by Anders Grey
“Johnathan, I think your parents would be very proud,” she said.
Excitement spiked my blood.
She’s finally giving me the key!
“On a personal note, I’m glad to see you settled in,” she went on. “I know it can be hard making a big change like this, but you’re making it work. And isn’t this a nicer place than your old apartment?”
She chuckled and I smiled along with her. She was right, of course. The mansion was objectively better than my crappy apartment in every way. But it was my crappy apartment, and it was more of a home than my parents’ estate would ever be.
Right?
Ms. Walker clicked open her briefcase. My heart raced as she rummaged through all the manila folders and velvet compartments. She finally pulled out a small envelope, barely the size of my palm.
“Here, Johnathan,” she said. “As your parents’ legal proxy, I think you’ve met the requirements to their satisfaction. You’ve earned this.”
I held the tiny envelope like it was fragile. I felt the weight of the key inside.
“Thank you,” I said, giving her an appreciative nod.
I walked her back to the door and forced myself to keep my cool even though I was as stupidly excited about opening the locked office door as a kid before Christmas.
It wasn’t that I thought there was anything particularly interesting behind the lock. I’d never even experienced a single Easter egg hunt as a kid, and I didn’t think my parents would leave one for me after their death–especially a strangely convoluted one like this.
No, it was the principle of it. This was the final hurdle. I’d passed my parents’ ridiculous test and earned my freedom back. They finally lost their hold on me. No longer was I bound by their beliefs.
Ms. Walker paused at the door, putting her glasses on as she quickly typed something into her phone. “I’m making a note to pass the title of the estate into your name. That will be done as soon as I get back to the office.” She pocketed the phone, then held out her hand for a final handshake, which I gladly returned. “Congratulations, Johnathan. The house is officially yours.”
The smile I gave her was real. “Thanks for everything.”
The sky had grown overcast during her visit. As the first raindrops began to fall, Ms. Walker hurried to her car. She pulled out of the driveway and disappeared, and when she was gone, relief and joy bubbled up inside me and I broke out into loud laughter.
I was free.
I tore the envelope open, clutching the key as I bolted up the stairs two steps at a time. Whatever my parents were hiding from me, I was about to find out. I’d held back on my curiosity until now, knowing there wouldn’t be anything particularly compelling inside, but with the promise of it right in front of me, I couldn’t help but be a little excited.
I jammed the key into the hole and twisted it. The lock clicked open. Heart racing, I pushed the door open.
It was my mother’s office, mostly unchanged in the past decade. It smelled like old paper and ink, just as I remembered. There were more books on the shelves now, more files in the folders, more pens in the stationary holder. A dusty printer sat beside the large oak desk in the center of the room, and on the other side was an empty pot that once held a houseplant.
In the end, it was nothing special.
I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. After all the trouble I’d gone through, I expected something.
I approached the desk slowly, dragging my hand along the wood surface. My fingers left trails in the light layer of dust. I wiped them on my pants, then looked at my reflection in the black computer monitor.
What was I doing here besides looking for answers to questions I didn’t know I had?
Frustrated, I tried opening all the drawers in the desk. Nothing but folders and papers. Nothing of value or importance, sentimental or otherwise.
My lip curled. Had my parents locked this room just to annoy me? A final fuck you to their estranged son?
As I tried to throw the bottom drawer open, I found that it didn’t budge. My brow furrowed as I tried it again, but it wasn’t stuck. It was locked.
“Not this shit again,” I muttered as I jammed the key in the hole, hoping to God it was the same lock and that I wouldn’t have to go through another wild goose chase only to come up empty handed once more.
But the key took. The drawer opened, revealing a large sealed envelope. Across the thick white paper was a single handwritten word.
My name.
Not Johnathan Hunter, but Johnny.
I glanced down at the envelope almost disbelievingly. I re-read the text a couple times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. But I wasn’t. It was addressed to me, and me alone.
I picked it up carefully, like I was afraid it would crumble into dust in my hands. My heart rate quickened again as I took a letter opener from the stationary holder and dug into the envelope.
Two things came out of the envelope. One was a letter printed on thick parchment. The other was another, smaller envelope with nothing written on it. I placed the small envelope on the desk and picked up the letter.
As I brought it up to read, I was filled with both excitement and anxiety in equal measure. My parents had left me something after all. I didn’t know what was in the envelope, but right now I didn’t care. Though I hadn’t even read it yet, the handwritten letter meant more to me than whatever was inside. A letter carried intrinsic meaning. One of my parents had sat down and taken pen to paper to convey a message to me.
A small, warm hope flickered in my chest.
I began to read.
And that was when everything went wrong.
28
Cain
Nowhere felt safe.
Nash knew where I lived. I didn’t know if he would come back to finish what he started–whatever the hell that might be–but I wasn’t taking any chances. I pushed all the locks shut on every single door, locked every window, and sat huddled beneath a blanket in my bedroom while rain battered the window and thunder boomed outside.
The tears were delayed until now. They stung my eyes and I didn’t bother holding them back. I wiped them on the blanket, since all my clothes were still wet. I hadn’t changed since getting home.
Letting out a shaky breath, I tried to make sense of what happened. Nash had kissed me. And I hated it.
Nash was supposed to hate me, and not in the fake, non-malicious way that Johnny claimed to hate me when he first arrived. Nash truly hated me. So why did he kiss me?
Thinking about Johnny made my heart ache. I doubled over, clutching my body close. Everything smelled like wet fabric and wet dog. I was aware of Roxy cuddling against me, and I lifted the blanket long enough for her to enter my warm, childish little tent.
Would things have been different if Johnny was there?
He doesn’t want you. He sent you away.
There must be something wrong with you.
But stronger than my own self-loathing was the fear. When Nash had grabbed me and used his strength to keep me from running away, I was terrified. Dread raked through me like claws thinking about the way he’d crushed his mouth against mine. It was cold and forceful, and the memory of it disgusted me. It was nothing like the gentle warmth of the way Johnny kissed me.
Letting out a shuddering sigh, I opened my phone’s lock screen. The photo of Johnny from the night of the party greeted me.
Johnny was safe. He’d protected me from Nash before. Would he do it again now, even if we were arguing?
Ignoring the demons in my head that told me to stay put and stew in my own misery, I decided to test my luck. My fingers trembled with uneasiness and cold as I sent him a text.
Something happened. Freaked out. Can I come over?
The moments between sending the message and getting his reply were dreadful. When my phone buzzed, I braced myself for him to say no. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear he was done with me. This was supposed to be the final time we cut ties.
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But all his message said was: Yes.
I bolted out of bed. I didn’t bother bringing an umbrella since I was already soaked. I just ran to his front step, glancing over my shoulder every few seconds like Nash was going to jump out of every bush, and banged on the door.
Johnny’s expression was blank and he radiated a dark aura. It would have frightened me if I didn’t see the raw pain in his eyes, which looked directly into my soul.
Standing here in front of a hurt Johnny seemed entirely familiar–except this time, I didn’t think he was going to pin me angrily to a wall.
“Johnny,” I said softly, then glanced over my shoulder again. Nobody was there.
That seemed to perk Johnny up. He followed my gaze, his brow slightly furrowed. He ushered me inside and shut the door, cutting off the sound of the pouring rain.
“You’re soaked,” he mumbled.
Without waiting, he reached for my button-up shirt and began taking it off. I froze, waiting for the fear to hit me. I thought the action might have been too soon after my frightening encounter with Nash, but Johnny’s touch only soothed me. I sighed shakily, letting him remove my drenched clothes right in the middle of the foyer.
Johnny huffed when I was down to my pants. He took my wrist gently. “Come on.”
I let him take me upstairs. I tried not to think about how we’d been down this path to his bedroom the night of the party.
The room smelled like him, instantly comforting me. I stood by the bed as he picked through the dresser and brought out an outfit that was too big for me, but it was warm and dry. He averted his eyes as I changed. By the time I’d finished and put my wet clothes in a pile, my knees trembled. I sat on the bed with a shaky sigh.
“What happened?” Johnny asked, coming to sit next to me. Worry was written all over his features. “Is it the thunderstorm?”
I recalled my text about being scared, and I shook my head with a weak laugh. “No. That’s what Roxy’s scared of. Not me.”
If it were only that simple. As I tried to fit the words together, my chest clenched with anxiety. I gripped my knees.
Then I winced. “Shit, Roxy. She’s probably scared at home right now.”
“One thing at a time,” Johnny said firmly. “Cain, did someone try to hurt you?”
I turned to face him. “No. I mean… Not like that. I’m okay, physically.”
He frowned, his dark brows knitting together. His whole aura radiated protection, and I knew in that moment I’d made the right decision coming to him.
I let out a shaky sigh, then spat the words out like I was ripping off a bandage. “Nash kissed me.”
Johnny’s eyes went wide with disbelief and confusion. “He what?”
Would he get the wrong idea? The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was using Nash like some fucked-up rebound.
“Against my will,” I added in a low voice.
Instantly Johnny’s expression twisted into one of anger. He stammered, struggling to find the right words. “What–why? Are you okay?”
He touched my arm, and I was so glad to feel his hand on me again that I sighed contentedly.
“I’m fine,” I said. “He didn’t do anything else. I ran away after that. I just got scared.”
“And you were afraid he would follow you,” Johnny muttered, his protective grip tightening. But unlike the way Nash grabbed my arm, this action had no violence behind it. Johnny was only trying to keep me close. Out of harm’s way.
When I nodded, Johnny growled. “The next time I see him, I–”
“Don’t do anything to him,” I said. “Please, I don’t want this to escalate. I think he’s confused or something.”
His eyes narrowed into dark slits. “That’s no excuse for coming on to someone without their consent.”
“I’m fine,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie anymore. With every passing moment in Johnny’s presence I felt myself relaxing, the jackrabbit-fast racing of my heart finally dying down.
Suddenly Johnny wrapped his arms around me. I let out a soft noise as he pulled me against his chest, broad and warm. His familiar scent flooded my nose and I shut my eyes, soaking in his affection.
In the safety of Johnny’s embrace, my fear felt like a distant memory. He centered me, brought me back down to earth. He was the only person to make me feel this way.
I didn’t want him to let go. But I knew he was still holding something back.
My moment of fairy-tale happiness evaporated and I was brought back to harsh reality. The last time I was with Johnny, he made it clear this relationship couldn’t happen.
But right now, I didn’t care. I craved his touch, the warmth of his comfort. I let myself indulge in the embrace of this man I couldn’t have.
“I’m sorry,” Johnny said, his voice hoarse. “He had no right to do that to you. You didn’t deserve that.”
I nodded into his chest. He cradled the back of my head and began to stroke my hair. I barely swallowed a whine. I wanted this so badly but I forced myself to take whatever he would give, like a stray begging for scraps.
“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Johnny asked. “I can go pick up Roxy, too.”
My heart fluttered. Yes, I wanted to, but I didn’t know if I could bear a repeat of the other night in my emotional state. I slowly peeled myself out of his arms and looked at him.
“Are you going to freak out at me again?” I asked softly.
Johnny winced but didn’t avoid my eyes. “No. I’ve freaked out enough tonight. Don’t have enough energy left for another round.” Before I could ask what he meant, he waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, sounding tired all of a sudden. “Just stay. Please. I want you to.”
I wasn’t going to argue.
I handed Johnny the keys and he left me alone for ten minutes to go pick up Roxy. He returned soaked. His white t-shirt clung to his skin except for the lower half, which he’d used to shield Roxy from the rain. I broke out into laughter at the sight.
“You know she’s a dog, not a cat, right? She doesn’t mind getting wet,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.
Johnny grumbled and put her down. “Didn’t want her to, uh, shake water all over my house.”
“She doesn’t have any fur.”
Roxy shook her body and not a single drop of rain flew off. Johnny, on the other hand, was dripping all over the tile. He began to strip right there in the front foyer. Mesmerized, I stood and watched as he peeled the shirt off, then hesitated at his belt. He glanced at me and we stared at each other, neither of us sure how to proceed.
“It’s your house,” I said slowly.
Johnny’s hands were frozen at the clasp of his belt. “Friends don’t usually strip down to their underwear in front of friends.”
The image of him on top of me and balls-deep in my ass flashed in my mind. Heat stirred below my stomach.
“Is that what we are?” I asked.
“What do you want us to be, Cain?”
The question struck me.
I want to be yours.
I want you to be mine.
But I didn’t say that, and Johnny didn’t speak. With neither of us knowing how to continue, the conversation stopped. Rain pounded the house, and a flash of lightning was followed by a soft boom of thunder.
Roxy sneezed, breaking the silence. The sound seemed so loud in the powerful quiet that I nearly leapt out of my skin.
Johnny cleared his throat and mumbled, “Gonna go change.”
As he walked past, I caught his arm. He didn’t look surprised.
“I’m coming with you,” I said quietly.
It was a question disguised as a statement, and I knew Johnny understood by the flash in his dark eyes.
But doubt nagged at me like worms in my stomach. Where the hell did we even stand? Did Johnny want something between us as badly as I did? Was his panic the last two times we were intimate just nerves? I didn’t know, but I needed to find out.
&nb
sp; “If you want me gone, tell me now,” I added, drawing back but hoping with every cell in my body that he’d urge me to stay. “Because I can’t read your mind, Johnny, and I don’t know what you want from me.”
He was conflicted. I saw it in the way his eyes stormed. There was more happening beneath the surface, things I wasn’t privy to.
Would he let me in, or would he push me away again?
Finally, Johnny let out a thin exhale and leaned in the direction of the stairs. With my hand still on his arm, my body followed the flow of movement.
“Come with me, Cain,” he said.
My chest clenched at the sound of my name on his tongue. I followed him to his bedroom, the desire stirring within me growing more intense by the second.
29
Johnny
When Cain told me what happened with Nash, I was livid. After everything Nash had done, kissing Cain was the last thing I expected from him, but it didn’t make me any less angry. In fact, it pissed me off even more. I hated seeing the fear in Cain’s eyes when he came to me, practically begging for help. It was then I realized that I would do anything to protect him.
So why was I still holding back? That question became harder and harder to answer the longer he stayed in my arms.
I had to leave Rosecreek. I had to go back to my life in the city. And with the house finally in my name, that goal was close enough to reach.
Except for that envelope, which I didn’t want to think about right now.
But whenever Cain was around, my mind turned fuzzy. He filled my head with fluffy, warm ideas of a different destiny. Not one of living in the city, but one of staying right here in Rosecreek. He made me hesitate. Made me think that maybe, just maybe, I could have a different life here. A good life.
And that was dangerous. That was why I’d stopped our intimacy the night of the party.
Now I stood at a crossroads with a foot on either side of the trail, and I didn’t know how to proceed.
I changed out of my wet clothes, tossing them in the hamper and getting into a clean shirt and pants. I was well aware of Cain behind me, his gaze glued to me as he watched my hips sway and my body move.
