Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom Book 2)

by Tessa Bailey

  Over. It was over. Hearing Marcus say his name during his climax made Jamie’s own balls erupt, pleasure/pain ripping up his back. The rhythmic squeezing, the proof of Marcus’s pleasure, all of it thoroughly undid him and the incessant ache between his thighs ebbed in waves while he cried out, his mouth opened on Marcus’s rippling spine.

  They collapsed sideways onto the kitchen floor, Marcus rolling over onto his back moments later after they’d both drifted back down to reality. He faced Jamie with a grin blooming on his sweaty face, totally unabashed in his nakedness. “Damn, Jamie. You put it down.” He raised his hand for a high five. “I thought you were going to make me call you Daddy.”

  Normally Jamie would have rolled his eyes and said something sarcastic, but he’d literally never felt lighter, happier or more optimistic in his entire life. He watched himself return the high five in slow motion and erupted into laughter. Marcus joined him. And there they lay for another twenty minutes, laughing on the kitchen floor with their dicks out like absolute lunatics.

  Life couldn’t get any better.

  But it could get worse.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Jamie woke up with a bad feeling in his stomach.

  He couldn’t explain it. At first. But when he cracked an eye open and realized he’d fallen asleep on Marcus’s couch and the sun was way past risen, panic crept into his bloodstream. Marcus was spooning him from behind on the plush, brown couch, both of them in their birthday suits. They’d fallen asleep watching a true crime series on Netflix and the screen wanted to know if they were still watching. Jamie’s boyfriend snored gently in his ear, completely gone from the world. Completely unaware that they’d overslept.

  Jamie’s pulse kicked into high gear. He didn’t want Marcus to wake up and find him there. He didn’t want to see Marcus’s panic. The glow from last night was too perfect, too fresh, and Jamie wanted to live inside the bubble of it as long as possible. If Marcus woke up and got nervous, feeling compelled to explain again that his brother and father had keys, the bubble would burst and Jamie would remember he was a dirty little secret.

  Just for now, he reminded himself, easing out of Marcus’s grip. You love each other. Stay positive. This was a unique situation and not some pattern. Jamie needed to remember that. But as he went around the living room and collected his clothes, dressing as quietly as possible, a voice in the back of his head repeated one word again and again. Wrong. Wrong.

  Wrong.

  Jamie shook his head resolutely and looked at Marcus, relieved when the sense of rightness rushed back in. That’s all it took. Looking at the man, picturing his grin, thinking of the words he’d whispered in Jamie’s ear before they fell asleep last night.

  I need you. I’ve needed you forever.

  Someday I’ll bring you to fucking Thailand for potstickers, Jamie. Watch me.

  I love you so much it’s hard to breathe.

  Reassured, Jamie shoved his feet into his boots and shot off a quick text to Rory, asking if he could come pick him up at the coffee shop down the street. Ubers were scarce this early on Sunday mornings in Long Beach and he didn’t feel like waiting. Rory would know Jamie had spent the night at Marcus’s place, but hopefully he wouldn’t lecture him again.

  Jamie took a step toward the door—

  And watched in horror as it opened.

  A man stared back at him from the threshold and there was no doubt the man was Marcus’s brother. They had similar features, but this man—Joey—lacked Marcus’s amusement and earnestness. He stared at Jamie in confusion for a moment and was clearly poised to say something, but when his gaze landed on Marcus, who was sleeping naked, his mouth snapped shut. Understanding dawned in Joey’s expression and red suffused his cheeks.

  Jamie went into salvage mode.

  Because shit. Shit. This wasn’t good. And it was Jamie’s fault for falling asleep and not leaving when he should have. Goddammit. Now Marcus was about to be outed before he was ready. It might even be traumatic for him—and Jamie couldn’t let it happen. He had to do his best with this clusterfuck of a situation for Marcus’s sake.

  Jamie held up a hand and approached Joey slowly, tipping his head toward the hallway. Can we talk? Jamie mouthed. Please?

  The red on Joey’s face deepened, his expression nothing but a pure fuck you and Jamie should have cut his losses and left. He really should have. But he cared too much about the sleeping giant on the couch and this guy, Marcus’s brother, had just been caught off-guard and the whole situation was a recipe for someone to get hurt. Namely, Jamie’s boyfriend. And while Marcus had always been the protective one, Jamie was ready to fight to make sure Marcus came out in his own time, his own way.

  Jamie closed the distance between him and Joey, dropping his voice low. “Look, if you’ll please just step outside with me for a minute—”

  “You,” Joey returned, his voice just above a whisper. He jabbed the air in front of Jamie. “What the hell did you do to him? You’re the reason he’s been acting so fucking weird.”

  Several responses to that jumped to the forefront of Jamie’s mind, but they all told a story that wasn’t his to tell. What the hell was he supposed to do here? He walked out into the hallway, relieved when Joey followed him, although he still appeared shell shocked. “I’m Marcus’s friend. I care about him a lot,” Jamie said quietly. “And I get that walking in a-and being blindsided by something you weren’t expecting…I get how hard that is—”

  “Don’t fucking talk to me like you represent my brother. I don’t ever know who the hell you are.”

  Jamie shook his head. “I’m not trying to do that at all.”

  “Oh no?” Marcus’s brother stepped closer, getting in his face. “Sounds like you are.”

  Joey’s volume was increasing and the last thing Jamie wanted was Marcus to wake up to a full-on argument between Jamie and his brother. It was growing more and more obvious that Jamie couldn’t salvage this. Joey was angry and caught off-guard and ready to lash out. “If you want to calm down and talk about this, we’ll do it outside, but I’m not going to wake him up yelling about something that should be private,” Jamie said, turning and descending to the first floor. Was he disappointed or relieved when Joey followed, his footsteps thundering on the stairs? He didn’t know. But he would try and make whatever difference he could for Marcus.

  As soon as they were outside, Joey caught Jamie’s sleeve and jerked him around. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but you’re going to stay away from my brother.”

  “You might want to ask him if that’s what he wants first,” Jamie returned, outwardly patient. Inwardly? Not so much. Possessiveness rolled around in his belly like marbles.

  No one tells me to stay away from Marcus.

  Joey cast a glance toward the building, his mouth opening and closing. “What is this? Some kind of phase or something?”

  Anger caused red to trickle into Jamie’s line of sight. “See, that’s the kind of shit you should learn out on your own, before you talk to him.”

  Joey bared his teeth and lunged, grabbing the collar of Jamie’s shirt in two hands. “Don’t you tell me how to talk to my own brother.”

  “Let go of me,” Jamie gritted out. “And back the fuck up.”

  Jamie tried to twist out of Joey’s grip, but the guy held on, giving Jamie no choice but to push him off—and that’s when Joey delivered a right cross to Jamie’s face. It was a hard punch, hard enough that his ears rang, almost drowning out the crunch of his nose’s cartilage. Dizziness hit Jamie and his knees buckled, dropping him to the ground so he could stare at the blood dripping from his face onto the pavement. So much of it.

  Jamie laughed.

  There was no humor in the sound, only self-disgust and more than a touch of hysteria.

  Christ. Here he was again.

  Right back where he’d been six years ago, except this time it was a sidewalk, instead of an ocean. “I really thought it was going to be different
this time,” he said, almost conversationally to Joey. “That’s the definition of insanity, you know? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”

  His heart protested in his chest like a muffled bell. Marcus is different. This is not the same. But staring down at his own blood, Jamie was incapable of listening.

  “Look, I-I didn’t mean to hit you man. I just…how’d I miss something like this about my own brother? He’s been lying to me and—”

  The sound of tires screeching brought Jamie’s head up and denial reverberated through his veins. How could he have forgotten he’d called his brother to come pick him up?

  “Oh God. No, no, no.” A vision of Rory being loaded into the back of a police car rocked Jamie and he staggered to his feet. At the very same time, Rory climbed out of his car where he’d left it haphazardly parked at the curb. “Rory, wait. Rory, stop.”

  “Who the fuck is this?” Murder blazed in Rory’s eyes, but Jamie managed to intercept him with both arms around his waist. “Did this piece of shit hit you?”

  Jamie’s greatest fear was coming true. He’d done it again. He was going to lose his brother a second time because of his own stupidity. They’d warned him, hadn’t they? He didn’t listen and now the hereditary curse of anger was taking hold inside Rory and when that happened, nothing could block its path. It raged like a wildfire.

  Jamie almost flatlined with relief when Andrew climbed out of the car’s passenger side—until Jamie saw his older brother was equally as pissed off as the younger one trying to get free of his grip so he could commit homicide. Olive sat inside the car, too, her eyes wide on Rory’s back. Jiya was also in the backseat, and before Jamie could communicate with the women to stay in the safe car, both of them sprang into action, exiting opposite doors in a scramble of limbs. God, no. No. Everything was spiraling out of Jamie’s control, like a plane crash happening in slow motion.

  “Olive, get back in the car, please,” Jamie said through his teeth, holding a struggling Rory around the waist. “I won’t be able to hold him back if that guy says something out of line to you.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got this,” the blonde said breathlessly, taking hold of Rory’s arm and wedging herself in between Jamie and his brother. Without wasting any time, she wrapped herself around Rory, climbing him like a tree and pressing their heads together. “Come back to me,” she whispered against his panting mouth. “Your brother is okay. He’s fine. We’re all fine. Please, you can’t get taken away from me.”

  Rory shook his head, the worst of the blaze dying in his eyes. “Olive,” he said on an exhale a shudder passing through him. “Olive.”

  “I know. You can control the anger. I believe in you.”

  Rory buried his face in Olive’s throat and let her continue to whisper private words into his ear. Jamie was watching with a mixture of gratitude and fascination as Olive brought Rory back from the brink of violence when a door opened behind him and slapped shut.

  “What’s…what’s going on?”

  Marcus’s voice burst something wide open in Jamie’s chest. More than anything in the world, he wanted to save Marcus from the horrible, jarring effect of this moment, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t save either one of them. Their path had always been leading here and Jamie had been an idiot to even wish for a different one.

  Jamie turned to face Marcus, momentarily forgetting his face was covered in blood.

  But he remembered right away when Marcus—wearing only his sweatpants—stumbled back a step, a choked sound leaving his mouth. “Jamie?” He started to come in Jamie’s direction, but Andrew stepped into his path, holding him off with a hand to his chest. “What happened to your face? Jamie, what…?”

  Until that moment, Marcus hadn’t noticed Joey standing off to the side, arms lifeless at his sides, complexion chalky. He did now. And Jamie watched helplessly as horror dawned in Marcus’s expression.

  “Did you do this?” Marcus took a rattling breath. “Did you touch him?”

  Joey looked down at the ground.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you,” Marcus growled, lunging for his brother. He was in mid-air when Andrew managed to catch him around the trunk of his torso, but Marcus was fucking huge and angry and Jamie’s brother might be as strong as a bull, but he wouldn’t be able to hold Marcus for long.

  Jamie acted. No way. No way he was going to let this happen. Everyone involved here had arrived at this moment because of his actions. He’d known better. And he wouldn’t let an act of violence take place in his name. Not again. Already he was moving to stand in front of Joey, acting as a shield in case Marcus got free of Andrew.

  The fight went out of Marcus almost immediately, tension pouring from him in a rush. “Look at him!” he shouted, plowing a hand through his hair, a sheen forming in his wild eyes. “Standing in front of your sorry ass. After what you did to him. Look at him.”

  “My sorry ass?” Joey seethed, though he sounded less confident than before. “You’ve been sneaking around. Lying to your own family. I have to find out like this?”

  “You’re right. I’m the sorry one.” Marcus’s voice was hollow. “I can’t even apologize anymore, can I? I’ve used them all up. I’ve used him all up.”

  I have to get out of here.

  If Jamie’s heart twisted one more degree, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away. And he had to. He thought this time could be different, but there he stood on the street, people coming out of their houses in robes to watch the drama unfold. Drama centered on him and who he loved. Who he chose to be with. His fucking face ached. Blood soaked the front of his shirt molding it to his chest, and in that moment, he was stripped of everything he’d worked so hard to build after Chris. After that long-ago evening on the beach, Jamie was back to being the hidden shame, a thing to be revealed and apologized for.

  “Jamie,” Marcus said, his tone hushed and full of gravel. “Come inside so I can fix you. Please. It’s killing me to see you bleed.”

  Andrew turned to look at Jamie over his shoulder, a touch of wildness warring with concern in his eyes. “What do you want to do?”

  Jamie cleared the rust from his throat. “I’m coming home.”

  “No,” Marcus ground out, the fight reanimating him. He pushed against Andrew with more determination than before. “Don’t go like this.”

  “Enough, Marcus,” Jamie snapped, the rope inside him frayed down to one tiny string. “It was always going to end like this—an instant replay. Look at me. You can see that I’m done. You know it’s done.” He used his sleeve to wipe the blood from his nose. “There’s no more pretending. It’s real now and I’m not limping in to collect my consolation prize. I’m sorry…I’m sorry it happened like this for you, but my arms are too tired to pick up the pieces now.”

  Jamie walked away before a frozen Marcus could respond, but he only made it two steps before Joey said, “Let him go, man. We’re going to work this out. Huh? You got it out of your system now and you can go back to normal—”

  Andrew turned and plowed his fist into Joey’s face, sending Marcus’s brother falling backwards onto his ass on the sidewalk. “My brother might have a prison record that prevents him from getting into more trouble,” Andrew rumbled, cracking his neck. “But I don’t. You want to go a round with me, motherfucker? Imply Jamie isn’t normal one more time.”

  No one moved for long moments. Jamie couldn’t hear anything but the damaged beating of his heart and the breeze coming in off the ocean in the distance. Finally, he forced his feet to move, taking Andrew by the shoulders and propelling him toward the car, before any of the neighbors called the cops. Rory and the girls seemed to get the message, too, piling into the backseat with Jamie, although Jiya was staring at Andrew in the rearview mirror in shock.

  “What’s wrong, Jiya?” Andrew said, a muscle popping in his jaw. “You didn’t know I had any violence in me?” He paused. “Well now you do.”

  Andrew started the car and Jamie sen
sed in his gut that it wasn’t over. He was proven right a second later when Marcus appeared in the window beside him, taking up the whole thing with his bulky frame.

  “Don’t go. Don’t.” He pulled on the door handle, biting off a curse, before pounding in the window with his fists. “Get out of the fucking car, Jamie.”

  “Drive,” Jamie shouted, closing his eyes.

  They did. With every block they drove farther away from Marcus, Jamie let the numbness take over, let it block the pain, the memories, the traitorous spark of hope that refused to be doused. He deadened himself as a means of survival.

  And as much as he needed to, he didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Marcus was underneath his bed. It was the only way to escape the light.

  He couldn’t remember when he’d oozed out from beneath the bedcovers and wedged his gigantic ass under the king-sized Ikea frame, but it had been the best decision of his life. Surrounded by darkness, he couldn’t see anything. And nothing could see him. There he lay, his face in a puddle of his own tears, his boxers stuck to him from being worn a full week straight. Maybe he’d go for some kind of boxer-shorts-wearing world record. It would be his second title, since he was already going to end up in Guinness as The Shittiest Human Being Alive.

  How long did he have to starve himself before he just died already? He’d stopped feeling hunger pains yesterday and now he was just an empty shell that didn’t have the strength or will to move. Just stop beating, heart. Please just stop beating.

  How could he live with the memory of Jamie’s bloody face?

  Even if Jamie had stayed and let Marcus clean him up and smother him in a mountain of blankets and make him soup, Marcus still wouldn’t want to live just having seen Jamie like that. Hurt. Red soaking into his shirt.