by KD Ellis
Teddy shook his head silently.
“Well, that’s about to change.” Julian smirked and dumped the three pills onto the table, halfway between Teddy and himself. “Do you know what these are?”
Teddy shook his head again. “I don’t do pills.”
Julian shrugged. “And I don’t like rats. Maybe you take the pills, and you play with my friend Hugo here—or you end up like your little friend.”
Teddy shuddered at the casual admission, even if Julian didn’t actually say the words. His eyes dropped to the pills, one blue, one green, one pink. “What…what are they?”
“Just a little bit of molly. It won’t kill you. It’s just to make you have a real nice time.” Julian toyed with the pills, his eyes sharp. “I’m sure you don’t want a video of you tweaking on his dick getting out. Your friend told me you want to be an architect. I don’t know many companies who’d look kindly on that…” Julian pulled the gun and set it on the table, hand curled loosely around the grip.
Ice crept down Teddy’s spine as he reached out and picked up one of the pills. His heart thudded wildly in his chest, his breath racing. It seemed to take forever to bring the pink pill to his mouth and swallow it. He felt every second of it sliding down his throat.
“All of them,” Julian ordered.
A small sob slipped from his lips as he obeyed. Another slid free when Julian grinned and pulled out a camera with his free hand. “Don’t worry, pretty boy. This little video will stay between us, as long as you keep your mouth shut.”
Hugo chuckled and the sound was loud like thunder. “He’s got a pretty mouth. Maybe I want it open.”
Julian laughed. The world seemed to rock beneath Teddy and he whimpered, gripping the edge of the chair. The world spun around him and suddenly, he felt like laughing as well. The two men no longer seemed quite so threatening. In fact, he was overcome with the sudden urge to dance.
And it was never fun to dance alone.
* * * *
Ian drummed his fingers on his steering wheel, staring through the windshield at the ratty complex that housed Teddy’s apartment. It was nearly noon. He should have been here earlier—hours earlier. But every time he’d picked up his phone to message Teddy, guilt had swelled in his chest.
If he hadn’t been so worried about his date with Teddy…
If he hadn’t ignored Lucas’ phone calls…
The what ifs kept circling in his mind, over and over. He didn’t want to take his guilt out on Teddy. He already felt bad for yelling at him yesterday at the hospital. No matter how angry he was that Teddy had known that his brother was involved in shady things and kept quiet, it wasn’t fair to hold it against him. Teddy probably thought he was doing what was best by not betraying a friend. It wasn’t like Ian had known either, and Lucas was his brother.
Ian clenched his fists on the leather, and he resolved to do his best to be understanding. He climbed out of the car and locked the door. It was a shitty neighborhood. If he didn’t, he might not have a car to come back to.
He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages. It had been a few weeks since Teddy had reluctantly sent him his apartment number—and only after eliciting a promise that Ian wouldn’t drop in unexpectedly.
Teddy’s apartment was on the third floor, in the corner. A half-dead fern separated it from the apartment beside it. Ian glared at the warped wood. A well-placed kick would split the door in two. Some security that was.
Ian knocked soundly on the door and waited.
And waited some more. There was no movement on the other side of the door, so Ian knocked again, louder.
He frowned when he had to knock a third time. He pulled up the apartment number again, checking that he had the right one. He’d told Teddy he was coming. He reached down and tested the knob. It twisted open in his hand, the door swinging open. Ian frowned, peering into the apartment, his concern growing.
It wasn’t like Teddy to leave the door unlocked. Or at least, it didn’t seem like something the responsible Teddy he knew would do, but he supposed it was possible. “Hello? Teddy?” Ian stepped into the apartment and looked around.
The place was a dump. No wonder Teddy didn’t want him visiting. It was obvious that Teddy at least tried to take care of it. The floors were worn but clean. The wallpaper peeled in places, but Teddy had hung a few picture frames. A few knickknacks, clearly several owners away from new, sat on a practically empty bookshelf.
Ian resolved to talk to Teddy later, after they went to the police, about moving back into Mama’s. They had a guest room and Mama loved Teddy. He hated to think of the young man wasting money on a crap hole like this when he could be saving.
“Teddy?” He called again.
A groan sounded from one of only two doors. Ian hesitated before following the sound into what turned out to be a bedroom.
At first, Ian refused to believe what he was seeing. The mattress on the floor was bare—just like the pair of bodies tangled on it. One was large, covered in low-quality tattoos—the other small and slender, and all too familiar.
The larger man was on his stomach, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other thrown loosely over Teddy’s waist.
And Teddy… Teddy blinked his eyes open and struggled to sit up, not seeming to care that he was nude or that he had clearly been busy the night before while Ian was at home grieving. Ian could see the dried cum on his thighs that Teddy made little move to hide.
“Ian!” Teddy’s words slurred together, and Ian had worked in a bar long enough to spot the blown pupils, a clear sign of drug use. He watched Teddy shiver in the cold air. Disgust warred with disbelief. Teddy’s mother was an addict and all he’d heard was how much that frustrated Teddy. He found it hard to believe that Teddy would toy with drugs, but he couldn’t deny the evidence before his eyes.
Teddy pushed up onto his knees and reached for Ian. There was so much need in his eyes. Half of Ian wanted to snag him from the bed and toss him into a shower, then spend the next week claiming him, over and over, until Teddy knew without a doubt who he belonged to. A larger part forced him back a step, clenching his jaw.
The stranger on the mattress woke, rolling over. He leered at Teddy, his eyes lingering on his ass, before he turned a cold gaze onto Ian. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’d ask you the same thing,” Ian replied, turning to Teddy for an answer.
But Teddy, it seemed, was still at least partially caught in the haze of whatever drug he’d turned to the night before. The young man blinked, rubbing his eyes, then peered at him again. “Ian?” Teddy turned to the man in his bed, his skin paling.
Ian took another step back, “Oh, don’t get worried now on my account. It looks like you had a fun night.” His voice sounded icy, even to him. Later, he might regret the words, but all he felt now was anger.
Teddy flinched, stumbling over his words. “It’s…it’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh, it’s not what it looks like? Because it certainly looks like you went straight from the hospital, where we watched them unhook my brother—your friend—from life support, to popping molly and riding a stranger’s dick. So tell me, if it’s not what it looks like, then what is it?”
The stranger cleared his throat and Teddy’s gaze snapped between them. His expression was torn, and Ian, despite his anger, couldn’t help noticing how frail the young man looked, cowering on the mattress. He steeled himself against the thought.
Teddy’s voice was small. “Ian…”
Ian waited a second for an explanation that never came. He straightened his shoulders. “Are you coming down to the precinct?”
The stranger curled his arm around Teddy’s shoulder and tugged him against his side. Ian’s jaw clenched at the sight. “Come on, baby. I got another round in me still.”
Teddy seemed to flinch away from the man’s touch but stayed silent, dropping his gaze down and away from Ian’s, his shame evident. And Ian got his answer. Teddy wasn’t going with h
im, and without Teddy, he would have no way of convincing the police to open an investigation. They would only see his brother as a troublemaker with a slew of misdemeanors under his belt.
“Fine,” Ian snapped and spun on his heel. He paused in the doorway, his fists clenched at his side. “The funeral is on Saturday. Lucas would want you there, but after that, maybe it’d be best if you don’t come around for a while.”
Chapter Fifteen
The wall Ian was leaning against swayed behind him, unsteady as the deck of a ship in a storm. He snagged another shot off a tray one of his cousins was carrying around—either Niki or Noel, their face too blurred to make out. It didn’t matter, so long as they kept bringing him liquor. He tossed the shot back, throat too numb to feel the burn any longer. His gaze followed the tray of shots as it got farther away.
The living room furniture had been pushed against the walls and all the seats were taken. Papa looked small in his armchair. A pair of cousins spoke quietly on the couch, their words drowned by the pounding in Ian’s ears. The room smelled strongly of bitter cigars.
Ian’s attention drifted to the dining room chair wedged into the corner. A half-smoked cigarette was gripped in white-knuckled fingers, dangling between a pair of jean-clad knees. Shoulders slumped, head bowed, Teddy looked like a broken doll. Ian had been ignoring him for the past several hours, but now, he couldn’t remember why.
What right did Teddy have to look like that, to tug on Ian’s frayed heartstrings? He wanted to be angry. He didn’t want to feel like this, like he needed to scoop the young man in his arms and offer comfort.
He didn’t mean to act on the stray thought, but he found himself ignoring the way the room spun. He found himself kneeling awkwardly in front of the young man. The moment he touched Teddy, something inside him cracked. He felt it like the snap of a guitar string on his fingers, like a razor blade slipping on his jaw, like the gravel-bitten bruises after he’d crashed his motorcycle in senior year. He sought comfort in the folds of Teddy’s sweater, in the warmth of his chest. He curled his fingers into the soft fabric of Teddy’s jeans.
Someone was crying.
He didn’t realize it was him until he felt slender fingers gently caressing his scalp, soothing him like a skittish animal. There were muttered voices echoing over his head, then he was being lifted. A small body propped up his left side and a larger one carried his weight on the right.
He was vaguely aware of the flight of stairs they stumbled up before he collapsed on his mattress. He blinked up. The larger body—cousin Israel—said something in a soft voice, then left.
Teddy stayed, standing by the edge of the mattress. His shoulders were slumped, weighed down by the somber mood of the velorio. His face was blank, like summoning an emotion would be too much effort. The younger man looked lost.
“Stay?” Ian asked, voice slurred.
Teddy didn’t answer for a long moment. Then, he nodded silently and lay down beside Ian, facing away. Ian knew that come tomorrow, he would be sober but aching, and somehow he would need to make it through the funeral rites. The long service at Saint Mary’s Cathedral and the burial would be bad enough—but watching the women pull out his brother’s clothing to wash in the sink, the forced gaiety in the back yard while they dried, then worse, watching clothing that had touched his brother burn… He didn’t know how to get through it sober.
But he didn’t want to think about it. Instead, he curled his arms around Teddy’s slender chest and buried his face in the younger man’s short hair, smothering his sobs in the scent of lavender and honeysuckle.
* * * *
Teddy woke the morning after the wake to the sound of rustling. He pried sticky eyes open to see Ian standing at the foot of the bed, shoving clothing into a duffel bag, his jaw clenched.
Teddy sat up, tugging at the hem of his newly purchased Goodwill sweatshirt. “You’re leaving?”
Ian roughly tugged the zipper closed and swung the bag over his shoulder, but he didn’t answer.
“Are you coming back?” Teddy asked, his voice hoarse.
The muscle in Ian’s jaw jumped before he sighed, glancing at Teddy. In his eyes, Teddy still saw anger, but beneath it was an ocean of pain. “I can’t stay here. Maybe I’ll come back, someday. I don’t know.” Ian ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Not for a while, anyway.”
Ian left, leaving Teddy alone on his bed. Teddy’s cheeks were damp, his eyes stinging. This was his fault. Maybe if he hadn’t gone with Lucas to meet Julian—or if he’d talked to Ian about the gang earlier… If he’d gone to the precinct as soon as he heard Lucas had died, rather than waiting…
But no matter how guilty he felt, a small part of him knew it wasn’t his fault. Lucas had joined the gang on his own, and Teddy wasn’t his keeper.
And there was no way for Teddy to have known that Julian was going to show up at his apartment to blackmail him. He couldn’t change the past.
It didn’t, however, stop him from hurting as he heard the loud rumble of Ian’s truck roar then fade into the distance, out of his life.
Chapter Sixteen
Four years later
Ian smoothed out the last strip of packing tape, closed the final box then carted it out to the moving truck. The driver held out a clipboard. “Just need your autograph,” the man grunted.
Ian scrawled his name across the bottom line then watched the truck trundle away. He shot his apartment a final glare before he climbed into Sally, his rusty red truck, and left it behind. It had never felt like home anyway.
A pang in his chest reminded him why that had never bothered him. Home would always be Austin, with its hot winters and hotter summers and the smell of Mama’s cooking on the air. Where he knew every corner of every street, knew where to find every mural painted on the brick siding—where everywhere he looked, the memories mocked him. He’d left the city four years before and not once had he convinced himself to go back. He’d talked to Mama on the phone and video chatted with Noa. Papa called every month or two. But every time he’d thought to visit, he’d canceled his plans at the last minute.
Work, he’d always said. He was too busy at the office. One of the other accountants was on maternity leave. He had to housesit. He had an excuse for everything—anything but the truth.
The ghost of Lucas haunted the Austin streets. He saw him there, even in memories, taunting him. Begging him. Crying for him to save him, but Ian couldn’t. Even when time numbed the sting of his brother’s death, Ian had stayed away.
His brother was a ghost but Teddy wasn’t. And the pain of Teddy’s betrayal still stabbed at his chest like a bullet wound. Worse, actually, because Ian’s one and only bullet wound had healed to an only slightly puckered pink scar.
Ian’s phone rang on the passenger seat and he answered it without bothering to look. “Romero.”
“Ah good, I caught you. Wasn’t sure if you’d left yet,” Tennyson said. His partner’s voice was always slightly mocking, though Ian was starting to think it was just the way the man spoke, nothing personal. “Just wanted to go over a few last-minute details.”
“Go ahead,” Ian said, half listening. He flicked on his turn signal, cutting off a silver SUV going well above the speed limit to merge onto the expressway. Fucking Chicago traffic. It wasn’t New York, but it sucked just the same.
“You have a place to stay when you get here? The department just finalized the sale this morning, so construction on the club isn’t slotted to start for another week.”
“Yeah, booked a hotel. Won’t be the first time. I thought the department wanted us to hit the ground running on this thing?” Ian felt a weight land on his shoulders as he left Chicago behind him.
“Forgot they gave me a probie,” Tennyson laughed into his ear. “Six weeks is still pretty damn fast for an op like this.”
“Two years,” Ian reminded him. “I’ve been on the job for over two years.”
“Make it to five and I’ll let you graduate to rookie. The
first six-to-eight weeks you’ll spend getting settled. It’ll be awfully suspicious if you move back home and the next day start asking questions. Go visit your mom, go furniture shopping. If you absolutely have to, start looking into financials, background checks—paper shit that won’t get nobody’s nose in your business. Leave the legwork to me. That’s why they sent me out here last month, yeah?”
“I hate paperwork,” Ian grumbled.
“So do I. That’s why I give it to the probies.”
“Anything else we need to talk about or can I get back to driving?” Ian asked.
When Tennyson answered, his voice was more serious. “For real, though. Visit your mom. I know it’s hard, but better to rip the Band-Aid off than draw it out.”
“I’ll think about it,” Ian said before hanging up. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her. He just knew that when he did, she’d start crying, then he would start crying. Then she would tell him to visit his brother, like the stone they’d placed at the cemetery would somehow know. His brother’s body wasn’t even there. They’d scattered his ashes, letting the breeze in the back yard at home carry his brother away on the wind.
Home.
For the first time in four years, he was going home.
He wished the thought didn’t cause stones to grow in his stomach.
* * * *
Teddy was about to settle into bed on his first free evening of the month—not counting the date he was planning to bail on later tonight—when someone knocked on his door. Teddy sighed and swung off the mattress, padding on bare feet into what he called his living room. He took one look at Shiloh through the peephole before yanking the door open. Shiloh’s tousled pink hair fell into his face but did little to hide the blood trickling from a split near the corner of his lower lip.