Brennan hadn’t made a sound that night after the single, soft cry of pain that he’d let out followed by Drake’s grunt of satisfaction. The entire attack had lasted less than a minute before Memphis had kicked the door down, but it may as well have been hours because the impact it had had on all of us was life-changing.

We put on a good act for each other, but we’d become strangers. There were no more affectionate touches, no more sweet kisses, no suggestive texts or words…all we did was hide.

From each other.

From ourselves.

And we did it in plain sight.

For his part, Brennan tried too hard at everything. He cracked jokes that we all knew were forced, he spoke excitedly about things none of us cared about and every time someone even got close to asking how he was, he’d smile and say he was fine.

Memphis went the other way and withdrew from us and himself. He stopped sleeping in the same bed with us, disappeared at all hours to “work” and never pressed Brennan to admit that he was anything but fine. But I knew it wasn’t because Memphis didn’t care. Far from it.

Because Memphis and I were suffering from the same affliction.

Guilt.

Crippling guilt.

Soul-sucking, change-your-life-forever kind of guilt.

And fear. We had that in spades to. Fear of saying the wrong thing. Fear of making things worse by admitting Drake had done exactly what he’d intended and destroyed us. Fear that despite our efforts to cling to the relationship we’d worked so hard to build before Drake’s arrival, it was quite possibly beyond saving.

I cried.

A lot.

In the shower.

In my car.

In my fathers’ arms whenever I needed the safety and security I could no longer find in Memphis’s arms…or Brennan’s.

Memphis had no such refuge.

Brennan had it, but chose to pretend he didn’t need it.

Simply put, we’d stopped talking, laughing, loving…we’d become shells of ourselves and I’d been at a loss to figure out how to change it. Although I slept next to Brennan every night and he held me in his arms, he wasn’t there. I wasn’t either. We were both back in Drake’s hell hole waiting for Memphis to come save us.

“Did you want potatoes or rice tonight, Tristan?” I heard Brennan ask me and I looked up from the sheet music I’d been pulling together for one of my students.

“Either,” I said as glanced nervously at my watch.

“Memphis?”

Memphis didn’t even look up from his laptop. “Whatever you want,” he said quietly. His eyes were on the screen, but I knew he wasn’t seeing whatever was on there. Just like I wasn’t seeing the notes on the page in front of me.

I was sitting at the kitchen counter on one of the barstools and I lifted my eyes to watch Brennan move around the small space. It was something else that had changed about Brennan. He couldn’t sit still to save his life. If he wasn’t cooking, he was cleaning. If he wasn’t cleaning, he was working out in the gym in the hotel. He left for work early and stayed well beyond closing time and my Uncle Ren had told me he locked himself in his office all day and lost himself in paperwork. He no longer interacted with the mechanics who worked there or the customers. And of course, he’d repeatedly told Uncle Ren he was fine.

“Brennan,” I said softly and I waited until he looked up at me. “I’m not fine,” I finally whispered and I saw his face fall for a moment.

But then that fake smile was back and he said, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not fine. Memphis isn’t fine,” I said as I cast a glance over my shoulder at Memphis who was staring out the window rather than having to face us. I looked back at Brennan and said, “You’re not fine.”

Brennan’s jaw tightened just a little bit, but then he forced his features to relax. “I told you-”

“If we let him do this to us, he wins,” I whispered.

Brennan went to the sink and began washing his hands. It was something else he did a lot. That and the endless showers he took…the ones that he would no longer let us join him in. “It’s over,” Brennan said simply. “I did what I had to do. You’re here, I’m here, Memphis is here-”

“Brennan, none of us are here,” I said as I got up and went around the counter. I stopped behind him and turned off the water. His hands were red from how hot the water had been. “We’re still trapped in that room.”

I put my hands on Brennan’s upper arms, but he shrugged me off. Other than when he was holding me at night, he never touched me. Never let himself be touched.

“Tristan, you’re making this into something it’s not,” Brennan said, his voice finally betraying him with its unevenness. “We’re good.”

Tags: Sloane Kennedy The Protectors M-M Romance
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