Unwritten Law (Steele Brothers 1)

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just wanted your leg to stop bouncing.”

I shake my head. “That wasn’t … I mean, I know. It’s cool.” Come clean. Tell him you want him as you and not Anders. Apologise profusely and promise to make it up to him. “Reed, there’s something—”

Reed stands as Davis and his mother appear.

Of course. Great timing.

They approach us with Sergeant Boyd, and Davis’s mum is teary, her eyes red and watery.

“Here’s my card,” the sergeant says to Davis. “If anything happens, anything at all, you call me directly.”

Davis avoids eye contact with his mother as he takes the card.

“Are you sure you’re okay going home?” I ask.

Davis nods, but I glare at his mother.

“I didn’t know.” Her breath shudders. “The bruises. I wouldn’t have …” She breaks down in a sob, and Davis throws his arms around her in comfort. “I didn’t know how bad it was. I’m sorry.”

“We’re not the ones who need the apology, Mrs. Sullivan,” Reed says.

With a single nod, she wraps her arm around her son’s shoulder and leads him to the exit. I’m less anxious about Davis going home with her now, but the tightness in my chest refuses to leave as I watch them walk out the doors.

Reed’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“I can’t.” The automatic response flies out of me.

“Why not?”

“I’ll sleep in the dojo. I can’t be at home in case …” Stop. Talking.

“In case what?”

I sigh. “I was the one who found Anders all those years ago, and after the attack, we both couldn’t sleep. He dreamed of dying, and I dreamed of finding him dead. He’d turn up on my doorstep at two a.m. because he was still living where his boyfriend had tried to kill him. After that, we found a new place and moved in together, and we kept each other company at night. We usually both ended up on the couch watching TV. If I go home, I risk waking him, and I can’t … I can’t do it to him when he’s made so much progress.”

“Law, I’m going to ask this again, because you didn’t seem to answer me before. You’ve always been there for Anders, but who’s been there for you?”

Fuck, I’m on the verge of tears again, because the answer to that is no one. No one has been there for me. Counselling costs a shit ton of money, and our parents and I agreed that Anders’ therapy was more important. To protect him, I essentially neglected my own demons, and after tonight they’re back to haunt me. Thanks to a government-funded program, I got six sessions of counselling free after the attack, but it wasn’t enough. That’s clear now. If something like this has triggered me, what’s going to happen the next time it occurs? I have to face facts that the likelihood of it happening again is high. Running a self-defence class for LGBTQ youth, I know for a fact Davis won’t be my only student in need of help, because the world is that screwed up.

“Come home with me,” Reed says. “I’ll even let you take my bed. My couch is comfy enough.”

I want to say yes. So fucking bad. But how am I supposed to keep my hands off him when we’re in the Anders bubble I created inside Reed’s apartment? “I can take the couch,” I find myself saying even though I shouldn’t.

“You’re taller than me. You won’t fit on my couch.”

“I’m good with whatever. I just don’t want to go home.”

Anders is going to counselling again, and he’s turning up for training sessions with me at the dojo. He has a life now. It’s a bit manwhorey of a life, but that’s better than holing himself in the apartment for days on end.

I won’t fuck that up for him, even if it means screwing myself over even more. Digging a mighty big hole for myself, that’s for sure.

11

Reed

Law’s pained voice has me scrambling off my couch so fast I almost hit my head on the coffee table as I try to find my feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he chants. “My fault. I’m too late. Too late.”

I cautiously approach the bed. “Law?”

“Anders.” The anguish in his voice is heartbreaking.

“Hey.” I drop to my knees beside the bed and try to wake him by cupping his rough jaw. “Lawson.”

His body relaxes, and one of his eyes cracks open. He breaks out into an adorable half-smile.

No. Not adorable. The guy in your bed is not the guy who’s usually in your bed.

Law leans towards me, and before my reflexes kick in—or my brain has time to register what he’s doing—his lips are on mine.

What the fuck?

His mouth is warm and soft. It sends a shock straight to my groin. Emotions I don’t understand threaten to surface, but I push them back down.