“It’s all good. Just that asshole at the gym. You know the guy I told you about? He pissed me off yesterday, but I shouldn’t let him get to me.”
“You want me to take care of it? I can threaten the gym with a lawsuit if they don’t revoke his membership.” James’s hand lands on my chest.
“I’m not a child, James. I can take care of myself.” I place my hand on top of his, putting a stop to his finger circling my nipple.
“I know you can, darling, but I like taking care of you.” He leans in and plants a kiss on my tightly closed mouth. I fight the instinct to pull away. “I also like it whenyoutake care ofme.”
James kisses down my chest and stomach, pushing my phone aside, each touch of his lips making my skin crawl. But, afteragreeing to have sex with him this morning, I either need to put out or have a fight about it.
Less than fifteen minutes later, I’m thrusting half-heartedly into James from behind—there’s no way I’m looking him in the face—while he moans breathily, his voice too soft and too whiny. He’s aging now, and I use it as another reason to be repulsed by him. Fifteen years seems like a bigger age gap now that he’s fifty-four with a dad bod. I know I sound like a shallow prick, just like I know that, if I still loved him, I wouldn’t give a shit about his body. But the more my resentment builds, the more he turns me off. His ass is saggy, and his sweat is slimy, and I swear his hole is getting loose even though we barely fuck anymore.
My mind wanders and I imagine I’m eighteen again, moving inside Bren. I know it’s wrong, but it’s all I’ve got to hang onto right now. My eyes fall closed as the fantasy takes hold, and the memories begin to flow freely. Beautiful images of Bren’s flushed skin and swollen lips. His fingers twisting in my hair and his thighs wrapped tightly around my hips. I come, silently mouthingBrenover and over as my body shudders in twisted pleasure.
Hours pass and I remain awake, staring at the shadows in the room until they morph into grotesque forms. Thankfully, James is snoring beside me, having passed straight out after his orgasm, giving me time to think. Since seeing Bren again, it seems like the world has tilted on its axis.
I know with certainty that I was neverinlove with James. Sure, I loved him in the beginning, it was a way to escape my past, myself, even. But it had been too soon after Bren. I had rushed into it, far too young and immature, distracted by the gifts and holidays and fancy parties.
But none of that matters anymore because my heart is finally beating with a determined rhythm once again. Bren’s no longer a lost and distant memory. Now, he’s finally back within my grasp.
I slip out of bed and tiptoe to the walk-in robe, closing the door so I can turn on the light. Up on the top shelf, I pull down a small, decorative box. It contains keepsakes, mostly mementos from when Lu was a baby—her hospital ID, a lock of hair, her first tooth. But there’s a few from my childhood too, reminders of my siblings, photos and such. And there’s a single shell. The one I picked up off the beach the night Bren kissed me for the very first time.
Chapter 5
Brendan
23 years earlier
My thoughts spiral even as the pleasure builds, Ky giving it to me like his life depends on it. Because we’re fucking now, taking more and more risks the longer this thing goes on. I’m a fool for allowing it and a bigger fool for being the one gettingfucked! What’s worse, Ky never stops pushing for more, wanting us to spend all our time together, wanting to come out, to kiss me, hold hands, and go on faggy dates.
“Oh fuck,” I moan like a girl.
“Yeah, you love it, don’t you?” Ky says, his breath hot on my neck.
And I do. I fucking love it more than air. All the anger and emptiness fades when we’re together like this. We steal moments in parks, in public toilets and down on the beach. We usually stand, and I never face him, claiming it’s impossible to do it any other way because of where we are, or because we need to be quick. But, truthfully, if I were to face him, I would drag his mouth to mine, lost in the blinding heat. Which can never happen, because, if it did, I wouldn’t be able to deny the truth any longer… that I’m gay.
I let go of all the thoughts that make my stomach twist with fear, and we orgasm together. Ky holds me so tightly it hurts.
When he pulls out, I whimper at the loss, but his arms immediately tighten once again. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I really want to hold his hand. I want to kiss him. Why am I so fucking weak like a bitch? What’s wrong with me? I hate feeling this way.
We’re on Long Island beach and the place is deserted on this cool spring evening. The moon is glowing bright, the only witness to the truth of what’s going on between us. We’re a fair way back from the water and almost into the bush, on a towel on our sides, our first time fucking lying down. We only pushed our trackies down to our knees in case a quick escape was needed.
“You want help cleanin’ up?” Ky asks before placing his lips on the back of my neck. He thinks he’s fooling me, but I know it’s his version of a kiss.
“Not a fuckin’ girl,” I snap. “Don’t need help.” I pull out of his arms and sit up onto my knees, rifling through my backpackfor the small towel I carry around for this exact reason. I clean myself then shove the towel into Ky’s hands so he can do the same. I watch him for a second, squashing the urge to push him back down onto the ground and nestle into his warmth. I’m not stupid, I know I’ve got feelings for him. I’m totally fucked.
“You wanna walk along the beach for a while?” I ask, not ready to let go of the evening.
“Sure, the moon is full and there’s so many stars. It’s beautiful.”
I screw up my face. “Fuckin’ lame, Ky. You gonna write a romance novel next?”
“Fuck off. Let’s go.”
We zip up our backpacks and throw them over our shoulders, walking towards the water’s edge. The bay is almost still tonight, the tiny waves barely making a sound. We stroll in silence for a minute or two, heading towards the Frankston beach, the pier slowly coming into view.
Ky stops and I turn back to look at him, his solemn face staring out to sea. “Somethin’ wrong?” I ask, walking back to him.
“I don’t want you to go on the supply run with Bruce next weekend. I gotta bad feelin’ about it.”
