by Mia Ashlinn
“Hello, Brooklyn,” Ethan finally greeted. His voice sounded cool, nearly cold, and he couldn’t even bring himself to pull out a polite smile. He was pissed at this woman for helping Sam leave him and for hiding Sam when Ethan was desperate to see him. And he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.
Brooklyn wasn’t any politer when she returned, “Ethan.” With a curt nod, she brushed past him rudely as though they’d invited her in and advanced down the hallway.
Ethan considered being an ass and fussing about her rudeness. But he decided it was pointless. Brett would have inevitably invited her in. And there was no doubt Brooklyn was aware of that. God knew she was always one step ahead of everyone.
Brett shrugged, his careless motion drawing Ethan’s attention to the fact that at some point he’d put his shirt back on. A fact Ethan was grateful for.
“Whatever,” Brett growled, his face stony, his eyes severe, the depths disturbingly dark, almost black. “Let’s just get this over with and usher her out of here.”
Ethan was all for ushering her out of the apartment. However, he was not thrilled about having to deal with her beforehand. But the confrontation was inevitable. She wouldn’t be here without a damn good reason, which meant she wasn’t going anywhere until they talked. Great.
With several curses under his breath, Ethan nodded. “Sure. Whatever.” Then he stalked down the hall and barreled into the living room. He didn’t glance at Brooklyn. He simply fell into the nearest chair. “Get on with it,” he barked.
“Behave, Ethan,” Brett scolded as he entered the room.
Before he could respond, Brooklyn said, “Don’t worry. He isn’t capable of offending me. I know he doesn’t like me. I know you don’t, either. But I know why you two feel that way. I understand it, and I don’t take any of it personal.”
Ethan darted his eyes to Brooklyn, and he gaped at her. “You don’t take it personal?”
“No.” She shook her head.
Ethan leveled her with a disbelieving look. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me what you believe about the person I am,” Brooklyn replied in her always-calm voice. “The only thing that matters is you listen to what I have to say about Sam. Then you can decide whether you want to believe me or not.”
Brett’s head whipped toward her so fast Ethan’s neck hurt from watching him. “What about Sam?” There was a desperate inflection in his gruff tone.
Brooklyn’s eyes moistened just enough to be noticeable when the overhead light reflected off the wetness gathering at the corners, and Ethan’s heart stopped. He felt like he was going to vomit as the bile churning in his stomach surged upward and into his throat. He nearly choked on the fiery liquid as he forced it back down.
Surely, Sam was okay. If he wasn’t, he would’ve called. Wouldn’t he have? Uncertain, Ethan blurted out, “Is he okay? Is he safe?” Please tell me he’s okay, Brooklyn. Please. If he thought it would have worked, he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged her to say he was safe. But that seemed a bit melodramatic until he knew for sure something was seriously wrong.
“He’s fine physically,” Brooklyn assured him, her expression amazingly soothing. She was like a mother, and he was her scared child. She calmed him with a single look.
“Physically?” Brett inquired, obviously locking onto that word, as he dropped down on the couch. “What do you mean physically?”
Brooklyn took her time answering, much to Ethan’s dismay. “There’s a lot going on with him, and I’m afraid he’s heading to a place that will either make him or break him.”
Ethan closed his eyes and took a couple of long breaths before lifting his lids. “What does this have to do with us? We can’t help him. We don’t even know where he is.” And he doesn’t want our help anyway.
Keeping her eyes averted, Brooklyn strolled around the room, her steps smooth and even. It was almost as though she were pacing. But that couldn’t be. Brooklyn was unceasingly put-together. Nothing seemed to bother her. No stress seemed to touch her. “You can help him…if I tell you where he’s at.”
Ethan’s eyes widened until they couldn’t stretch anymore. “What?” he gasped. “Why would you do that?” He thought about adding now to his question, but he refrained.
Brett however didn’t. “Now? You’re going to tell us after four damn months?” By the time he finished, Brett’s voice was at a near yell.
Brooklyn didn’t seem fazed by Brett’s outburst. She kept walking, her face unchanging as though she were a plastic Barbie, not a human woman. “I have to,” she replied. “If I don’t, Sam will never move on. I’d hoped with time would come healing, but I was wrong. I should have listened to my instincts, but I didn’t. Now, Sam’s paying the price.”
“Paying what price?” Ethan demanded. “You said he was okay.”
A morose smile spread across Brooklyn’s face. “Physically, he’s fine now that he’s out of the hospital.”
Agonizing pain and undiluted fear besieged Ethan. He trembled, the shivers uncontrollable. “What do you mean”—he came to an abrupt halt and air quoted—“out of the hospital?” He slid his gaze to Brett and instantly regretted it.
His best friend was sitting on the sofa, his entire body stiff as a board and his face as white as a sheet. His jaw was locked, and he looked as though he couldn’t speak, not even if he wanted to.
“Yes,” Brooklyn murmured. Something in her voice snagged Ethan’s attention, and he returned his gaze to her. Like with Brett, he immediately regretted it. Brooklyn was frowning, her eyes remote and even wetter than before. She’d quit moving and was now standing by their bookcase with one hand on Sam’s favorite book, the book Ethan had gotten him as a present for his birthday last year. “Sam was hurt about a month ago while he was visiting Deke, Adam, and Sarah in Kinky.”
“Hurt, as in a broken ankle?” Ethan inquired in a wavering voice. “Or hurt, as in a trip to the ICU?”
Brooklyn cleared her throat. The sound caused Ethan’s heart to lurch, but he held his tongue as he waited for her to answer. Blessedly, she was quick to respond. “He was stabbed while protecting Sarah from a lunatic.”
Ethan felt his face pale. “How bad?” he croaked.
Glancing away, Brooklyn turned her back on him before answering, “He was in the ICU for a while. After several days, Dr. Maddock agreed to move him to a private room.”
ICU? He was in the motherfucking ICU—hurt and possibly dying—and he still didn’t call me? Us? God!
To Ethan’s shock and mortification, tears of rejection welled in his eyes. He’d never felt this hurt, his heart this broken. Sam hadn’t wanted him—them—there. He’d preferred to suffer alone than to be with them. Talk about cutting to the quick.
Sam’s rejection devastated Ethan, and he bowed his head so he could have a moment to regain his bearings. He tried to rationalize his friend’s actions, but he couldn’t. How could Sam not want him and Brett with him when he was lying in a hospital bed? They were supposed to be friends. God, Ethan was closer to Sam and Brett than anyone. How could Sam not feel the same way?
“He…didn’t want us to know?” Brett asked in a low, gruff voice.
Spinning around, Brooklyn frowned. She appeared as upset as they were. But that couldn’t be. She’d been the one to keep them separated for months. Now she changed her mind? Ethan didn’t think so.
“He thought it was…best for things to remain quiet,” Brooklyn explained. “He denied every call and all visitors, except Tate Dawson’s. And he only allowed him in once to pass on a message to me.” She sighed, the sound of her misery unmistakable. “For a week, he was sick and alone. That’s what made me change my mind about helping him. If he’s going to shut himself off from everyone except Tate, I’m not going to protect him any longer. That isn’t protection. That’s enabling, and I won’t do that. Not for him or anybody else.”
In a blink, Ethan’s hurt transformed into a jealousy-induced rage. “Tate Dawson,�
�� he spat. “He let Tate see him?”
Brooklyn nodded. “Tate is helping Sam. They’ve grown…close.”
Ethan growled. He didn’t like the word close in regards to Sam and any man or woman—excluding himself and Brett, of course. And he really despised that it was Tate who Sam was now close to. Ethan hadn’t approved of Sam’s relationship with Tate before. Now, he really didn’t agree with it. The man wanted in Sam’s pants, and Ethan couldn’t stand the thought of Tate touching his straight best friend when he couldn’t. Every time Tate came to town, he spent hours with Sam at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, hitting on him and touching him with too-friendly hands. The flirting had gotten so bad that Ethan made excuses to leave so he wouldn’t have to suffer through it.
Ethan hadn’t been the only one. Brett hadn’t liked the relationship, either. That fact was made crystal clear to Ethan and Brooklyn when he snarled, “I’ll kill him.”
Ethan wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Sam or Tate, but he wasn’t about to ask. He treasured his body parts too much.
Brooklyn’s brows shot up, and she smiled, her normally serious face lighting up prettily. “Jealousy is a dangerous emotion,” she announced.
As if they didn’t already know that. “And abandonment is cruel. So what? We all feel those emotions keenly.”
Brooklyn’s smile vanished. “True. But keep in mind, Sam doesn’t see what he’s done as abandonment.”
Do what? “How do you figure that, Brooklyn?” Ethan crossed his arms. “He left. What did he think—that we would be happy for him to be gone?”
“Yeah,” Brett added scathingly. “Did he think we would throw a fucking party to celebrate?”
“He doesn’t know how you responded,” Brooklyn replied. “I didn’t tell him, and he won’t talk about either of you to me.”
Why did she have to tell them that? Her words were like blades slashing into Ethan’s flesh, causing a wound to seep blood slowly and painfully. Ethan flinched from the onslaught of pain assailing his senses. “Brooklyn…” he murmured through tight lips before trailing off.
“No,” Brooklyn said adamantly. “You need to know that if you’re going to go after him. Trust me. It’s good for you to know what you’ll be going up against.”
“If?” Brett snorted. “It’s not an if, it’s a How soon can I get there?”
Sighing, Brooklyn reached in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She crossed the room and handed it to Brett. “This is what you need. But remember, he’s different now. He’s changed. You don’t know him as well as you think you do.” She turned her head and pinned Ethan with grave eyes before doing the same thing to Brett. “I think he’s not the only one hiding things from his friends. But only time will tell.”
Pivoting on her heel, Brooklyn made a move to leave. Then out of the blue, she stopped and said, “Luscious can be a new beginning for the three of you. You just have to allow it to be. Otherwise, it might be the end. And I’m sure none of you want that.”
With those final words, she was gone.
Chapter 4
As soon as the front door shut, Brett demanded, “What’re we going to do?” When Ethan didn’t respond quickly enough, Brett’s eyes flew to where his friend sat in his favorite chair with his head down. Everything about Ethan screamed defeated. His slouched shoulders, stiff muscles, and the rise and fall of his chest as he took long, heaving breaths were painful to watch. So Brett didn’t. He lowered his eyes and shot to his feet then began to pace the length of the living room. “We need a plan.”
Actually, they needed more than a plan. They needed a miracle. But Brett wasn’t about to admit that. Ethan was already retreating into his Don’t touch me! shell. He was damming up his emotions. Brett sensed it. And he knew any false moves could, and more than likely would, cost him dearly.
To a degree, Brett understood Ethan’s reaction. He felt the same way—betrayed, rejected, and unloved. But there was one massive difference between him and Ethan. Brett’s pride wasn’t so big, so consuming, that he would cut off his nose to spite his face. He wanted Sam in his life. And there was no way he would stop until he was, even if that included laying his pride on the ground.
Ethan’s head came up. “Are you seriously considering going after Sam?” He sounded aghast and slightly appalled.
Of course he was. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Ethan’s face fell. “Didn’t you hear a word Brooklyn said?”
“Yes.” Brett had. He’d heard every excruciating, heart-breaking word, and he’d hated every second of it.
“And you still want to show up on his doorstep?” Ethan’s voice hardened. “What are you going to do? Beg him to come home?”
Brett’s answer was easy. “Yes—if that’s what it takes.”
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged the skin there. His action hardly appeared relaxing. His nail beds were white, as was his fingertips. Even the skin covering his nose had paled where he was rubbing. “He’s straight, Brett. He doesn’t want us the way we want him.”
“So?”
“So he’s not magically going to be bisexual.”
“You never know.” Brett wasn’t sure he actually believed that, but he was going to put it out there anyway. “For some people, it’s not about cocks and pussies. It’s about the person they’re attached to. What if one day…”
Ethan’s expression tightened. “Don’t go there. Don’t even think it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’ll only lead to disappointment.”
“What if—”
Ethan cut him off. “No. He rejected us. He rejected our friendship.”
“Yes, he did,” Brett agreed.
“He betrayed us,” Ethan declared. But Brett could tell he was talking to himself more than he was to him.
“That’s debatable.” Sam wasn’t callous. Yes, he had left. And yes, he hadn’t called. But that was a far cry from betrayal.
Ethan nailed him with furious, fire-filled eyes. “That’s not debatable,” he snarled. “That’s a fact.”
Brett shook his head but said nothing. When Ethan got like this, there was no talking him off the ledge.
Ethan let out a giant gust of air. “I won’t go after him on my hands and knees. I won’t beg or plead with him. He made his decision. He severed the ties, and I still have my pride.”
Ethan’s pointed comment infuriated Brett, and he stormed across the room in three strides. He dropped the folded paper in his hand onto the hardwood table next to the chair then bent over and grabbed Ethan’s wrists in a firm grip. He yanked Ethan up roughly and against him before he had a chance to stop him. He didn’t even give him enough time to protest.
As soon as their bodies brushed, all of the blood in Brett’s system flooded his dick, and a delicious tingle began to brew in his balls. The raw eroticism of their closeness engulfed Brett, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning.
Brett swiftly released Ethan’s wrists before cradling his face in an unyielding clasp. With eyes meant probe, to see directly into his lover’s soul, he locked his gaze with Ethan’s. “Is your pride worth more to you than Sam? Is it really so big and bad and important that you’re willing to give up the chance to be in his life, to do this with him, if he’ll let you?”
Ethan’s eyes grew round, and his jaw dropped. But Brett wasn’t deterred. He leaned forward and nipped Ethan’s chin with the tips of his teeth. When Ethan snapped his jaw shut, Brett seized his lips.
Their kiss started slow. Brett didn’t rush it. He didn’t want to. He took his time and enjoyed the simple pleasure of his lips caressing Ethan’s. He relished the feel of their breath mingling and their chests colliding as each of them breathed. Then unexpectedly everything changed. Their kiss went wild, their mouths frantic and their lips forceful.
Lust that was both uncontrollable and undeniable claimed Brett. A fireball of heat blazed through him, seizing control of his body and his mind, and he groaned.
&n
bsp; Ethan moaned then pulled back just enough to whisper against Brett’s lips, “Please. Don’t do this to me. I can’t—”
Brett didn’t let Ethan finish. He used his tongue to pry Ethan’s lips apart. When Brett heard his lover’s groan, he knew Ethan wanted more. So he gave it to him. He thrust his tongue into Ethan’s humid mouth. The moist heat welcomed him, bathing his tongue with its inherent warmth and drugging him with its intoxicating flavor.
Another groan clawed its way out of Brett. Ethan responded to his guttural moan by wantonly grabbing him by the hips and tugging their crotches close. He utilized his hold to keep them together, packing their clothed cocks in tight quarters. A heartbeat later, he rubbed his thick erection against Brett’s.
In an instant, Brett’s arousal skyrocketed, and he shook from the pleasure inundating his body. Hungrily, he glided his hands down Ethan’s strong neck. He skimmed the tips of his fingers along Ethan’s sinfully smooth skin until he felt him shudder. Then he slowly snaked his arms around each side of Ethan’s neck and locked them behind his nape.
Brett deepened their kiss. He swept his tongue around the interior of Ethan’s mouth, touching and tasting, and leaving no place unloved. He worshipped every inch. He possessed every dip, owned every curve, and he dominated every crevice.
Their kiss drew on, going until Brett couldn’t breathe for the pleasure. His desperation pressed down on him, demanding he take more of Ethan. Yet he couldn’t stop, not for the air his lungs required or the fucking his body craved. His mouth was too immersed in Ethan, his body too connected to their kiss.
