Whatever Will Be: Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Cora Brent

  “Good timing! We were just coming back from the park.”

  “Hi Trentcassini!” shouts Caitlin as she hops off her tricycle and runs in my direction.

  Gretchen, however, has now noticed Liam and she’s no longer smiling.

  Mara climbs off her tricycle and follows her sister.

  Liam pauses beside his car and watches the scene with interest.

  “We went to the park.” Caitlin twirls around at my feet. “Aunt Gretch pushed us on the swings and I was high!”

  Mara smiles up at me. “Can we go in your house?”

  Gretchen comes up the walkway with one suspicious eye on my brother. When she turns my way I can see the worry on her face. She doesn’t notice the way Liam looks her up and down, plainly having gross thoughts. He then laughs to himself, which is even worse.

  “Well?” Mara pulls on my arm. “Can we go in your house?”

  “Yes. Your Aunt Gretchen will go with you. There are cookies in a bag on the counter.”

  The girls cheer and Gretchen raises an eyebrow but that’s the quickest way to get them all out of sight. Liam is still watching and I can guess the thoughts skating through his disgusting brain.

  He looks at them and sees a possible way to get to me.

  The girls have already dashed inside but Gretchen glares over her shoulder at Liam. He winks at her. She straightens her back and I’m afraid she’ll say something but she switches her gaze back to me. I give her a nod to let her know this is my battle and I’ve got it under control. She purses her lips but ultimately follows the girls into the house. I can already hear them tearing into the bag of cookies.

  “Bunnies! I want a pink one!”

  “Aunt Gretch, can I have two?”

  Liam hasn’t moved. I shut the door and stand in front of it, a clear message that I’m ready to protect what’s mine.

  “Hey, Trent,” calls Liam. “Be careful about picking fights when you’ve got something to lose.” He opens the driver’s side door. “That first warning was for free. The next one won’t be.”

  He ducks inside, guns the engine and peels out of the driveway, leaving marks and narrowly missing the tricycles that the girls left behind.

  Even as I tell myself Gretch and the girls are out of his reach, I don’t like this.

  Liam Cassini doesn’t play by the rules. And there’s no low that’s beneath him.

  When Liam’s car is out of sight I return to the house. The girls are sitting on stools at the breakfast bar and eating cookies.

  “You don’t have any milk,” Caitlin complains. There’s pink icing on her cheek.

  “Sorry.” I flip the lock on the front door. Today I’m calling about those security cameras. And while I’m at it, I’m going to talk Gretch into letting me arrange for some to be installed at her house.

  “What’s that stuff?” Mara points to the mess of salami and cheese that Liam left on the counter.

  “Garbage.” I scoop up the leftovers and toss them into a trash can. Anything he’s touched is contaminated.

  Gretchen gently wipes Caitlin’s face with a napkin and Caitlin gets impatient, scrambling off the stool and looking through the curtainless windows lining the back wall.

  “You have a big backyard,” Caitlin observes.

  “Yup.” I don’t think I’ve stepped into the backyard since I moved back in but there haven’t been any changes since I was a kid.

  There’s an elaborate stone fireplace, a built in grill and half a dozen box gardens. They are all empty but my mother used to fill them with pink and purple petunias every summer. My folks enjoyed sitting out there in a pair of cushioned chaise lounges, bottles of Cassini Beer in hand, while they enjoyed the sunset. There was a twenty year age gap between them but they never had any trouble finding things to talk about. They enjoyed each other’s company. They were happy.

  Both girls are now pleading to go explore the backyard. There’s no pool out there, nothing that could harm them. Gretchen inspects them to make sure their jackets are still zipped to guard against the chilly air and gives out instructions to stay in sight and be careful.

  The girls are fascinated with everything they see. They peer into the box gardens. They check out a stump where a weeping willow once stood.

  Gretchen watches at the window. Her hair is in a single long ponytail and I sweep it aside to kiss her neck before sliding my arms around her waist from behind. She’s soft and warm and melts right into me with a sweet sigh.

  I hold her closer. “Danny knows.”

  She twists around to look at me. “What did he say?”

  “That he’d beat the shit out of me if I fuck this up.”

  She laughs and then tenses. “What was Liam doing here?”

  “He just stopped by to remind me that he’s a prick.”

  “You looked angry.”

  “He’s not one of my favorite people.” I don’t want to talk about Liam anymore. I’m enjoying the feel of her body. So is my cock.

  She knows it. She presses back and I grind my hips to let her know how much she turns me on. Gretchen breathes out a soft moan and I’m now having a tough time behaving. I wouldn’t be behaving at all if not for the fact that the twins are just outside.

  “Will you stay the night?” she asks.

  I glance hastily at the girls, who appear to have invented some kind of game that involves tossing dead leaves into the empty fireplace.

  “Are you sure that’s okay?”

  “Yes.” She turns around and hooks her arms around my shoulders. “Their rooms are upstairs and they go to bed early.”

  I stare at her lips while she talks. I’m making plans for how they can best be used. “Good.”

  She smirks, aware that I’m in the middle of dirty thoughts and probably having a few of her own.

  We’ll get to that later.

  The girls run in to excitedly show off an object they insist is an acorn but is really a rock. We don’t correct them.

  My head’s not in the mood to deal with business now so I fire off a handful of emails and blow off the rest in favor of spending the day with Gretch and the twins. Despite the chill, the girls beg to go look at the lake. The boardwalk and Mill Street aren’t crowded at all and it’s hard to believe the area will be teeming with visitors and summer people in a few short months. Some of the seasonal shops are closed but Mara becomes obsessed with the crystal figurines in one of the windows and luckily that store is open. She points to one in particular and says elephants were her mother’s favorite. I run in and quickly purchase a pair of the elephants.

  Some might say it’s a bad idea to buy anything made from expensive crystal for two four-year-olds but I can’t think of a better way to spend money. The twins are thrilled and nod solemnly when their aunt tells them to be careful and keep their elephants on a shelf.

  We have dinner at the Lake Stuart Steakhouse where Gretch and I face inevitable encounters with people we knew while growing up but for once I don’t mind and even manage to say all the correct polite words.

  Gretchen is right about the twins going to bed early. They being yawning around eight p.m. and she shepherds them upstairs for a bath.

  “Bye, Trentcassini!” the twins yell in unison on their way up the stairs. I’ve become completely accustomed to answering to that.

  They don’t seem to find anything strange about the fact that I haven’t left yet so I’ll leave it to Gretch to come up with an explanation if they ask.

  I’ve already been invited to spend the night so I hope I’m not being over eager when I decide to wait in her bedroom wearing only my boxers. The twins’ bedtime routine must involve a lot of steps because I end up waiting for so long that I stretch out on the bed and start to doze off. The room smells like Gretchen’s fruity perfume and I’m starting to have some pleasant dreams that feature Gretchen’s naked body when I’m jarred awake by the feel of a mouth on my cock.

  There’s nothing like opening your eyes and discovering there’s a redheaded
angel sucking you off.

  And holy fuck is she talented.

  Gretchen runs her tongue over the shaft, nibbles at the sweet spot just beneath the head and sucks the length down her throat. She’s also been considerate enough to take her clothes off and kneels between my legs in a black lace bra and matching thong.

  I don’t even have the words to gasp out that she’s my supreme fuck fantasy. I can’t do anything but groan and sink my fingers into her hair as she destroys me with history’s most epic blow job.

  Every time I try to hold back in order to make this last as long as possible I’m wrecked by the sight of her sweet lips surrounding my cock.

  And then finally I can’t hold back anymore.

  I wonder if I should share a warning that I’m about to defile her mouth but something tells me this wouldn’t make her back off. Before I can think again I’m unleashing a tidal wave in hot spurts.

  Which she swallows.

  Of course she does.

  Now that Gretchen has conquered me, she straddles my chest with a smirk while I try to calm the fuck down.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” I pant out, totally drained.

  “I’m your neighbor, remember?” She takes her bra off. “I always have been.”

  Greedily, I get my hands on her tits. They’re perfect, like the rest of her.

  “What do you like, baby? Tell me.”

  She tosses her hair over one shoulder, reaches down and shows how easily she can shove her panties aside. “I seem to recall an invitation to sit on your face.”

  And I laugh because she’s outrageously sexy and I don’t know how I got so lucky but I’m not questioning my good fortune.

  Gretchen yelps with surprise when I grab her hips and slide her up until her pussy lands on my tongue. She lets me have her this way, rocking her hips back and forth, my mouth doing the work as she quivers, whimpering when she comes with my tongue inside her.

  I’ve just figured out what I want to do every single fucking night and I’ll never get tired of this.

  Gretchen Aaronson is the answer to a question I didn’t realize I’ve been asking.

  “You’re incredible, Trent,” she murmurs after she’s spent and cuddled against my chest.

  I tip her face up so I can kiss her and we each get an intimate taste of our own lust. I’ve never felt closer to anyone than I do to her right now.

  When my cock perks up enough to make demands again, I pick her up and carry to her to the adjoining bathroom. We fuck in the shower and then return to bed where she sleeps in my arms. I stroke her naked skin in the dark and realize that despite all my financial successes, happiness is a feeling that has been completely missing from my life.

  Until now.

  Until her.

  10

  Gretchen

  Trent won’t take no for an answer and I’m not good at refusing him, especially when he’s being insanely generous.

  Besides, there’s really no other option. I don’t have enough to pay for a car in cash and I’ve already been turned down for loans because ‘unemployed law school dropout’ doesn’t look too promising on a credit application.

  Trent pushes the keys for the silver Honda minivan into my palm.

  “This isn’t a gift,” I warn him.

  He keeps a straight face. “Of course not.”

  “I’m going to make payments to you and I want you to draw up the appropriate paperwork.”

  He nods. “You’ll have it tomorrow.”

  The girls are already crawling all over the inside of the vehicle.

  “It’s as big as a house!” Caitlin declares.

  Mara wrinkles her nose. “It smells funny in here.”

  “That’s a classic new car smell,” Trent says. “People pay many thousands of dollars for it.”

  Mara is unconvinced. “It smells like when I left my Barbie out in the sun all day and its head melted.”

  “There’s a TV screen!” Caitlin shouts.

  I bump Trent with my elbow. “I see you added all the bells and whistles.”

  He winks down at me. “Only the best. You can haul the girls and half their preschool class anywhere.”

  Though we try not to openly show affection in front of the girls, I can’t stop myself from jumping into his arms right now. “Thank you.” I move to kiss his cheek but he deliberately turns his face to catch my mouth instead.

  And my senses light up, as always.

  It turns into a real kiss that lasts for longer than it should when we’re standing in the driveway with the twins only a few feet away.

  Things have become quiet and when we finally separate, we find Mara and Caitlin staring at us.

  I drop my arms in a hurry and we take a step away from each other.

  Caitlin is frowning. “Aunt Gretch?”

  “What, sweetie?”

  “Can I be the flower girl?”

  I don’t know what she’s talking about. “For what?”

  She rolls impatient four-year-old eyes at me. “You have to have a flower girl when you marry Trentcassini.”

  “Um.” My cheeks are suddenly afire.

  “Me too!” Mara shouts. “I want to be the flower girl too.”

  Trent finds nothing awkward about this. He simply laughs. “Who wants to go for a ride in the new minivan?”

  “Me!”

  “And me!”

  I squeeze his arm. “Also me.”

  “Good, you’re driving,” he says.

  Once we get the girls’ booster seats in place, we take a minivan tour of Lake Stuart. It’s a pretty day, not quite warm enough to be without a sweater but pleasant with the promise of spring on the horizon. The lake itself glitters and I now appreciate its beauty in a way that didn’t occur to me when I was a child and simply took it for granted as an everyday landmark. Our hometown is pretty and will become even prettier in the spring when the tree leaves fill in and Rosebriar Hill transitions to a picture book shade of green.

  Perhaps Caitlin is looking in the same direction I’m looking because she asks, “Can we go to Rosebriar?”

  I shouldn’t be surprised that they know what Rosebriar is. Jules was bound to have mentioned our family’s old resort to them. Besides, there are still photo reminders and other souvenirs all over the house. Rosebriar is their history too, just like it was mine and Jules’s and Danny’s.

  “Do you think we can get up there?” I ask Trent.

  He nods. “Road was all clear when I drove up that way last month.”

  “Okay.” I glance back at the girls. “But stay close. It’s falling apart and can be dangerous.”

  “Mommy said that too when we went,” Mara says.

  “Your mom took you up there?”

  “Yup. We got a bunch of orange leaves and Mommy said if we put them in a book they’ll last longer so that’s what we did.”

  If there were ‘orange leaves’ then then they must have visited in the fall. The pang in my heart is a familiar companion whenever I think of Jules and how she should be here with her girls. But I’ll keep a smile on my face because I don’t want to the twins to be sad whenever they think of their mother.

  “Your Mommy was smart. Did you know that flowers can be pressed the same way? We’ll pick some flowers in the spring and give it a try.”

  “I like dandelions,” says Mara.

  “I’m sure we’ll be able to find dandelions.”

  I’m so focused on driving toward the hill that I forget this is also the way to Cassini Brewery until I see the flat roof and the garish new sign on the building. It’s a small specialty brand, not distributed nationally, however sometimes I would see it sitting on store shelves in the city. I never bought any. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve never tasted Cassini Beer in my life.

  Trent sits up straighter and glares at the building until we’ve passed it by. Then he seems to relax and turns around to tell the girls that he and their Uncle Danny used to come up to Rosebriar all the time when they w
ere in high school.

  “This is a PG-rated trip,” I joke and give him a look.

  He fakes innocence. “Yeah, just like when Danny and I used to go up there. We’d hike, we’d have picnics, sometimes there would be campfire singalongs. Nothing remotely unwholesome.”

  “We should have a picnic!” shouts Caitlin.

  “Next time,” Trent promises her and slides me a grin that wreaks havoc on my ability to concentrate.

  The road to Rosebriar is a little bumpy but clear, just as Trent said it would be. We pass an ancient sign still clinging to a wooden post and it’s a strange sight to me. I would compare it to visiting a fictional land that I’ve always heard stories about and have now discovered really exists.

  We’re not the only ones who had the idea to visit Rosebriar today. The crunch of the minivan’s tires interrupts a teenage couple who were clearly in the middle of a private moment. They are still hastily rearranging their clothes when they emerge from the amphitheater and scamper toward the grey sedan parked beside the fallen recreation center. They throw us worried looks but slow down their frenzied exit when they realize we aren’t the cops or their parents or anyone else who might tattle. The boy flings a skinny arm around the girl’s shoulders and they laugh together.

  “You both need to hold my hand,” I say to the girls. They nod as I unbuckle their seatbelts, my mind preoccupied with fears of rusty old nails and diseased rodents.

  They each claim one of my hands while Trent waits at the edge of the crumbling amphitheater, staring into the distance and perhaps lost in memories of his own.

  There’s a hushed tranquility about the place now but I can envision how it must have been back when the forsaken bungalows were occupied and well dressed families roamed the grounds, perhaps on their way to see Abigail Fisher perform at the amphitheater. My sudden shiver is not thanks to the cool air but something less tangible, a feeling of deep connection to the place where I stand.

  I shake the feeling off. If I don’t watch it, I’ll start waxing poetic about long lost Rosebriar just like my father.

  Trent joins us and Caitlin slips her free hand into his. We take a short walk around the immediate area and the girls plead to go inside the deserted buildings, but I have no faith in the integrity of the deteriorating structures.