by Cara Dee
For the past few weeks, I'd gotten to Westslope to find Will gone. I saw him from a distance when he and his wife picked up their daughter from camp in the beginning of August, and a couple weeks ago, I saw them in town when I was passing a restaurant. Judging by the candles a young girl was blowing out on a cake, I assumed it was their daughter's birthday. Other than that, our contact was limited to a few texts here and there.
He'd set boundaries in a message where he told me a lot was going on and that he was gonna focus on his family and regaining control of his life, whatever that meant. He asked for my patience and promised to call when he'd "sorted some things out."
Patience wasn’t my middle name, and I was sick with worry. I felt left out too, though I knew I had no claim—or right to feel that way. We were buddies. He wasn’t obligated to share anything with me.
Climbing the porch steps, I glanced through the window, surprised to see Brady was here with Matt. There was no extra boat at the dock.
I let myself in, and they looked up from where they were sitting on the couch.
"Hi, Dad," Matt said.
"Hey, kids." I kicked off my boots and nodded at Brady. "You swim here?" I joked.
Unlike his sister who'd rarely joined in on the activities on Little, Brady was here every day. Just…well, not in my cabin.
He smiled tiredly. "I kayaked."
"He's staying for dinner if that’s okay?" Matt bit his lip, and I wondered what I'd interrupted. Something was up. They looked a little tense.
"Yeah, sure. No problem." I headed to the kitchen, and my boy asked how the weekend in Westslope went. "Everything's ready for us to move in," I replied. "How were things here?"
The younger children—whose camp stays were shorter—were leaving soon. Work wasn’t as busy anymore, and while camp was a huge deal for me in my later teens, it didn’t seem to be popular these days. The group of high school kids was near nonexistent. If anything, it was lame—unless you were eighteen and took a gig as a counselor.
Matt shrugged. "I just worked and cooked a bit. We went swimming and found a cave on the other side of the island. Did you know about it?"
I smiled to myself and nodded, having spent countless hours there with Will. "Yeah, it's cool. What about you, Brady? You have a nice weekend?"
"Oh. Yeah. It was slow," he answered. "Kinda nice, though. If I don’t see any preteens this year, I'll be happy."
I chuckled and opened the fridge. "I bet. You can't have much left, can you?"
"No, this'll be my last week." He checked his phone on the table when it lit up, then turned it over. "I gotta get ready for school."
Will had mentioned that. Brady was going to college next fall here in Camassia. I hoped Matt would choose the same route. I wanted him local. He was a year ahead, to boot, so college wasn’t that far off.
Brady and Matt continued talking amongst themselves, and their voices lowered as they changed the subject and I focused on making dinner. Matt seemed to be trying to get Brady to ask me something, so of course my mind went to Will. If something was wrong, Brady should know.
"They were friends, though," I heard Matt say quietly. "Maybe he knows something."
Outta my periphery, I caught Brady glancing over before muttering, "Fine."
After slicing some chicken breasts Matt had put in the fridge to thaw, I tossed the slices into a skillet. The butter sizzled, and I lowered the heat and then got started with the pasta.
Two teenagers shuffled over to the kitchen counter, and Brady rubbed the back of his neck.
"Can I ask something, Keep?"
"Shoot." I filled a pot with water and did my best to come off as casual. "Something wrong?"
The boys exchanged a brief look.
"Um, I'm kinda guessing so?" Brady said. "I was wondering if my dad's said something to you."
My brow furrowed. "About…?"
"I don’t know. Anything, I guess." He looked uncomfortable, resembling his old man a lot. His gaze flickered the way Will's did sometimes. "I'm not sure how close you are these days, but…"
"Just tell him," Matt groaned. "I'm over the secrecy."
"Dick," Brady threw at him.
I'd be amused if I wasn’t seriously concerned now. I shut off the water and set the pot on the stove, then faced them fully and folded my arms over my chest. Matt rounded the counter and took over kitchen duty.
Brady released a breath, frustrated. "Okay, here's the thing. My sister called me yesterday and said our parents are acting weird. Dad comes and goes a lot, and he doesn’t sleep at home most of the time."
"All right," I said slowly. Having no history of being a master criminal, I hadn't exactly thought about making sure our story was airtight. In other words, I didn’t know what Will had told Brady, but I was ready to jump in and make a decision or two myself based on whatever little I did know.
"He thinks they're getting divorced," Matt said, checking on the chicken.
"Well, I've suspected that for a while," Brady admitted with a frown. "Do you think they are?"
No.
I shook my head. "Your old man's been staying at my place in Westslope, Brady." They were both surprised to hear that. "I'm sure he's coming home soon."
"Did you know…?" Brady eyed Matt, who shook his head quickly and promised he didn’t.
I cleared my throat. "You know he's struggling with depression, yeah?"
He nodded, sobered. "Yeah, it's been like this on and off for years. He's not happy." He and Matt exchanged another glance there at the end before Brady found it more interesting to stare at the floor.
"And he's doing everything he can to get better, buddy," I murmured. "Sometimes we need to get away for a bit to do that. Get a fresh perspective, stand on our own legs."
"Makes sense." Brady lifted his gaze, trying to look stronger than he was. It was easy to see he was hurting. "So how is he doing?"
"I wouldn’t know," I replied honestly. "I assume he's at home during the weekends when I'm up there. It's been a while since I saw him."
Brady scrubbed a hand over his jaw and shook his head. "Something's not adding up. Shit has changed since you got here."
Fuck. If I was thrown into the mix, I wouldn’t know what to say. It was simpler when keeping the focus on the Calvert family.
"What do you mean?" I asked, not really wanting the answer.
In response, he put some cockiness in his posture. He tried to stand taller, though I had a couple inches on him. "I know you and Dad are full of shit when it comes to how well you guys know each other." Goddammit. Here we go. "You can brush it off all you want, but two dudes don’t name their kids after each other unless they're really fucking close. But Dad's never even mentioned you, and according to Matt, you haven't been very talkative, either."
My jaw ticked, and thankfully I managed to keep my shit composed—even when Matt decided to join in.
"Tell him about the photos," my boy said.
Jesus. What photos?
Brady winced. "For fuck's sake, Matt."
"He can help, genius!" Matt argued. "This is serious—"
I let out a sharp whistle. "Hey! Fucking talk." I'd had it with the vague bullshit, and I was strung tight.
"I found some photos, okay?" Brady tensed up, too. "Dad and I used to go fishing and camping a lot. I heard him talk in his sleep, and it scared the crap out of me. He was doing even worse back then. I even heard Mom and Dad fight about it." He swallowed. "I think he was talking about suicide."
My stomach dropped, and I rubbed a hand over my mouth. If it hurt me to hear my friend's son talk about it, I couldn’t imagine what it would do to Will if—or when—he learned that Brady knew a lot more than was undoubtedly intended. It was the kind of pain we tried to protect our kids from.
"I wanted to know what was going on, so I snooped in Dad's study," he admitted.
I groaned internally. Fucking kids. Too nosy and smart for their own good. "And you found photos…?"
He nodded. "O
f you and him from when you were young. A lot of them. Just you two."
I could play this off, even as my heart sank and all I wanted was to find Will and get my arms around him. "First of all, we're still young, thank you very much. Second of all, people save photos from their childhoods all the time—"
"Not that they keep hidden!" He threw up his hands. "There's an album in the damn living room with stuff from when he was a kid. Why aren't those pictures there?" He let out a growl and pinched the bridge of his nose, a trait he'd inherited. "Look. That time he talked in his sleep? He was mumbling to a Kelly that he didn’t wanna live a lie anymore. Okay? You can't convince me that you're just old childhood friends who've reconnected. I'm not fucking stupid." His voice cracked on the last word, and at the same time, the energy to put up with any charade drained outta my system.
My loyalty was with Will, but Brady wasn’t a child anymore, and it was an insult to treat him like one. We wanted the same thing: for Will to be all right, and that was what mattered. We were on the same team.
"Um, dinner's ready," Matt said awkwardly.
I pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "I'm just gonna take a minute alone with Brady, okay?"
He nodded, and I gestured for Brady to follow me outside.
Even in the darkness on the porch, I could see how emotionally exhausted Brady was. This was something he'd carried for a long time.
"I wanna apologize." I waited until he looked me in the eye. "We don’t know each other very well, and I hope I'll get the chance. You're Will's boy, so I know you gotta be smart." I paused. "I won't tell you anything that’s none of my business, but I'm sorry I tried to minimize what you've said. That’s not fair of me."
He nodded and stared at the floor.
"I hope you'll talk to your dad, Brady," I went on. "Your concerns are more than valid, and I'm as worried as you are."
Brady nodded once more, and he tilted his head, looking toward the trees. "That’s the thing, I believe you," he replied quietly. "For the same reason I believe Mom and Dad are splitting up."
"Do I wanna know what you're implying by that?" I wasn’t sure, because he put a rock in my gut. With everything he'd said, the puzzle pieces he'd connected, it wouldn’t surprise me if he'd figured out the whole truth. About the past, anyway. Sure as hell not the splitting up part.
"Probably not." He snorted and faced me with a rueful little smile. "Not unless you're willing to answer some questions you'd say are none of my business."
Fair enough.
When he checked his watch, I got the feeling he was looking for an escape.
"Want me to tell Matt you'll see him tomorrow instead?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'd appreciate it." He swallowed and folded his arms, though it came off more as if he was hugging himself. "I like Matt. I haven't decided if I like you yet, but if you'll play any part in helping my dad…"
I respected that. I recognized the selflessness in putting the well-being of his old man first. It spoke a lot about Brady as a person.
"His happiness comes before my own, kid. That’s all I can say."
"And that says a lot." His brows lifted, and he clapped me on the shoulder. "See ya around, Keep."
*
The morning after, Matt and I were almost stranded on the island due to shitty weather. The sea tested my rusty experience, and it took more concentration and nerves than I was happy to give before my first cup of coffee.
There was no way the counselors would be bringing over kids anytime soon, so after dropping Matt off at the marina so he could get to work, I headed straight for my truck.
My chances of seeing Will at my cabin were greater if I didn’t give him a heads-up about my dropping by, I figured. I could go back to respecting his boundaries once I'd told him about Brady.
I stopped at the one and only red light when I reached Westslope, and I texted Adam about meeting up again soon before I continued across the river and deeper into forest.
His reply lit up my phone by the time I passed my mailbox.
Fuck yeah. I'm swamped with work and the festival coming up, but we'll find a day.
I parked next to Will's car, relieved he was here. Then I flipped up the hood of my windbreaker and jogged over to the cabin. The rain was coming down heavier and heavier, and I guessed the silver lining was that Will would be forced to rest. He'd done too much around here. Last weekend, I came up to find he'd constructed an entire shelving system for Matt's loft, using a "DIY" guide off the internet.
Today, I found him drowning in another pair of sweats and a hoodie on the couch where he was reading the paper.
As his head snapped up, I cocked mine. Firstly, the man needed to fucking shave, already. Secondly, though… "You've gained weight," I blurted out. "I mean…hey."
I was staring.
He tested a smile. It almost worked. "Hello to you, too."
He looked healthier. The shadows under his eyes weren't as pronounced, his cheeks were filling out, and he'd even gotten a bit of sun.
I removed my shoes and shrugged outta my jacket. "How're you feeling?" I saw he'd made coffee, so I aimed for the kitchen and filled a mug. "You look like you're doing better."
"I am, a little." His almost-smile reached his eyes. "I admit most days still end with me crying for nothing, but—"
"Not nothing," I cut him off quietly. With depression, it was never nothing.
He sent me a quick, appreciative glance. "Fair enough. I've started a routine, though. It helps. I get more sleep, I eat regularly—or I try—and I force myself to exercise."
"That's fantastic." I took a sip of my coffee and sat down next to him. It was a new couch—or newish. Bigger, comfier. A steal I found at a garage sale. "Glad to hear it, man."
With a little nod, he closed the paper and studied me apprehensively.
"What're you doing here?" he asked.
What was I doing here? Oh, right. His kid.
"I need you to take a break from avoiding me." I set down my mug and ran a hand through my hair.
"I'm not avoiding you." Weakest lie I'd heard all month. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and was reluctant to face me. "Fine," he conceded. "I do need the space. With everything going on, I can't be distracted by…" He waved a hand, dismissive.
I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or offended. "I'm a distraction?"
I'd heard that before, from his father.
"After—" He stopped short and threw me an irritated look. "Of course you are, Kelly. After our night, you can't expect me to act as if nothing happened. I think about it way too often."
Oh. Oh. I… Shit. I didn’t realize I was distracting that way. My ego got a big—and much fucking needed—boost, there was no denying that. It went without saying I wanted to be on the mind of the man I was most likely in love with.
The faint blush that crept up his cheeks didn’t make it easier to take the high road.
He deserved some honesty in return first, though. "You're not the only one who struggles with that." I gave his thigh a quick squeeze. "You're on my mind constantly."
"I am?" He kept his gaze fixed on the spot I'd touched. "In the way that you want more?"
You have no idea.
"God, yes." I slumped back against the couch and scrubbed at my face. As torturous and tempting as this was, I'd longed to have someone I could be open to about this. I'd never had that before. "That night… Will, I play that shit over and over in my head."
My showers had gotten a lot more interesting, that was for sure.
He cursed and fell back too, a heavy sigh escaping him as his head hit my shoulder. "I kept thinking…how unbelievable it was that I could finally touch you."
My eyes closed as memories took me back. I remembered thinking similar things. "You fucked me." I felt the phantom burn coursing through me, and I had to adjust my cock. "That was pretty much all I could focus on. Will was fucking me, my Will had his cock in my ass, I got to taste my best friend, I sucked him off."
&nb
sp; "Jesus," he croaked.
Being gay was natural. It was also highly uncomfortable up until the point I found the balls to come out to my son. That said, it wasn’t until I spent the night with Will that I dove right into the dirtiest pit of my imagination and all but rolled around in every fantasy. Like a bitch in heat, I craved everything he did to me and never wanted it to end.
"You're hard, Kelly," he murmured.
"No shit." I felt flushed, too. "We should change the subject before I do something stupid."
Will hummed, and then his hand was on my thigh, sliding slowly, rubbing sensually. "Why would it be stupid?" Closer and closer to my crotch. Not helping. I tensed up, refusing to open my eyes. Once I did, this would be over. Again.
He shifted beside me, and a moment later, his soft lips and the rasp of his beard were on my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. At the same time, his hand covered my erection.
"Will," I warned in a groan. Motherfucker. I instinctively rolled my hips to meet his firm touch.
That’s it, baby. Touch me. Suck me. Take me hard. Belong to me.
"I'm not sorry, goddammit. I can't help it." The tip of his tongue swept across a spot on my neck, and he gave my dick a solid squeeze. I blew out a panted breath. "I should've told you that weekend," he whispered in between openmouthed kisses. "You have the most beautiful, mouthwatering cock."
"Fucking hell." I was less than a second from losing it, and I couldn’t allow it. I tore myself away and shot up off the couch. "No." I shook my head and hated my life for a second. "No. I promised." I adjusted my cock once more, wincing at the discomfort. "I made a promise to your boy. Your happiness before mine."
That meant his family came first.
Before I could even face Will—before I could give in to temptation—I blurted out the mood killer of the century. "Brady thinks his family's splitting up."
Chapter 15
William Calvert
"He's home." Lissa released the curtain and wrung her hands.
I nodded stiffly and rose from the couch. "I'll go get Aurora."
Climbing the stairs, I felt my heart take up residence in my throat, and I dreaded the conversation to come.