All those thoughts ran on high speed in my head, but the entire time West was urging me toward the steamy bathroom. He slid his warm, firm hand down my arm, and I leaned into his touch. I sighed and let him move me.
“Why did you call him?”
“You didn’t seem like you wanted to be bothered, and I knew he would pick up.”
His grip tightened on my bicep. “Why?”
“Because he wants to fuck me,” I said dryly, and he jerked me to a stop. We had a little staring contest where I shoved my jaw forward and glared, and his nostrils flared, and we didn’t actually do anything else. There was too much tension, and it made my stomach wobble and my chest ache. I broke before he did and turned my gaze to the floor to stare at the oddly attractive curves of his bare feet.
“I told you not to see him again,” he said, and his words were so stark that I shivered with them.
“I know.”
He shook his head and scowled, leading me toward the bathtub. He began to tug at my sweat-soaked sweatshirt, but I stopped him by stepping away. “I’ve been doing this part by myself since I was about five years old. I can handle it.”
“Fine.”
He moved back and I pulled my shirt up, hissing at the burn along the back of my thighs with the movement. I gritted my teeth and made myself smile at him. “Just fuckin’ dandy. I’m okay.”
He pursed his lips, spun on his heel, and slammed the bathroom door shut after himself. Tears came into my eyes as I got the rest of my clothes off, partly from the fucking pain I’d caused myself, the rest from chasing West away—again. I nearly cried as I sank into the tub still running with hot water, and I was barely able to bend forward and turn off the knob. I slouched there, fucking tired, fucking done with everything. I closed my eyes and got comfortable. Drowsing, my muscles relaxed, and my body finally unwound. Sleep. That was the only thing I actually wanted to do these days, and the only thing that didn’t hurt at all.
Maybe I could just run until there was nothing left of me.
Chapter 6
West
My head fell back against the door with a thud that would have hurt more if I didn’t already feel like shit. No amount of physical pain could be worse than the emotional torture I felt right now. Every time I thought I was doing the right thing, the world proved me wrong in the most spectacular way. Forgetting about the evening with Shane was hell and near impossible. Touching him felt good, and even though it was Shane, I relished being close to another man. I missed Carter, but that wasn’t fair to Shane. I couldn’t use him, an eighteen-year-old going through his own agony, just to make myself feel better. Imagining Carter’s look of disappointment twisted the knife into my chest deeper.
Yet, I abandoned Shane when he needed me most. Again. I kept doing it. I already knew what Carter would say, we’d had the conversation before.
“Avoidance.” Carter poked me on my bare chest gently. We lay in bed, the warm cocoon of blankets hiding us from the frigid air. We couldn’t afford to use our heat much because we didn’t have a lot in savings. Shane had just started living with us, and we were waiting for that moment during winter when we needed the heat most, when the pipes creaked, and little icicles latched onto the outside windows.
“Hm?” I dragged him a little closer and curled my arm around his slim body. “What’s avoidance?”
“It’s what you do when you want to pretend everything’s okay. You use avoidance.” He smiled, the twist of his pretty lips big and sweet. Carter always smiled as though each and every day was full of happiness. I’d always wished I had that kind of view on life.
“Yes, Mr. Psychologist.”
He laughed, the rumble of his chest vibrating against mine. “I’m serious. Caleb, you need to stop avoiding your hurt.”
I winced. It wasn’t often Carter called me by my real name. I’d always preferred West, and when he used that name, it meant he was serious. “I don’t.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you arguing with a man who studies the human brain and emotions for a living?”
I snorted. “No.”
“Good.” He kissed me gently. “Don’t avoid your feelings.”
Carter was right. He was always right. Since that discussion, I’d tried to confront my anger, and hurt every time it arose. I’d progressed with it too, until Carter…. I slammed my head back against the door again, this time louder than before, and then it opened suddenly, and I nearly collapsed backward.
“What?” Shane asked, irritation clear on his face. He stood in the doorway, a fluffy white towel wrapped around his trim waist. The bathtub hadn’t been emptied, which probably meant he heard the banging and thought I wanted his attention. I swallowed and let my gaze trail down over his defined chest. He’d toned up over the last five months, his pecs bigger than they had been the last time I saw him shirtless, and even though his stomach was still flat, his abs had tightened. I shouldn’t have licked my lips, but it was an unconscious action I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to.
Something flushed hot in my stomach, beside the shame that curled there as well. I’d avoided that demanding need for months, pretended that I hadn’t touched Shane in ways I shouldn’t have, but here it was again, as though I’d only felt it yesterday.
“West.” My name came out of him as a whimper, and he lowered those long eyelashes, staring at me from beneath them. A red blush attacked the skin of his cheeks.
I sucked in a deep breath and forced it out again. “You can’t do that, Shane, you can’t push yourself like that.”
“It makes me feel good while I’m doing it,” he whispered, folding his arms around his body, as though he was protecting himself from me. “I want to feel good.”
I can make you feel fantastic. It was so easy to say, yet so difficult too. The war between right and wrong raged inside me, and before I knew what I was doing I had my hand on the back of his neck, dragging him against me. He curled his fingers into fists in my shirt and buried his face at the junction where my neck met my shoulder. His wet tears soaked my skin and his shoulders trembled.
“Make the pain go away, West. Please.”
I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, stroking his dark, damp hair. I kissed his forehead and temple, and he sighed against me. Words got stuck in my throat, so I didn’t say anything, just kept petting him until the trembling stopped and his tears had dried, and then I shifted him back a little to stare into those big brown eyes.
He waited, like he expected me to say something, and when I didn’t, he begged, “Please.”
The request was so polite and full of anguish, and I hated hearing him like that. “Okay.”
His eyes glistened again, and he smiled. “Okay?”
“I’ll take away your pain.” I held his arm tightly, tugging him toward my room. He followed, his spare hand holding the towel around his waist as though I hadn’t seen his cock before. I dragged him inside my room, shutting the door firmly behind us, and pointed to the bed. “Strip and get on your stomach, hands holding the headboard. Do not let go of that headboard, am I clear?”
He glanced at me, and as much as I wanted to imagine innocence in that stare, I saw understanding, the kind Carter looked at me with, once upon a time. I didn’t want to see Carter in Shane, though, because then the guilt would double. Shane wasn’t his brother, and I needed to stop comparing them. I’d lost Carter, but Shane and I were still here, still men with needs. Right now, we needed each other more than ever.