Breathless-kindle

by Alexander, R. G.

“Oh, joy.” But he knew Thoreau was right. Fiona loved to talk about shit like that.

  “And finally…” Thoreau rubbed his hands together with an evil grin, “it’s light enough that it won’t slow anyone down for what comes after.”

  Wyatt smiled at his antics. “You’ve got that mad scientist thing down,” he told him approvingly. “You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?”

  “This is all about chemistry, Finn.” Thoreau buffed his nails on his shirt. “And chemistry is my marmalade.”

  “Your what?”

  “Everybody says jam. I was being original.”

  Wyatt couldn’t let that level of lame go unchallenged. “You’re being sphincter. You thought I was going to say weird, right?”

  Thoreau gave him a look. “I see your point.”

  “Everybody says weird,” Wyatt continued innocently. “I was being original. Like you.”

  Thoreau started out of the room. “Order the food and finish your beer, Finn. I’m going to shower.”

  Laughing, Wyatt said, “Don’t take too long or I might need another one.”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  Wyatt picked up his phone and dialed. What was he getting himself into?

  An hour later, he was lounging on the living room floor, his back against the couch, thinking maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. The soft music Thoreau put on was a little disturbing at first—Fiona always had the TV on, probably to drown out their pissing contests—but thanks to the beer, it was growing on him. It reminded him of Fiona, so Thor obviously knew what he was doing.

  The spread on the coffee table smelled pretty good too. It had arrived about ten minutes ago and his stomach was already growling. He could eat this, he thought. He didn’t have to be all cheeseburgers and tacos all the time.

  The front door closed and Fiona called out, “Honey, I’m home.”

  Her keys jingled as she hung them from the one of the hooks Thor had put up by the door. With three vehicles parked in one driveway, they had to keep all their keys accessible in case someone needed to move one of them. They’d been adapting to the roommate situation pretty well, all things considered.

  And now you’re adapting again.

  “Welcome home, dear, how was work?” Thor replied from the kitchen.

  “Fine, darling. Where’s Wyatt?”

  “He’s waiting with dinner in the living room, baby. Let me get you something to drink and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Thanks, sweet cheeks. Make it a pineapple juice?”

  Wyatt couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement. Sweet cheeks. Fiona had definitely won the battle of endearments.

  “Pineapple juice? Are you sure?” Thor asked. “We’re trying out a new beer tonight.”

  “Oh, damn. Can I take a raincheck?”

  “One glass of juice, coming right up. Now go let Wyatt see you, before he starts grumbling again.”

  Wyatt’s heart gave a hard bump. Here we go.

  Fiona appeared in the doorway, still managing to look fresh and gorgeous after her shift at the pub. How did she do that? “Welcome back, beautiful. We’re having a party.”

  Her lips parted in surprise. “A party, huh? What’s this?”

  Wyatt glanced down at the coffee table covered with small plates of food. “I’m learning new things today. This is called tapas.” Not tacos. Good job. “It’s basically a bunch of appetizers for people who aren’t really hungry,” he added, still feeling a little out of his league. “And perfect for taste-testing beers. Thor said these are your favorites.”

  “I might have run to the store and gotten some ice cream and those cracked pepper chips you like.”

  He threw both arms up in victory. “Yes! Chips for the win. Thank you..”

  Thoreau joined them, carrying her juice and a large bag of chips. “I figured you’d want this right away,” he told Wyatt with a smirk, tossing them lightly in his direction.

  Wyatt snagged them mid-air. “Smart man.”

  Fiona looked back and forth between them as she sat down. “I feel like I missed something important. And neither of you texted me all day today. Were you boys busy while I was at work?”

  “So suspicious.” Thoreau made a tsking noise, handing her a napkin. “Eat. Relax.”

  “Why are you having juice?” Wyatt asked, narrowing his eyes at Thoreau because the plan. “I thought we were all drinking.”

  “I like juice.” Fiona reached for a stuffed date. “What? Have I spoiled your nefarious plans to get me tipsy so you can take advantage?”

  “Would we do that?” Thoreau asked innocently.

  “Only in my dreams,” she told him sweetly. “Tapas and beer on the floor sounds like the start of a perfect evening. And since we’re not watching This Old House or something sports related, I can tell you that the senator’s wife showed up again to tell me she’s finally had her way with the Manny.”

  Wyatt snorted as he tilted his bottle back for a sip. “I know you’re kidding.” He frowned, thinking of his cousin’s outrageous wife. “Are you kidding?”

  “I’m kidding,” she assured him. “Sort of. I meant that she’s actually convinced JD’s brother to fly here for some consultations at the youth center and potentially open a new office. As you might imagine, JD is having a minor attack of the spaz variety.”

  “Is there any other kind with him?” Green was a great guy. High strung, though. A little like a Chihuahua.

  Thoreau rolled his eyes in agreement, but looked over at Wyatt instead of commenting. “What’s the verdict?”

  “What? The beer?” Wyatt asked, surprised that he really seemed to want his opinion. “I like this one. Not as much as the cream ale, but it’s light and, I don’t know, kind of spicy. But in a good way. It sneaks up on you. Sorry, I’m not good at this testing business.”

  “No, it makes sense.” Thoreau nodded, clearly pleased. “Spicy in a good way. Sneaks up on you. That’s what I was going for.”

  “Who is it supposed to be?” Fiona asked. “Which Finn is getting his own flavor this time?”

  Wyatt hadn’t even thought about that. “Please tell me it’s not Younger. He’s not this spicy.”

  Thoreau shook his head. “These are my personal creations, not necessarily a part of the Finn theme. And it’s a surprise until I’ve perfected the final beer of the series,” he finished mysteriously, popping a fried mushroom into his mouth.

  “Sounds intriguing.”

  “Delicious,” Wyatt corrected her, licking his lips. “And Seamus is jealous I’m tasting it before he gets to, which I love. Wayne-plex living has definite perks. Thor makes the good stuff.”

  “Told you.”

  Fiona looked back and forth between them again with a puzzled expression. “Have I slipped into an alternate universe?”

  Wyatt grinned. Had they been that bad?

  Probably.

  He waggled his fingers through the air. “Maybe we all have.”

  Thoreau tried to grab for Wyatt’s bottle but he was faster and held it up out of reach. “Hey now.”

  “Do I need to get the sippy cup out again? You’ve been off the pain meds for a while now.”

  Wyatt scowled. “I’m fine, Thor. This is only my second bottle. I used to need a six-pack before I got a buzz.”

  Fiona patted his thigh. “Take it slow or we’ll nip this party in the bud, bud.”

  Wyatt nearly moaned at the contact. She might be aiming for soothing but her touch sent a bolt of lust straight to his dick.

  “I’ll forgive you for calling me bud and not kissing me hello if you keep doing that.” He gestured to her fingers caressing the bare skin beneath the hem of his shorts.

  “Kiss him hello, Fi.”

  Fiona stared at Thoreau, and then Wyatt, with a question in her eyes. She looked as though she couldn’t quite decide what was going on but was determined to play along.

  Leaning forward, she pressed her closed lips to his chastely.

  He grumbled
when she tried to pull away and cupped the back of her neck with his free hand. “That’s not a real hello.”

  He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, tempting her with the spicy flavor of Thoreau’s creation until she opened her mouth for him. Tilting his head, he kissed her deep, groaning softly when she sucked lightly on his tongue and nipped his lower lip before backing away.

  “Hello,” she said softly.

  “Hello, Fiona.”

  She licked her lips and smiled at Thoreau, who was watching silently. “Wyatt’s right. It tastes good.”

  Thoreau gave her a look of sensual approval, and she cleared her throat. Wyatt had to admit the man had game, if he could get Fiona flustered with just a look.

  And your assist, man. You did kiss her first.

  That made him feel better.

  “So why are we having a party in the first place?” she asked him.

  “Wyatt got his bill of health from the doctor and can start working out and getting back to normal again. I’m creating another brewing masterpiece. You’re here.” Thoreau leaned back on the pillows and finished off his beer. “We figured it was about time we got to know each other better, so we’re sharing stories.”

  She swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at either of them. Yup, definitely flustered. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this.

  “You’ve been sharing stories without me?” She tossed back her juice like it was a shot of whisky. “I love stories. Any topic in particular?”

  Wyatt snorted. “Mostly firsts and embarrassing kid shit. Now I know that I was right about him being class president and king nerd in middle school.”

  “And I know more about the pranks he played in high school and his favorite sock.”

  Wyatt picked up a stuffed date and aimed it at him threateningly. “We’re not talking about that sock again. Ever.”

  “Okay, this sounds fun,” Fiona said with a relieved grin. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

  Thoreau reached up to push a few strands of hair back behind her ear, and Wyatt saw her shiver of awareness. “We weren’t planning on it. But you have to join in. Those are the rules. We all share.”

  She held her breath for a moment, looking wary. “I’m in.”

  Wyatt frowned. She wasn’t reacting the way they’d expected. She loved talking about feelings, right? She seemed fine with the level of sexual tension in the air, just not the sharing. At least, not when it came to her sharing.

  What was that about?

  “I think it was my turn,” Thoreau said into the silence. “I’ve already told you both enough about my sisters to be in trouble, so we’re moving on to brothers now. It’s pretty boring, honestly. Other than all four of us going through a phase where we hated being named for famous authors in history, we were normal. Robert had a lot of friends, so he was gone most of the time. I hung with my sisters, but occasionally Emerson would join Austen and me in our basement lab of horrors and we’d nearly blow the house up. By accident, obviously.”

  “And now she has her own line of beauty products and you’re taking over the beer world.” Fiona raised what was left of her pineapple juice. “To Cassandra Wayne,” she toasted their mother. “For surviving your childhood.”

  “Hear, hear,” Thoreau replied with an amused grin.

  “Emerson is the dad?” Wyatt asked. “The one who’s always got one eye on his two boys?”

  “He probably knows from experience how much trouble they can get into,” Fiona said, smiling when Thoreau nodded in emphatic agreement. “What about Hugo? What was he like before he became super cop, wonder nurse and soother of the savage Younger?”

  “Clever,” Thoreau answered without hesitation. “Nice and thoughtful and really, insanely clever. He spent most of his time with Bronte when we were growing up, so it’s kind of funny that they both ended up marrying your relatives, Wyatt. Speaking of, she texted me a new picture of Baby Wilde. She can’t seem to get over his freckles.”

  “Yeah, well William can’t get over his magical sperm.”

  Fiona choked on her juice, reaching for a napkin and staring at Wyatt in shock. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “What?” He popped a small bacon wrapped scallop into his mouth and moaned. “Okay, that’s good. We should have ordered more of those instead of the omelets. And I’m not lying. At every family gathering, it gets dropped in that those stubborn Irish suckers survived against all odds to make him a father.”

  Thoreau was laughing and nodding as he handed Wyatt his third beer.

  Fiona looked pale. “Speaking of Hugo,” she threw out, “I’ve always wanted to know how he came out to your parents. Was it as easy as I’m assuming? Did they already know?”

  Thoreau’s forehead wrinkled as he studied her. He obviously knew something was off, too. “That’s actually one of my favorite Hugo stories,” he finally replied. “Only because it was so skillfully done.”

  Looking relieved, Fiona leaned her elbows on the table. “How did he do it?”

  “During dinner, naturally. That’s where it all happens at our house. Hugo started a conversation about his day at school, and he kept bringing up all these old authors, inserting quotes from their work so seamlessly it wasn’t obvious at all unless you knew what he was doing. I was too young to remember it, but I hear it was something to see.”

  “Were they quotes about being gay?” Wyatt asked, frowning in confusion.

  “Not a single one.” Thoreau grinned. “That would be too obvious. But all the authors were either outed in their lifetimes or rumored to be gay in their biographies.”

  “Brilliant,” Fiona breathed.

  “Only if you knew the life stories of every one of them,” Wyatt muttered.

  “Exactly. By the end of dinner, I’m told my mother was hugging him with tears in her eyes, and my father practically beamed with pride for the rest of the night. Hugo knew exactly what he was doing, going at it like that with those two. Played them like a pair of violins. Like I said. Clever.”

  “We get it.” Wyatt set his beer down on the table with more force than necessary, wanting to move on.

  Thoreau’s smile slowly faded. “Not how it happened at your house?”

  “Our houses weren’t even in the same universe.” They stared at each other for a moment, then Wyatt forced a careless shrug. “We weren’t big readers. We could clean a gun and make the neatest bed you’ve ever inspected. We saw crime scene photos and we all had more than our share of ride-alongs. Other than schoolwork, there wasn’t much time left for reading.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it, Wyatt,” Fiona said softly.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, still not looking either one of them in the eye. “Yes, I do. We’re sharing and it’s my turn. Everybody already knows how badly Elder handled Rory’s situation. Brady was smart. He left to join the Marines instead of dealing with him, and Younger kept his secret until he and Hugo started officially dating. By that time the old man was dead.” He tilted his head. “I honestly can’t remember James stepping out of line once, but he still got some of the worst of Elder’s temper. Noah and I were the only ones who slid under the radar. We got some flak for sneaking in late. Regular shit like that. Nothing like our brothers. We were lucky.” He huffed out a ragged breath. “We’re always lucky.”

  Fiona got to her knees and moved closer to him, taking his hand. “You don’t need to feel guilty about that.”

  “I’m not guilty. I’m pissed,” he argued. Although…okay, maybe she was right.

  The understanding in her eyes made him look away again. “Younger talked to someone who told him he’s got something like survivor’s guilt. He thought Brady, Noah and I might… He said we weren’t abused, not like Rory and James, so we feel responsible for not, you know, protecting them.”

  Wyatt swallowed, glancing over at Thoreau. “It never occurred to me to stand up to the old man. Noah and I didn’t let the bullshit he spewed touch us, so I didn’t know how m
uch damage he’d done until it was too late.”

  “You did stand up to him,” Thoreau spoke quietly but with conviction that commanded their attention. “By choosing each other, choosing happiness instead of repeating his mistakes.”

  Wyatt scoffed but Thoreau wasn’t finished. “Your brothers? They have exactly what and who they want. They’re all safe and loved. You know I’m right, Wyatt. They’re happy now. That’s how you beat the bully. You live the better life. Make better choices.”

  His words struck a chord in Wyatt, and he took a deep breath, feeling…lighter. Because Thoreau was right—his brothers were safe and they were loved. They hadn’t let what Elder did fuck up their lives, so he shouldn’t either.

  “What do you want, Wyatt?” Fiona asked suddenly. “What better choice would make you happy?”

  He ran one calloused thumb over her cheek, staring at her soft lips and wondering why she kept so many things to herself. “I want to hear your story.”

  She blinked at him. “My story?”

  “It’s your turn. I don’t even know if you have any brothers. Or sisters. Or parents. We’ve known each other for a while now. I should know something like that, shouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t know, either,” Thoreau admitted. “I’ve asked, but Fiona always changes the subject.”

  “My life isn’t very—”

  “Fiona,” Wyatt interrupted. This felt more important than the plan. More important than anything else that had happened between them. He wanted to understand her. Know her. He needed to. “Give us something.”

  She leaned back, her mind obviously racing, and Wyatt tensed. Had he said the wrong thing again? Put his foot in it?

  “I had a little sister,” she finally said, sounding more subdued than he liked. “I was thirteen when she died. Elaine was ten.”

  Well shit. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t—”

  “Know?” Her laugh sounded tinny. Unnatural. “That’s what we’re doing here, Wyatt. And it’s good. A little dark for a party but…” She shook her head. “I still have issues with where I come from, who I come from, but I’m proud of who I am now. I do my best to help people. Help kids like Elaine, so I think she’d be proud, too, but I’m not sure. I don’t remember as much about her as I should.”