Bound by Lies (35 page)

Brayden opens the door a crack and says, “Sorry about the noise.”

“’S’okay,” Emma yawns drowsily. She’s dressed but her hair is still mussed. She glances up at Brayden and, as she does, catches sight of Jenner lurking in the background. “Oh. I thought I heard you talking to someone, but I figured you were on the phone or something. Um, hi.”

“Hi, Emma. Good morning,” Jenner says pleasantly.

Brayden fits himself more snugly in the gap created by the open door, blocking Emma’s view of Jenner. “We were just headed to the gym. Grabbing some stuff. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

Emma raises an eyebrow at him. Brayden curses inwardly, realizing how very
not
stupid his cousin is, especially when his behavior is so suspicious.

“Yeah, okay,” she agrees.

“Have fun at school.”

“Yeah, right.”

Brayden closes the door after Emma has retreated back in the direction of their shared bathroom.

“I like her,” Jenner says with amusement.

“Let’s jet,” Brayden says impatiently, staying far away from Jenner and grabbing his duffel bag. “I’ve gotta get the hell out of here.”

Eventually, they do get to the gym. Brayden gives Jenner the silent treatment for the stunt he’d pulled in the bedroom. Jenner does his best impression of a wall and blocks Brayden from view as he changes into his teeny-tiny swimsuit. When an older man walks by and tries to see what’s going on, Jenner barks, “Get lost!” which Brayden tells him isn’t a weird or suspicious thing to say at all.

After that, the day falls back into a more familiar routine. Brayden savors the feeling of cutting through the water in the pool, being engulfed in it, letting it wash everything else away. Jenner meets back up with him an hour later. When they get changed back into their clothes, Brayden has to convince Jenner that it would be very bizarre if he followed Brayden into the toilet and watched him urinate.

For a few mid-morning hours they go their separate ways. Brayden goes to his Nana’s to shower. He packs more of his things in order to move them over to Jenner’s apartment while Jenner runs errands and buys more food for the apartment. When he has a few boxes filled and ready, Brayden glances around the small bedroom that never felt like his anyway. He tries to let it sink in that he’s really doing what he’s doing—moving in with a male lover. It feels like running away—from Nana, Emma Leah, and his mother. But at the same time, it also feels strangely like he’s standing up for himself and what he wants out of life, and everyone else’s opinions be damned. It’s a small, secret, lonely victory, but Brayden claims it nonetheless, proud of himself even if his family can’t do the same.

Before Emma Leah can return from school and make puppy-eyes at her big cousin in an attempt to keep him from leaving her, Brayden loads up his Jeep with boxes and his surfboard. Ruth watches on and offers to help, but Brayden doesn’t let her. When he’s ready to go, Brayden turns to her, saying, “I’ll come by every day, or at least try to. After I go to the gym tomorrow, I’ll come here to help you out with anything you need before my shift.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, sweetie,” Ruth smiles, patting his arm. “Just live your life.”

“Nana,” Brayden sighs. “I mean it. You’re important to me. Emma Leah is important to me. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll see.”

She scans his face carefully, taking her time with her answer.

“You’re happy,” she sees, her eyebrows tilting slightly with the revelation. “Maybe happier than I’ve seen you since you showed up.”

Brayden shrugs, bowing his head to hide his expression. “Yeah, I guess so. Things feel like they’re finally falling into place. They’re… balanced.”

“Good. That’s all I need to hear.” She leans in and pulls him down so that she can kiss his cheek. Then she pushes him back and pats his shoulder. “Take it easy on your back with all of these boxes.”

“I can handle it, Nan.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She returns to the front porch, pulling her sweater more tightly around her to keep out the chill. As he backs out of the driveway, she waves, calling, “Love you!”

Feeling that she truly does, carrying it like a warm solidity in his chest, filling his heart, he smiles at her and waves back.

While Brayden is carting box after box upstairs to the apartment above Parrish Pub, Jenner is inside the bar on the ground floor, on the phone and talking to his brother, Callum. Jackson and Art are on clean-up duty that day, scrubbing and restocking as necessary. Behind the bar, Jenner, leans heavily on the counter and listens.

“Sunday dinner. Whad’ya say? Bring the tan blonde if you want.”

Jenner represses a groan and catches sight of Brayden through the front window, his blond-streaked hair tied in a knot behind his head, bronzed skin shining in the chilly sunlight as he goes past. It occurs to Jenner that if his brother feels compelled to make repeat appearances at the Pub like he did the night before, or if he falls into conversation with their mother over living arrangements, he might find out through her that Jenner is living above the bar now. And he might notice Jenner’s new roommate—an undeniably blond, very much tan,
man
. He’s completely screwed himself. And he doesn’t even know whether to go to the damned family dinner to do some damage control, or to avoid it and further scrutiny.

“You there?” his brother says when there’s no snarky reply.

“Yeah, I’m thinking,” Jenner manages.

“Wow, you
think
? Who knew? I can see it’s a trial, so let me make this easy for you. I’ll take your silence to be consent to show your sorry face at home on Sunday, and you can make your mother happy for once.”

Rage. Pure, red and strong, swallows Jenner up. Surrounded by glass, he chooses instead to take out his wrath on something less breakable and punches the nearest wall with a closed fist. The boom it makes is loud, and everything comes to a stop in the bar. Art drops the rag he’s wiping with. Jackson straightens with an opened box of napkins at his feet. Fire licks up Jenner’s hand and arm as pain blossoms.

“Why do you care?!” he barks. “Go live your own goddamned life and leave me the hell alone!”

“I care because I’m a good son. I appreciate everything our parents have done for us and when I see how sad they are to be so estranged from their youngest child, to whom they have given so much, I make it my personal mission to correct that problem. You’re a problem, Jenner. Stop acting like a little boy and pull on your big boy pants.”

“You fucking, weasely…”

“What was that?”

“Fine. Sunday.”

He hangs up and roars in frustration, knowing it to be a futile, pitiful, cowardly sort of protest, pulling the sound from the bottom of his chest, all the way down in his lungs.

“What’s going on, man?” Art says calmly.

Jenner glances between Jackson and Art, blood surging, hand throbbing. He rubs his hand and grits his teeth. The skin isn’t broken on his knuckles. He flexes the fingers to check for signs of any breaks, finding none.

It’s bad enough Callum is the favorite, that he’s so successful, so dutiful, but he’s gotta constantly give me shit for all of the ways I’m not as good as him. I’m already the black sheep and they don’t even know the half of it. It only goes downhill from here. Wonderful. Just fucking fantastic.

“Family issues. Excuse me.”

He strides from the room, heading back to his office where he can be alone. Once inside it, he closes the door and sits in his chair, tenting his fingers in front of his mouth as his mind races a mile a minute.

Brayden, upstairs, living with Jenner; his mother, who met Brayden; Callum, who can’t ever let anything go when there’s even the slightest chance that the outcome might leave him looking a little more golden, especially compared to his younger brother; his father, an Army vet, who is ever watchful, silent, strong, and all-seeing—a judgmental, old-fashioned, steely son-of-a-bitch if there ever was one. Jenner has to go to Sunday dinner. There’s no choice. Not anymore. And they’re going to find out about Brayden. It’s unavoidable. It might not happen Sunday, but it will soon. It’s become a reality.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah,” Jenner calls.

Art inches the door open. “Bad time?”

Jenner gives his head a slight shake, jostling his curling hair. He feels it move and, bracing his head with an elbow propped on the desk, reaches up, his fingers playing with the curls.

“Lemme take a wild guess. Cal?”

“Mm,” Jenner grunts.

“Wanna talk about it?” Art raises his eyebrows, holding his arms open. Jenner stares up at him, resenting Art a little for the comparative simplicity of his life, free of relationship issues. He doesn’t have to try to fill impossible roles and deny key aspects of his personality and life. All Art has to worry about is holding down his job and finding a cute girl to hook up with once in a while.

“Know any tan blonde chicks I can rent out for a night? They’d have to be a good actress.”

Art’s eyes lose focus, and he taps his chin, thinking it over.

“I was kidding.”

“No, no, gimme a sec. I might know someone. Mandy? No, Cheryl. No….”

“Brayden is moving in with me. As we speak. And my family is going to find out about him.”

“So?”

“
So?
”

“Yeah, so. Who cares? You don’t like Cal anyway, so who cares what he thinks. Your mom worships you. And your dad… well, okay, yeah he might present a problem, but who gives a shit? They’ll love you anyway, even if they’re shocked or don’t approve. It’s not like you’re likely to magically transform into a heterosexual anytime soon. Fuckin’ tell ’em.”

“I’d never hear the end of it. And it’s none of their business.”

“They’re your family. You are their business, asshole. What? You scared or something? Of
Callum
? Your
mom
? Huh? Pshh, you can take ’em. My money’s on it.”

Jenner smiles. It fades and he sighs.

“Or is this not about you at all? Is Brayden not good enough for you to show off to everyone? You ashamed of him?”

Jenner’s gaze snaps up to Art’s face. Art gestures to the ceiling and waits expectantly.

“Well? Are you? You ashamed of Brayden?”

Then Jenner can’t look at Art any longer. His eyes dart to the side, and he feels it, like a pressure in the center of his chest and thick in his throat. When he closes his eyes, he can feel the old visceral response, leftover from being a teenager, how crucial it was to distance yourself from losers and outcasts, lest you be labeled as one too. In the blink of an eye, you could go from being adored and worshipped to being constantly ridiculed. Brayden was an outcast. He still is, to some degree, even though they’ve become adults. The imperfections like his poverty, his loneliness, his circumstances, draw criticism like flies to honey. Jenner is still respected by everyone that knows him, but if he aligns himself with Brayden, that will all change.

But then different feelings rise to the surface, and outshine the negatives. He sees Brayden’s smile, the sweetness and resolution in his eyes. He feels the echo of his lips’ touch and the taste of his kiss; the feel of him curled up and nestled inside Jenner’s arms—a solid, trusting warmth that’s his and only his. Brayden belongs to Jenner. He’s Jenner’s to take care of. More than anything, that’s Jenner’s responsibility—to love Brayden. Pride, devotion, commitment—absolute and permanent, swell inside Jenner’s soul.

He imagines denying Brayden to his brother, his mother, and his father. Jenner imagines pretending he doesn’t care about Brayden to the people who have known Jenner the longest, if not the best.

“Yeah. Thought so,” Art murmurs, staring down his nose at Jenner. He nods once, then turns back to the door.

Before he can go, when he’s halfway out, Jenner calls, “Hey!” Art pauses where he is, waiting. “Thanks.”

Art glances over his shoulder. A flicker of a smile passes over his lips. With one more, small, nod, he’s gone. Jenner stares at the open air where Art was, filling it up with scenes in his imagination, both wonderful and terrible.

Rubbing his temple with his aching hand, Jenner curses quietly, “Shit.”