The Wrong Man (28 page)

Jake went very still. I noted he was wearing work clothes, navy blue pants and a navy T-shirt with LAFD written in bold lettering. He looked tucked, pressed, and very official.

“What can’t you do? Watch Mack? That’s okay. I know it’s a lot and—”

“No. Jake, it’s not Mack. Me and you. It’s a mistake. It’s history repeating itself and I’m not—”

“History repeat—what are you talking about?” His brow knit in confusion. He looked puzzled and hurt. And then he seemed to
clue in to my meaning. “Is this about Derek? You know I didn’t call him, right? And even if I had… honey, he came to see Mack. He thought he was dying. He can be a little cold, but he loves that dog—”

“Stop! I don’t care about Derek. Yes, I was jealous! I admit it. I hated seeing you in his arms. Even though I knew he was there to see Mack, I went right back to that day you fucking set me up. It was fucking déjà vu all over again. Like a nightmare I’m forced to live through every fucking twelve years!” I paused, my eyes blazing with frustration. “Jake, I knew this was a mistake from the start. Today was a wake-up call for me. I can’t fool myself things will be different now. I’m not going to settle. You and I belong in the past. Period.”

“What are you talking about? Brandon. We agreed we weren’t going to let teenage fuckups interfere with what we have now.”

“What do we have exactly? I like you. I like the sex. I love your dog. But then what?”

He ran his hand haphazardly through his longish hair and gave me an exasperated stare. “I’m going to try not to take offense that you ‘like’ me and the amazing sex we have while you ‘love’ Mack. You’re distraught. I get it. And you’re scared. Bran, so
am
I.”

“Of what?” I scoffed as though nothing could be further from the truth. I was so transparent. I had to wonder why I bothered.

“Us.”

“There is no ‘us,’ Jake. This was never a good idea. I’m glad we reconnected, but that’s all.”

Jake clenched his fists tightly and inclined his head. Tension radiated from him. The fear and uncertainty of the past few hours fed his frustration. The energy between us was thick, and I could barely breathe. He weaved his hand through his hair again and let out a humorless huff, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re glad? ‘Nice catching up with you.’ That kind of glad?” His tone was sarcastic and hurt. He paced a few feet before turning at the last second to give me a piercing, fiery stare. “Don’t lie to yourself or me. There is ‘us.’ The truth… the
real
truth is you care more than you want to. It pisses you off, and yeah, it scares the hell out of you. You can talk all day about leaving the past behind, but maybe what you should do is confront the fucker and stop dwelling on shit you and I cannot change! What is it going to take for you to finally trust me? To stop holding the past up like some magic shield?”

“This has nothing to do with—”

“Bullshit! Admit you want to punish me for not being brave enough twelve fucking years ago.”

“Punish you? I don’t—that’s not true.”

“It is, though. You’re using the past as an excuse. I was a coward. I was scared. I admit it, but I was seventeen. My dad saw me with you, Bran. He saw the way I looked at you and he knew. He threatened me with, well, all the things that happened a year later… disinheritance and—I didn’t have the distance or the strength to stand up for myself or you. I’m sorry. I am. But Bran, I can’t undo it, and I can’t keep apologizing.” He gave a derisive half laugh before adding, “I kissed Karen once—”

“Kara.”

“I panicked. I admit it. And I hurt you because I didn’t know how to deal with my father’s disappointment and my own confusion. I didn’t want to lose my family, my friends, and my place in life.” He gave a scornful laugh and scratched his head unconsciously. “I ended up losing everything anyway. I’ve fallen so many times. I’ve hit rock bottom like a fucking lead balloon over and over, but nothing was worse than seeing the look on your face when I hurt you. I have never forgotten. Never. I’m very sor—”

“I’m not asking you to apologize. I know we were young and naive. I know—”

“We’re old enough to know better now, Bran. We don’t need anyone to tell us how to feel or who we should be with.” Jake paused; his expression was so heartbreakingly earnest. “And I want to be with you. I’m crazy about you. Everything about you. This you. The twenty-nine-year-old beautiful man you are now. I love the way you walk, the way you talk, how you put that stuff on your lips when you get nervous or need a minute to think. I love how you seem to know everyone and care enough to ask about their partners, their friends, and their pets. I love that you fuss about your shoes but will let Mack give you sloppy dog kisses.”

He swallowed hard and gave me a long piercing stare before adding, “I love you, Bran.”

My breath caught audibly.

“I do. I always have, but I’m smarter now than I was at seventeen. I know who I am.” He looked away for a moment, his eyes on the giant bouquet of roses as he huffed a humorless half chuckle. “And I know who I’m not. I’m nothing like that prick who keeps trying to win you back with flowers and meaningless crap. I’m not a smooth operator. I’m not good at big declarations. But I do know I love you. And I’m pretty damn sure you feel the same.”

I stared at him in disbelief. I understood this was no high school declaration of eternal affection. This was real. He meant it.

“How can you be so sure? We’re older, yes. But are we any wiser? We’re so different. We failed pretty spectacularly once before. What makes you think it won’t happen again?” My voice trembled. I hated saying the words aloud, but our colossal fuckup had to have some bearing on our future.

“Life doesn’t come with guarantees, Bran. I’m not a superhero. I can’t make things happen, and I can’t stop them from going wrong. I know what it feels like to make mistakes. I’ve made quite a few. But you are not a mistake. We have another chan—”

“I don’t know if I can be your second chance, Jake. I don’t know if we really are right for each other. In the long run.” My voice caught as I tore my gaze from him.

He was so beguiling, so beautiful, but I wasn’t sure I could trust him. I was afraid his sorrow for all those years ago had skewed his vision of us. Maybe it always would. He wanted redemption. A second chance. I needed a clean slate.

He set his jaw and swiped wearily at his face. He walked slowly to the door before turning to face me. His expression was worn and desolate. Instinctively I wanted to offer comfort, but “we” couldn’t be.

“You can try to convince yourself you need someone else. Maybe with more polish and less history. But we both know the real truth. As much as you want to believe I’m the wrong guy for you, you know I’m the right one.”

The door slammed shut behind him. I could hardly see through the curtain of tears in my eyes. I stood motionless, staring at the closed door as I listened to the sound of his SUV driving away. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until it came pouring out of me in an undignified gasp. I fell against the living room wall and sank down until I sat flat on the floor with my head buried between my knees. I was an emotionally chaotic mess. My usual bravado was long gone. I was stripped and bare. And yeah… I was scared.

B
OXES
UPON
boxes filled the back office, providing the perfect diversion for my mentally unstable self. Everything felt wrong and off-kilter. My house was too quiet, and the thoughts in my head were too loud. Unfortunately my store didn’t offer the diversion I’d hoped for. It was too noisy, too cheery, and I frankly wasn’t up to dealing with people. I was melancholy and mopey. I’d weathered two full days and nights since I told Jake we were better off apart. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so miserable.

I put my earbuds in and turned up the volume on my iPod while I organized inventory. Again. I knew what was in the boxes, where they’d go on the shelves, and the date they needed to be released for maximum consumer exposure. At this point I was in danger of memorizing the manufacturer’s descriptions and dimensions to keep occupied. I just didn’t know what else to do.

“Knock, knock. Hey, there’s someone here to see you. I tried to get rid of him, but he’s not budging.” I looked up to see Lorenzo giving me a concerned look as I yanked the earbuds out of the way. “You okay?”

“Um… yeah. I’ll be right there. Wait. Who?”

“Troublesome Trevor. The man is tenacious. I’ll give him that. I can tell him you’re on a phone c—”

“It’s fine. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay, boss.” Lorenzo raised his eyebrows as he closed the door behind him. The small facial gesture was his way of telling me he didn’t think
it
was “fine,” nor did he think
I
was “okay.”

He was correct, I thought as I sighed and turned off my tunes. While I was hoping for a diversion, Trevor was not what I had in mind. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t taking no for an answer. It had been well over six months since he’d left. Obviously things hadn’t worked out with Trey, but there were plenty of other gay fish in the sea. Why me? Why now? I rolled my shoulders, hoping to work out some muscle tension before I ventured into the store to see what he wanted. And hopefully get rid of him for good.

Trevor was leaning against the register with his back to me. It was hard not to admire the guy’s physique. His snug designer shirt hugged his biceps just so, and those jeans were a perfect fit. No doubt about it, Trevor was hot. But I couldn’t be less interested.

“Trevor.”

He turned and flashed me a brilliant grin. I noted how his periwinkle shirt complemented his eyes and knew without a doubt it wasn’t a fluke. Trevor was the consummate actor slash model. He was accustomed to using his looks to further his cause. It was something I’d once admired in an odd way. After all, life dealt you lots of lemons, and it was up to the majority of us to use our God given assets to whatever advantage we could.

Today it struck me as predictable. Pretty with no substance.

“Bran. Hey.” His smile faltered as he took my hands in a courtly gesture.

I gave him a weak grin and pulled away, putting the counter between us. I picked up my lip balm to have something to do with my hands but quickly set it down. No diversion necessary. It was time to find out what he wanted and send him on his way.

“What can I do for you?”

“I have something for you. Something I know you’ve always—”

“Trevor—”

He set a huge orange box tied artfully with a chocolate-colored ribbon decorated with a horse and carriage and the words Hermès Paris on the counter. My traitorous heart skipped a beat because hell, I loved shit like this. Tiffany, Cartier, Chanel, and Hermès. The gift boxes alone had an orgasmic effect on me. I was a sucker.

“Go ahead. Open it.”

My brow knit in confusion as I studied his enthusiastic expression. “But—”

“Brandon. Please.”

I bit at my bottom lip and tugged on the ribbon, watching it gracefully cascade around the bright box. When I lifted the lid and pulled back the neatly folded paper, I went still. My reaction was equal parts surprise and something bigger than I could describe at that moment.

“You’ve always wanted one. I remember you said for your thirtieth birthday, this was it. The only thing on your list. Happy birthday, Bran.”

I couldn’t help running an admiring hand over the supple deep-chocolate leather of the gorgeous messenger bag. It had an adjustable strap and two smaller bindings at the flap. It was simple but elegant. And very expensive.

“Trevor. I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can. I can afford it, and I want you to have it,” he said earnestly.

“How? No.” I held up my hand to stop him. Trevor winning the lottery or robbing a bank was not my business. “Don’t tell me.”

I looked out across my store. It was a few minutes before closing, but there were a few customers still wandering the floor. Lorenzo was helping Mrs. Hirschfield, who’d come by with her tiny dog, Sophie, and Lizzy was with a handsome older man using theatrical hand motions to emphasize the perfect lamp he needed for his bedroom while his bored young lover stood nearby on his iPhone. It was all so very normal.

I longed to revel in the simplicity of the world I’d created in this space. My haven. My joy. But the balance was off. Something was here that didn’t belong, and more importantly, something was missing. I didn’t want to create a scene, but this could not continue.

I stared at Trevor and motioned for him to follow me to my office. “Come with me.”

The second the door closed, Trevor was on me like an octopus. His hands were on my shoulders, gliding along my back then lower to cup my ass before moving back to hold my head still. Strong fingers dug into my scalp as he pulled me forward to seal his mouth over mine in a hungry kiss. I yelped and pushed at him, but he was too big and seemingly too lost in an amorous haze. I did the only thing I could think of.

“Ow! Geez!” He jumped back instantly and tentatively lifted a finger to his bottom lip. “When did you become a biter? That fucking hurt.”