by Jenna Jacob
That meant Mika wasn’t gay. Did that mean? Darting a stunned look toward James as my legs began to tremble. The notion he could be hetero blasted through me with the force of an atomic bomb. Belatedly, I shook the hand Julianna extended and forced a smile, trying to switch off the myriad of questions whirling through my brain.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She smiled then wrinkled her nose. “We’re not really married.”
“Not yet,” Mika corrected in a firm voice.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I replied. With a nervous glance around the group, I tried to keep the anxious flutter from my voice, but failed. “I… I’ll go check on Trevor now.”
Turning, I stumbled over my own two feet and nearly fell flat on my face. I would have if James hadn’t gripped my waist with his strong hands.
“Oh, god,” I groaned as a surge of heat rushed through my body.
“Easy,” he mumbled.
“Don’t touch me,” I whispered fearfully.
As if I were made of red-hot coals, James snatched his hands back then raised his palms in the air in surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Liz. You looked like you—”
“No. I’m sorry, I guess I’m ubër clumsy today. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you weren’t welcome to touch… Never mind. I’ll be right back.” Spinning on my heel, I wanted to run, not walk into the unit.
“Stop,” James barked. His command was so sharp and absolute that I froze in my tracks.
A confusing thrill coiled low in my belly before a sizzling heat rushed to my cheeks. I heard him striding from behind before he rounded in front of me and studied my face as if it were a textbook.
“What just happened? Why did you become so nervous all of a sudden after Julianna arrived?”
“I didn’t,” I lied. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go—”
“Trevor’s fine,” he whispered in low reassurance. “Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
“I…um It’s nothing. Nothing important.” Darting a guilty glance between him and Mika, I wanted to confess, but couldn’t find the words.
Obviously, I didn’t have to. James eyes grew wide as he snapped the puzzle pieces together. “You thought that…me and Mika…were a couple? Oh hell, Liz. No.”
Julianna started to giggle. She slapped a hand over her mouth as Mika flashed her a stern scowl. I jerked a shoulder and skewed up one side of my mouth. Inside my brain threw a secret ‘James-Isn’t-Gay-Party’, while the rest of my body screamed with a demanding throb.
“I—I thought that… Well, when Trevor asked me to call the bar…I mean, I’ve been to tons of gay bars with my brother…and—”
“What bar?” James asked his forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Club Genesis. It’s a gay bar, right?”
James slowly shook his head, looking at me as if I’d just landed from Mars.
Drake snorted and Mika choked. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. There was nothing I could say to take back the humiliation careening through me.
“Is there something I should know, Mast… Mika?” Julianna asked, pinning her pseudo-husband with an over-dramatic look of shock.
“Watch yourself, girl,” Mika warned, arching his brows high. “I have no problem taking you over my knee and paddling that sexy ass of yours in front of god and everyone.”
Julianna’s lithe frame shook in silent laughter. My mouth gaped open at Mika’s threat. Surely he wouldn’t really spank her like a child, in public. Would he? I wanted to believe that I’d misunderstood, but I hadn’t.
“Genesis isn’t a bar,” James explained with a wolfish grin. “Come by sometime and I’ll show you.”
“What is it then?”
“Um, it’s…ah,” he began to stammer, then deferred to Mika. “Want to help me out with this?”
“Nah, man. You’re doing fine. Go for it.” Mika waved him off, with a chuckle.
James slipped a hand around my elbow and pulled me in close. He gazed into my eyes as if searching for something. Slowly a smile tugged his lips. Leaning in close to my ear, I shivered as the heat from his body and breath enveloped me.
“Genesis isn’t a gay bar, gorgeous. It’s a private club that Mika owns.”
He pulled back, narrowing his eyes, examining my reaction as if I were a mutating virus under a microscope.
“I see.” I didn’t, but I wasn’t about to ask him to explain. “I feel like a fool for assuming. But on the phone you said that you loved Trevor and I—I, well. This is really awkward.”
James really was about to kiss you earlier. Damn, Cindy, your timing sucks.
“I do love him, but not like that,” he explained.
“I understand now,” I huffed. Humiliation morphed into indignation. “I’m sorry if I offended anyone.”
The only bright side of me sticking my foot in my mouth was the realization that my gay-dar wasn’t broken. Still, it gave little help to my dented pride.
Suddenly, Drake stepped up and pulled me to his side. “You have nothing to apologize for, Liz. There are a lot of people out there who judge my relationship with Trevor unfairly.” You mean like my mother? “Your attitude is refreshing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But I think I may have insulted Mika and James.”
“No. They’re fine and so are you,” Drake assured me with a wink. “Would you please go back and check on my boy?”
“Of course,” I replied.
As I turned to leave, James blocked my path. He reached up and tucked in the same strand of hair, then leaned in close. “I’m not offended or insulted, little one.” His slow, sensual drawl spilled through me like warm honey. “When you’re done checking on Trevor, come see me. We need to talk. Understand?”
“If I can. I mean, I’ll try.” I stammered, tripping over my words instead of my feet.
“Oh, I know you can. The question is, will you?” he issued in challenge.
Pulling back, he took his intoxicating body heat and stirring, masculine scent with him. I hurried away still tingling inside. My attraction to the man had me perplexed. Pushing past the doors to the Intensive Care Unit, I didn’t look back. But I was certain that cocky-sure-of-himself smile was still poised on James’ lips. Dammit!
It had been easier—somehow—to discount my attraction to him when I thought he was gay. Finding out he wasn’t, my hormones implored me to do something stupid, like seduce him. Still, I wasn’t delusional enough to think that I was the first woman blinded by his handsome face and sexy body. More likely, I’d need to take a number and move to the back of the line for a chance to let that man rock my world. Just the thought of tumbling between the sheets with that fiery hunk made me want to scream.
Put the cart before the horse much?
My inner voice was right and another rational thought made me frown. Men like James weren’t attracted to women with full hips and thighs. Women who had to comb specialty shops to find bras that fit, like me. No, they went after fashion models, personal trainers; women with zero body fat. Not only that, he seemed extremely bossy. If he expected me to take orders from him…well, he was barking up the wrong tree, no matter how horny he made me. And why was I wasting brain cells on him in the first place? I wasn’t a stick-thin super model. I’d be lucky if he offered to buy me a cup of coffee, let alone ask me out on a date.
My thoughts and emotions jumped up and down like a five-year-old on an inflatable moonwalk. Shoving thoughts of James aside, I scanned the patient board, then marched to Trevor’s room.
Staring at him sleeping on the clean white sheets, a sense of peace settled over me. The lacerations on his lip and forehead had been stitched, and the blood washed from his long, wheat-colored hair. The bruises covering his swollen face and eye had mottled to an even deeper shade of black, purple, and green. But he was alive and no longer in pain. I took comfort in that.
“You poor baby,” I whispered. Leaning in, I feathered a finger
through his soft hair before pulling a chair alongside his bed, and took a seat.
Cupping his hand gently beneath mine, I bent and placed a soft kiss on the bandages covering his knuckles. He’d fought hard, and it made my heart ache, knowing he’d endured such senseless brutality.
It had been almost two years since my brother, Dayne, wrapped his lips around the barrel of a nine-millimeter and blew his brains out—leaving me to struggle with the pain of his decision every day of my life. Even now, the wounds felt as raw and fresh as they had the night he gave up on his friends, his life, and most devastatingly, me.
The warmth of Trevor’s hand in mine ignited a flicker of hope. Some faceless, nameless stranger had called for help, and saved him. He or she had given the precious gift I’d failed to give my own brother: help. The void within expanded, the never-healing hole inside burned. With it, the familiar black, oily slime of regret seeped through my veins.
CHAPTER THREE
Dropping my forehead on Trevor’s bed, I closed my eyes and let the darkness consume me. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I silently wept for my brother, myself, and the wrongs that could never be righted.
Dayne had been seeing a man for months, yet he’d kept the identity of his lover a secret. I didn’t press him for details; I’d trusted my brother’s judgment. Suspecting his lover was married—it’s not an uncommon thing for men to deny their true sexual nature in order to live an accepted lifestyle—I thought if anyone could help the man sort out his longings, it would be Dayne. But never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the real truth.
It wasn’t until I picked up the paper one morning, that I learned my brother had become embroiled in a political scandal. His secret lover turned out to be a long-time conservative councilman who’d been keeping a politically deadly secret—Dayne. The private details of my brother’s love affair with the very married, very Christian, up for re-election, city official was splattered across the front page. Their secret had somehow been leaked to the press, and the fallout was as explosive as a well-placed brick of C-4.
Forced into the limelight, Dayne neither confirmed nor denied the allegations brought against him. Nor did he refute the drama-hungry reporters who assassinated his reputation. He lost his job as a well-respected science teacher and track coach at a prestigious, private boys’ school.
And while Dayne was being raped of all privacy, his lover, Councilman Ted Cromwell, clamored to dispel the rumors via the media every chance he could. He went so far as to drag his wife up to the podium, kissing her and proclaiming his undying devotion to the Misses, which aired on every local television station in town. The perfectly coiffed Mrs. Cromwell smiled tightly to the cameras as she declared her husband to be ‘all man, and a tiger in the sack’. Either the woman was on crack, or so elite hungry she turned a blind eye to his non-hetero exploits. The rat-bastard denied his association with ‘unholy homosexuals’, quoting scriptures from the Bible as he damned ‘the gay abominations to eternal hell’. But Cromwell didn’t stop there. In an attempt to secure his bid for re-election, he blamed his opponent for spreading the slanderous lies. A campaign of defamation ensued.
Even as Dayne was being crucified in the press, he tried to reach out to Ted and offer an apology. The heartless prick wouldn’t even take Dayne’s calls. He completely shut my brother out as if he’d never existed. Ted Cromwell played the victim card like a Vegas pro and won his re-election. The lying sack of shit was still in office while my sweet, loving brother lay dead in the cold, hard earth.
At the height of the scandal, a group of Cromwell’s conservative supporters camped outside Dyane’s house for weeks, picketing and preaching. An entourage of crazy zealots from Kansas showed up—nasty, hate-mongers—holding signs and screaming anti-gay rhetoric, day and night. My brother was mortified. The media zoo outraged not only him, but his neighbors in the predominantly gay and lesbian subdivision.
With his reputation destroyed, Dayne locked himself inside his house, refusing to leave. I called him daily, trying to convince him to let me stay with him until the shit died down. But he adamantly refused. He was terrified that the media circus would follow me home. He wouldn’t let me step foot in his house to see him, even after I explained that I didn’t give a shit about reporters. No amount of begging or pleading would sway his conviction. He made me promise not to come see him and like a fool, I agreed. I never should have kept that vow.
His neighbor Carl called me every day, keeping me apprised of Dayne’s physical and emotional state. I knew he wasn’t eating or sleeping much. More than once, I climbed into my car determined to see him…to talk to him. But the thought of breaking my promise, when everyone else in his life had let him down, had me turning off the motor and trudging back into my house. I couldn’t disappoint him, too.
One hot, summer Sunday night, Carl called. The man was beside himself, crying and cursing. He told me that Dayne had lashed out at him, and ordered him to leave the house and never come back. Carl said he’d never seen my brother so despondent or act so cruel. When he asked me to come and check on Dayne, I jumped in my car. Before I reached his house, a cop stopped me at the end of the block. Blue and red pulses from the patrol cars, ambulances, and fire trucks lit up the houses like a macabre carnival. Gawkers gathered in hoards on the sidewalks, waiting and watching, like predators.
Pulling to the curb, I shut off my car and tore off running toward Dayne’s house as cries of anguish and fear burned the back of my throat. Ducking beneath the crime scene tape, I rushed toward the front door, but a police officer snagged me around the waist and held me tight as I struggled to break free.
“I can’t let you go in there, Ma’am,” the officer warned in a deep voice that I now knew belonged to James.
“He’s my brother,” I screamed. “Oh, god. Please tell me…is he still alive?”
If James answered, I didn’t hear him. I stopped fighting for freedom as I watched two solemn-faced men from the coroner’s office push a black zippered bag atop a gurney out Dayne’s front door. I slumped from James’ arms and fell to the grass, screaming and sobbing.
Moments later Carl wrapped me in a tight hug. Holding each other, we cried. After a long time, he picked me up off the ground and carried me to his house next door. Soon after a parade of detectives wandered in and out. Numb and in shock, I answered their questions as best I could, inwardly cursing Councilman Cromwell for taking my brother from me.
Raising my head, I wiped my tears as I stared at Trevor. Drawing his hand to my cheek, memories of the last time I’d felt Dayne’s touch twisted my belly. The emptiness inside grew even more debilitating. I longed for one more day with my brother. Longed to see his smile and hear his voice. Longed for the chance to convince him that giving up wasn’t a choice at all. I wanted one breath in time to make him realize that the bleak and hopeless place he’d landed in would pass… That his world still held hope for a brand new tomorrow.
“Don’t ever give up, Trevor. Please, don’t give up,” I sobbed.
A warm, broad hand settled on my shoulder. I jerked, choking on a yelp of surprise. Quickly wiping the tears from my face, trying to mask my emotional breakdown. I drew in a shallow breath and turned to find Drake staring down at me. Sorrow and pity lined his face. For a moment I hoped his bleak expression was aimed at Trevor, but it was directed solely on me.
“Oh, little one. I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through,” Drake murmured. “Dayne deserved better from the press, the community…hell, the whole fucking world. He was lucky to have a sister like you.”
“Did you know my brother?” I sniffed.
“No.” Drake slowly shook his head. “When James mentioned your last name, it all clicked together. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Stepping around me, Drake combed a gentle hand through Trevor’s hair before bending and lightly kissing his battered, bruised cheek.
“Thank you,” I sniffed again. “He’s probably not going to wake up until tomorrow.”
Drake nodded. “That’s what the surgeon told us, but I don’t care. I need to be with him.”
“Of course you do.” I nodded and stood. “I should go home and let you be with him.”
“Stay,” Drake compelled. “I mean… I’d like you to stay if you can. You’ve obviously grown fond of my boy and well, I’d feel better if you could stay with us for a little while.”
“Okay, and yes. I have grown fond of him.” Sliding another chair to the opposite side of Trevor’s bed, I sat down as Drake stared at his lover’s badly beaten face.
“I should have been there. I saved him once. It’s how we met.”
“You mentioned that earlier. I don’t mean to pry, but…”
“You’re not prying at all, girl.”
Drake sat down in the seat I’d vacated, then strummed his thick fingers up and down Trevor’s arm. Simply touching his flesh seemed to ease the anxiety humming off Drake.
“I’d gone to visit an old, navy buddy down in southern Alabama. It was my last night in town. I was alone because my friend had a wedding to go to. So I stopped at this little neighborhood bar not far from my hotel to grab some dinner and a beer. I had an early flight the next day, so I headed back to my room around nine o’clock at night. Rounding the corner, I saw three guys kicking the shit out of another kid who was on the ground. At first I thought he was dead. Poor guy was outnumbered and out-weighed. He’s always been a little wisp of a thing. Well, let’s just say I evened out the odds.” He shrugged his wide shoulders as his mouth turned down in an expression of indifference.
“How many ended up in the ER that night?” I chuckled.
“All of them.” Drake’s tone dripped with animosity. “I left the assholes bleeding on the ground, just like I’d found Trevor. Anyway, I hailed a taxi, picked him up in my arms, and ordered the driver to take me to the nearest hospital.”
Drake stared at Trevor with such sorrow I nearly started to cry again.
Swallowing tightly, Drake continued. “He was so beat up, I was afraid he was going to die on me before I could get him the help he needed. So I started talking to him, asking him questions. He told me he had family, but didn’t want me to bother contacting them. Said they’d disowned him when he was just a teen.”
