Chapter 8

Dylan

"You're what ?" Ian's exclamation is about what I expected.

Matt gives a tiny shrug. "You heard me."

His platonic life partner shakes his head in utter betrayal. "No. Nope. Nuh-uh. You're messing with me. This is like when you told the doctor it's 2015. Well, Matthias Coates, you have a weird sense of humor, but I'm on to you." He rounds on me. "What did he bribe you with to get you to agree to this?"

"Sexual favors," I reply promptly. "Though, now that I think of it, I was the one who offered those the first time. Over a year ago."

Ian stares at me in disbelief, and then his face crumples—along with his knees. Only Marc's lightning-quick reflexes have him landing in a chair instead of the floor. "It's true? Oh my god. And it's been over a year? Oh my god. "

I'm actually enjoying myself, which isn't something I thought I'd say while Matt's in a hospital bed, wrapped in fiberglass casts and stitched together in various places. Ian's drama is definitely fun to watch. "Technically, we've been dating for… what is it, Matty? Nine months now?"

"Nearly ten," he corrects. "The sex was so good that we knew pretty fast it was more."

Ian fake gags. "No details. I can't believe you kept this a secret from me."

"You're one to talk," Matt retorts, looking pointedly at Marc.

"Uh, I think the situation was a bit different!"

"What situation was a bit different?" Connor asks as he and Gabe walk in.

"And stop yelling, or the nurses will kick us out," Gabe adds.

Ian glares at them both. "Did you know about this? Did you?"

"Tone it down, baby bro. I've only had one coffee, my boyfriend is across the country, and the water pressure at the hotel is shit. I'm not in a patient mood."

We all stare at him, because "Connor" and "patient" don't belong in the same sentence. Or universe.

"Did we know what?" Gabe asks calmly. He's the patient one.

The question snaps Ian out of his stupor. "About this! That! Them!"

"Could we have fewer pronouns and more of everything else, please?"

Marc huffs in appreciation and tips his head toward Gabe. "Very clever, gatekeeper."

While Gabe's face shows he's trying to decide whether he likes Marc's praise or not, Ian blurts, "Did you know Matt and Dylan are together? Dating? "

"What?" Connor's exclamation is genuine. Then his eyes go wide with what looks like remorse. "Holy fuck, Dylan, why didn't you say anything? We would have let you sit with him more."

I shift uncomfortably. "Matt wanted to be the one to tell you. I-If I'd said anything, it would be like admitting…" I don't finish the sentence; they all get it.

Ian narrows his eyes accusingly at Gabe. "You haven't said anything. Did you know?"

"No." Gabe shrugs. "Not officially. But Tom suspected, and he mentioned it to me before he left. Since then, I've been paying closer attention, and it seemed… possible." He turns to me. "By the way, he also said if it was true, to apologize for the pressure he was putting on you to look after us. He was testing his theory."

He… I laugh. "I knew I liked Tom. That's ingenious." Even if it felt like torture at the time.

Connor's shaking his head slowly. "You and Tom suspected this and you never mentioned it to me? Hasn't there been enough betrayal in this family?"

In unison, we all wince—even Marc. "Too soon?" Connor asks sheepishly.

"It's always gonna be too soon. Also, knock off the drama. Matt's my bestie, so it's my turn," Ian snaps. Because that's a totally normal thing to say.

If they weren't talking about my relationship, I'd wish for popcorn.

"You can both knock off the drama," Gabe chides. "Matt and Dylan are informed, consenting adults. It's only natural they'd want some private time while their relationship finds its feet."

Aw.

"For ten months ?" Ian proclaims triumphantly. "And they were screwing before that!"

"Making love," Matt corrects, and when I look at him, there's a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He's totally messing with his bestie, and gotta say, in this moment, I love him even more. "Hey, remember the time you called to talk about what we were gonna get Kieran for Christmas?"

Ian studies him warily. "Yeah?"

"And you asked me if I was coming down with a cold because I sounded funny?"

The wariness turns to outright alarm. "Yeeeeah?"

"Dylan was going down on me while I talked to you."

Connor bursts out laughing, and Gabe grins and coughs.

"I hate you," Ian says, then switches his gaze to me. "Both of you."

"Now, now, let's play nice, boys." Gabe's smile is delighted. "We don't see you enough for you to waste time hating each other." The smile dims a little. "Though… ten months is a long time. Is everything okay…? No, it's none of my business." The words are firm, but I can hear the shadow of hurt in his voice, and I know it's up to me to fix this before it damages his relationship with Matt.

"I asked Matt to keep us a secret," I confess. "He didn't want to." Rolling my eyes, I add, "You know Matt—he basically wanted to text Ian the second we decided to make things exclusive and official. But I—" I look around at their faces, all of them ready to welcome me into their family. Even Ian's drama is just part of who he is. If he was really mad, he'd have said so. "I needed some time with just us. And then after a while it didn't seem like such a big deal…" I shrug. "I was wrong. This week has proved that. Matt needs his family involved in his life."

"And your life too now." Connor smiles angelically at me. "It's like the Borg."

"One of us, one of us," Gabe chants, and Ian squints.

"Don't I remember us making that joke when Gabe met Tom? Seriously, guys," he shakes his head pityingly, "a secondhand joke? I'm so ashamed."

"Me too," Matt agrees. "Even if it's still true and we're never letting Dylan go."

I lean over to lay a gentle kiss on his lips, then say, "I'm not sure how I feel about that ‘we.' It sounds a little too orgy-esque for me."

As I expected, all four of them erupt with gagging noises and exclamations of "Ew!"

"You did not just suggest group sex with my brothers," Matt exclaims. "Ugh, now I need brain bleach. Can we tell the doctors I have head trauma after all and to do a lobotomy?"

"Respect, human," Marc murmurs. "That was well played."

When the drama llamas are done with their outrage, Gabe says, "Seriously, though, whatever your reasons were for keeping it quiet are fine, but I'm glad you've told us now. And I'm especially glad my airheaded little brother?—"

"Excuse me?" Matt's indignation is clear.

"—has found someone so grounded, who knows him well enough to know Taylor Swift will always be his first love, and who understands how important you both are to our family."

"She's an icon," Matt defends. "Why are you all such haters?"

"I hope that's okay," Gabe continues, ignoring Matt, his gaze on me. "That we're basically going to adopt you."

I push aside all my fears and doubts. They're still there—I don't know if I'll ever completely shake them—but after this week, I know for sure that it's better to go through the hard stuff with family than without. And if, by some freak accident, I lose my new family… well, at least I'll have had them. Being with Matt has taught me that living with the fear is better than being without him, and that's a concept easily expanded to include his brothers.

And Marc.

God help me.

"Yeah, that's okay." My voice is a tiny bit husky, and I clear my throat.

Connor, either oblivious to the tension or trying to lighten it, says, "Great, because the IT guy at our compound keeps threatening to kill me, and I need someone to call when my computer has a shit fit."

I laugh, and Ian throws half a slice of toast leftover from Matt's breakfast at his brother—who catches it and takes a bite.

"Humans are disgusting," Marc observes, his face set in lines of clear distaste.

"Aww, we love you too, boo," Ian coos.

"Playing fast and loose with ‘we,' there," Matt mutters. "So… now you know that I'm officially off the market, you love Dylan, Dylan thinks you're kind of okay… what's next?"

"Is this a birds-and-bees kind of question?" Ian asks. "Because I thought you'd already moved past that." He turns a sympathetic face to me. "If Matt can't satisfy you, there's this website?—"

"Why is he here?" Matt wonders aloud. "Does he need to be here?"

"You'd be freaked if he wasn't." I pat his cheek reassuringly. "Don't worry, dude, you satisfy me just fine."

"Why am I here? Surely there must be some hell dimension I could have been sent to instead," Marc mutters.

Ian pouts. "I'm starting to feel unloved."

"As much as I've missed this—god only knows why—we need to talk about our next steps. Marc, how soon do you think Matt will be in good enough condition that the doctors will agree to a transfer?" Gabe's tone is serious.

"I can convince them to agree now, if you'd stop being so squeamish."

"No." The chorus is unanimous, and Marc sighs.

"Very well. At the rate I'm working now, another two days."

"Dylan, will you be ready?"

I nod. "Yes. I'm nearly there—just testing out a few bugs. I assume someone will want to contact the facility to talk about Matt's care. I have that mostly planned out too."

From the looks of consternation, none of them had considered that.

"Fuck," Connor swears. "Do you have a doctor lined up who can talk to them?"

"Not exactly. Don't worry, though," I say confidently. "I'll handle it. In two days, we can bring up the transfer again and mention the excellent private hospital we've spoken to already, which is all set to take him. Then we'll go from there."

Connor and Gabe seem unsure still, but Matt and Ian, who've seen what I can do when it comes to technology, are unfazed. Marc just looks bored. He's probably wishing we'd just let him do it his way.

That's a big fat no from me.

"Okay, so that's settled," Gabe says. "Matt, do you remember anything more about the attack? Or about that day?"

Matt grimaces. "I wish. I checked into the motel, texted Dylan to let him know where I was, and then I was planning to go to the address that was in the report." He glances warily at the door. It's closed, but I've noticed that the nurses, especially, don't seem to see that as a deterrent. They've been so nice, but knocking seems to be outside their scope of work—and they never close the door when they leave. "There was supposedly a rank smell in one of the apartments, but the tenant and the management company couldn't find where it was coming from."

"Sounds like a foetidum demon," I murmur, my eyes on Matt's face. It might just be wishful thinking, but it looks like his color is better even than it was when he woke up. "Who reported it?"

He shrugs slightly. "That wasn't in the job sheet."

"I checked," Ian adds. "Right after we went to that address and found no sign of any demonic activity—including the rank smell. It was tagged from the online division. I assumed one of you tech geeks found the reports or emails from the management company to the landlord and decided to have someone check it out."

My heart is in my throat. Slowly, I turn to face Ian. "What?"