Maybe, deep down, I didn’t want to.
Maybe I was filling a hole that had been left behind twenty years ago by someone else.
Who knew? My fucked-up family was a veritable playground of psychological debauchery.
“What are you doing here?” I needed answers.
Edison popped a handful of Chex into his mouth, muffling his reply. “Dad’s being a fucking dick, and Mom’s…” Edison rolled his eyes and let the sentence hang.
Shianne was likely strung out on whatever pills she was currently addicted to, bunked up with a new boyfriend she’d met in a less than savory location, and was unwilling to deal with her bratty child who she deemed old enough to handle life on his own.
In reality, Edison should be able to stand on his own two feet. The issue was, no one had taught him how. Neither of his parents had offered much in the way of a positive role model, but that was what happened when you had an unplanned kid at nineteen.
“What about school?”
He shrugged and chomped down more cereal without answering.
“Did you drop out?”
“No, but the program is boring as shit. They’re making me take some sociology and psychology crap. I don’t know why they’re mandatory. It makes no sense.”
“Because it’s police foundations. You need to know how to manage people and society.”
“Whatever. It sucks.”
Unsure what else to say, I poured a cup of coffee and dressed it with my usual milk and sugar. “You want one?”
“Gross.” Edison made for the fridge and dug through until he found a Coke. He popped the tab and downed it before letting out a loud belch as he crushed the can.
He abandoned the cereal on the counter and tossed the empty Coke can in the garbage before facing off with me. With his hands on his hips, the light in his eyes turned devious and dangerous. “So, Uncle Denver, how’ve you been? Long time no see. Did you miss me?”
“Why are you here, Eddy?” I could read Edison like I’d once been able to do my brother. They were too alike, and his random visit rang alarm bells. Something was up.
“Dad kicked me out. We had a fight. Can I stay here?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why? Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
My cheeks burned as heat climbed my neck. “Edison—”
He was in my space before I could react. Edison wasn’t a small kid. He was close to my height but lankier. He might have been a young man in theory, but he was still stuck in the body of a teenager. His muscles were more defined than the last time I’d seen him, but he was still scrawny in a lot of ways.
When he invaded my personal space, I had nowhere to escape. My back hit the counter, and I stilled.
“Please, Uncle Denver. Let me stay. You won’t regret it.” He held my gaze, and for a brief moment, it was Harley who looked back at me. They were Harley’s words. You won’t regret it. It was uncanny how alike they could be. “You don’t want me on the street, do you?”
“No, but—”
“What are you afraid of?” His smile said it all. He knew exactly what I was afraid of.
I pulled up some self-confidence, wishing I could grow a backbone for once in my life. “You know this isn’t a good idea.”
Still holding me captive in his stormy gaze, he grinned the wicked grin that had caused me to surrender the first time around. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
If he only knew what had been going through my head the last time he was here, he might feel differently.
“Look. It can’t happen again.” My protest came out weak and without authority.
Edison didn’t respond. The look on his face was enough to tell me he didn’t believe me. He challenged me like Harley used to.
His alluring gaze dipped to my chin where he examined the thick scruff I hadn’t shaved since Friday morning. His tongue traveled along his upper teeth as his smile revealed dimples in both cheeks. “I really dig the scruff. It’s fucking hot.”
“Don’t.”
“Let me stay.” It wasn’t a question. He knew I’d cave.
“You can have the spare room. For now. I’ll call your dad and see if I can calm him down so you can go home.”
“And what if I don’t want to go home?”
“You can’t stay here.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Spoilsport.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I kinda wish it wasn’t the crack of dawn so I could make you have a few beers to chill you out. What are you afraid of, Uncle Denver?” Edison leaned closer, the long line of his slender body meeting mine. “I’m a consenting adult. If you want it and I want it, then what’s the problem?”
His words echoed Harley’s, and in a flash, I was twenty-one again, carefree and agreeing to things without thinking about the consequences. My only goal in life back then had been to ensure everyone close to me was happy—whatever the cost.
Whatever the sacrifice.
It had been perfect—until it had all gone wrong.
I cleared my throat. “You can have the spare room. Stay out of mine.” With a gentle hand to his chest, I encouraged him to step back. I couldn’t meet his determined eyes, or I’d cave. All these years later and I still couldn’t stand disappointing anyone. Rules and morals and ethics be damned. I just wanted the people I loved to be happy. “I have work to do. Help yourself to whatever you want just”—I eyed his mess on the counter—“clean up after yourself.”
Before he could protest or further remind me of our last visit, I aimed myself toward my office. It wasn’t until my ass hit the leather chair that I realized I’d forgotten my coffee in the kitchen.
I sat for a long time, rolling everything around in my head. The good, the bad, and the ugly. There was a lot of ugly, which had a nasty habit of disguising itself as good. A person was supposed to learn from their past mistakes, but it seemed I was dead set on repeating them.
I grabbed my phone and called my brother without a second thought. He’d been my best friend growing up. We were opposites in many ways, and I’d always felt it was my responsibility to rein in my wild and crazy brother, to keep him out of trouble. Harley had always felt it was his responsibility to remind me to live a little and have fun with life.
We’d never had secrets from one another, and if Edison hadn’t been conceived, I wasn’t sure where we’d be today. With Edison’s birth came distance—out of necessity. We both knew there was no other way. Edison’s conception had meant it was time to grow up and be adults.
We still talked. We still saw each other plenty, but we maintained an efficient barrier between the past and the present. For twenty years, we’d maintained a respectable—and safe—emotional distance from each other.
But I’d never lied to my brother, and I knew he’d never lied to me. Honesty was necessary, which was why the minute he answered the phone, grumbling about the early hour and what the fuck was my problem, I blurted, “I fucked your son.”
There was a lull, a moment of silence so thick and rich it had substance. It could have gone two ways. Harley would either be irate, or he’d be his usual passive self.