Ever since then, they’ve been attached at the hip. Pax is a sweet dog who is incredibly attuned to people’s emotions, and he’s been a great support for Aidan when his anxiety is high. We call Pax his ‘wholly unqualified emotional support animal’, but qualifications or not, he’s been a godsend for my brother.
Before I can head towards the heavy sliding door of the workshop, Pax perks up and immediately makes his way over to it and starts pawing at the ground, trying to get out. He must hear Aidan’s car. I pull the zip up on my chunky navy blue woollen cardigan and brace myself for the biting cold outside. It’s always a little bit colder here at Aidan’s home by the river than at mine in the village. The water ‘holds the cold’, as we say here in Norfolk. Pax races out through the slightest gap in the door as soon as I start to open it, impatient to get back to my brother’s side. I laugh when he ignores Aid when he gets out of the Land Rover and goes straight to Rain, who fusses him enthusiastically.
A small, thin man is the last to exit the car, and he glances around nervously, seemingly unsure what to make of his new surroundings. I can’t see his face from here, as his back is to me, but his body is tense, shoulders hunched to his ears, and his hands open and close into fists.
I exit the workshop with Archer and Cole hot on my heels, but put my arm out to stop them, wanting to give Corey some space to acclimatise. Rain takes his arms and leads him inside. As they retreat, I move my arm, and the three of us make our way to Aidan.
“Morning,” Aidan says, his tone amused. He’s clearly not in the least bit surprised to find all of us here waiting for them. He knew I would be here, but I think the twins are a surprise. “I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for Corey to be bombarded with everyone all at once,” he continues. We nod in agreement.
“We just wanted to be here… in case,” Archer says.
“Yeah, if somehow he was followed, we wanted to make sure that you weren’t just here with the two of them. We brought the muscle,” Cole adds. I roll my eyes at him. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and we all know it.
“Rain is pretty strong. Stronger than he looks,” Aidan says, somewhat defensively. “I don’t think he was followed. I was looking, but there was nobody around.” I breathe out a sigh of relief, not relishing the thought of having two psychotic brothers to take on in what would inevitably become a physical altercation. As confident about their status as ‘the muscle’ as Cole was a second ago, I hear him and Archer sigh in relief, too.
We’re not a family of fighters. The only time any of us ever got into a fight at school was when Archer kicked the shit out of some finalyear sixth-former who gave Cole some homophobic bullshit. Archer got suspended from school, and our parents cooked his favourite dinner. We may not be the instigators, but we’ll certainly celebrate being the ones to finish a fight when it’s for a good reason.
“Right, well, we’ll stay out here working, but maybe give us a shout for a cuppa in a bit so we can say hi? Depending on how he’s doing?” Archer says, tentatively.
“Yeah. Sounds good,” Aidan replies. “He seems OK. I just want to let him settle in. The Fosters can be a lot when we pile in together.”
His laugh reassures me that things really are OK. But my medical professional brain will not allow me to walk away without making damn sure. “Shall I come in and see if he’s OK? You know, physically?” I ask.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. C’mon.” Aidan slaps Archer and Cole on their shoulders before we both turn and head into the house.
As we enter, I notice the Christmas tree is already up, draped with lights, baubles, tinsel, the whole nine yards. There’re even presents underneath it, stacked up prettily around the base. The simple sight makes me smile. Aidanhasn’t bothered with a Christmas tree for years, his argument being that he always comes to Mum and Dad’s for Christmas Day, so what’s the point? I think having Rain around has shown him exactly what the point is. The rumble of the kettle boiling and Rain’s quiet voice can be heard from the kitchen. We make our way there slowly, trying to allow Rain and Corey time to finish their conversation before we interrupt.
“-mazing,” Rain is saying. “He’s so kind and sweet. Honestly, the complete opposite of him. His family will no doubt all turn up for some reason or other today, but they actually will just want to meet you and make sure for themselves that you’re OK. They’re all really lovely. I feel like... I dunno. Like—”
“Like you have a family,” Corey says, his voice soft and lyrical.
“Yeah,” Rain whispers. “It’s really fucking nice.”
By the time I enter the kitchen behind Aidan, he has Rain in his arms already, face tilted up for a kiss.
“Told you,” Rain says over his shoulder to Corey, who laughs quietly before choking on the sound as his gaze snaps to me, wide doe eyes staring, his pretty mouth hanging open.
“Damn, Daddy,” he whispers quietly. I’m sure he thinks I didn’t hear him. I did, but out of politeness, I choose not to draw attention to it, even if internally I feel myself start to preen just a little. Not that my brother and his boyfriend seem to have the same sense of decorum, seeing as how they’re both trying, and failing, to hide their laughter.
Well, fuck.
Rain mouths something I can’t quite catch at Aidan, before stepping away from him.
“Tea?” he asks, and I grunt in agreement.
I look at my brother as he also nods at Rain, their soft smiles telling secrets only they know. I’m happy for them both. Aidan’s been alone for too long, and Rain deserves all the happiness in the world.
Looking away from them and their sappy looks, I glance at Corey, and our eyes meet. His are a startling blue colour, and I find it difficult to look away, our eye contact lingering for what feels like too long.
When Rain starts clattering around with mugs, we both snap our gazes away, and I catch my brother giving me a shit-eating grin, although he also looks a bit puzzled. Looking away, I give my head a little shake to clear it of… whatever that was and remember the reason I’m here. As a doctor. To check Corey over. To reassure Rain that his friend is OK. Ignoring the little frisson I felt while I held Corey’s gaze, I lean into my professional persona – detached, unemotional, pragmatic.
I watch Corey out of the corner of my eye as he talks quietly to Rain across the kitchen island. The almost crystalline glow of his unnaturally blue eyes is frustrating. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen eyes that colour, and I’m almost positive they’re not natural. His bleached blonde hair has darker roots coming through, a rich, auburn colour, so much warmer against his pale skin.
His hair is grown out, and whatever style he had previously is no longer holding, his hair too long and pushed back from his face, tendrils falling below his ears that he largely ignores. His overall look screams more of not having been able to take care of himself than it does a style choice.
His slight frame tenses again as my brother moves toward him to hand him a steaming mug of tea. With Aidan and I both in close proximity to him, our bulky frames well over six feet in height, I worry we might appear somewhat intimidating to Corey. I’m less rippedand muscular than Aidan, carrying a small layer of fat over my muscles, but I think I’m still in good shape. I’m solid – that’s how Mum describes me. Corey, however, is significantly shorter than both of us, even shorter than Rain. He can’t be more than five feet seven inches or so, and his frame is petite, almost willowy.
I manage to get my ducks in a row enough to make an effort at conversation, wanting to reassure him we’re no threat.
