“Hey boys, how’s it comin’ along?” I ask.
“Oh hey, Brendan,” Jeff replies, clearly shocked to see me.
We all exchange pleasantries while I inspect the quality of their work. Kyle stands in the doorway, a silent observer. The design is elegant, and the work is well done. If the only thing I get out of this is an employee I can rely on to work independently, then that’s something.
After asking a few questions, I praise Jeff, and we head back downstairs.
Truth be told, I’m here to talk to Kyle and make sure he’s not manic. He seems okay, leaning more towards depression if anything. His movements are measured, his energy low. He’s a very different Kyle to the one that turned up at my house two weeks ago.
“Bren, do you have time for a quick coffee?”
I frown down at my watch, as if I’m on some tight schedule.Morelies. “Yeah, sure. I could do with a coffee break. Thanks, man.”
Kyle leads me through the formal living area and into the kitchen. The entire house is spotlessly clean, with designerfurniture and pretentious art on the walls. It feels clinical and cold and nothing like Kyle.
He tells me to take a seat at the kitchen table. At one end, there’s an open laptop along with a thick, hardcover book and a notepad. I don’t want to pry, but it looks like a school textbook.
“Still black with two sugars?” Kyle asks, picking up the coffee pot.
“You remember?”
He pins me with his eyes. “I remember everything, Bren.”
I don’t know what the hell to say to that. Of course, I remember everything, too. How could I not? Watching Ky move around the kitchen—albeit an expensive one—is still strikingly familiar. His mannerisms and facial expressions are still the same, just performed in a body that’s sturdier and stronger. If I said I wasn’t thinking about being pressed up against a wall or pinned down on a bed by the man in front of me, then it would just be more lies. What’s the saying? Once an addict, always an addict. Kyle is still my drug of choice, even though I’ve been clean for twenty years.
He places the coffee mug down in front of me then sits on the opposite side of the table. “I’m sorry about turning up at your place,” he says, eyes shifting away from mine. “It was stupid and wrong of me. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“I figured that. Have you spoken to your psych? Are you doin’ okay?”
Kyle’s eyes meet mine once again, an embarrassed smile appearing just before he takes a sip from his mug.
“I went on Monday, and we talked it through. I’m monitoring myself for any symptoms of mania and I’m checking in with Dr. Riley every week. I’ve been putting my head in the sand for way too long, but I am trying to face my shit.”
“Were you serious about leavin’ James? Are things that bad?”
Kyle nods slowly. “Yeah, I am. I found a lawyer and I’m making plans, but I need to consider Lu in all of this. She’s the reason why I’ve always stayed. But now I realise that was the wrong choice—for me and for her.”
“Good for you, man.” I’m surprised Kyle has retained a lawyer. I figured it was all talk. But he seems determined to change his life.
“Bren, how’s Stacey? I wanted to ask last time.”
“She’s good. Better than good. She lives in Sydney with her husband, David. They own an event plannin’ company. They’ve got two kids. Christopher, who’s eight, and Melody, who’s five. I don’t get to see them as much as I’d like, but what can I do?” I shrug, then sip my coffee, mindful I shouldn’t stay too long.
“That’s really good. Can you tell her I said hello and that I’m happy for her?”
“Yeah, sure. You should call Nathan and your sisters. You’re gonna need all the support you can get if James is a prick during the divorce.”
Kyle runs a hand through his hair. “I know I told you we’d drifted apart, but it’s worse than that. I haven’t seen or spoken to any of my siblings in years.”
“Why the hell not?”
Kyle’s chin drops to his chest, hand rubbing across his forehead. “I guess I let James manipulate me over the years. He complained so much about them. Caused arguments. I felt like I had to choose between him and my family, and I chose him because of Lu.” Kyle looks up at me, his face full of sadness. “I was too young to get married. Too young to have a kid. But you know me, I can be a stubborn motherfucker.”
I huff a laugh, and it breaks the tension; Kyle manages a smile, too. “How could I forget?” I say, nodding slowly. “Stubbornandpersistent.”
Kyle leans forward and places his hand over mine on the table. “Bren, thank you for coming to check on me.”
Under Kyle’s intense gaze I grow fearful that he can read my innermost thoughts. Turning my hand palm up, I stroke my thumb across his warm skin, once, twice. My mind wanders and I imagine pulling him to me and kissing him hard, our lips parting to taste each other. Heat flares at the back of my neck and tumbles all the way down my spine. If Ky catches even a hint of consent in my eyes, he’ll have me flat on my back on this very table. He’ll spread me open and slide inside me with nothing but spit. My cheeks flush, and my cock hardens before I can put a stop to the fantasy.
