“Stay here.”
Of course, I don’t. I trail after him, watching from the edge of the employee area as he heads back on the floor. Kasia appears to have gotten most people settled. It’s not like this town is a stranger to bar fights, and no one was really hurt.
I’m too far away to hear what gets said, but I see Gunnar get in Eamon’s face and speak to him in tightly controlled anger.
They’re about the same height, and both of them are towering over poor Tobias, who is pulled into Eamon’s side in a death grip. He looks like he wants to be anywhere else, but he’s still spaced out enough that I’m beginning to think he’s had more than just alcohol tonight.
After a few clipped sentences are exchanged, Eamon shrugs and heads for the door, Tobias trailing behind him. But before he crosses the threshold, he turns and points his fingers at Gunnar like he’s holding a pistol and gives him a wicked smirk.
Gunnar just rolls his eyes and reaches out for Tobias. It’s a split second, but he grabs the kid and whispers something in his ear. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make the boy’s eyes go wide before Eamon drags him out the door, and he casts one long look at Gunnar over his shoulder as they disappear into the parking lot.
This whole situation is a shitshow and I’m suddenly exhausted.
When Gunnar walks back in, I’m not even surprised that he tells me to leave. I am surprised that he doesn’t fire me, but that’s probably coming later when he thinks I’m less homicidal. I’m kept penned in the kitchen by Kasia—who already hasn’t taken a shine to me, and spends the whole time watching me with a wary expression that I probably deserve—until everyone’s sure that Eamon has cleared the premises, and then I’m dispatched with orders to go straight home and accrue no trouble on my way there.
It’s a weird feeling. I’m pretty sure all I’ve done since I showed up is bring problems for these people, but they still speak to me like I’m a real person. I don’t know how to handle it.
I don’t know how to handle any of this, really, but what else is new? Figuring out what the fuck is wrong with me seems like a tomorrow problem. Right now, I just want to shower untilI forget that Eamon exists and then sleep until Micah comes home.
Chapter Seventeen
Savage
Ican’t get the images of the fight out of my head. The proprietary way Eamon handled Tobias, even though the boy clearly didn’t enjoy it. The way he seemed completely fearless when it came to my father finding out he’s fucking another man…
“I saw something I wanted, and I took it. Now it’s mine. Padraig respects that.”
I’ve spent my entire life being sure about the things my father hates and the things he needs me to be, and somehow Eamon managed to turn that idea on its head with just a few words. I’ve invested all this energy into being the kind of man my father wants me to be…
And it was what? All a waste?
I just want to know how every single motherfucker I meet, including that smug, obsequious little shit, seems to have the kind of commanding, dominant energy that my father respects.Apart from me. What fucking gene did I not get that lets you act like you’re in control of every situation?
Even Micah has it. And I know that Father is disgusted by the fact that he’s gay, even though he never said as much out loud, but it’s not like he ever did anything about it. He’s always seemed content to keep Micah at arm’s length, both when we were kids and recently, while taking his anger and his vitriol out on me.
I’d always assumed it was out of some kind of deference to Micah’s mother, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe Father sees Micah’s dominance and it earns him the few flakes of respect he needs to remain unbeaten. While I can do every single fucking thing right on paper, but he still manages to see right through me to my soft, constantly crumbling inner core.
And that’s why I disgust him.
Which makes everything I’ve ever done for him a waste. Because I can control how I talk and act and who I fuck, but I can’t dig that fucking weakness out of me, no matter how hard I try.
And I’ve tried.
I turn up the heat on the water sluicing over my body, hoping it can burn these thoughts out of me, but it doesn’t work. Nothing works.
Micah was so different when I overheard him with his littlefriendthe other day. It was a shock. I’ve always known he has this competent, controlled side of him. He’s been amazing at taking care of me, obviously, while I’ve brought him nothing but chaos and misery. But seeing how that translated to his sex life wasn’t something I ever wanted, but it was fucking eye-opening.
“Stay still while I fuck your pretty face.”
“Good slut.”
God, it’s nothing I ever would have imagined coming out of his mouth. And once I saw the dude he was saying that shit to,that made it even more wild. That guy was big. He was basically my size. He had showy gym muscles, and I could have severed his esophagus with a spoon if I’d needed to, but still.
He seemed so masculine, but just a few minutes before I saw him, he’d been on his knees, begging my brother for more and crying to the sounds of ‘good slut’.
I can’t wrap my head around it.
If only I could figure out how to mainline that kind of dominance into myself, I think it would fix all my problems. I’m so jealous that even thinking about it is making me get hard. I pause to lean against the wall of the shower and focus on the sensations.
