“What if we went away for a while,” tumbled out of my mouth without much thought. Jesus Christ, what was I thinking? But he was right. I’d never brought a girlfriend, or obviously a boyfriend, home before. Mom asked about people I was dating all the time, and I’d given them female names, but never male.
Jayden stopped, turned, and looked at me. “To meet your family?” One of his brows rose, as if he was testing me, expecting me to say no, and maybe I should have, maybe this wouldn’t have been my first choice, but the truth was, I missed them. I’d been missing them more lately, which likely explained my mood and restlessness. I adored my family, always had. I missed painting in the attic Dad and Isaac had remodeled with me. I missed the simplicity of being able to create art just because I loved it and not for money or show. I was tired of the constant speed of my life in the city.
“That’s what I thought,” Jayden snapped, stepping into his pants.
“Yes,” I replied. Because maybe it was time, maybe I just needed to go home and that would help the unease that had taken up residence beneath my skin.
Isaac would… Christ, Isaac would be hurt I hadn’t told him. I was the first person he’d said those words to at sixteen, but our relationship was different now. We were brothers, family, and we loved each other, but we didn’t talk the way we used to. We weren’t close anymore, though I didn’t understand why.
“Can you get away from work?” I asked Jayden, since he kept busy too. His dream was to have his own gallery one day.
A grin stretched across his face, and I knew I was forgiven, though I still didn’t know what I’d done wrong. “I can get away.” He slid beneath the blankets again. “I want this to work out. I want to get past the mistakes and move forward with you, take that next step with you…”
I was again lost at the mistakes I’d apparently made, and then my brain began spinning too fast as I tried to nail down what he meant by moving forward. Moving in together? Getting more serious? But then he kissed me before I could focus on it too much. This time, I went down on him. Jayden came in my mouth, then fell asleep, while I lie there, fingers itching to paint, wondering what Isaac would say when I got home.
CHAPTER TWO
Isaac
I had a naked man on each side of me.
Last night had been a big night. I’d landed a huge account at the financial firm I worked at, and we’d all gone out to one of the bars Walter Financial Enterprises frequented. I’d stayed sober, knowing I would want my own celebration afterward. I’d called Greg, one of my regular hookups, who was almost always down for a good time. He’d already had another man over, but when they said they were down for a third, well, I hadn’t been willing to pass up that offer.
So I’d gone over and had come…three…maybe four times? I had great refractory time. And now I was awake while they slept. I looked out the window. It was almost dawn, Atlanta would be waking up soon, and it was a Saturday, so I didn’t have to work. Knowing me, I could end up there regardless—there was a reason why I was so successful—but I was good at working and playing hard, and enjoyed both quite a lot.
I wondered if Greg and…fuck, I didn’t even know the other guy’s name. Had they told me, or had we not even bothered? I couldn’t remember. I wondered if they would have another round in them when they woke up, but then decided I should give my poor dick and ass a break and head home. Maybe my friend Hutch would be up for a jog today or something.
As quietly as I could, I sneaked out of bed. My clothes were strewn all over the house—bedroom, hallway, living room. Once I was dressed, I headed out to my condo in midtown.
It was quiet, lonely inside. I kept a modern style with a lot of sleek black and metals. There weren’t any personal family photos hung up or on the tables. The only thing that meant anything to me was the painting Lane had made me when he first got to New York. It was of one of his favorite spots in Central Park, with people spending their day in the sun. I didn’t know where that place in the park was because I’d never gone to see him. Dad and Helena had been out a few times, but I always had some excuse or another.
The painting was the only thing on my living room walls, right over my couch. Helena fussed over my place every time she and Dad came over. They still lived in the house where I grew up, first with Mom and Dad, then with Dad, Lane, and Helena. It was about forty-five minutes away, without traffic, outside Atlanta. Helena was such a mom, telling me I needed more photos up, or that I didn’t have enough food in the fridge. She’d always been big on cooking and eating together as a family, and despite knowing I was a single man, she couldn’t understand why I mostly had takeout.
I loved her. She was a mother to me, even if I still couldn’t make myself call her that. It wasn’t because of my own mom either, though I did still miss her like crazy all these years later. But calling Helena Mom made the relationship feel more…real, which made Lane…my brother. Which he was in the ways that mattered, in everyone’s eyes.
That was something I tried not to think about, though.
I showered the sex off me, then made coffee. I sent Hutch a text to check in. He replied that he was at work—he was an ER doctor—and that he would hit me up later.
I went into my home office and got some work done, stopping when my cell phone rang. Dad popped up on the screen, making me smile. I loved my dad, he meant the world to me, even if we didn’t often talk about important things. Not the real things, like emotions or shit like that. He did with Helena, but never had with me.
“Hey, old man,” I teased. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just checking in with you. You’ll go weeks without calling if your mother or I don’t.” My mother. He always called her that, and again, in matters of the heart, she was. “She’s been bugging me to get you here for a meal, but now that Lane is coming home, we figured you can’t be too busy for us.”
My heart tapped a rapid beat against my chest. Lane was coming home?
“Oh? I didn’t know he was planning a visit,” I replied, shifting in my seat. It shouldn’t bother me that he hadn’t told me. It wasn’t as if Lane had to check in with me when he wanted to go see our parents. And he probably figured Dad or Helena would make sure I was there. I could avoid going to New York to see him, but I couldn’t avoid his visits or holidays home.
The truth was, I didn’t want to. Not really.
Being in love with your stepbrother was inconvenient as fuck.
“It was a last-minute thing. He called today. He’ll be here next weekend, and…well, he’s bringing someone home.”
My pulse dropped, felt like it went skydiving without a parachute and any moment now my heart would splatter against the pavement. Of course this was bound to happen. Of course Lane would meet a woman and bring her home to meet Dad and Helena. Lane was the settling-down type. They would get married, have two well-adjusted kids, and…fucking paint and draw together as a family or some shit, because I was sure whomever he ended up with would love art like he did. Lane was always the creative one, while I was more practical.
Still, it felt like it had come out of nowhere. He had to have been dating her for a while if he was bringing her to meet Dad and Helena.