by Meg Harding
This particular trip took fifteen, and when he turned onto the road winding along the beachside, he saw Phoenix’s familiar silver Corolla parked. Normally this wouldn’t be cause for surprise. Much like Chase, Phoenix liked to come to the beach to relax and ground himself. Chase ran into Phoenix more days than not. But Chase figured Phoenix would be spending today with his brothers, getting to know Jaden.
Chase sucked on his bottom lip, staring out the windshield blankly. It would probably be too much for Chase to show up at Jaden’s door with dinner again. The whole town would probably host an interrogation at that point. And besides, Jaden’s brothers would feed him. It wasn't Chase’s job to make Jaden feel comfortable in Serenity. Even if Jaden was good company. Make that great company…. He was funny when he relaxed, and when he laughed he snorted between his giggles. His warm blue eyes crinkled at the corner, and his cheeks flushed a becoming shade of red. Every single time Jaden devolved into mirth the night before, Chase had felt butterflies take flight in his stomach.
It figured he had a crush on a most-likely-straight guy planning to be in town for less than a month.
This was how Chase rolled. He had a pattern. In high school, Chase was deep in the closet, and he had the hots for the soccer team’s goalie, Alex Medina. It was a hopeless crush, spanning all four years, stemming from a joint after school detention for disrupting the class. If Chase had been five years younger (and out), his notebooks would all have read Chase Medina on the inside. Alex—who’d been very straight—moved to Spain the summer after graduation. The last time they spoke, Alex was telling Chase how sorry he was about Chase’s accident and about how he spur of the moment got married to a French model.
Then there was Jackson Maxwell in college. A senior to Chase’s freshman, he was the starting quarterback. This crush had “dream on” written all over it. Jack went through girls like candy, and he was the type of guy who went to the movies with his friends and sat a seat apart if there wasn’t a girl as a buffer. Chase fully admitted Jack was a dick. He was a football cliché. But he’d been a really hot one, who’d taken Chase under his wing and helped him connect with the team. He was making millions in the NFL now, with a supermodel wife and two kids.
Chase could really pick them, and he intended to stop thinking about all this right now. Before the trip down memory lane made a detour to the year he’d like to forget. He came to the beach to meditate. Not to tear open old wounds while baking in his car. He'd go do some yoga and push Jaden and his plush, pink, made-for-blowjobs lips from his mind.
Easy-peasy.
The sand burned beneath his feet, little shells pricking him if he didn't watch where he stepped. He spread his mat out a short distance from the water, so if the waves came in hard, he’d get a light spray. Depending on how hot he was once he’d finished, he might take a swim before heading home to change.
He started with stretches, warming up his muscles even though they technically were already good to go. It was important to keep to his routine when it came to yoga. He had a carefully time-honed method to reach his happy place. His shoulder twinged on a few of the positions, the age-old ache registering as a minor annoyance. He made a mental note to schedule an appointment with his masseuse and breathed through the pain, continuing on.
He knew better than to baby his shoulder. His physical therapist after the accident had been very clear to impress upon Chase the importance of pushing past discomfort to maintain mobility.
He was in the middle of a ten-second count on the Kapotasana pose, a bridge variation with his knees on the mat and his legs bent beneath him, his head and arms curved in to touch his ankles, when the sound of voices reached him over the ocean. A shadow fell across him as he reached the end of his time, and he uncurled to a kneeling position to find Phoenix and Jaden watching him.
Phoenix’s jeans were damp, rolled to bare his skinny calves, and his hair had begun to curl at the ends. He held out a hand to pull Chase to his feet. “Hey man. We’re not interrupting?” Beside him Jaden was flushed, skin a blotchy red that would either tan or turn into a sunburn, and his blue eyes were squinted to see, without sunglasses to help. His lips were parted, exhales on the heavy side. The hair around his face was damp, sticking to his skin, sweat beading on his forehead. Maybe Phoenix was trying to kill Jaden. The poor guy was clearly not used to this kind of heat.
“Nah, I’m finishing up.” He bent to grab the water bottle from the top of his mat. He offered it to Jaden. “You look like you could use this.”
Jaden took it and proceeded to look it over.
“I didn’t poison it,” said Chase.
Jaden’s gaze flicked to his. “You drank out of it, though.”
“Well, yeah.” It was a million degrees out, and he’d been exercising right under the blazing sun.
“It would be unsanitary for me to drink after you. Do you know how many germs we’d be sharing?”
Chase blinked, trying to process that. He looked to Phoenix, who appeared to be just as baffled as Chase. Okay then. “I brushed my teeth this morning,” he said to Jaden. “And I gargle mouthwash. I think you’ll survive drinking after me.” He shouldn’t be offended; some people were weird about these things. But he was. Offended, that was. Chase had a perfectly clean mouth. Was this because he was a guy? He assessed Jaden. He hadn’t gotten that kind of vibe from him.
Jaden handed the water back. “I’m good, but thank you. I’d feel awful if you got something from me.”
Chase’s eyebrows rose at that, but he didn't say anything. He untwisted the cap and took a long drag from the bottle. If Jaden wasn't going to hydrate, Chase was. He couldn't tell if Jaden was blushing or if his cheeks were just really burned.
Phoenix cleared his throat, his lips twitching with a poorly restrained smirk. “You have a good session today?”
Chase rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the remaining kinks. “Yeah. The weather’s pretty decent. I’ll have to switch to doing this at night in a few weeks probably.” He was good with some heat, but at the height of summer, working out at this time of day was a good way to die by sunstroke.
“It gets hotter than this?” demanded Jaden incredulously.
Phoenix and Chase laughed. “Yeah,” said Phoenix. “This is nothing.”
Jaden looked horrified. Chase felt a smidgen bad for him. “You’ll be out of here before it gets to the highs,” said Chase, recalling Jaden saying he’d only be in town for a few weeks.
Jaden’s gaze shifted to Phoenix for a quick second—flashing guilt maybe?—and then returned to Chase. “That’s true,” he said, voice low. He dug his toes into the sand, hands shoved in his shorts pockets. They were knee length, dark blue shorts to match his preppy, white collar shirt.
He looked like he was going out for a day on a yacht or a round of golf.
Well, he would, if the clothes weren’t soaked by sweat and clinging to his lean body. Jaden was toned, but not muscled, and his nipples could clearly be seen through the fabric of his shirt. Chase tried to keep his gaze away from temptation and on a spot slightly over Jaden’s right shoulder.
Chase got the impression he’d struck a sore spot if Jaden’s reaction was any indication. Go him. He ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, and then pushed what was hanging in his eyes out of the way. He hiked his thumb at the water behind him. “Think I’m gonna take a swim to cool down.”
Phoenix glanced wistfully at the water. “I’m taking Jaden shopping. And I gotta show him around. Anything you think he has to see?”
Chase scratched low on his stomach, where trailing sweat was making him itch. His shirt lasted a total of a minute and a half into his workout before he took it off. His skin was hot and wet to the touch, and the tan line from his shorts would probably be even more noticeable by the time he got home. He was running through the places he loved in Serenity when he noticed Jaden wasn't looking at his face. Nope, those beautiful blue eyes were staring at Chase’s abs, mapping them.
; Well, wasn't that contradictory?
Coming home to an empty, silent house always led to an urge to turn around and go back to his shop or to the gym. Anywhere that wasn't here. And it wasn’t that he didn't love his house, because he did. When he needed to escape his reality, this was where he came. This was the first place he ever made entirely his own.
It was a three-bedroom, two-bath block house, with a large in-ground pool in the back and a plethora of towering trees to provide shade. The outside was a warm beige color, accented with a darker brown, soothing on the eyes. The inside was painted in warm blues and beiges, teal and gray accents spread throughout. The floor was cream tile, the furniture handcrafted wood. His kitchen had wooden cabinets, chrome appliances. The counter separating the kitchen from his unused dining room was a bar, cubbies in the wood filled with various liquors and wines. His living room was where he spent most of his time. The couch was a large, gray sectional with reclining chairs on either end. He had bed pillows on it, because he wasn't worried about the look of it as much as he was the comfort. Sometimes he fell asleep on the sofa. The giant flat screen television hung on the wall the couch faced, and it was framed by tall bookshelves. They were mostly absent of books—filled with his eclectic film collection instead—but he had the Game of Thrones series on one shelf and A Series of Unfortunate Events on another. What could he say? He had a broad taste range.
One of the bedrooms was a guest room, while he’d turned the remaining one into a private workout studio. For the days where he didn't want to lift weights at the gym, or when it was monsooning outside and it wasn’t possible to get to the beach for half an hour of yoga.
The place was filled with things he liked. From the colors to the “art” on the wall—well-placed posters that gave the illusion a twenty-year-old lived here. Shelves and nooks were filled with his knickknacks. There was a replica R2D2 in one corner, and he had a hanging cube unit dedicated to the Game of Thrones funko pops he couldn't seem to resist collecting.
Despite all of this, without another living being in the house it felt… not cold. But something like it. It was lonely.
Chase had two brothers and a little sister. He grew up being surrounded by other people who thought their life’s mission was to get in his business and drive him crazy. Going to college had involved dorms and sharing rooms. After the accident, he’d returned home to recover and he’d completed his degree online eventually. When he’d decided life wasn’t over just because his dream was—and he got tired of being a loser who lived with his parents and did nothing—he moved here. And then he’d had Cleo.
As he flicked on the lights to illuminate the space, he wondered if maybe he should take Phoenix up on his offers. It might be nice to have a cat, and he’d heard those lived a really long time.
He could be the male version of an old cat lady. He'd accumulate twenty of them, and they'd eat him when he died old and alone.
He blinked. That got dark fast.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he kicked his shoes off in the entryway, and then headed for the kitchen. He needed tea and something to eat. He made himself a caprese grilled cheese, humming Justin Bieber’s Love Yourself. He must have heard it on the radio at least eleven times today alone and it was stuck in his head.
Somehow, between flipping his sandwich to brown the other side and humming the chorus, his thoughts wandered and ended up on Jaden. Apparently it was their new favorite hobby. It’d been hard to put the moment at the beach out of his mind. Jaden hadn’t been gawking, or even all that obvious, but he’d definitely been staring. And not at parts a completely straight guy would look at. Chase’s nipples had hardened in reaction to the attention, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining Jaden’s already red cheeks getting darker when he noticed.
He poked at the grilled cheese, testing the crispness of the bread.
So maybe Jaden Matthews wasn't straight. But did it matter? He slid the grilled cheese onto a plate and made sure to turn off the stove top. Jaden wasn't a good idea—even if he was gay or bi. He’d still leave. Mrs. Declan had a fair point. Chase didn't need to get attached to someone passing through.
He paused in the doorway, plate in one hand and eyes wide with surprise.
You’ve known him for all of twenty-four hours. Who the fuck said anything about getting attached?
Chapter 5
Not one stone had been left unturned. Jaden had seen every square inch of Serenity over the past three days it felt like. And he knew more about his half-brothers now. Even Zane. Phoenix gave him the scenic nature tour, showing him parks and good places to walk Magneto. He was the chattiest of the three, willing to smile and share information at the drop of a dime. He spent the most time with Jaden, picking him up for breakfast and not dropping him off till well after dinner. Jaden now knew what a sunset on the beach looked like—breathtaking—and had seen a starry night sky without obstruction.
Zane showed him Serenity itself, explaining the history of the town. He was the least forthcoming when it came to personal matters, and it took Jaden hours of awkward, stilted conversation to draw much of anything from him. He understood Zane’s hesitation to welcome him with open arms. Zane didn’t know him, didn’t know that when Jaden said he didn’t want to upset the balance of things, he was serious. Jaden’s genuine interest in the history of Serenity was what finally wore Zane down and drew a smile. With a series of questions, Jaden was able to get him to talk about where he came from. What of it was reflected in Serenity? Did he ever visit?
Elliot spent his day—today—showing Jaden the gym and the physical therapy wing, introducing him to the regulars and fielding their prying questions. Jaden was fast finding out the people of Serenity were, politely stated, inquisitive. Despite how uncomfortable their questions made Jaden, fielding them seemed to ease Elliot’s nerves. He intervened frequently, distracting people and redirecting focus. Progressively Elliot’s shoulders loosened and his smiles lost their strain. He talked with his hands when he was on a roll, gesticulating wildly. He too had grown up in a city, Dallas, and they shared stories of taking the wrong bus or getting a little too tipsy in college and not being able to find their dorm.
Each man was unique, and Jaden had a hard time wrapping his brain around the fact they were related. Compared to them, he felt dull and boring. Normal. They were passionate individuals, adventurous and comfortable in their own skin. They were, all three, confident. If it didn't have to do with numbers, Jaden’s confidence was pretty low. His idea of adventure was trying a new coffee shop. He didn't even know what laid-back would look like on himself.
He’d never met people so quick to genuinely smile and be affectionate. They didn’t think before touching him, and they did so frequently. A slap to the shoulder, a hand to move him, a hug when they saw him.
Drew hadn’t even touched him this much outside the bedroom, and they were married.
They were relatively free with the personal details, not caring that Jaden himself was rather tight-lipped concerning more intimate matters—like his marriage. He knew about Phoenix’s inability to not help those in need, and how he’d tried to rescue a cat from a tree when he was five and ended up getting stuck. Zane had revealed he had a crush on Miranda, the red-headed waitress at Daisy’s Diner, and he’d had it for a couple years now. Hell, Elliot told him about how he’d stupidly eloped with his girlfriend of three weeks at twenty and divorced two months later when they realized they weren’t suited.
All of this was offered to him in passing, an easy kind of sharing that left Jaden off-kilter and baffled.
A part of him felt guilty for breathing a sigh of relief at the end of each day, when he was allowed to retreat into solitude for the night. It wasn't that he didn't like his brothers—he was finding he liked them a lot—but he needed the space. Everything felt overwhelming. He was afraid he’d drown in the mess of attention and information.
Elliot backed out of the driveway, and Jaden raised his hand, waved. His headlights disap
peared down the road. Jaden went inside, leaning his weight against the solid oak doors and inhaling deep. His stomach rumbled. “Seriously? We just had pizza.” It growled again. Whenever Jaden wasn't sure (or comfortable) with his emotions, he got hungry. The saying about eating feelings directly applied to him.
Phoenix had helped him stock the kitchen two days ago, even though they’d had him eating all his meals out. He opened the fridge, saw a whole bunch of fruit and some Greek yogurt. The freezer was full of microwave meals, chicken breasts, and frozen veggies. He checked the pantry. Cereal.
He scowled at the box of Kashi’s Cinnamon Harvest.
Right. This was why he went grocery shopping alone. He had this paranoia that he’d be judged on what he bought, so when he had company he always went super healthy. He didn't want them to know he secretly craved sugar (Twizzlers were a gift from heaven) and cookies n’cream ice cream. He’d been a chubbyish child and teen, and he still remembered being teased. He hadn’t lost the weight until college, the stress of classes and all the walking ridding him of excess pounds.
Drew liked to ask him if he was really going to eat “that” whenever Jaden looked at something junky at the grocery.
Jaden shut the pantry door. He wanted sugar, and he really would eat it. Every last piece.
It was eight in the evening, and everything other than the supermarkets and restaurants were closed. Jaden passed on Publix for the familiarity of Target. It was half the size of the ones in New York, but he was fairly sure they'd have a candy aisle.
They better have a candy aisle.
The layout was foreign, and people kept asking him if he needed help—he could have used it, but always answered no. He managed to find the promised land at last, acutely aware of the gazes following him. I don’t know them. It doesn’t matter what they think. He took in the aisle. How much candy was too much candy? He grabbed a jumbo bag of Twizzlers, debated picking up some peppermint patties, and ended up with a bag of sour skittles. Not for tonight, but for a rainy day.
