by Aiden Bates
He’d deal with the hurt later, in private. He’d learned early on never to let the enemy see you in pain.
He walked into his mother’s “entertaining” room. It was where Marianna Roscoe liked to bring her guests before brunch actually started. Here, they milled around making pointless small talk and drinking mimosas or bloody Marys before they moved into the massive dining room, to keep doing the exact same things, until Marianna or Lincoln deigned to give their instructions for the coming week.
He helped himself to a glass from a tray carried by a passing servant. The man gave him a funny look, but didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t. Everyone was welcome on Sunday, and if someone who wasn’t a Roscoe showed up, the actual family would deal with it.
He lurked on the edges of the gathering for a few moments, waiting for someone to notice he was there. While it might be tempting to march in and shout an obscenity to grab everyone’s attention, lurking gave him a chance to observe the rest of them without having to interact..
They were basically the same as they’d always been. Nothing in Culvertown had changed. The only changes had been in Ryan.
“Ryan! You made it!” Jamie appeared from the stairwell. His hair was still damp from the shower. He must have stayed the night in his old room. “Awesome! I almost didn’t think you’d show!”
All conversation stopped. Every eye in the place turned to face Ryan. He froze for a moment. This was usually a prelude to a vicious beating or worse, back in Ely.
Then he took a deep breath. This wasn’t Ely. None of these fuckers would last a minute in Ely. He had, and he was the only one. “Well, you know. Told you I would.”
Lincoln Roscoe, his father and the family patriarch, rose from the couch where he’d been speaking to a cousin. “Ryan.” He crossed the room in three massive strides and threw his arms around Ryan. “Ryan, it’s so good to see you again.” When Lincoln pulled back, his eyes glistened in the sunlight.
Ryan forced a smile. If his father had wanted to see him at any point in the past ten years, he could have. Ely might not be convenient to much, but it wasn’t like it was in Europe or anything.
Hell, it wasn’t like Dad wouldn’t have heard Ryan was back in town by now. He could have found him at any time. “It’s good to see you too, Dad.”
Berating his father might feel good for a moment, but it wouldn’t accomplish anything. Ryan would never get those years back.
The rest of the guests and family members went back to whatever it was they’d been doing when Ryan arrived. They didn’t come to welcome him home, but they didn’t go out of their way to hurt him, either. The last few times Ryan had come to brunch, before everything exploded, had been pretty much just like this.
“You look good,” Lincoln lied. “Healthy and everything. When did you get to town?”
“I got to town on Jamie’s birthday. Took some time after I got out to just explore. Stretch my legs a little, enjoy air that didn’t smell like other men’s sweat. That kind of thing.”
Ryan managed to give a little smile. “So how’s tricks around here? It doesn’t look like much has changed in Culvertown. Has Grandma C moved from that spot since I left?”
Lincoln chuckled. “I don’t think she has. You know, your old room is still empty. If you want to move back in —”
Marianna appeared at Lincoln’s side. Her blue eyes were like ice, and her lips were pursed with hate. “Lincoln, dear, we don’t have any available bedrooms. I think you’re misremembering.”
Lincoln frowned down at Marianna while Ryan smirked. Jamie stared at the floor. “Honey, I was just in that room today,” Lincoln said slowly, “and there was nothing in there but an unmade bed. I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to make it habitable again.”
“You’re clearly misremembering, Lincoln. It’s my craft room now.” Marianna smiled stiffly.
Ryan sipped from his mimosa. He should have gone all out and sneaked into the kitchen to steal the champagne bottle, but it was too late for regrets now.
“It’s okay, Dad. I’ve got an apartment, anyway. I’m all moved in, got the keys and everything.” He met his mother’s eyes squarely. “I’m all set.”
Marianna got the message. Ryan saw it in the way her lips curled. “I hope it has roaches,” she said, and tossed her faded blonde hair. “If it doesn’t, I’ll see what I can do to fix that.”
She turned on one expensive heel and stormed over to the other side of the room. “Brunch is served. Jamie, go wake up your grandmother.”
Ryan shuffled into the massive dining room with everyone else. His father walked at his side, but no one else approached. Even Liam and Charlotte avoided making direct eye contact. No one was about to brave Marianna’s displeasure.
“Sorry about that. I don’t know what’s gotten into your mother,” Lincoln whispered, so Marianna wouldn’t be offended.
“I have a few ideas.” Ryan managed a wry grin. “We never did get along very well.”
“I’d still think absence would make the heart grow fonder.” Lincoln glared at Marianna’s stiff back. “But she’ll calm down soon enough.”
Lincoln guided Ryan to a seat beside him, near the head of the table, and near Marianna. Marianna seethed, but she didn’t put up a fuss. Jamie winced, but he didn’t object. He just mouthed behave at Ryan over the table.
Ryan didn’t need to be told to behave. He hadn’t misbehaved yet.
A few cousins gave him the side eye, but Marianna started passing food around the table as though nothing was wrong. She cleared her throat and raised her voice to be heard all the way at the other end. “So,” she began. “We have a guest. Someone who hasn’t been here in a very long time has shown his face again.
“So why don’t we catch him up on what everyone’s doing with their life? Jamie, you’ve finally taken over the property wing of the family business. And at only twenty-four, too!”
She beamed at Jamie. “And Liam, you’ve increased profits in the entertainment division every year since you took it over, isn’t that right?” She moved on down the right side of the table, and back up, until she finally got back up to Ryan.
“And now we come to you.” She still hadn’t used his name. “Tell me, are you going to convince me you found God while you were in prison?”
“God’s got nothing to do with that place.” Ryan saw no reason to be gentle about it.
“Or with you.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Why would you come back here?” She folded her hands together. “Are you looking for money? Because I told you back when this all happened, I was done. You’re not getting a red cent from this family.”
Ryan scoffed. “I don’t want your money. I don’t need your money. I came back to see my family.”
“And we’re very glad to see you.” Lincoln took his hand and smiled. Ryan’s stomach turned.
“No, Lincoln.” Marianna glared at her husband. “We’re not. This boy had every advantage in life.
"He had the best possible education. He had the best clothes, the best food, the best tutors. It was never enough.
“He wasted it. He wasted everything. Every hour I spent in labor with him was a waste.”
She pointed right at Ryan. “Do you have any idea how much we all wished you’d died in that wreck? It would have saved us all a lot of hassle.”
No one spoke. A few people squirmed, and a couple of people looked away, but no one contradicted Marianna. Ryan didn’t know if they just didn’t dare, or if they agreed with her, but in the end it didn’t matter.
“Well, that explains why you all got rid of every picture or mention of my existence. Did you do that after I went up the river, or did you start that process before?” Ryan drained his mimosa.
“It’s not like you were ever anything to brag about.” Marianna sniffed. “Look at yourself. Do you think even for a minute you’ve ever brought this family anything but shame and humiliation?
“You’re out there calling yourself a Roscoe, but you look like a
hoodlum, you wouldn’t even go to college, and you probably wouldn’t have been accepted anywhere if you tried —”
“You had no idea where I was accepted or if I’d applied. Your head was so far up your own ass, with the law firm and the papers and the news station, that six days out of seven you couldn’t tell someone if you even had kids, and even on Sundays, you had no idea which kids were yours and which ones were nieces and nephews.”
Ryan stood up. “For the record? I got into Stanford. You can look it up, if it’s that important to you. I give about as much of a shit now as you did then.” He walked out, flipping his mother off as he went.
Jamie chased after him. “What the hell was that?” He grabbed Ryan’s arm. “That wasn’t conciliatory!”
“Oh, and she was? ‘Do you have any idea how much we all wished you’d died in that wreck?’ Really?”
Ryan shook his head and straddled his bike. “I never should have come back here. I love you, baby bro, but I did not need to put myself through that shit.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “It’s Ma. She’s dramatic, okay? You know how she is.”
“You have to just let her feel her feels and express herself, and she’ll get over it. She loves you, but if you push back on her, she digs in and fights. It’s the way she’s always been, man.”
Ryan had to wonder just how much Jamie knew. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. Even if Jamie knew everything, nothing would have changed.
“Nope. I made a choice a long time ago that I’m done letting people toss me around. I don’t care if it is Marianna Roscoe. Right now, I’m kind of regretting signing a full year lease.”
He put his helmet on. “Better head back inside before she spontaneously combusts. I hear that’s messy.”
Jamie bit his lip. Ryan could see he was torn. “Just don’t be a stranger, okay?”
Ryan didn’t bother to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You know where to find me. They all do.” He started his bike up and headed home.
It was still early in the day. He wanted to curl up in his bed and nurse his hurt, and if he looked at things objectively, he had every right to do so. After all, his own mother had just wished him dead, and not a soul had contradicted her. They’d just sat and watched.
But going to his room and crying or something would just be letting her win.
He was going to make the shop successful, damn it. Maybe not successful by Roscoe standards, but he was going to turn it into a real business, one that employed actual people.
And when Marianna Roscoe was on her deathbed, he was going to force his way into the room, and he was going to lean down and whisper into her ear, I told you I didn’t need your freaking money. And he’d watch the fury in her eyes as she died.
He couldn’t do that upstairs in his apartment. He could only do it by working downstairs in the shop. So he headed downstairs and started stocking some of the supplies that had been delivered yesterday. The garage wasn’t open for business yet — he’d open up tomorrow — but he didn’t want to create the impression of an unkempt shop.
He’d always loved cars. As he stocked up the different work stations, he found himself relaxing. Sure, he could have gone to Stanford. He could have studied engineering, and maybe he could have gotten a job designing cars.
More likely than not, though, Marianna would have pressured someone into forcing him into a business or law major, just like his brothers. He could have owned lots of cars, but he couldn’t have ever gotten his hands dirty. Not like he wanted to.
The sound of a car pulling into one of the bays startled him out of his reverie. He turned around to see a car that had probably started life as a Honda Civic at some point sitting in the driveway.
It hadn’t originally been painted two colors. The body had been cobbled together from two different cars, of two different colors, one of which was rust. One of the side mirrors was held on by duct tape. Ryan stared at it for a long moment.
Then Anthony King got out of it. The sun caught on little highlights in his dark hair, and holy crap was that beautiful. Ryan swallowed.
With those innocent eyes of his, and those lips, he said, “Well, this is a surprise. I looked up local mechanics, and this is where it took me.”
Ryan should have been mad at the obvious lie, but he could only cross his arms over his chest. “I’m not listed.” He tried to sound stern.
It didn’t work.
“Okay. So I overheard your brothers talking about you opening up a garage, and I figured out where it was.” He gestured to his car. “That used to be a Honda.”
“But now the H stands for hoopty.” Ryan made a face and pointed at the hood. “What’s the problem with it?” He tried not to smile. “Besides the mismatched body and the rust veneer, of course.”
Anthony winced. “Ouch. Well, it’s making a funny noise.”
“What kind of noise?”
“I don’t know. Like, a clicking?”
Ryan reached into the bay and grabbed a pair of gloves. “Fire it up,” he ordered.
Anthony obediently turned the ignition over, and Ryan frowned. He hadn’t expected to hear anything, but he’d had to make sure. With a car in that kind of shape, there could have been a real problem. “I don’t hear anything.”
Anthony didn’t even blink. “You don’t? Huh.” He turned the car off.
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest again. He’d read that was supposed to be a strong signal for no. “Look —”
“I know what you’re going to say,” Anthony interrupted, stepping closer. Damn, Ryan could almost taste him, he was so close. And how was Ryan supposed to behave himself, with everything he wanted right here where he could just lick his cock?
“But consider this other option.” Anthony paused, looking like every good dream Ryan had ever had. His eyes sparkled, and the sunlight splashed over him like a halo. “Let’s fuck again.”
7
Anthony held his breath. He didn’t dare smile, didn’t dare move an inch, until he knew how Ryan was going to react. It wasn’t that he thought Ryan was going to get violent or anything; he wasn’t that kind of guy.
Anthony just didn’t want to tip the scales in the wrong direction with an ill timed smirk. He had a plan, and everything depended on keeping careful control of himself.
Then Ryan exhaled. “Fuck,” he said, and locked the doors. He grabbed Anthony and stripped his shirt off, throwing it onto the pristine concrete floor.
“Come on. You want it like this?” He gently pushed Anthony over to the workbench. “You want to get the shop all dirty, is that it?”
He bent Anthony over the bench, almost like he was being punished, and reached for Anthony’s fake leather belt. He could smell the motor oil in here.
“Christen it for luck?” Anthony should probably feel embarrassed to like this so much. Ryan’s grip was rough, and there wasn’t much about this scenario that could be described as tender, but Anthony was hard as a rock. Christ, this was incredible.
Ryan slipped a hand into the pocket of Anthony’s cargo pants and pulled out the lube and condoms he’d hidden there. “I see you came prepared,” he growled in Anthony’s ear. His voice was predatory, sending anticipatory chills up Anthony’s spine.
Ryan put the supplies on top of the work bench. “Keep your hands right there. Don’t move them, or I’ll stop.” He pulled down Anthony’s pants and briefs in one fell swoop.
Anthony ground his hips back into Ryan. The other man already knew how hard he was, but plenty of guys got hard at the drop of a hat. That didn’t mean they were into it. Anthony wanted Ryan to know how much he wanted this, wanted Ryan.
Ryan let out a dirty little laugh, right in Anthony’s ear. His clothes were still on, his jeans just open and pulled partially down, and fuck. “My brothers tried to tell me you were this pure and innocent little saint.
“Look at you. You’re all but begging for it right here, in the middle of the garage. You want it bad, don’t you?” He nippe
d along the back of Anthony’s shoulders as he reached for the lube.
“Want it so bad.” Anthony couldn’t think straight. “Need you to fuck me." He was already so hot he thought he might burst. Since when was Anthony this guy, the kind who needed to get down and dirty in the middle of a garage?
“Good.” Ryan gave him a playful swat on the ass. “Because I’m gonna.”
Anthony turned his head to look at Ryan, but Ryan shook his head. “Ah-ah. Just like I put you.”
Anthony dutifully turned around and faced front. He didn’t need to look. He wanted to, of course. He wanted to see if he could get that connection he’d felt with Ryan the last time, that completed circuit that had set his soul aflame.
He’d take another round of the best sex of his life, though. It wasn’t exactly a hardship.
Ryan stretched him quickly, and then he slid inside with that same slow but inexorable thrust he’d used the first time they did this. This time Anthony couldn’t see anything but the yellow cinder block wall, and it was more of a surprise. He groaned as Ryan filled him, expanding him and dragging across that spot inside of him that made him see stars.
He grabbed at the workbench, looking for purchase and finding none. The hard wood and metal offered no comfort, no respite, and the harshly buzzing fluorescent lights matched the buzzing under his skin.
Three seconds to adjust. That was all Anthony got before Ryan snapped his hips back and did it again, only this time hard and fast. He grabbed onto Anthony’s hips to keep him where he wanted as he slammed into him again, and again. Anthony was completely at Ryan’s mercy, and there was no place he’d rather be.
He put his head down and rocked back. Ryan was getting as deep as a man could, but Anthony needed him to go deeper. If Anthony could somehow open himself up and let Ryan walk fully into his body, he would want that. He would need that.
Anthony knew it was foolish to want someone this badly, especially someone like Ryan who didn’t want connections. He also knew he couldn’t help it. He wanted who he wanted.
