Candy Ever After (Hot Candy Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  Joel seems half-asleep, nodding where he’s slumped back on the couch, so I walk past and poke my head into the kitchen to say hi.

  And find Brylee sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of steaming tea in her hands.

  Oh fuck.

  I mean, okay, no problem. I can drag Riddick into the bedroom and close the door for some privacy. I assume he’ll want privacy. I assume that something’s fucking wrong, or he wouldn’t be on his way here.

  Can’t remember him ever visiting me before, and I sure as fuck don’t think he’s coming over for tea and cookies.

  Fuck.

  “Hey, Jet.” Brylee has spotted me and waves before I slink away. “Come sit with us.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Joel is asleep. On the couch!”

  I lean against the door frame and Candy smiles at me, stepping close to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Man, I feel cheated. I really fucking wanted sex tonight. Hopefully we can make up for lost time later.

  “He’s out,” Brylee goes on, giggling. “I poked him and he didn’t stir.”

  “You poked him.” All my protective instincts are up and roaring at me, and I tell them to go fuck themselves. Brylee is like a bunny. A poke from a bunny does not a threat pose.

  Or whatever.

  “Yeah. Boop. On the arm. He didn’t even open his eyes. And the TV is still playing.”

  I open my mouth to tell Brylee where to shove it, but a look from Candy has me shutting up before I begin.

  Yeah, I’m in a mood. It’s a sure sign of sex withdrawal.

  Maybe someday, when I’m ninety and use a walking stick, I won’t get a boner every time I see or think of Candy and Joel.

  But this is not that day.

  “S’up, Brylee?” I nod at her. “How’s Pink?”

  “Pink?”

  “You know. Pink hair, conflicted personality.”

  “Oh Simone’s fine.” Brylee sips at her tea. “Again. She’s fine again. She had a small accident with a dildo.”

  I grin. “Do tell.”

  “Bry…” Candy is gesturing at Brylee and making faces.

  Huh.

  “Well, she got this dildo, but it got stuck…” Brylee waves a hand vaguely. “I’m not sure I understood how. Anyway, she’s home recovering, and I came to talk to Candy since she never comes to talk to me anymore.”

  “Bry!” Candy looks torn between laughing and screaming. Her cheeks are red as she turns away to the sink and pours herself a glass of water. “Don’t act like you never see me.” She shoots me a quick glance and I can see mirth and exasperation in her pretty eyes. “Bry needed a shoulder to cry on.”

  “Because?” I frown.

  “Ryan!” Brylee wails, and I’m tempted to gag her. She’ll wake up Joel, and the dead, if she doesn’t tone it down.

  “Ryan the Asshole?” I ask.

  “Oh, you’ve met?” Brylee’s eyes widen.

  “Bry…” Candy turns around to shoot her an incredulous look. “No, he hasn’t met Ryan. But he’s heard you complain about him many times.”

  “Right.” She seems uncertain as to whether to believe that or not. “In any case, he’s not an asshole. Even if he seems like one. He’s a wounded, gentle soul.”

  “Brylee has been harassing him to go out with her,” Candy puts in. “That’s why his soul is wounded.”

  “Not true! I only asked if he’d like to have a drink with me.”

  “Like, for the millionth time.”

  Brylee sits back and folds her arms under her boobs. “We work together. Going out for a drink isn’t anything—”

  “He says no every single time.”

  Brylee looks away, her lower lip trembling dramatically. “God, nobody gets me. Except for Fang.”

  “Who’s Fang?”

  “My cat.”

  “And since when do you have a cat?”

  “Since yesterday.”

  Brylee got a cat. And I have a headache.

  Right on cue, the doorbell rings.

  “I’ll get it,” I say and go to open the door. Riddick raises his fist and we fistbump, then I step aside to let him in. “Hey man, welcome. Come on in.”

  He looks the worse for wear, his hair overlong, falling in his eyes, his unshaven cheeks hollow. His jacket has seen better days, one sleeve cuff torn, stains along one side.

  Uneasy, I lead him into the living room where Joel is blinking sleepily at us, his hair sticking up on one side.

  “Go back to sleep,” I tell Joel, then tell Riddick, “We can talk in the bedroom.”

  “Can I grab a glass of water first?”

  Feeling guilty for not offering, I let him detour into the kitchen. Candy is staring at me, her slender brows drawn together.

  Brylee is staring at Riddick, a cookie in one hand, her eyes round.

  I do the introductions. “Hey Rid, this is Candy, my girlfriend. And Brylee, her friend. Girls, this is my cousin, Riddick.”

  He nods at them, giving them a faint smile. “And the one sleeping on the couch is your boyfriend, I’m guessing?”

  “You’re guessing right.”

  He winks at me. Rid swings both ways, like me. Guess it runs in the family.

  And I have no secrets from him. Not about the big stuff, like my sexuality, my relationship, my state of mind.

  Haven’t talked to him about the nightmares, though. No reason to worry him again. The fucking nightmares will pass. They’re only echoes of memories and they will fade away.

  “Hi Riddick.” Brylee waves. “You can have my cookie if you want.”

  Candy chokes on her tea. “Bry.”

  “I’d love your cookie,” Rid says easily, steps closer and smiles when Brylee hands it over without another word. “I’m starving.”

  I’d laugh if I wasn’t worried about what he wants to talk to me about. “Come on, Rid. Let’s leave the girls and their cookies.” I lean in to drop a quick kiss on Candy’s lips and drag Riddick out of the kitchen. “Time to talk.”

  ***

  “So, spill.” I stand by the bed while Rid wanders to the window, munching on Brylee’s damn cookie.

  Okay, this sounds all kinds of wrong.

  He takes his time, twitching away the curtains, checking out the view outside. There’s not much to see, let me tell you, just a few lit-up windows from across the street and a sliver of night sky.

  Then he leans against the wall, still staring outside.

  “Did something happen?” I ask impatiently. I wanna blame it on the bad night and the headache, but I’m mostly just worried. “What do you need?”

  “Nothing.” He won’t look at me, I realize. He’s not even really looking outside, his gaze fixed on nothing. “I don’t need anything. I just…” He clenches the cookie so hard in his hand it crumbles. He doesn’t seem to notice. “I just wanted to talk to someone.”

  I rub a hand over my face. “Rid. I’m here for you. You know that, man. You’ve helped me out before. What’s on your mind?”

  He turns to face me, his gray eyes wide. “It’s Xavier.”

  Oh fuck. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s not… okay.” He lifts his hand to scratch at his temple and finally notices the crumbling cookie. “Shit.”

  I point him to the trash can in the corner of the room and he sighs as he shakes his hand clean.

  I wait until he’s done, my shoulders aching with tension. “Tell me what’s wrong with your brother.”

  “I told you. I’m not sure.” He shakes his head, frustration written all over his face. “He goes out all night, locks himself up during the day. Barely eats, barely sleeps. He looks like hell, and I’m scared…” He clenches his hands into fists. “I’m fucking scared, Jet, that he’s doing drugs or some shit like that.”

  Fuck. “But you don’t know that for sure.”

  He shrugs. “No, I don’t. Hell knows I’ve tried talking to him. He’s never been one for talking anyway, but lately he’s gone. Just
gone.”

  I sink down on the bed. I’ve known all along that Xavier had trouble dealing with the situation at home, even back when I lived with them. Their parents never beat them or anything, but every day was a shouting match from hell. Their mom has been on antidepressants and all sorts of medication since forever, and their dad has a temper.

  That’s a mild way of putting it.

  “I thought he’d gotten better since you guys moved out of your parents’ home.”

  “Yeah, I thought that, too.”

  I study his face. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me, Rid?”

  “Nah, that’s all. I swear.”

  Not sure I should believe him. He really looks like shit. He’s so thin I feel an urge to invite him for dinner, and normally the one obsessed with feeding people is Joel.

  “We were going to order some take-out,” I say, giving in to the urge. “Wanna stay for dinner? Meet Joel and Candy properly, too.”

  He hesitates. “You sure?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “What about Candy’s friend? Brylee. Is she staying, too?”

  I snort as I get up from the bed. “Come on, fuckwit. Let’s ask her.”

  Chapter Ten

  Candy

  “Be mine forever,” J-Two says to me, the tropical sea breeze blowing his spiky hair into wind-blown spikes (note: work on this comparison).

  I sip at my cocktail, staring into the sunset. “Was that a question?”

  “Yeah, man, was it?” J-One mutters, rubbing suntan oil into his muscular chest (because, why not, right?)

  “Do I need to ask?” J-Two arches a brow.

  He’s got a point there…

  (Candy’s Note: We are in Mexico! See? It’s all falling into place. The epilogue takes place in Mexico. Yes, I just realized.)

  From Candy Ever After (Unpublished epilogue to the serial Candy Boys)

  “So… you’re done with Ryan, huh?” I ask.

  “Hm?” Brylee has been staring after Jet and his cousin long after they’ve disappeared through the door.

  I grin. “Ryan isn’t interested in you. Promise not to talk to him again?”

  “Yeah…” She nibbles on her lower lip, her gaze blank. “Sure.”

  “Promise to look for a nice guy who will run after you, instead of the other way round? Someone who will be so head-over-heels for you he’ll do anything to be with you.”

  “Yeah. Absolutely.” She’s cradling her mug, a cookie forgotten on the plate.

  “No more Ryan!” I’m getting carried away. I do a fistpump. “Down with Ryan!”

  She turns toward me, blinks. “What? What are you talking about? Me and Ryan, we were meant to be.”

  Sigh. “In that case why are you crushing so hard on Jet’s cousin?”

  “I’m not.” She sips at her tea. “Ew. It’s gone cold.”

  “Here.” I grab her mug and stick it in the microwave to heat it up. “Also, you were staring at him. And offered him your cookie.”

  She huffs. “I was just being polite.”

  “You mean you didn’t notice his gray eyes, or how thick his hair is, how broad his shoulders—?”

  “Oh, yeah.” The dreamy expression returns to her gaze. “Nice eye-candy.”

  “Bry…”

  “But he’s not Ryan.” She lifts her chin, her gaze sharpening. “Ryan is the one for me.”

  “Because he’s a prince and you believe in fairytales.”

  She says nothing as the microwave dings and I take out her mug, placing it down on the table. She pulls it toward her, wraps her hands around it.

  “It’s time to let Ryan go, Bry.” I sit down beside her. “Why are you so stuck on him? He obviously isn’t interested. He told you so, several times. Isn’t it embarrassing, getting shot down all the time?”

  She sends me a wounded look. “You need to work on a relationship. Can’t give up at the first obstacle.”

  “Girl, you’ve been working on this one for a year now, and he has never said yes, not even once.”

  “Not true. He went to the rock concert with us.”

  “No. We went, and you pretended to run into him by chance.”

  “He was happy to see me.”

  “He was in shock. Especially since you literally ran into him and spilled his beer over his shirt.”

  “It was a memorable meeting,” she says stubbornly.

  “You could say that again.”

  I open my mouth to say more, but Jet appears again at the kitchen door and I smile at him instead. He looks… tired. He has dark rings under his eyes, and worry is furrowing his brow.

  He still has the ability to take my breath away. Always. Every time.

  “Hey…” He smiles back at me. Even his smile is tired. “I’m gonna order some pizza. I invited Riddick to eat with us.”

  “Of course.” I nod at Brylee. “Have pizza with us?”

  She’s gone again, staring past Jet at his handsome cousin who’s standing right behind Jet, hands in his pockets. His dark hair is much like Jet’s, a little spiky, but his eyes are super pale, fringed by long lashes, and he has killer dimples when he smiles, like now.

  No wonder Bry’s unable to look away when he’s smiling at her like that.

  “Pizza it is, then,” I say brightly and go to find my phone to call. “Tell me what toppings you want. Oh, and I should wake up Joel.”

  Jet pulls me close for another quick kiss as I walk past him to exit the kitchen, and it makes me feel warm inside.

  God, I love my boys.

  ***

  I find Joel blinking owlishly at me from the sofa. “What’s going on?”

  He’s adorably sexy with his hair sticking out on one side from falling asleep like that, his eyes hooded.

  “We’re having pizza. Do you want the usual?”

  “I want you on my pizza.”

  I open my mouth at this statement, close it again. “Are you on drugs?”

  “No. I want you. On my pizza. Or wait, I have a better idea. I want you on me.” He licks his lips and reaches down, between his legs.

  Oh God.

  He’s hard. Very hard, judging from the bulge in his pants, and normally I’d be all over that. When Joel gives in to his need it’s beautiful, but right now…

  “J, we have guests.”

  He groans, his cheekbones flushed. “Fuck. Really?”

  “Yeah,” I say regretfully. “Want your usual pizza?”

  Though, truth be told, I’m glad Riddick is staying. I’ve been curious about Jet’s cousin, the one who kept calling him before his dad’s attack, the one he stayed with when he first moved to Madison, around the time he and Joel first met.

  I can’t stop sneaking glances at him as I order the pizzas, and if mine and Brylee’s continuous staring is making him uneasy, he doesn’t show it. He’s talking quietly with Jet, his answers mostly monosyllables. He looks even more tired than Jet, I realize as I disconnect the call and join Brylee on the carpet where she’s leafing through a magazine.

  But when he glances at her, vaguely nodding at something Jet is saying, his eyes are bright.

  Mutual interest alert. Maybe I could set Brylee up with him, to help her break through her obsession with Ryan. After I interrogate Jet about him, of course. In the looks department he sure isn’t lacking.

  Should I? Should I meddle?

  Joel wanders back in the room, his face washed and wet, and looking more alert. He and Riddick shake hands, and I don’t miss the appreciative once-over Riddick gives him. Wait a minute, he’s gay?

  So maybe he’s just teasing Brylee. Or he’s bi.

  And what do I know about what’s best for anyone?

  “Are you writing any more stories?” Brylee asks me, turning her back to the boys. “On your blog?”

  “I’m not using my blog anymore.”

  But I am writing again. Nobody knows about this. I’m writing an epilogue to the Candy Boys story in which J-One, J-Two, and Candy of course, get th
eir happy ending.

  It’s not just a Happy For Now, oh no. It’s a Happy Ever After. Forevah and Evah with a cherry on top. It has weddings and babies and cheesy declarations of undying love and…

  And nobody will ever read it but me. It will never go on my blog, and not even Jethro will get to read it, because I’m afraid.

  Afraid I’ll jinx it. Afraid that the stories I write don’t really mirror reality. I mean, look at the story I’d been posting on my blog for years. Sure, Candy ended up with J&J—but the devil is in the details, and I got so many of them dead wrong.

  What if I’m getting it wrong this time around, too? Things that feel so important to me may prove to be impossible, or different.

  The babies. The Ever After part. The Forever and Ever.

  Jesus, Candy. Relax.

  It’s hard, though. Seeing Joel’s struggle with coming out to his parents, seeing how bad Jet’s nightmares are, and still worried myself that Mom will leave Dad for some oversexed gigolo, well… Let’s just say I’m erring on the superstitious side for this one.

  “What about you, Joel?” Brylee turns to J who’s lapsed into silence.

  Come to think of it, all three guys have gone quiet. Odd.

  Riddick’s face is flushed.

  Jet looks pissed.

  Joel just looks kinda blank, like he’s still wondering who these people are and why they’re here.

  Oh boy, he really must have had a bad night. My sleep’s too heavy to really keep track of my boys coming and going to bed at night. Bombs going off outside the building wouldn’t wake me up.

  Today’s timing sucks. I wish we’d been alone so I could take care of both of them, exhaust them enough to make sure they get a good night’s sleep.

  Then again, the evening is still young…

  “What about me?” Joel eventually replies—well, after Brylee scoots over and slaps his leg with the magazine in what she apparently considered a necessary act of violence. “And by the way, ow.”

  “Shut up. This is an art magazine. You should feel lucky I used it to get your attention and not a coffee table art book.”

  “There’s truth in that somewhere,” Joel says, sounding dubious and very careful. “What were you saying?”