“So your answer is to turn up here? At my house! Are you fuckin’ manic right now? Cos this doesn’t seem like a sane thing to do.”
Hurt, then anger flash across his face. “Why does everyone have to blame my bipolar? Maybe this is just my fucked-up personality!”
Kyle presses forward, moving right up into my personal space, but I stand my ground while he continues to rant.
“Guess you dodged a bullet with me then, didn’t you, Bren? See, I did you a fucking favour breaking up with you all those years ago. You don’t have to put up with all my crazy shit.” Kyle waves his hands around like he’s off his fucking rocker.
This is escalating too quickly, my heart racing so fast I fear I’m losing control.
I step back and try to speak in a calming voice. “Kyle, I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you right now, but you need to get in your car and go home. I’m not gonna ask you twice.”
Kyle crowds me, our faces and chests almost touching, anger turning his eyes indigo blue. But underneath I can see all the hurt and pain. It makes me hesitate; soften even.
“What?” Kyle asks tauntingly. “Are you scared of me getting up close? Does it make youfeelsomething? Does it make you want me? I bet your heart is beating out of your fucking chest right now you want me so bad.”
My vision turns red, and I lose it. “Back the fuck up!” I explode, shoving him hard in the chest. He stumbles backwards, grabbing hold of my shirt to steady himself, but we both tumble to the ground. As we roll, Kyle’s elbow clips me hard in the face, and the taste of iron fills my mouth.
With my vision blurring from the impact, Kyle is on top of me before I can get my bearings. He tries to pin me to the ground, but I shove him off. “Get the fuck off me!” I yell, scrambling to my feet. “I’m fuckin’ married.You’remarried.”
Kyle looks like a wounded dog as he slowly rises to his feet, panting. “I’m leaving him,” he says. “I’m leaving James.”
I laugh, voice pitched high, as I wipe the blood from my mouth. What the fuck does this have to do with me? I gulp in air, trying to get oxygen to my lungs. “Well, I hope you’re not doin’ that for my benefit. ‘Cos this,” I motion between the two of us, “is never gonna happen.”
“I’ll wait, Bren. I’ll wait forever.”
Tears pool in Kyle’s eyes, but I ignore them because those words make me feel physically sick. Twenty years may have passed, but all the hurt, disappointment, and fucking heartbreak comes flooding back.
I huff, shaking my head. “Sure fuckin’ thing Davies. Just like you did the last time, hey?” I walk up the porch steps, onlylooking back when I reach the front door. “Get the fuck off my property before I call the cops.”
Chapter 15
Kyle
22 years earlier
Idon’t hear the door open and close. Nor any footsteps. My focus is on Bren’s face—his swollen lips and flushed cheeks, and the look of utter bliss in his eyes. I revel in the pleasure of being inside him, taking him to a place where he is free fromthe chains of his life. I love him more than I could ever put into words. Some days it’s on the tip of my tongue, but then the fear of getting it wrong, or perhaps getting it right, stops me in my tracks. Because Bren is mine now, and I won’t risk scaring him away, not even to confess my love. So instead, I tell him with my body, my actions, my determination to stay by his side no matter what.
There are no signs of anyone approaching. Not keys dropping onto a kitchen table or boots being kicked off. I’m completely lost in the moment. So, when Bruce’s voice cuts through Bren’s breathy moans, I freeze.
“What the fuck!” the old bastard roars.
So many thoughts pass through my mind—protect, run, fight. But panic renders me immobile. Bren decides for us both, pushing me away and getting to his feet. He quickly steps in front of me, facing Bruce with his hands up in surrender. I become acutely aware of our nakedness and glance around for some clothes.
“Just fuckin’ wait,” Bren says as Bruce advances further into the bedroom. “Let him go. Just let Kyle go.”
“You filthy fuckin’ faggots. After all I’ve done for ya. Takin’ ya in, feedin’ ya, puttin’ clothes on ya back and a roof over ya head. I should kill ya both.”
Bruce charges forward, grabbing Bren by the shoulders and throwing him into the wall, where he slumps to the floor. Bruce is tall and heavyset, and he moves with murderous intent.
“Stop! Fuckin’ stop!” I scream. Bruce kicks Bren in the ribs and then turns to me. I’m relieved his attention is away from Bren. I back up, eyes skittering around the room, looking for a weapon and then…
There’s throbbing and pain and pressure in my head. I try to open my eyes, but the light is blinding, and I squeeze them shut. Where the fuck am I? What the hell happened?
I feel upside down. Trying again, I blink a few times, realising one eye isn’t opening as the room comes partly into focus, distorted and blurry. I’m at Bren’s. The living room is sideways. Something’s wrong with my eye. And my mouth. Jesus Christ. The room spins the moment I move. “Jesus… Fuck!”
“Not a fuckin’ word from you, faggot.”
Then I remember.
