, feet first.

  Stop overthinking, Joel, and do what makes you happy.

  ***

  Decision made, I call my sis to see how she feels about a family reunion. Not surprisingly, she’s not happy about Mom and Dad coming.

  “I’m not sure they’ll come,” I say, cutting through a mini-rant.

  “I thought you said they’d agreed.”

  “Fuck, no. I haven’t asked them yet. In fact…” I sigh, rub at my eyes. “They still don’t know anything about Jet and Candy, or about my career changes.”

  “Oh. Shit.”

  Yeah, that about sums it up.

  “I’m gonna tell them everything.” I glance at the time on the big plastic clock mounted on the wall. Almost time to go home. “Do you think…” I breathe out.

  “Do I think what, big brother?”

  “Do you think Dad would do something stupid if I told him the truth?” I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heartbeat.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s told me twice already in the past months he’ll throw himself off a damn balcony if I turn out gay.” I wince, my chest too tight, and I press my hand to it. “Would he do it, Evie?”

  “He told you that? That son of a bitch!”

  Her vehemence makes me smile. It eases the pressure in my chest. “He sure did.”

  “Joey…” Her voice goes quiet. “You can’t let him manipulate you like this. Oh he’ll be disappointed, make no mistake. You’re his golden boy. He wants you in two dimensions, like a poster on his wall, a trophy on his mantelpiece. But you’re a person. You won’t fit the box he created for you anyway. I know I didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “You’re my wiser little sister.”

  “I know!” She laughs. “But seriously now. Nobody can fit in his box. He created it for an imaginary son. Stop worrying about him and worry about how he’s influencing your life. I’m… I’m proud of you, Joel.”

  “What for?” I scoff, pushing away a folder on my desk, rearranging papers. “You left home because of them. You had to suffer them and me preaching at you on how to live your life, and you did the right thing anyway. You’re stronger than me.”

  “I never had the pressure you have. The first-born, the man of the house, the star-athlete, the one to fill the shoes Dad always wanted to wear. It’s not fair. They never expected much of me, but of you… Yeah, I’m proud that you made your stand. Just… don’t expect our parents to be.”

  I nod, although she can’t see me. They sure won’t. I know that. I only hope for an okay, a never-mind. An attempt to find a connection.

  They expected lots from me growing up, but that also gave me confidence. Their belief I could do anything shaped me. I grew up bathed in the warmth of that belief and love. It’s hard to let it go, to say it doesn’t matter.

  But Candy and Jet matter more to me. Being happy, easy in my skin matters more.

  So I say goodbye to my sis and hang up, pack my things and head for home, the only place with the only peo
ple that’s ever felt like a real home, planning my next move.

  ***

  “I’ve talked to Holden,” Candy says, swiping a potato from my cutting board, risking her fingers.

  “Hey, be careful.” I glare at her. “How come I value your hands more than you do? And who the hell’s Holden?”

  “Wouldn’t you wanna know?” She munches on the raw potato, and man, doesn’t that taste awful?

  “Do I need to bust someone’s face?” I stop chopping, a wave of irrational anger swamping me. “Am I supposed to know who he is?”

  She winks at me and leans back, so of course my gaze dips to her tits, barely covered by her T-shirt, and my anger misfires, losing focus. “My brother.”

  “What?” I look up at her face.

  “My brother, Holden. He says he’d be happy to come for this get-together you’re organizing. Next week is good for him. He’ll travel over from Seattle. He can sleep on the couch, or at Brylee’s.”

  “Next week sounds good,” I mutter. “Evie has already said she’ll do her best to make it.”

  “That’s your sis, right? Evangeline?”

  “Yeah. What about your parents?”

  “They’ll make it. My mom has been asking me when she’ll see you guys again.” Candy makes a face. “I bet she’s dying to exchange more sex tips with Jet.”

  “Talking about me behind my back? Naughty.” Jet wanders into the kitchen, eating a banana. “What did I miss?”

  “It wasn’t behind your back,” Candy says. “You weren’t here, so we’re perfectly entitled to gossip about you.”

  “Gossip?” Jet lifts a brow and stuffs more banana into his mouth. “What about?”

  “If the party is next week, say next weekend, could your cousins make it?” I try not to stare at the way he’s mouthing the banana. That’s one huge banana, and I’m getting fucking hard.

  “I’ll ask. We’re really doing this, huh?” He chews, and I return my attention to the potatoes I’m chopping, doing my best to ignore my hard dick.

  “We are. That okay?”

  “Sure,” Candy says, smiling. “I can’t wait to meet your sister.”

  “Me too,” Jet quips. “Ask her how she put up with you all these years.”