“Oh, Jesus. Elijah Dunne? Christ, Jaynie. He’s an A-list celebrity,” his brother said, exasperated, before saying, “Wait, you blew Elijah Dunne. Damn, that kid must be into some weird shit.”
Shep’s nostrils flared. “There’s nothing wrong with Elijah.”
“See this is what I’m talking about. You never get mad and you’re seething over a comment. It’s not safe. Your brain just works differently than other people. Does he know that? Does he understand… what you are?”
“What I am?” Shep repeated.
“Your—Your diagnosis. Does he know?”
“It never came up.”
“He has a right to know who he’s sharing a bed with. But you need to be careful, Jaynie. If you’re this obsessed with him after two weeks, what the hell is it going to be like in a month? A year? Very few people can handle that level of… devotion and even if he can, what about his fans? Are you going to deal with the way they paw him and demand his time and attention? What about when he gets a bad review or somebody threatens him online? Then what?”
This wasn’t fair. His brother somehow still saw him as a teenager. Shep had spent years in the military without incident. He’d never lost his temper, never killed a man in anger. He was methodical. Exacting. The military had lauded him for the very traits his brother thought made him a monster.
“How many fights have you been in?” Shep asked.
“What? I don’t know… the fight we got into in middle school. Um, I got into a bar fight in Singapore. Oh and I kicked Jimmy Pensatelli’s ass for trying to grope me coming out of Rooster’s in college.”
“Do you know how many fights I’ve been in?”
“I know you’ve been in at least one fight because I was there.”
“That’s it. That’s my only fight. Mom and Dad spent a lot of time and effort teaching me to be normal. I’ve never been in a fight. I’ve hurt nobody outside a controlled environment. I’ve had moments of anger. Not many, but some. But in those moments, I never even considered killing somebody. I know you don’t understand what it’s like in my head, but I’m not always two seconds away from murder.”
“I know that. I do. I’m just worried about you. I want to meet him, but I don’t get back to town for another four weeks. I really think you need to call mom. Maybe bring Elijah to her. She can… watch you. I don’t know if people like you can live a normal life with white picket fences.”
Shep shook his head even though his brother couldn’t see him. “I don’t want a normal life. I just want Elijah.”
“What if he doesn’t want you back?”
Elijah’s words from a few minutes ago echoed back through his head.What if you don’t like what I want to do?
“I just want him to be happy.”
Mac sighed once more. “Okay, Jaynie. I clearly can’t talk you out of this, but please call mom. She should really meet him.”
“You think I should bring Elijah to meet mom?”
“Yeah. Just to be safe. Just, like, not in the trunk.”
“Is that another serial killer joke?”
“I love you, bro. Take care of yourself,” Mac said by way of an answer. Then he disconnected, leaving Shep to stare atthe sparkling blue water of the swimming pool. He considered following Mac’s advice and calling his mother, but something stopped him. Maybe Mac was right. Maybe it was too soon. He wanted Elijah, but what if Elijah didn’t want him? If that was the case, Shep didn’t want to know. Not yet.
He just needed more time, then he’d call his mother and confess everything. He was certain she’d have a lot to say about this situation. He just wasn’t ready to hear it. Once more his phone beeped, this time a text… from Webster.
Webster: I can’t find anything on why Elijah left Los Angeles. He just up and left. I can tell you his grandfather bought his way out of a movie contract and took him back to Montana, but there’s literally no explanation anywhere. I’ll keep digging.
Shep stared at the message for way too long, his heart pounding out of his chest. Elijah had fled Los Angeles in a hurry at just twelve years old. Was it because somebody had hurt him? Was this why he said his grandfather protected him? If so, who hurt Elijah and, more importantly, was he back in the picture?
The door had barely fallen shut before Charlie pounced on him. “Spill it. What’s up with you and the last highlander out there?”
Elijah shrugged, walking to his bed and flopping face-up onto the mattress.
Charlie did the same, causing Elijah to roll towards her. “Come on, spill it. I thought his brother was the gay one. I also thought nobody was sticking their eggplant in your peach.”
Elijah’s face flushed. “Nobody has stuck their anything in my anything. It was one blowjob.”
