by J P Sayle
Nick complained bitterly as he walked back to his workbench. He placed the can on the ground and picked up his favourite wood plane. He got to work, grumbling while moving the plane with the ease of practice. “It took me three months to source this piece. So it better not bloody rain!”
He stopped whining as the wood guided his hands. His mood mellowed, and everything else faded away. Nick sunk into his happy place, a place where only the wood could take him.
He let the wood direct his strokes, revealing the character as he carved. His moves bold, his arms strained under the prolonged, repetitive movements.
Nick stopped to rub at his aching arm and sweaty face. Switching hands, he cast a worried glance at the heavy sky, noting the silence around him. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering for a second if Brody and Aaden had gone back inside.
His eyes widened at seeing them sitting on the patio steps like two bookends. Their matching inscrutable expressions were hard for him to determine what they were thinking.
Not liking the feeling of intensity, he shivered, wishing they’d bugger off inside. Self-consciously, he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. His hands twitched on the plane he was holding. Hating that he couldn’t stay still, Nick narrowed his gaze on the two men. “What are you two looking at? Don’t you have anything better to do than sit staring at me?”
His lips twitched at the dual headshakes. Flicking them the bird, he blocked out their joint laughter when it did diddly squat to quell the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d forgotten how much he hated being watched when he worked. He always worried too much about falling short of the person’s expectation, and that was only amplified when it came to the two men behind him. He’d worked hard over the years to stop letting his perceived shortfalls take over his common sense. But sometimes, like now, he worried his work wasn’t up to scratch.
He didn’t like where his train of thought was heading. He put the brakes on them, derailing where his stupid doubts were planning on taking him.
You can do this. You can, so stop being a worry wart.
He gave himself a pep talk and resolutely went back to work, insisting that he wasn’t self-conscious, even when he knew damn well he was.
He lost track of time as the wood design took shape under his hands. He loved this phase where the most mundane piece of wood morphed into something beautiful.
He hummed when he pulled back, straightening, only to groan when his back rebelled at being upright after spending too long bent over. He placed the plane down and flexed his stiff fingers. He glanced at his watch and saw he’d been working solidly for four hours. Shit. No wonder his back and hands were complaining bitterly. He stretched his arms to the sky, feeling the ache deep in the tissues. His muscles quivered with fatigue, but he held the stretch before bending from the waist and letting his head hang towards the ground. Wisps of his silky hair escaped the bun and chased around his cheeks with the soft breeze as he hung upside down breathing and relaxing his body.
“Now that’s a view to enjoy.”
He jerked up, groaning at the sudden twinge in his back. He glared behind him, and his eyes widening. He realised too late Brody was still outside. “Tell me you haven’t been sitting there like some stalker for the last four hours watching me, please.” His eyes twinkled when Brody offered him puppy dog eyes.
“You totally have.” Nick laughed.
“You can’t blame me. Even Aaden sat for a couple of hours before remembering his promise to go food shopping. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure he’d be still sitting with me. I gotta say, watching you work is fucking hot. The way your hands move over the wood.” Brody’s huffed breath blew his fringe away from his forehead as he fanned his face dramatically. “I’ve been sitting here wishing I was the wood. Hell, the way you were caressing it made me jealous over an inanimate object.”
Nick was hypnotised when Brody paused. He squirmed at Brody’s husky chuckle at himself. When Brody’s pink tongue poked out to lick at his lower lip, Nick felt the squirming turn into a full-body shiver.
As if oblivious to the torture he was inflicting on Nick, Brody continued talking, “I was fucking right to tell Gemma and that arsehole they’d be lucky to have you make their kitchen. Jesus, Nick, I knew you had talent. But, feck! How you seem to read the wood. It’s as if it’s telling you something only you can hear. Shit, forget it. I’m probably not making sense. Whatever, man, it’s amazing to watch you.”
Brody’s flustered embarrassment seemed to make his husky voice drop an octave. The change to his tone erotically caressed Nick’s body, creating tiny electric shocks to lick over him. So preoccupied by the sensations was he, it took a second to register what Brody was saying.
Nick shook off the fog of lust clouding his mind when Brody turned, heading for the open door. Hesitating, he spoke up, “You’re right.”
His voice strengthened when Brody stopped walking and twisted around to face him. “The wood does talk to me. It tells me exactly what it wants to be. It’s always been the same.” Nick shrugged, feeling a little mortified confessing this out loud. “Do you remember the old tree stump at the back of old man Dickson’s place?”
Brody’s dark eyebrows met. Nick rolled his eyes at the headshake.
“You telling me you never mucked about at the back of old man Dickson’s, pleaseeee. Everyone mucked about there because he got so riled up. Always saying it was his part of the forest, as if he owned it.” Nick chortled. “Anyway, there was this big arse broken tree stump I found when I was, I don’t know, about eleven. I’d been hiding out from Aaden after some incident with his comics. And there it was. Shit, I couldn’t keep from touching it. I think it was the first time I could see and feel the potential in a piece of wood. I mean, really see it. I made a promise to myself that one day I’d go back and dig out that stump and make it into the chair it was alw…”
Nick halted when Brody spoke excitedly over the top of him.
“The chair you have in your house. That’s the old stump, isn’t it?”
The flush of delight and eagerness in Brody’s voice had Nick struggle not to fidget when what he’d felt moments ago reignited.
His hands twitched. “Yeah.” Nick grinned. “It is. I managed to get permission to dig it up about six years ago, and it took two years on and off to finish it, but it was totally worth the effort. I think it’s the best piece I’ve done.” Nick blushed at his own self-praise but was relieved when Brody nodded in agreement.
“I love that chair, but I still can’t remember ever seeing it before.”
Nick wanted to kiss the frown off Brody’s face when his brow pinched in concentration. He went to step forward when a fat drop of rain hit his face. Giving the heavy sky a quick glance, he shouted in panic at Brody. “Crap, crap, crap. Help me. We need to get this lot into the shed before the heavens open.” Nick pointed while scrabbling to pile up his work tools.
They worked in tandem, lifting the wood and bench into the shed. Nick released a sigh of gratitude when the sky opened a second after they finished moving his tools into the shed.
“Thank fuck.” He offered Brody a big smile, stepping out into the freezing downpour.
His body erupted in goosebumps as the heavy rain pelted him indiscriminately, plastering his hair to his skull and his clothes to his body.
He ran, laughing like a loon, straight into the house. Breathlessly, he turned. His wheezing breaths turned into a soundless moan at the sight of Brody’s jumper sculpting itself to his broad chest. He was convinced an artist couldn’t have done a better job of defining every dip and undulation under the sodden material.
His teeth gritted together while his eyes devoured every inch of Brody’s dripping wet, solid frame. He willed the clinging material to melt away under his hot perusal.
When his gaze reached Brody’s strained features, Nick was convinced the sheer depth of need firing at him would make his clothes steam. Fuck. He’d bet a boiling kettle couldn’t create the same b
ubbling intensity as Brody.
Nick shuddered, knowing just like a kettle that if he miscalculated, he could burn himself. He warily took a step closer, desperate to not misconstrue the situation.
As he heard the sound of the front door opening a loud expletive come from Brody. Nick wanted to do a little happy dance that he hadn’t misread what was about to happen, only to deflate when he realised they weren’t able to act on the heated exchange.
He expelled his own frustrated growl, and stomping over to Brody, he whispered, “This is not over, not by a long shot. And you”—he drilled into his chest—“better remember those promises you made yesterday because I sure as hell do.”
With that parting shot Nick clomped angrily out of the room, leaving a trail of water in his wake.
Brody
Brody swallowed, cursing loudly at Aaden for returning before he could give Nick what his cerulean eyes begged him for. His whispered threat still hovered in his mind, encouraging him into giving chase. He lowered his hand and pressed his palm to his soaking crotch. His erection strained against the material, making him wince when the zip dug in hard. At this rate he’d have a bloody permanent indent on his cock if it didn’t get some action soon. He eyed his straining jeans with disapproval, growling “behave.”
He wanted to sigh when the sound of Aaden’s heavy work boots thumped down the hall towards the kitchen.
His heart rate kicked up a gear at being caught by Aaden with a raging boner. He forced his thoughts of a wet and very naked Nick upstairs to the back of his mind. Instead he let his confusion from last night resurface.
Why hadn’t Nick come to my room last night?
Was it something I’d done or not done?
Maybe seeing Christina, after dredging up the past, was too much for him?
But then why didn’t he come and say that?
No matter how many times he went round it, he still didn’t have any answers.
At his frustrated snarl, Aaden paused in the doorway. His biceps bulged under the weight of the full shopping bags he held in both hands.
“What’s up with you?” Aaden asked as he went to the counter to plonk the bags down. He let out a relieved breath, eying the full bags. He wondered fleetingly if he could get Brody or Nick to empty them. Then he remembered the state of Nick’s wet clothing and then glanced at Brody.
“Did you two decide to play in the rain?” Aaden snorted. “Oh and by the way, you do know you’re dripping all over the floor? A floor Greg spent ages yesterday cleaning and will probably wanna kick your arse for dirtying it.”
Aaden just shrugged off Brody’s “fuck off” comment and watched with amusement as he stomped past him out the door.
As he turned back to the counter, Aaden’s humour died seeing the packed shopping bags lay on the marble surface. He gave a disgruntled sigh. Casting his eyes heavenward, he huffed and puffed his way through after resigning himself to the inevitable.
Aaden tilted his head, listening to the sounds from above. Any idea he’d had about following Brody to hash out the obvious issues between Nick and him changed at hearing the shower switch on.
He shuddered at the very thought of seeing Nick and Brody in a compromising position. No, he was much better off staying out of harm’s way. He finished emptying the bags. His dark eyes contemplated the situation between his brother and best friend.
Maybe waiting to see what Brody did to sort things out would be the best thing for now?
Brody headed upstairs, none the wiser of Aaden’s concerns or thoughts about interfering.
He paused outside the bathroom, listening to the sounds of the shower turning on. He was tempted to try the pewter handle. His palm felt the smooth metal, and before he registered, he was pushing the handle down. It moved soundlessly but didn’t budge.
He cursed silently, eying the door with distaste as he stepped away.
That showed you.
Fuck off!
He rounded and went into his room, barely stopping the door from slamming shut. He yanked off his clothing, let them drop to the floor, and walked to the wardrobe in search of some dry clothes. As he dressed, he heard his phone alert him to a message. Looking for anything to distract him from the numerous possibilities Nick and he could’ve got up to in a hot shower, he swiped his phone off the bedside cabinet.
A smile lit his face when he saw it was from Ellie. He opened the message and read.
My flight is booked for Friday night. I arrive 20.35pm. Did you manage to find me somewhere to stay??? Eli xx
Brody swore, frowning at his phone screen. He texted straight back, chewing his lip as he considered lying, then thought better of it. He knew Ellie would have a fit if he lied and then couldn’t sort something out for Friday.
I’ll be there to pick you up. And no, I haven’t sorted you somewhere to stay!!! Eye rolling here! I’ve only been here five minutes for God’s sake. I’ll have it sorted for Friday. No panic. Bro
Brody waited, knowing he’d get an instant response. He laughed when his screen lit up and went nuts with message after message of rolling-eyed emoji’s, until the final text.
You’d better or else. mister. See you Friday, and don’t be late… Exx
Brody snorted at the implication, muttering, “I’m never bloody late.”
Sitting on the unmade bed, he worked through the possibilities. Searching thought his contact list he pulled up Greg’s number, pressing dial before he could overthink it.
When Greg answered he didn’t beat about the bush, “Hey, Greg. Its Brody here. I’m sorry to bother you at work. But, I wondered if you’ve got a minute to talk. I have a favour to ask.”
“Babe, you can have as many minutes as you want and ask me anything after… you know what.”
His voice lowered to a whisper as he finished speaking, causing Brody to look skyward, chuckling. Greg’s over the top excitement at all the subterfuge, and possibility of playing detective last night came to the forefront now. Brody would bet anything Greg was right now hunkered down over his desk trying to be covert and failing miserably.
Trying not to think too much about how ridiculous Greg probably looked, not when he had a favour to ask, Brody brought his attention back to the reason for the call. “I have a friend moving to the island, and they arrive on Friday. Do you think he could rent your house?” Brody didn’t elaborate further, not sure how much Greg knew of Aaden’s and his plans. The lack of any mention of them made him wonder if Aaden was keeping schtum till everything was finalised between them. He knew Aaden was extremely superstitious and hated to jinx anything by being presumptuous.
“Yeah, that should be okay. You’re lucky, I was gonna place it with an estate agent this week. Oh, will he have enough money for rent if he doesn’t have a job yet? I only ask because I need the £600 to cover the mortgage payments. I might be okay for a few weeks, but I’m finding it tough now trying to contribute to two homes.”
The little blanket of anxiety sitting heavily on his shoulders since Ellie’s text, relinquished its hold when Greg replied.
Greg’s frustrated sigh had Brody offering instant reassurance.
“There’ll be no issue with the rent.” He promised, shrugging off any worries.
He’d sub Ellie till his first paycheck if it was a problem and ensure Greg got the money.
He chewed his lip after they finished the call. Uncertainty about Ellie’s financial position caused a feeling of discomfort inside his chest. Ellie, as far as he could tell was okay for money, but then who really knew about other’s financial situations.
Brody rubbed his index finger in between his brows, kneading tension building at the thought of having to ask Ellie about his financial situation.
Ohhhh, this is such a bad idea.
Shut up. I know it’s a bad idea, but there’s no way round it.
The arguing fractions of his brain gave him a headache but not a solid plan on how to approach Ellie. Over the last two years, they’d come to know each other
pretty well, but there was always an invisible line on certain topics. And he was damn sure money was one of them. As far back as he could recall, they’d only discussed spending it, especially after Brody visited Ellie’s flat for the first time. The place was no bigger than a shoe box but was stuffed to gunnels. You could hardly swing a cat, it was so full.
He recollected that when he’d asked why he didn’t rent a bigger place, Ellie had fobbed him off with some excuse about him being tiny and therefore only needing a small place.
Brody moaned, feeling like a right shit for not double-checking if Ellie needed help. He knew the police force paid a decent wage, but still.
Flamboyant clothes had to cost quite a bit?
Unsure he liked where his thoughts were taking him, Brody got up and went to the window. Gripping his phone tightly, he stared unseeingly at the rain clouds moving quickly across the dull grey sky. He wanted to sigh after acknowledging he couldn’t put off ringing Ellie. It didn’t matter how long he stood debating with himself, he knew it was the right thing to do.
He cursed up a storm, and his lips pursed when he finally lifted the phone. When he found the number he needed, he pressed call.
“What! You know it’s the middle of a work day and I’m up to my neck trying to finish off all the work you left before swanning off on holiday. Leaving me alone with the vultures to pick the flesh off my bones, and you know there isn’t much flesh to be pickin at!”
The musical lilt and mild aggravated tone brought a smile to Brody’s face. “Oh, stop complaining. You know you love it. And there is no one there to pick at your flesh or tell you off for taking a personal call at work. I should know, ‘cause I’m here, you arse.” He chuckled at the loud harrumph coming through the speaker.
“What do you want, Brody? Seriously, I have a shedload to get done, and I’m on countdown and still have a list as long as your arm.” The strain in Ellie’s voice gave Brody a sharp stab of guilt for leaving him to finish off everything.