Foreseen: Lex (The Four Book 2)

by Sloane Kennedy

  I was someone who understood loss and grief. I hated that it was something Gideon was going through, but it did make me feel a little less alone. And it reminded me that despite everything I'd been through, I was still here. I'd always lived with the philosophy of not taking life for granted, but sometimes I forgot. It was also a reminder that Gideon was, indeed, human. It hadn't been fair of me to unleash on him like I had. He'd just been a convenient target. I wished I could go back to that moment and do things differently. After all Gideon had done for me, it hadn't been right to use him as a scapegoat for my problems.

  But most of all, I realized I was still capable of feeling all the same things I had before I'd gotten the diagnosis that my vision was beginning to fail and there was no coming back from it. I'd been so angry at the world that I'd thought it had changed who I really was. But sitting at that table holding Gideon's hand was proof that I could still feel. That I could still care.

  I let Gideon decide the next step. He gave my hand one last squeeze and then got up, presumably to resume cooking. I really wanted to just hug him and tell him that everything would be okay, even though I knew it never really would be. Losing a child wasn't something anyone ever probably really recovered from. I also wanted him to know that he wasn't alone. I wanted him to know that even when I went back to Birch Cabin tonight, he'd have someone to talk to if the memories became too much.

  I wondered if he had anyone else in his life he could talk to. I remembered his reaction to knowing I'd attempted to take my own life, as brief as the desire had been. Had he tried the same thing at some point? Or considered it?

  Since I knew there would be no answers forthcoming, I forced myself to finish getting my insulin pump set up. I then turned my attention to my phone. I pressed the button that would tell me what the time was, but when there was nothing but silence, I knew Gideon hadn't turned it on. I was grateful for that because if it had been on for any length of time, any one of my brothers would've been able to find a way to track it. And while I was desperate to see them, I was still too raw from the knowledge of how close I'd come to hurting them in such an unforgivable way.

  My throat felt tight and I could feel tears pricking the backs of my eyes as I envisioned my brothers being told of my death. It was unacceptable. Every one of them had fought for me when I hadn't been able to do so for myself. No matter how hard things would be for me going forward, I needed to figure out a way to fight back.

  Despite my newfound desire to put a better foot forward, I knew it wouldn't be that simple. When I did tell my brothers the truth about my vision, I would need to be the strong one. I wasn't strong enough yet. The question was, how did I get strong enough?

  I was so lost in my own thoughts that I wasn’t aware of Gideon putting a plate of food in front of me until he asked, "Everything okay?"

  I snapped out of my reverie and glanced his way. The food smelled surprisingly good and my stomach ended up growling much louder than I would've liked.

  "I guess so," I heard Gideon say with what I hoped was a smile. It sure sounded like one.

  "It smells really good," I said with a laugh. "Thank you." I started to search the table for a fork when I realized that Gideon would actually see me trying to eat. Since my vision had started to go, I'd only ever eaten by myself so I could save myself the embarrassment. Putting a fork in one's mouth should've been a simple task, but when one couldn’t see the fork, or the food, it wasn't so easy. Even just getting the food on the fork would be a monumental task. There had been countless times that I'd ended up putting an empty fork in my mouth.

  "What's wrong?" Gideon asked. "Do you want some soy sauce or something?"

  I shook my head. Insecurity was an ugly thing and I was its bitch. "I…" I stuttered. "Do you think maybe I could save this for later when I get home?"

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  It was all I could do not to squirm in my seat. I could feel Gideon's eyes on me. "It's just… I'm not as hungry as I thought I was. I mean, the food smells great, but I'm still feeling kind of full—"

  My stomach chose that exact moment to growl again. I muttered a curse under my breath but cut it off abruptly when Gideon's hand closed over mine on the table. He really needed to stop doing that because my brain had a tendency to turn into mush whenever he touched me. It was already bad enough that I was so emotionally entangled with the man—I absolutely could not let my physical attraction to him continue to grow. It was one thing to be out and proud in Los Angeles, but I was in the north woods of Maine with a man who could very well be a homophobe for all I knew.

  "You know that thing where you said how scary it was to not know what someone was thinking, to not be able to read them?" Gideon asked.

  Despite knowing where he was going with this, I nodded anyway.

  "I don't always get it right, Lex," Gideon said. "But at least give me the chance."

  I sighed because he sounded genuinely confused. "When I eat, it's… it's not pretty." When Gideon didn't respond, I got antsy and added, "I stopped eating in front of others after I had lunch a while back with a potential investor at this really exclusive restaurant. I kept trying to stab the food with my fork, but every time I put it in my mouth the damn thing was empty. I thought I was just missing it on the plate, but it turns out that most of what I'd been getting off the plate was ending up in my lap and I hadn't known it. When I stood up to go to the bathroom, I moved my napkin off my lap and heard this plop. I had no clue what was going on until the waiter explained that there were vegetables from my salad all over the floor." My cheeks felt hot as I waited for Gideon to say something. When he didn't, that need to get away overtook me. Gideon must've sensed I was about to stand, because his fingers tightened on mine.

  "Sorry," he said gruffly. "I had my head in your lap."

  I was about to ask him what he was talking about when he suddenly blurted, "My mind! I had my mind in your lap… On your lap! My mind was on your lap."

  The man sounded so flustered that I didn't know what to make of it. I also had no clue what he was talking about. Why in the world would his mind be on my lap?

  I found myself smiling because I didn't really care what he was trying to say. I'd already figured out he was a big, tough, domineering type of man, so to listen to him struggle to get his thoughts across was just downright fun. I liked knowing that I wasn't the only one dealing with embarrassing verbal vomit.

  "Eat," Gideon growled, though there was no meanness behind his words. He was clearly dismissing the issue, but not in a way that seemed like he thought I was being a baby about the whole thing. I took his response as more of his passing it off as a non-issue.

  Since the man had pretty much seen me at my lowest, I figured if he hadn't turned tail and run already, he wasn't going to. At least not for me spilling some food in my lap or eating off an empty fork. The nerves were still there as I began to eat, but something about the sound of Gideon enjoying his own meal made it a little easier for me to focus less on the act of eating and more on the taste of the food.

  As my vision had started to go, I'd been forced to hire a chef to cook for me. While I liked the food he prepared, it always had a certain level of sterility to it… like it was just too fancy. It had been like eating in a restaurant every night of the week. But sitting there at that small table with my gruff neighbor had this weird sense of intimacy to it. The food was rustic and simplistic, but it was also delicious.

  By the time I cleaned my plate, I had no clue if I was covered in sauce or had vegetables stuck to me anywhere, but I didn't care. I was pleasantly full and deliciously sated. I leaned back in my chair and listened to the sounds of Gideon eating what I assumed was his second serving.

  Once again, I wondered what he looked like. Not that it really mattered, because my body, and specifically my lower half, was more than content with whatever it was the man next to me had going on. It was a strange thing to find myself attracted to a man I couldn't see. I considered all the m
en I'd been with in the past. In the early days when I’d first been introduced to sex, the few men I’d been with had done all the picking up and all the leading. I'd been so desperate for an intimate connection with someone that I hadn't been selective.

  As the years had gone by and my net worth had gone up, I’d found that the pool of men available to me had gotten bigger and bigger. They had been prettier and more charming, but things in bed had pretty much been the same. Since I'd typically bottomed, it had meant that most of my lovers hadn't been particularly concerned about my pleasure. Only occasionally had I found a guy who’d keep fucking me after he came so I could get myself off with my own hand. Things hadn’t changed much even after I'd made my first million.

  Wealth and being openly gay had meant men had started to come out of the woodwork but I’d quickly tired of the game. I’d only ever found one man that I’d thought I’d truly connected with, but that relationship had ended in disaster.

  Once my vision had actually started to deteriorate, I hadn’t wanted anyone to find out about it, so being with another man hadn't been an option. Truth be told, I’d been too busy trying to prove my doctors wrong to even think about seeking out male companionship. So it was strange that being around someone like Gideon who, first off, wasn't my type, and second off, wasn't even gay, would be so relaxing. I reminded myself that I couldn't get used to moments like these.

  "You want some more?" Gideon asked. "There's plenty."

  I shook my head and automatically reached for my plate. “No, thank you. It was delicious, Gideon.”

  Gideon's hand stopped me. "Don't worry, I've got the dishes," he said.

  I knew it made more sense to just let him take the dish, but I didn't want to be sensible. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to prove to myself that I could be normal.

  “Rule is if you cook, you don't have to do the dishes," I said as I stood up, not giving Gideon a chance to argue with me. I held the plate firmly in both of my hands as I maneuvered up from my chair and around the table. I knew what general direction the sink was in, but now that I was up and moving, I immediately felt disoriented. I was forced to stop when I realized I had no clue which way to go.

  "Here," Gideon said from behind me and then his big hands were gently closing over my shoulders. I nearly jumped at the contact, but not because it frightened me. I allowed Gideon to maneuver me into place and then his hands were closing around my forearms. My breathing picked up as Gideon pressed up against my back. As Gideon began to explain where the faucet was as well as the handles, all I could focus on was his groin pushing against my ass. His warm breath drifted over my neck as he got me going on the first dish. It was all I could do not to drop the damn thing and turn in his arms.

  He's straight. He's straight. He's straight.

  I silently chanted the phrase over and over as I washed the first dish and carefully set it on the towel that Gideon had said was next to the sink. Thankfully, he had moved away from me and was clearing the table. Normally, I would've offered to do that myself, but I figured I was pressing my luck as it was. As Gideon put more dishes in the sink, his arm would occasionally brush mine and all these little delicious sensations would fire up and down my arms. It was definitely the first time that doing dishes had gotten me all hot and bothered.

  "Whose rule is it?" Gideon asked. He was somewhere to my right.

  "What?" I asked, not sure what he was talking about.

  "You said it was a rule. That whoever cooked didn't have to do the dishes."

  "Oh," I began. "My family's."

  "So you're married?" he asked. I looked in his direction and saw a dark shape, but since it wasn't moving I couldn't be sure it was him.

  I shook my head. "No, not married."

  Gideon was silent but I could practically hear the wheels spinning in his head.

  "Sorry, it's just that you said you didn't have any parents…" he began to say before his voice dropped off awkwardly. My past wasn't something I typically talked to anyone about, especially not strangers. I could count on one hand how many people knew about my past and every single one of those people was a man I considered a brother.

  "I don't," I confirmed. "I grew up in foster care. But I have brothers. Four of them. All older."

  Gideon let out a clucking sound and said, "Wow, four older brothers. That must've made for an interesting childhood. I'm envisioning lots of wedgies and pantsing."

  I found myself laughing heartily as I said, "Wedgies? Pantsing? How old are you?"

  Gideon actually gave me a light shove. Not enough to unbalance me, but enough to get my attention. The fact that he'd done it all made me feel all warm and gooey inside. "Brat," he said.

  I laughed and asked, "How old are you really?"

  "Thirty-eight," Gideon responded. "Now tell me about these brothers of yours."

  Just like that, the humor dissipated and I found myself looking down at the sink, wishing I could see the water and the bubbles. How many times had I taken seeing something as simple as that for granted? Even after I’d learned as a teenager that I was at a higher risk of losing my vision at a younger age, I hadn't really believed it.

  "Lex?"

  The kindness in Gideon's voice was going to do me in, I just knew it. "Can we talk about something else?" I blurted as I began scrubbing at the dishes again. I had no clue if I was getting them clean or not, but I no longer cared. I just needed to keep busy so I wouldn't think about the men who'd made me a part of their family.

  "What do you do in LA?"

  I found myself glancing at him despite the fact that I couldn't see him. It was strange to know that there were certain instincts relating to human interaction that continued even though I didn't have the benefit of sight.

  "How did you know I was from LA?" I asked. Tension rolled through me as I thought back through every conversation we’d had. I’d been careful not to reveal anything about myself and he wouldn't have been able to get the information off my paperwork with Harvey Parnell, the cabin’s owner, because I'd insisted on anonymity and hadn't given the man any private information beyond my first name. "And don't tell me you got it from Harvey because he doesn't have it," I warned.

  The idea that Gideon had lied to me hurt like a son of a bitch. What if he’d told someone who I was? Where I was? What if, even now, word was getting back to LA? All it would take was for my name to show up on social media and that would be it. I was so angry that I dropped the silverware I’d been cleaning and wiped my hands on my sweatshirt, or Gideon's sweatshirt, rather. "I have to go," I bit out.

  "Lex, wait—" Gideon began, but when he grabbed my arm, I shoved him off. I stumbled but managed to catch myself on the edge of the counter. I tried frantically to get my bearings, but before I could even take another step, Gideon was on me. His hand closed around my upper arm.

  "God, you're frustrating," he said angrily. "Is it the world in general you don't trust, or just me?"

  "Let go," I demanded.

  To my surprise, Gideon did just that. I had been pulling my arm at the same time that he released me, so I fell back a little. But Gideon grabbed me once again before my back hit the sharp edge of the counter. Gideon released me as soon as I had my footing.

  "You know what, fuck it, I'm done!" Gideon said coldly. "I'll take you back to your cabin."

  I really wanted to tell him not to bother and that I'd get home by myself, but it just wasn't possible. I wouldn’t make it five feet by myself outside, let alone however many miles it was back to Birch Cabin. I could hear Gideon shuffling around the kitchen. There was no missing how he was slamming cabinets and drawers and muttering as he did so. It shouldn't have bothered me that I'd pissed him off, but it did. I opened my mouth to apologize but then snapped it shut again.

  I heard Gideon call for Brewer, although call for wasn't quite the right term. It was more like he bellowed for the dog. I felt bad that the animal was being punished for something he had nothing to do with.

  "You don't need to be
a jerk to your dog," I said snidely. I was angrier with myself than with Gideon because I'd made him out to be something he wasn't. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd figured out who I was when he'd found me in Birch Cabin. I felt sick to my stomach as I thought about news articles with headlines like Founder of Dominion Entertainment Blind, Tries to Take Own Life. Not only would my brothers see that headline, but so would the millions of kids who played my video games. How many would see that message and think it was somehow okay to consider ending their lives when things became too difficult to deal with?

  Bile crept up the back of my throat as I considered the ramifications of what I’d done. Obviously, I hadn't planned for the information to get out, but what if I’d been successful in ending my life? What if Gideon hadn't found me? The news would've gotten out anyway.

  "Get in the truck!" I heard Gideon yell. I had no clue if he was talking to me or Brewer, but I supposed it didn't really matter. I had no choice but to try and feel my way across the kitchen toward Gideon. The task was made more difficult when he went silent. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time because the whole thing was just so ridiculous. Gideon was angry and I was eager to escape, but when it came right down to it, I was as helpless as an infant and neither of us was getting what we wanted.

  I had no clue if I was on the right track or not and had just assumed that Gideon had left me there in the kitchen, so when firm fingers closed around my upper arm after about a dozen steps, I let out a little gasp. I expected Gideon, in his anger, to yank me forward, but he surprised me when he put my hand in the crook of his arm and gently guided me forward. I actually preferred it when he held my hand, but beggars couldn't be choosers and I figured I was just lucky he'd even waited for me at all.

  "Take this part slow, it's icy," Gideon said when we were outside and on what I assumed was the front porch. The more patient he was as he pointed out the hazards of getting to his truck, the more I began to regret the way I'd jumped all over him. I felt like I at least owed him some kind of explanation.