The way he made me laugh and smile and how my world wasn’t right when we were apart.
That my favorite place to be was in front of an easel, with Isaac watching me, or drawing him. How well I slept in bed with him.
Our hike.
My fingers twitched, so many feelings inside me, all begging to spill out of me, until I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I needed to let it out. I needed to paint.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Isaac
I was a fucking mess. My insides felt like I’d put them through a food processor. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, how to deal with the fact that I’d very likely not only lost Lane, but fucked things up in my family as well.
I needed to find a way to pretend this day had never happened.
I needed to forget.
So I’d taken the gym bag with clothes I kept in my car and gotten myself a hotel room. I couldn’t go home, home to where Lane was, because I’d kissed him, then told him I wanted to fuck him before running away. Great move.
I paced, twitchy and edgy, unable to calm down. I couldn’t be alone, didn’t know how to be, but I also didn’t know how to need anyone other than him, so I called my friend Hutch, pretended everything was okay.
“I’m giving you five minutes,” Hutch said playfully.
I offered him my best fake laugh. “I see how you are. Good thing I don’t need that long—not for the call, at least. You’ve become a recluse, and that’s not like you. Get dressed. We’re going out.”
Even the thought made my stomach twist, but it wasn’t like I could tell him I needed to talk. Couldn’t be like…So, guess what? I kissed my brother and want to fuck him. I’m head over heels in love with him. How was your day?
“We are, are we? And who said you get to make the rules?” Hutch replied.
“I did. And you know how whiny and spoiled I am, so don’t pretend you’re not going to indulge me. That’s the job of a friend. I want drinks, time with a friend, and to get laid, so unless you’re inviting me over for vodka tonics and want to have sex with me, we’re going out.” Because if Hutch said yes, that would be the nail in the coffin, wouldn’t it? I could try—and likely fail—to fuck Lane away, and sever the bond between us for good in the process. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like I was dying without him, maybe I wouldn’t be so damn consumed with want.
When Hutch didn’t reply, I added, “You meet me out, or I’ll be there in an hour.”
“I have a friend with me.”
I hesitated. That was different. Clearly, Hutch had friends, but he’d never used that as an excuse not to go out with me before. “Bring them. Are they hot?”
“He’s off-limits.”
That statement made another rush of pain flood me. Hutch was with someone. He had what I wanted with Lane. Still, I made a joke of it, tried to cover my pain. “Why is that?”
“Because you don’t get to fuck everyone.”
I closed my eyes. Rubbed my chest over my heart. Opened them and blinked back the tears. I don’t want everyone. I just want Lane.
“You’re not fun. Meet you at ten outside Revelry.” It was a local gay bar. I wished we could meet right now, but I was too raw, too open. Plus, no one would be out yet, and it would be harder to hide my feelings if I couldn’t lose myself in a crowd of men.
“See you then,” Hutch replied.
I stayed in the shower so long, the water turned cold, and then I stayed even longer. What was Lane doing? Was he still at home, or had he left? Did he hate me?
He’d kissed me back…
I got to Revelry before Hutch and his mystery man. Hutch was bi, so it could have been a man or a woman, but he’d warned me about him being off-limits.
I saw Hutch first, then the man beside him. They were both beautiful—tall, with firm, muscular bodies. Hutch kept his hair short; the other man’s was longer and darker. He was slightly bulkier than Hutch.
I fought to school my features, to bury the ache that had lived inside me for too many years, but had grown, changed.
“Hey,” Hutch said.
“Hi.” I turned to his man. “Goddamn. I can see why you wanted to keep him all to yourself.” I sounded like me, like the Isaac everyone knew me to be, my facade firmly in place.
“I didn’t say that,” Hutch replied.
“You didn’t have to.” I could see it in the way he stood, in the way he glanced at the man, had heard it in his voice on the phone. Whoever he was, he meant something to Hutch. “Jesus, you’re beautiful,” I flirted because it was what was expected of me, because Hutch would think anything else was strange, not because I wanted this man. Even if there was no Lane, I would never do that to my friend.