24
I’m not who you think I am.
It had been days and that was the only response Martin received. He didn’t even know what it meant. He’d called Seb’s phone twice and texted more than that, but there was nothing else.
I’m not who you think I am.
He’d spoken to Oliver, who had been vague and said Seb was fine, but he wasn’t ready to talk or come back yet.
A week after the fire, Martin ran into Cassidy outside the diner.
“Where have you been?” She clutched at his jacket. “I tried to change the beginning of my essay. It’s a disaster!”
Settling into the task was hard. Every time he tried to read what she’d written, or remind her of something they’d talked about, he remembered their last conversation had taken place in the bookstore. He already missed those rainy afternoons in Seb’s apartment, reading quietly while Seb and Cassidy bantered in the background and fashioned new stories out of old books and paper no one wanted anymore.
“It’s not the same, is it?” Cassidy asked.
“What?” Martin stared blankly at her laptop screen.
“This?” She gestured at the bustling diner. Customers and waitstaff flowed around Cassidy and Martin like a rock in a wide river.
“Do you think the knitting circle would come hang out here?” he said.
“I bet they would!” Cassidy’s smile didn’t last long before her green eyes turned serious. “Have you heard from Seb?”
Martin could only shake his head.
Cassidy misses you.He sent the text as he went to unchain his bike. If Seb wouldn’t reply to him, he might talk to Cassidy. She had known him longer than Martin. Maybe she would be enough to pull him back.
Helplessness gnawed at him as he rode back to the house. It wasn’t the same weight pressing down on him as it had been through his last days at Mount Garner. Before, he had an unshakable conviction that everything was broken, and he could do nothing about it. Here, he knew what had gone wrong.
He missed Seb, but all he could do was send text messages into the void.
The house was quiet as he pulled in and stashed his bike in the garage. Nothing to suggest anything out of the ordinary.
Except in retrospect, there were clues.
If he’d been paying attention, he might have noticed the back door was open even though he and Brian always kept it locked. If he hadn’t been trying to mentally force his phone to do anything but show the same text message over and over, he might have seen the pile of clothes on the floor in the hall. If he hadn’t been worrying that Seb might never come back, he might have heard the sounds coming from the kitchen.
In the end, none of these things happened, and so Martin was completely unprepared for the sight of Brian’s naked ass, clenching as he thrust into a woman whose legs were wrapped around his hips, on the kitchen table.
“Holy shit!” Martin threw his arm over his eyes like he’d witnessed an explosion and flung himself back into the hall.
“Jesus!” Brian’s voice was just as surprised. There was a scuffling sound, and the woman yelped.
“Smarts! What the hell?” Brian appeared. His shirt was off, and he was doing up his belt. “Have you never heard of knocking?”
“I have to knock in my own house? I’m allowed to come in without announcing myself!”
Brian had the decency to look apologetic.
“And you have a bedroom!” Martin’s eyes widened. “I mean, a little discretion would be good in any case, but really? The kitchen? I eat on that table!”
Brian nodded, head hanging down. For a second, it looked like he might be fighting back tears, or trying not to be sick, but then his shoulders gave a telltale tremor, and Martin’s horror grew.
“Are you laughing?” he asked.
Brian shook his head, but a giggle escaped. His brother doubled over, his whole body shaking with it.
