28. Zack

Boston welcomed me home with warmer weather than when I'd left for my little vacation but not nearly as pleasant as the tropics. Spring flowers lay like a rainbow around my condo's short walkway, but they appeared dim compared to what I'd left behind. They also did little to bring hope for more pleasant days ahead.

Emptiness owned my chest, a numbness rather than the ache I'd expected. At least I had that to be thankful for.

The other thing I appreciated was only being booked with EEMM once for the upcoming weekend. I attended an event Saturday night as arm candy that seemed to drag on amidst attempted banter at the table of nine my date and I sat at.

I bullshitted with the two on either side of me, envisioning being bookmarked by Callum and Landon to make the time pass quicker. While I could admit to missing them like two limbs had been torn off my body, I had to stay focused on getting back into the groove of my drama-free, mundane—safe—life.

At the end of the evening, I bid my client a good evening without having to lay lips or hands on him in a way that would have felt wrong. I also attempted to set aside the constant recalling of the two lovers that had seemed the opposite. Absolutely right and scarily so.

Sunday afternoon, some of the EEMM guys got together at Sean's condo overlooking the wharf. We were a smaller group that month, which I tended to enjoy. Regardless of our meager number, evidence of found and appreciated love radiated like blinding light to my dimmed soul.

Preston draped over Drake's lap in one recliner. Pain stabbed my chest over their open affection. Even worse was Sean sitting on the floor beside the other chair occupied by his Teach. Matteo's fingers stroked through his hair, and he preened like a lazy cat at being doted on in his not-so-subtle display of submission.

Their fulfillment in each other slowly weighed down on me, heightening the barrenness in my heart. Jealousy nagged at me like some of the foster mothers I'd lived with, a constant poke of awareness of what I didn't have that made me want to rip my hair out.

"What's up with you?" Jimmy asked from his seat on the couch beside me.

I rubbed a hand over my face, wishing I could scrub my inner self clean of want for what I'd left behind. Regardless of my determination to keep both Callum and Landon from haunting my thoughts after returning from paradise, they'd embedded themselves deep in my psyche. I could admit now that there was no escaping them.

"Just tired," I lied, not about to get into shit with Elite's biggest mouth. Jimmy gossiped like a teenage girl, and even though he wasn't mean, he couldn't be trusted with my personal shit.

As though sensing my unease, Sean kissed Matteo's knee and pushed up to his feet. "Want to help me out for a minute?" he asked me, nodding toward the kitchen.

"Sure." I followed him through the archway that allowed us a bit of privacy.

The TV droned from the living room, but still, he walked to the farthest end of the kitchen before propping himself against the counter, arms and ankles crossed.

"What's going on, Zack?" While not usually a shrewd guy, Sean's blue-eyed gaze pierced through my armor, and since he was someone who'd proven himself trustworthy, I decided to lay shit on the line because I couldn't deal on my own anymore.

Maybe he could help me get back on track with my quiet lifestyle that used to be peaceful once upon a time.

"So those five days that were supposed to be heaven kind of turned into hell," I muttered.

His brow furrowed, concern filling his gaze. "Did something bad happen?"

"No. The opposite, really." Without going into too much detail about my past, I explained the addition Callum had brought along with him for our little vacation of what was supposed to have been two. While what he'd done hadn't gone against the contract he'd signed with EEMM, the act of manipulation didn't sit well with Sean.

"You should have called me and cancelled," he stated quietly, his frown still fixed firmly in place.

"I wasn't unsafe, just knocked off-kilter, and I can't regret what went down because I feel as though my past has been put to rest."

Sean huffed a snort. "Bullshit. It's obviously stirred up even more trouble."

"Am I that transparent?"

"You are today," he didn't hesitate to say.

"Shit." I rubbed a hand over my face again. Maybe the dreams of my two lovers weren't allowing me proper rest, and I was simply exhausted and in need of a real vacation.

"How are you doing?"

I wanted to snort, considering Sean hadn't been one for feels and the discussion of them outside of wanting dick before Matteo turned his life upside down.

Sean cared about all of his employee's wellbeing, and not just because we made him a shit ton of money.

"I don't really know," I admitted. "Like a part of me is missing, envious as fuck over what it seems like my co-workers are finding and scared as hell about what both of those facts might mean."

"Falling happens quickly for some people. When you know, when you experience that draw, you can't ignore it. Matteo fought his need for me and shouldn't have. I'm the most wonderful thing that's ever happened for him."

I chuckled, shaking my head at his usual arrogance. "I think you've got shit backward."

Sean cursed at me, his eyes alight with laughter. "Matteo and I both hit the jackpot." He conceded. "He's the best decision I've ever made."

Nodding, I glanced toward the living room, thinking of the men sitting in there. They'd become my family, had filled part of the void inside me and influenced my contentment in Boston. I couldn't fucking leave them—they were all I had. And the drama the two couples had to endured to be together was cringeworthy. They'd shared their stories filled with the type of angst that could tear a heart in two.

I didn't have that kind of fight in me.

But goddamnit, I missed Callum and Landon badly enough I questioned my stance on trusting others with my heart.

"Take some time off."

I jerked my focus back toward Sean. He still smiled, but a softer curve of his lips showed acceptance rather than disappointment. "Figure out who needs to be first in your life. I'll be sad to see you missing from Elite's menu, but if these two guys are the ones for you, go for it. I just want you happy, Zack. If that means you're as fulfilled as I am and no longer lining my pockets, then so be it, but you'll always be a part of the Elite family."

I swallowed hard, nodding again.

Sean straightened, closed the few feet between us, and grasped my shoulder, squeezing tightly. "If shit doesn't work out, I promise I'll keep you in ass and on dick until you die."

A huffed snort of laughter left me, making his smile morph into a boyish grin.

"Seriously, though, what's holding you back? It's obvious you're pining for them."

"I can't trust people." I answered with the honest to fuck truth.

He settled against the counter again, his gaze unwavering. "Want to talk about it?"

I didn't, but fuck, I needed help. "It started with my parents, who'd abandoned me into foster care when I was like two weeks old." I wasn't sure where to go from there with the story of my childhood that had shaped me into the closed-off man standing here.

"Maybe locating and confronting them would help heal you," Sean suggested. "Trust me, taking steps toward working through the shit in your head and heart can lead to a much more fulfilling life." Sean would know—he'd been open about going to therapy for months, and while he was still his usual pain-in-the-ass self, he had a peacefulness about him that he'd lacked before.

I'd always told myself I didn't give two shits about the people who'd left me to the state since they'd obviously felt nothing for me. So, fuck them and whatever excuses they'd cooked up to make themselves feel okay with discarding their own flesh and blood.

"Preston would help you." Sean pushed when I didn't respond.

I heaved a heavy exhale, assured in the deepest parts of me that the boys of EEMM would go above and beyond for me if it meant me finding healing and contentment. We didn't discuss deep shit, but a bond held us all together far beyond the ties of selling our bodies.

While I still wasn't ready to dissect the desires troubling me, perhaps laying a better foundation for my path going forward would offer me some clarity and bravery.

"Okay," I agreed, and Sean squeezed my shoulder again before releasing me.

"Come on. Let's go finish watching the game."

Jimmy headed out, and once he left, I asked Sean to turn off the TV. For the first time ever, I unloaded the entirety of my shitty past to some of the few men I considered friends. From my early memories of foster care to climbing aboard the flight that returned me home from paradise, I spilled what I could recall. I had expected to feel soiled, dirty in a way that getting on my knees for cash had never made me experience, from uncovering my secrets.

Instead, relief settled in. An unburdening of emotion I hadn't realized pushed me beneath water.

"So here I am with kettlebells attached to my arms and holding me under," I murmured, studying my empty hands hanging loosely between my spread thighs from where I leaned, elbows on my knees. "I'm not one to ask for help, but you all are the closest thing I have to family—and I could use some direction."

"Give me three days, and I'll find your birth parents," Preston stated with absolute assurance, causing my throat to swell up.

"Thanks," I whispered, finally lifting my head since starting the story of my life.

"No need for it," he insisted, his own emerald-like eyes welling along with mine. "It's what family does."

Shit moved fast as fuck after that.

Drake's computer whiz found the information I needed less than thirty-six hours later, blowing my misconceptions about my beginning to bits. I had the name of my mother—and the truth my sperm donor had been unknown.

I'd never missed having a real father, so a lack of his identity didn't hit me nearly as hard as that of my mother. Facts echoed through my head throughout the rest of the day and late into the night as I struggled to accept the truth of my beginning.

Lauren Briggs had passed away at the age of seventeen, less than two weeks after giving birth to me. While learning of her death lessened my sense of abandonment, I didn't know her story or even how she had died. Other questions needed put to rest as well, namely why her surviving family listed in the papers didn't want or keep me.

What had I done as an infant to deserve their backs when I'd needed their arms?

The following afternoon after a near sleepless night, I stood on my grandparents' front stoop, the whirlwind of events leaving me hesitant as reality caught up to me. One thing for certain, Lauren came from a higher society than most. The mansion looming three stories above me promised that truth as much as the printouts from Preston that revealed old money filled the Briggs family's bank.

One slow inhale and exhale, and I raised my shaking hand.

A middle-aged man dressed in black-and-white drab garb answered. His short stature, dark eyes, and thinning blond hair suggested we didn't share DNA.

Regardless of his lack of height, he stood in the doorway as though a brick wall barring entry. Lips in a thin line, he glanced down over my tight Henley and faded jeans before lifting his focus to my face. When our eyes met, he blinked, his already pale complexion turning gray.

From the images Preston had shown to me, I knew I was a spitting image of Lauren's father, Malcom Briggs, the man I hoped to have a little chat with. And while I had zero expectations of being accepted or acknowledged as family, I at least wanted to see him in person.

"Can I help you?" the man before me asked with an uncertain tone, his voice hinting at a Scottish accent.

"I'm looking for Malcom and Iona Briggs."

He straightened slightly, chin lifting as though he attempted to peer down his nose at me. "And you are?"

"Zackary Briggs." I watched him closely, noting the flash of disquiet in his eyes and how the paleness around his mouth intensified.

"One moment, please," he finally snipped as though thoroughly put out by my appearance and request.

The door shut in my face with a resounding click.

I stared at the dark, wooden grain, shifting on my feet. Would I be ordered to vacate the premises? Completely ignored as I'd been as a baby?

If the latter, I planned on pounding on the thick oaken panel until Malcom himself answered or the cops showed up and forced me to leave. I'd taken a huge fucking leap in driving to Rhode Island to seek them out, one I'd never even considered until reconnecting with Landon had inspired change in my soul.

The door pulled inward once more, and I stared at a picture of the man I would someday become—if I had one foot in the grave, the other clinging to the edge of the living.

I just hoped the pursed lips and arrogant lift of his chin didn't afflict me as it did the stooped man who could only be my grandfather.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded in the same accent as his…butler? Manservant? Did those titles even exist anymore?

"I'm looking for answers," I replied somewhat coolly, refusing to cower down as I was sure plenty of people had done over the years of this man's life.

Malcom Briggs took me in from head to toe, sneering even though he clung to the casing as though the wood could keep his frail form from toppling over. Regardless of his sunken, sallow appearance, the old man wore tailored clothing, a hint of expensive cologne attempting to cover the stench of death clinging to his skin. Even nearing his end, he carried an air of authority, like he expected to be heard and obeyed.

"You're a few days too early to lay a claim to my fortune, lad. I haven't yet submitted to the grave's beckoning."

I frowned, already disliking the only family member I'd ever seen in the flesh. "I'm not interested in any inheritance if that's what you're suggesting, Mr. Briggs. I simply wish to know what happened to my mother, Lauren."

"She was an unruly teenager, who refused to be tamed into a lady." He all but spat the words, making his feelings toward his daughter more than clear. "A complete disgrace to our name and a disappointment to both her mother and I."

She'd been an only child, which meant I was the last of this old man's line. Still, I wanted nothing to do with him, his impending demise, or what he left behind once buried six feet under.

Because he'd felt the same toward an innocent infant thirty-three years earlier.

But I kept my silence and listened to him spew his bitterness because I was that desperate for any information I could get.

"She was the town whore by sixteen and pregnant at seventeen, unable to identify which man impregnated her." He gave me another slow perusal and found me lacking. Whether due to my mother's sins against her father's pride or for the way I looked in my casual clothes, I didn't know. Didn't care. "She removed the stain of her miserable existence from our name days after giving birth to a child no one stepped forward to claim."

Eleven days to be exact, according to the newspapers at the time.

The truth of her death unmentioned in the write-ups I'd read didn't surprise me, nor did it have any effect on my emotions. I'd never known the girl who'd given me life, and she'd chosen selfishness rather than attempting to raise me in a household where she would always be judged and despised.

"Thank you for your time," I murmured, having heard enough to realize they'd seen me as nothing more than another stain to the Briggs's bloodline.

In their eyes, I was as soiled as Lauren—same as the senator's son.

Malcom Briggs didn't have shit to say as I turned my back on him and walked away. The door shut firmly behind me, a sense of finality settling over me that I was more than okay with. Fuck him, his wife, and their money.

My mind settled on Landon.

I climbed into my car and clutched the steering wheel, thoughts of him flashing through my mind. While I'd seen firsthand how he'd been ignored by both of his parents, I had a better understanding of how they must have looked at him after the scandal that ruined his family's name.

The emptiness I'd been attempting to understand in my chest flooded with a swell of emotions I couldn't decipher. Regret? Empathy? Definite longing to hold him and soothe his hurt lay beneath it all along with the need for someone to do the same for me.

Callum.

But fear continued to reign supreme like a selfish bitch, refusing me freedom to accept the love and care both would gladly lavish on me in return.

A therapist would have a field day with my abandonment and trust issues, but I doubted healing from either could be had. Rather than thinking too hard on that truth, I hopped back on the highway toward Boston and called Sean.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Worse than I expected, but I can't say I'm surprised," I replied, my tone tired and resigned.

Sean and I had discussed possible outcomes, and since state records clearly showed my lineage, my grandparents could have sought me out if they'd wanted to.

"Suicide?"

I exhaled heavily. "Yeah. Just days after giving birth to me. Could have been postpartum, but considering how much Malcom's bitterness still etched in his face and words all these years later, I expect Lauren couldn't bear the thought of living beneath his roof. I know I wouldn't have wanted to do so if I'd been in her shoes."

"Fuck—man, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Can you imagine what my life would have been like had I been raised like she'd been? Seen as less than? He called her a fucking stain, for Christ's sake! A disgrace. Disappointment. Whore." I bit each word out, my anger rising in the knowledge Landon's father had done the same to him. "She'd fallen well below his expectations, and I would have reaped the consequences of her supposed sins."

"Well fuck him and his money."

I couldn't have agreed more and didn't even feel guilty about him having one foot in the grave. "He'll be dead in a matter of weeks. Looked sick as fuck."

"Good riddance," Sean added. "So what now?"

"I'm going to go home and crash. Hopefully, clear my head so I can decide what the fuck I should do about the rest of the drama in my head and heart."

"Jamie requested you for next weekend."

"Shit." I huffed an exhale, annoyed with myself and the entire situation that had churned up my life. While I enjoyed every night between the sheets with my favorite client, the idea of sharing my body with him didn't sit right. Even a little blue pill wouldn't have made it as enjoyable as fucking him had been once upon a time.

"I explained you weren't on the menu until further notice," Sean told me before I could decide what to do.

"Thanks, man."

"No problem. Just get your shit figured out and let me know what you want."

"Will do," I agreed.

Landon had shown me how forgiveness could be a simple choice. If only my mind could be swayed as easily.