Just a Bit Wrecked (Straight Guys 11)

“Shut up,” he whispered, pressing his hands to his ears, as if that would stop the voice in his head. It didn’t. It never really did. Those words were one of his first memories, his aunt’s annoyed tone as clear in his mind as if it had happened yesterday and not almost thirty years ago.

He’d always been proud of not letting his childhood define him. Sure, it hadn’t been the best, but it hadn’t been the worst, either. It had been fine. He might not have grown up in a loving environment, but he’d had it better than most orphans. His childhood had been fine. He had been fed, clothed, and he’d had a roof over his head. No one abused him. It had been fine. He didn’t need anyone to love him.

Except it seemed he still was the same pathetic, insecure little boy who had tried to pretend he didn’t hear his aunt’s words as she complained to her friends about being saddled with raising him after her cousin had died—because no one else wanted him—and how he ruined his mother’s life when she’d gotten pregnant with him, not allowing her to pursue her dreams of college, and how Andrew was the sole reason his aunt couldn’t accept a lucrative job offer she’d gotten.

Aunt Rebecca wasn’t a bad woman. By all standards, she was a good one: self-sacrificing and generous. She had been just twenty-five when she had taken him in after his mother’s death at the hand of a mugger. Although he called her “Aunt,” she was his mother’s cousin, not a close relative. She had raised him even though she didn’t have to. Andrew appreciated the sacrifices she had made for him, and he showed his appreciation to this day, supporting her financially and visiting her on holidays. He was grateful to her. He was.

But there was a reason he always felt emotionally drained after a visit to her. There was a reason he had always dragged Vivian with him when he visited Aunt Rebecca. Having his wife beside him, his kind, lovely, amazing wife who had chosen him, who had wanted him, was the only thing that made those visits bearable.

Not good enough, Andrew. You aren’t trying hard enough. You can do better. Try harder.

His aunt’s voice echoed in his head, the words she’d said all his life. Never quite pleased. Always a disapproving frown on her face. And him, the boy who owed her everything, trying and failing to please her again and again. Even his first job at Rutledge Enterprises was the result of his aunt’s pushing. No matter what he did, it wasn’t good enough. His marriage to Vivian was probably the only thing his aunt had ever approved of.

He hadn’t gone to see his aunt after his return. He knew he should do it. Aunt Rebecca had wasted her best years on raising him, a child she’d never wanted. He owed her a visit. He dreaded it, now more than ever.

Fuck, it was so stupid. He was a grown man. He shouldn’t have been scared of seeing one small, middle-aged woman, just because he had never been good enough for her.

But with Vivian gone, he had nothing to hide behind anymore. He was still as unwanted and unneeded as he was thirty years ago. A man who outlived his usefulness. A man who shouldn’t have outlived his wife. It was her everyone wanted back, not him. Even Aunt Rebecca was fonder of Vivian than she had ever been of him. Andrew being back just reminded everyone that Vivian was dead while he was alive.

Maybe he should have died with her.

Maybe he should have stayed on the island and let everyone think he was dead.

He suddenly yearned for it, for the sheer simplicity of that life. It might have been weird, messed up, and downright unhealthy, but at least on the island he hadn’t felt as though he was insufficient, unneeded, or wanting. He hadn’t felt so useless. He had felt… he had felt content.

“Are you fucking serious?” he whispered with a hoarse laugh.

He needed help if he seriously thought being stranded on the island was better than his normal life. Maybe he’d gone crazy after all. Maybe this was all a weird dream, and he would wake up any moment now to Logan’s hand threading through his hair and the heavy, comforting weight of Logan’s cock in his mouth.

Andrew flushed. Fuck, he really needed help. He shouldn’t long for the comforting feeling of a cock in his mouth, what the hell. How messed up was that? He wasn’t a… He wasn’t gay. He was normal. What had happened on the island didn’t matter. He didn’t want to suck Logan’s dick. He didn’t miss sucking Logan’s dick—or miss him, period. The island had just fucked him up. That was all.