by Rhys Ford
“First thing you should know is there’s something wrong with my brain. I’ve had a lot of labels slapped on me for it, but none of that really matters, because people are just guessing. It’s not like you can take some blood or do some X-rays and bam! Instant diagnosis and you’ve got a cure. Sometimes there’s too much noise around me. And it feels like a pendulum—a really sharp one—swinging and slicing through my brain like a very deep paper cut. Enough to hurt and enough to make me bleed, but not enough to kill me.” He swallowed, bracing himself for the moment Ruan pulled away. It would come. It always came, and Ivo wondered if he’d left his clothes someplace he could find easily before he walked out of the front door. Another kiss on his forehead stilled those thoughts and he shut them back down, locking them away. “It’s better now. I take a very low dosage of something pretty small, and that’s enough to take away the edge. And sometimes, even though there’s always like a burring sensation or vibration inside my head, it quiets down when I’m doing things like art.
“Or if I’m with certain people. Like Bear,” Ivo whispered, then took the leap he’d been afraid to do the entire time in Ruan’s apartment. “Or with you. When I’m with you, it feels better. I don’t feel like I have to try as hard to be normal, or as normal as I can get. I feel like I can talk and not have to measure out everything I say, because sometimes my brain comes up with things that my tongue doesn’t agree with. And sometimes I say shit that later on I’m wondering what the hell possessed me to say it. But it didn’t used to be that way. I used to try everything I could not to stand out. Because being who I was, trying to find who I was, is what took me away from my family, and for the longest time, I was scared Bear and the others hated my guts because I was just too much trouble. Like Puck.”
“I’ve seen your brothers around you. I saw Bear’s face that night when I brought you home. He was so relieved you were okay he could have puked,” Ruan teased, running his thumb over Ivo’s lower lip. “I’ll have you know that, so far, I’ve had a couple of your brothers threaten me where you’re concerned. So I think it’s safe to say they love you a lot. It takes a lot of balls to threaten a guy who carries a gun.”
“If one of them was Luke, the gun doesn’t scare him. I think he can fuck somebody up with a paper straw.” Ivo nodded when Ruan lifted his eyebrows with a mocking doubt. “You’ve got to remember, I was a kid, and there was so much going on inside of my head that I couldn’t get out. I felt like I was in the way and nothing I did was right. And I wanted to tattoo so badly, but I was too young and I didn’t understand why I couldn’t—why I was good enough to clean the shop but not good enough to work it. You know, laws and shit don’t make much sense to a confused teenager.”
“Laws and shit are very important,” Ruan replied. “So what about the shoes?”
“One day, and please understand it was after just months of trying so hard I just didn’t want to try anymore,” Ivo whispered, losing himself in the sound of the rain and the feel of Ruan’s heat against him. Their bodies were so close, and he could feel every line of muscle in Ruan’s body, the heavy weight of his cock on Ivo’s thigh, the press of his hand on Ivo’s stomach, lifting with every breath Ivo took. “I was lost. That’s the best way I can really put it. I didn’t even understand why it was so important not to be myself anymore. I used to wake up in the middle of the night crying for no reason and then spend the days walking around feeling like I was dead inside. Then one day, I just stopped feeling, and I knew I was just in the way and everyone’s life would be better if I wasn’t in it.
“We’ve got this stupid small room that probably had been the dining room, but at some point someone turned it into this weirdly shaped parlor. It’s got the world’s ugliest wallpaper—layers and layers of different ugly wallpaper—and they painted over every single bit of molding until it just looks like lines of white blob running around the ceiling and fireplace. At some point there was a chandelier, and maybe somebody tried to swing from it or something, but the ceiling around it broke and you could see the joist running across the room.” He felt Ruan stiffen, probably knowing what Ivo was about to say. Their hearts felt in sync, beating rapidly despite them lying still on the bed. “I came home from school to an empty house, and I just couldn’t anymore. I used to sit in that room and stare at that ugly wallpaper because it’s how I felt. Because none of us liked that room. It didn’t fit the house, but nobody had the time to fix it and nobody cared.
“So I went and got Jeremy’s heels, put them on, and strung one of the nylon ropes we used to tie down a tarp with over that beam in the parlor,” Ivo murmured, unable to stop himself from touching his throat where the fibers burned at his skin. “It takes a long time to die if you’re choking. And I couldn’t get anything underneath me. I couldn’t reach anything to make it stop. I remember swinging back and forth, then everything going black. Next thing I knew, Bear was holding me, telling me to breathe and screaming for Mace to call an ambulance. They’d come home early and found me there. Just like I’d found Jeremy.”
“They must’ve been very scared. I’ve seen them with you. You’re very much a part of their lives.”
“I know that now. Back then, not so much,” he confessed with a chuckle. “They fought CPS tooth and nail when the social worker tried to take me away from them again. Bear threatened to take me to Canada so no one would find us. The judge they put us in front of took me back into her chambers and asked me where I wanted to live, and I told her with my brothers. She made sure social services could never touch me again.
“You see, I always wanted to wear those shoes. Put on makeup. Wear a leather jacket and combat boots. I didn’t want to live in the box I put myself in, because I hated every minute of it.” Ivo turned, finally sliding his arms around Ruan’s waist, returning his embrace. He tangled his legs with Ruan’s, just to connect them as much as he could. Staring up into Ruan’s eyes, Ivo laid a kiss on Ruan’s mouth, then nipped at the end of his nose. “They sat me down—my brothers—and listened to what I had to say… for what I finally felt like I could say. About how I felt with short hair and button-up shirts and the chess club. I wanted to read romance novels and be a tattoo artist and wear high heels with leather pants if I wanted to. And they understood. And they said it was okay. And it was.”
“And it is,” Ruan murmured, dipping his head down to steal Ivo’s breath with a ravaging kiss. Pulling away was hard for both of them, but Ruan gave Ivo enough of a chance to breathe, after leaving them panting. “There’s nothing wrong with being a hellion, babe. Nothing wrong at all.”
Fifteen
“SO I’LL see you tonight?” Ruan asked through the open window of his SUV. “And I promise, I’ll agree to do whatever you want to do so long as it means I get to keep my clothes on. Or at least my clothes on in public.”
The rain continued into the morning, but it didn’t dampen the day. They’d both woken up slowly, stretching around each other’s bodies, then took turns in the bathroom, dodging a very vocal Spot, who seemed to need enormous amounts of affection from anyone nearby. When they were both ready to leave, Ivo moved his car off of the street, parking it behind the two-story house, waving at Cranson, who was puttering around a clump of rosebushes in full bloom.
He’d opted for Converses instead of heels and took Ruan up on his offer of a shirt. He could have gotten away with wearing his jeans two days in a row, but showing up with the same shirt on as yesterday evening would’ve meant a ribbing from the rest of the crew. It felt slightly silly and firmly lodged in adolescence to be picking through Ruan’s clothes and feel a giddy thrill about wearing something from the cop’s closet, but Ivo didn’t care. Boyfriends were never something he’d taken seriously, preferring to bounce from one guy to the next, but Ruan wasn’t that kind of person.
The homicide detective was the kind of guy who remembered how he took his coffee and had a cup waiting for Ivo when he came out of the bathroom. He said nothing about Ivo wearing an ancient SFPD T-shirt or borr
owing a pair of socks from his drawer, but there was definitely a wicked smile on Ruan’s face when he passed over the steaming mug. Food was the last thing on their minds, but as Ivo leaned against the car door, his stomach grumbled.
“I probably should have fed you before dropping you off,” Ruan said with a grimace. “I’m going to have to get something other than cat food into the house.”
“Yeah, I can’t keep raiding the freezer. I’ll drop my stuff off inside and go get something to eat. It’s late enough. I can get a hamburger or something at Frankie’s,” Ivo said, resting his forearms on the windowsill. He was reluctant to let Ruan go, but the cop had to be at the station in less than fifteen minutes, and the traffic alone would eat that up quickly. “I’ll see you later on this afternoon.”
“You sure you’re okay being here this early? You guys don’t open until noon.” Ruan had his cop face on, scanning the area. “I know. You’re an adult. You’ve been doing this for years. I just… worry.”
“I’m fine. Just give me a kiss and go before I regret getting out of your bed,” Ivo said. “Because technically, somebody else should be opening, but we’re lean on people right now.”
This was their twelfth kiss. He was eventually going to lose track of them, but for right now, Ivo wanted a solid number under his belt. It was sloppy, a bit hard on his back because he had to reach into the car, but Ruan met him halfway, sliding his long fingers into Ivo’s hair and knotting them through the rain-dampened strands.
Ivo was conscious of the cold air only for a moment. Then he plunged himself into the experience of tasting Ruan Nicholls. He loved how Ruan’s hair was coarse beneath his fingertips, the feel of raw silk against the smoothness of his scalp. He liked how his thumbs could find the tips of Ruan’s ears, their slight points sensitive to the touch. After seeing Ruan stumble home after long hours of work, there would be a dark stubble across his jaw later in the day. But for right now, the skin there was sleek and smooth. He’d missed a spot, a couple of hairs beneath the right side of his chin, but it wasn’t anything anyone would notice unless they were touching him.
But it was Ruan’s mouth that had nearly all of Ivo’s attention. The man could definitely kiss, tickling every want and desire Ivo hid inside of him. They moved together slowly, savoring the feel of flesh against their lips and exploring the still-unfamiliar landscapes of bone and skin.
It wasn’t until Ivo felt the sting of his lungs aching in his chest that he pulled back, gasping for air and playfully irritated at Ruan’s smirk. The damned cop always left him wanting more—more air, more kisses, more everything. He didn’t know what he wanted more of—another night tangled around Ruan’s long, sturdy body or sitting on the couch eating Chinese food out of paper boxes. Sex was definitely on the table, but as much as Ruan aroused Ivo’s cock, he satisfied something very primal in Ivo’s soul.
“Tell me when you’ve got a day off, and I’ll see about rearranging my schedule,” Ivo murmured, stealing a quick thirteenth kiss from Ruan’s parted lips. “And it’s taking everything inside of me not to say something like ‘Only if you want to spend the day with me’ or something as insecure as that. I’m just going to assume you want to spend a long time with me so you can either figure out if you want me around or if I drive you insane.”
“We already know you drive me insane.” Ruan chuckled, tweaking Ivo’s pierced earlobe. “But what I’d really like is for you to wake up next to me on that day off. No pressure for sex. And if you want, I can crash on the couch, but I liked waking up with you today. I want to wake up with you again and make you the best frozen waffles you’ve ever had in the morning.”
“I don’t know,” Ivo teased. “I can operate a toaster like nobody’s business.”
“Let me know where I’m grabbing you later. Today should be a short day unless something happens.” Ruan nodded toward the shop’s back door. “Now humor me and get inside while I’m still here. It’ll make me feel better.”
“One, it’s broad daylight,” Ivo said, rolling his eyes and holding up his messenger bag for Ruan to see. “Two, as soon as I dump my stuff and start a pot of coffee, I’m headed back out to get something to eat. So unless you hang around for an hour….”
“Fine. But I’m calling you later to make sure you’re okay,” his cop said, putting his car in Drive. “Or maybe just to hear your voice. If you call me and I don’t answer, it’s because I’m in the middle of something, but I’ll call you right back. Promise. Go have a good day, tiger, and I’ll see you later.”
“Tiger?” Ivo lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Look, you get what you get. It’s early, and that’s what came out of my mouth.” Ruan grimaced. “Go. So I can at least pretend you’re safe inside when I’ve left.”
Slipping into the back of the shop, Ivo closed the door behind him, then stood stock-still, bathed in the hall’s bright lights. The smell of coffee punched through the cold air he’d let in, and all-too-familiar voices murmured in hushed tones from the front, accompanied by the clatter of someone rolling around a stool. Shrugging off his jacket, Ivo hooked it on the coat tree in the employee lounge, then headed to the front, his stomach sinking while his curiosity grew.
Earl spotted him first, and the shaggy mutt scrambled to his feet, nails clicking on the polished cement floor. The dog hit Ivo full force, but he held his ground, leaning into Earl’s slam, trying to make sense of Bear, Mace, and Luke at the shop before nine in the morning. His mind raced through the possibilities, seizing on Gus’s absence in a panic, but the others didn’t seem that bothered. Instead, the concern on their faces ratcheted up as they saw him coming into the room.
They were there for him, and Ivo wasn’t liking it.
“Don’t remember calling a family meeting,” he said as casually as he could, strolling over to his stall, where Mace was unwrapping a roll of paper towels. Shoving at his older brother’s shoulder, Ivo shook his head. “Nope. I set up my own shit. You want to help, go put Rob’s shit together. Then you all can tell me what the fuck you’re doing here.”
“You didn’t come home last night,” Bear said, pushing himself off of the stool behind the reception desk.
Bear always seemed to loom despite having a bad habit of rolling down his shoulders. His brother spent so much of his life making himself smaller, trying not to intimidate the teachers and social workers he came into contact with on a daily basis as he fought to hold his family together. His pale gray-blue eyes were so much Gus’s, but where their brother’s gaze was hardened and sometimes wary, Bear’s expression was often open, nearly serene as he listened carefully to the people around him. Even now, with his dark eyebrows pulled into a slight scowl, the worry was there, spackled on thick, and Ivo sighed, knowing his anger at being rousted by his brothers would bounce off of Bear’s impenetrable calm.
“I texted you. I told you I wasn’t coming home,” he pointed out. “So you call a family meeting? In the shop? Did Gus forget where it is? Or did he just tap out this time?”
“He’s getting donuts,” Luke finally contributed to the conversation, slapping Ivo on the shoulder as he walked by, heading to the lounge. “Coffee’s done. I’ll bring it out.”
“You sent Gus to get donuts? Why? He always gets cake,” Ivo grumbled. “I like yeast. If I’m going to get my ass chewed out for something, I should at least get the kind of donuts I like.”
“No one’s chewing on your ass,” Mace rumbled, another dark harbinger lurking behind Ivo. Being bookended by his two larger brothers made Ivo unnecessarily nervous, but Mace padded by, taking Earl with him when the dog perked up, noticing Mace was moving. “And yeah, I told him about the freaking donuts. No one likes cake. Just him.”
“I like devil’s food. The little chocolate ones,” Luke murmured in his quiet growl. He sidestepped the gamboling dog, shooing Earl aside so he could put the tray of coffee mugs and carafe down on the coffee table by the couch. “Those are cake. Earl, go lie down.”
It maddened
Ivo that the dog always listened to Luke, especially since it’d been a few years since Luke had lived in the house. But as always, the odd-colored mutt they’d adopted eagerly pranced over to his bed and flopped down, his long tongue bobbing about and splattering spittle over the clean floor. Bear reached down to pat the dog as he walked by, telling Earl to stay put as he rolled over the chair from the reception desk. The couch couldn’t hold all of them, but Ivo wasn’t going to let himself get isolated on a hot seat. Commandeering a corner of the couch, he left the other side for someone else, turning his nose up at the high-sided purple velvet armchair with its hard cushion.
Bear pulled the stool over to Ivo’s side of the couch and eased down onto it, its hydraulics taking his muscular bulk without a groan. Mace sprawled out next to Ivo, but this time the couch squeaked, threatening as it always did to give way under a brutal assault. Luke contemplated the velvet armchair, then grabbed the chair from a nearby stall, dragging it over to the table. Bracketed by a wall of brothers, Ivo had nowhere to retreat, especially now, with Luke in front of him. He’d rather try to take on Bear or Mace than tangle with their smallest brother. He was about to move to the purple chair despite its uncomfortable seat just to have a way to bolt free when Gus came in through the back door.
“Hey, did the asshole finally…? Well, shit. He’s here. Guess we can’t talk about him.” Gus swaggered in, burdened by a large rectangular box and an overinflated ego. They looked so much alike, or would have if Ivo didn’t hate the dirty-blond hair they’d been given by their mother. Broader across the shoulders than Ivo, his brother nearly dropped the box of donuts down on the table. “Here. And yeah, I got yeast. And some of the chocolate ones too. I don’t know what you all have against cake donuts. My kid likes them. Rey likes them.”
