The Stepbrother (Red's Tavern 5)

As I looked out over the grey-blue bay, breathing in the cool, humid air, I realized how much I’d been missing Fox’s contact all day.

Yesterday, he’d sent me the amazing photos and messages, and I’d let myself get wrapped up in the attention, no matter how bad of an idea it was.

But today was different. He’d sent me a good morning text, telling me he’d gotten off to the video I sent him last night.

After that, I’d gotten nothing.

I found myself in the same place I’d been in before the trip—looking down at my phone, waiting for attention from a guy I’d fallen for. A guy I really, really shouldn’t have fallen for, especially this time.

Standing here and looking out from the top of the Golden Gate Bridge wasn’t just about the view of the water. It was about realizing, finally and fully, that I couldn’t rely on anyone else for my happiness. I had to stop subsisting on text messages and random flirtations. If that’s all I was going to get from Fox, it wasn’t enough for me.

Maybe that didn’t have to be so bad.

There was an empty hole in my heart where Fox had made himself comfortable over the past weeks. But I had to tell myself it would fade, like all the rest.

We all went out to eat at a nice restaurant, filling up on a fresh green salad, fish, incredible garlic bread, and pasta. As we were eating tiramisu for dessert, our waiter came to give us each a free box of hand-made caramels to take home with us.

He smiled at me as he walked away.

“Look at the socks on that waiter,” Mom said, nodding toward the rainbow striped sliver peeking out from under his slacks.

“Oh, cool,” I said idly, trying to pull myself back into the conversation. “I’d rock those.”

“I think he likes you, too,” Logan said, sitting back in his chair. “He was checking you out when you got back from the bathroom.”

“He was?” I said. I reached up to smooth out my hair. “I look like I’ve been walking around a city for eight hours.”

“Didn’t seem like he minded,” Mom said with a chuckle.

“And he’s pretty hot, I’m not gonna lie,” Logan said.

I glanced around the table, waiting for a reaction from anybody else in the family. I was pretty sure Logan hadn’t come out to any of them yet, and I was proud as hell that he was doing it in such a nonchalant manner.

But nobody batted an eyelash.

Apparently I was the last person on Earth to know that my nerdy little cousin was gay. And I kind of loved that.

“You could leave the waiter your number, if you wanted,” Mom said to me. “On the receipt. That’s a thing people do sometimes, right?”

I shook my head and turned back to my plate of tiramisu. “Nope. Not going to bother,” I said.

“Oh, come on, honey,” Mom said. “Where’s your spark.”

“The spark isn’t dead, but it’s… dormant,” I said. “I don’t feel like trying anymore, to be honest. Not when it comes to dating.”

“Never heard that come out of your mouth before,” Greg said.

“Yeah, it’s new for me,” I said. “But I’m going to wait for the right thing to come. I’m exhausted. And frankly, I’m tired of not being taken seriously.”

Mom and Greg expressed some confusion about what I meant, but I wasn’t going to go into it. I couldn’t exactly tell them that Fox had been the reason I was taking a step back from everything. I thought he had been one of the first people to break the cycle—to actually believe in me, seeing more in me than just muscles in a tight, cute tank top.

But I already hated being far away from him. I knew long distance didn’t work, and I knew Fox would never move away from the city.

And more importantly, he and I couldn’t ever have a real relationship, anyway. It felt ridiculous that I was thinking about these things at all. Fox was already dealing with the realization that he wasn’t straight, and I couldn’t imagine it would be good for his whole image to be with his stepbrother.

I had to give it up.

“What’s got you down, sweetheart?” Mom said softly.

Oh, nothing.

Just trying to convince everyone, including myself, that I don’t miss Fox down to my fucking bones.

When we got back, I went up to the rooftop of the building with Cocoa, tying her leash to one of the chairs up there. The deck was finished, but emptier than the grand rooftop had been back in Denver. This roof was just a big, glorified balcony overlooking San Francisco. But the views of the city below were beautiful. To the left, I could see the bay, now dark and misty under the night sky.

I spent hours there by myself, thinking, sometimes pacing, sometimes sitting on the benches, and giving Cocoa belly rubs whenever she turned over. I wasn’t used to being alone like this. Back in Kansas, it was like I’d spent all my life trying to avoid being alone, actually. Now, I was purposely seeking it out.