34. Tate

CHAPTER 34

TATE

I woke up Saturday morning to absolute silence. After Dalton’s warning the night before about how loud the roosters could be, I worried it was still too far before sunrise for the fowl to be awake, but the sun streaming through the gauzy curtains on the far wall proved otherwise. Brooks’ side of the bed was cool to the touch, his clothes from the night before discarded in a pile on the floor.

I rolled to get up, my thighs sore from the night before, along with some other well-used parts of my body. But I stretched through it, the memory of Brooks’ careful fingers working their way over my muscles almost as wonderful of a memory as the way he’d fucked me on the porch. The night before, he’d promised me the best orgasm of my life and he’d more than delivered. There was something about the vulnerability of being bent in half like that…outside on his best friend’s porch that had heightened every other feeling and sensation inside of me, both physical and mental.

Lured by the smell of coffee, I crawled out of bed and adjusted the waistband of my sweats before I got to the door. Brooks had gotten me mostly dressed before bed the night before, so I wasn’t as indecent as I could be, though as I padded down the hallway, I realized there was still cum dried on my stomach. I tugged the hem of my shirt down and rounded the corner, finding Brooks and the rest of his friends staring each other down from opposite ends of the long kitchen island.

Brooks stood with his back to me, Ford on one side and Beamer on the other, Boston and Dalton flanking them respectively. Alex was alone beside the sink, with Kale and another man—I assumed must be his boyfriend, Christian—on the other side. To say the mood was tense would have been an understatement.

“Good morning, Tate,” Alex said, which seemed to snap the group out of whatever rage-induced haze they’d been under. At the sound of my name, Brooks spun, the tension in his face evaporating as soon as he saw me. He held out his hand and I went toward him, scooting in between him and Beamer.

“Everybody sleep well?” I asked, voice cracking.

“A bit windy last night,” Ford said, absolutely deadpan. “The swing was creaking for hours after we went to bed.”

Brooks slid his arm around my waist and pinched my side.

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “We heard it too.”

“Glad to see the party started without us,” Kale said with a frown.

Dalton huffed, pressing his hip against the counter and resting his chin on Beamer’s shoulder. “Maybe if you weren’t so miserable to be around, you would have been invited early too. ”

“Stop now,” Beamer whispered, turning his attention back to Kale.

“I thought we’d gotten past this.”

“So did I,” Ford chimed in.

Christian’s expression was sympathetic, and his hand rubbing soft circles over the middle of Kale’s back did little to alleviate the pinched lines around Kale’s downturned mouth and eyes.

“I can go back to bed,” I offered, gesturing over my shoulder toward the hallway. Brooks tightened his grip on my waist, and I sighed, defeated.

“You can stay.”

“Can I have coffee first?” I asked.

Alex was closest to the pot and he poured a mug full for me, and Boston passed it down the line until Brooks slid it into my waiting hands.

“Good to see you again, Kale,” I said, giving him a tired smile before turning toward Christian. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“This is Christian,” Kale said, angling his head toward his boyfriend. “That’s Tate.”

“Nice to meet you,” Christian murmured, hand still drawing circles around Kale’s back.

“Feels like I walked into a bit of a war zone,” I said to Christian, who gave me a sympathetic smile.

“They’re all children,” he said.

“Fighting about their toys?”

“Essentially.” He moved his hand up to Kale’s shoulder and squeezed. “The king of the castle over here is upset that people make moves without his approval now. ”

“Watch it,” Kale warned, even though when directed at his boyfriend there was hardly any heat in it.

“It’s the truth,” Christian whispered. “I’m sorry you don’t want to hear it.”

I rested my head on Brooks’ shoulder.

“Your friends are just trying to live their lives and you’re upset because you’re not the center of their world anymore,” Christian said.

Kale worked his jaw, stare flickering between Christian and the countertop. “We can talk about this later.”

“We can talk about it now,” Ford said with a weary sigh. “We’ve all beat around the bush about your attitude for months and all it’s gotten us is nowhere.”

“If you’re here to gang up on me, I’ll happily take a flight back to the city,” Kale snapped.

“You flew here?” Boston asked, swaying with amusement. He breathed out a quiet laugh and his brother turned his attention toward him faster than lightning.

“Of course I flew here,” Kale said.

“The airport is half an hour away,” Ford said. “It would take the exact same amount of time as if you’d driven.”

“I can go, Ford,” Kale reiterated.

“Take a breath,” Christian whispered, and surprisingly, Kale did.

“You have to stop being mad that you can’t live in everyone’s bedrooms, Kale,” Boston said softly.

“Or their porch,” Ford murmured.

“What about the porch?” Christian asked.

“I fucked Tate on the porch swing last night,” Brooks answered with a broad smile. “Apparently the whole house heard. ”

“The next farm over heard,” Boston teased.

The good-natured ribbing seemed to make Kale angrier, and not even Christian’s soft touches were enough to walk him back.

“I don’t care who you fuck!” he shouted, throwing his hands into the air. “I care that you lied to me about it. That you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth!”

The confession was explosive, landing like a bomb in the space between the friend group, and I was under the impression it was the first time Kale had voiced the truth of his problems to them. I grabbed my coffee and glanced at Christian, gesturing toward the back door with a quick jerk of my head. He whispered something in Kale’s ear, and Kale morphed into a deer in headlights as Christian stepped away from him. The imbalance was clearly visible then, seven men against one, and I found myself feeling strangely sympathetic for the former front runner of the group.

“Maybe you guys should sit down and have a chat,” I suggested. The living room space seating was more circular, ensuring that it wouldn’t be a showdown that ended with accusations being flung one way or another. “Christian and I are going to go out back and enjoy the weather.”

“You’re a good man,” Brooks said against the corner of my mouth before giving me a kiss.

“You’re a better one.”

I waited until the group of them sat down, then followed Christian out to the back porch. He eyed the swing warily before deciding on one of the chairs on the other end of the porch. The gin and the half-used glasses were still on the table, evidence of the hasty departure we’d all made the night before. Christian settled into a seat and stretched his legs out with a sigh.

“This reminds me of home,” he said, and it was the first time I picked up the subtle and soft accent to his voice.

“The scenery?”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the house. “The conflict.”

I chuckled, closing my eyes and taking a drink of coffee.

“Kale isn’t a bad man,” Christian said after a while.

“I didn’t think he was.”

“He’s just stubborn. He’s scared of losing control.”

“They all are,” I agreed, knowing Brooks wasn’t any different and I doubted Ford or Alex was either. “But they have to grow up sooner or later.”

“He’s trying,” Christian said.

“I believe you, and I’m sure they do too.”

He let out a long breath and cleared his throat, soothing the itch with a drink of coffee. We sat together in silence until a few minutes later when Boston stepped outside, hair frazzled like he’d been tugging at it. Dalton followed close behind, a tight frown pulled across his mouth.

“Have you been relegated to the back porch boyfriend’s club?” Christian asked mildly.

“I came willingly.” Boston took the seat beside me and groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“Was there bloodshed?” Christian asked.

Dalton took the last remaining chair, looking miserable.

“No, they’re friendlier about the whole thing than they’ve ever been, but your boyfriend can’t let it go,” Boston said.

“He’s your brother. ”

“I know.” Boston took a swallow of his coffee. “Believe me, I know.”

“He means well,” Dalton said under his breath.

“They all do.”

Minutes passed and there were no raised voices from inside, no furniture crashing, or any sounds that would have otherwise indicated there was a fight. Wes sat in a companionable silence, recognizing that even though we were all different, we were all in love with the same kind of man. Even Dalton, who was clearly just as dominant as the men he’d left in the living room, was in love with what had to be a stubborn and defiant streak that ran through Beamer, just like the rest of them.

Making the observation, I’d reached the bottom of my coffee, but didn’t dare go back inside lest I disturb the tentative peace the four friends were establishing around the coffee table. A few more minutes passed and then Alex stepped onto the porch, pulling the back door closed behind him.

“They’re alive,” he said before any of us could ask.

There weren’t any seats left so he sank down onto the wood planked porch, his spine pressed against a support post. He bent his legs and rested his forearms on his knees, gaze focused on the ground.

The sound of furniture dragging across the floor had all of us on our feet and running toward the door. I wasn’t worried about Brooks, but what I’d heard about Kale and Ford’s relationship especially had me worried over the possibility of them coming to blows with each other. Boston pushed his way to the front, making it into the house first and coming to a dead stop so fast the rest of us crashed into him before we could put on the brakes .

Dalton shoved him out of the way, only making it two more steps before he dragged himself to a stop, and we all crowded around in time to see the four men tangled with each other in the middle of the floor.

Except it wasn’t a fight.

It was a hug.

Beside me, Boston visibly relaxed, and Christian clapped him on the back, the relief pouring out of both of them like a waterfall. Over the mess of limbs and shoulders, the only thing I could see of Brooks was the top of his head, but I knew that in the tangle of his friends he was more than feeling the love.

Alex snaked his way around us and joined his friends, enveloping Ford and Kale’s shoulders as he shoved his way into their hug. He was accepted easily, and I bit my lips between my teeth to swallow down the swell of emotion their display brought to life in the middle of my chest. What a lucky group of men we all were, to have these relationships, to know this kind of love and support.

I thought of all the struggles Brooks had shared with me. How hard he’d fought against the way he was and the things he deserved in order to make himself lesser for more people, when he should have been okay with being too much for everyone except me all along. And I thought of how kind he’d been to Dylan, how much he and Alex had tried to help my best friend…a stranger to them. I wished Dylan could have been beside me, wished he could have borne witness to what your life can look like when you let people in.

I pulled my phone out of the front pocket of my sweats and texted him .

Me : I miss you a lot and wish you were here. I want to spend more time with you when I get back home. I want to be a better friend.

I clutched my phone in my palm, the message unanswered. The group of them finally broke away from their hug, all of them wiping their eyes in that secret way when you didn’t want anyone to know you’d been crying. Brooks saw the group of us standing there, and he smiled, immediately breaking away from his friends to come to me. I wrapped him in a hug that felt as sturdy as the ones he offered me, tangling my fingers into the back of his hair when he rested his forehead against my shoulder.

“Good?” I asked.

He nodded.

My phone buzzed in my hand and I maneuvered it between our chests. Dylan’s name flashed on the screen as an incoming call, not a text.

“Hello?” I answered, covering my ear with a finger to push out the noise of the recently reunited friends behind me.

“Hello?”

It wasn’t Dylan’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Who is this?” I asked, shouldering open the back door and stepping down onto the porch.

“Yes, hello. This is Dr. Ventura from Chelsea Medical Center. We’re trying to reach the next of kin for Dylan Rivers and you’re listed as his emergency contact. Can you talk?”