Twenty-One

Cade

"I t's not too late, y'know?" I run my thumb over one of his scars, caressing him under the blankets as he lies lifeless in front of me. I don't want to leave him today, but I have to. It's my mom's wedding, of course I have to. But he's been… I'm not a doctor, so I can't be sure, but I genuinely think he's depressed. He has a history of it, but I've never seen him like this. He's usually mad. Quiet and broody but pissed off. This is not that.

But it could be the wedding—the one he's refusing to go to. He's never been okay with their relationship. My pigheadedness kept me from sympathizing with him, but I understand it more now. His parents were happily married at one point, and now only one of them is.

So, I'm hoping it's just the wedding. I don't know what else it could be.

"I don't want to go."

I knew he would say that, but I'm still disappointed. I hug him tighter, pulling him back until I'm touching him as much as possible. "Nic." I kiss his shoulder, right on one of the many tiny pale circles of skin I adore.

"I don't want to—"

"I know you don't want to go. But what are you going to do for two days without me?" It's a poorly attempted joke, but really, I need to know. He hasn't been doing well, and I don't know what to do about it. I want to help him, but I don't know how. If I'm not here, who will make sure he eats? Gets out of bed? What if he hurts himself?

I don't think he will—I don't want to think he will, but he has before.

My arm tightens around him and squeezes until he grunts. He never answers me, and it stresses me out more than it should. Or maybe I'm not stressed enough. I'm not sure—I have plans to ask his dad about this. They're not close, but he took Nic's mental health seriously when he lived with us, so maybe he'll have a better idea of how to navigate things.

"Nic, I—"

"Cherry."

I freeze. It's not until he's jerking the arm I have trapped under mine that I pull back, being slow with it because I have no clue how to take this.

"Get off of me. Leave, Cade."

"Nic." I don't mean to sound so hurt, but why is he doing this—what did I do?

"It works both ways—it means stop. Leave me alone."

"I—okay." I stare for a while at his shoulder, at that spot I just kissed. My body is reacting to that little word like it's an omen, a terrible sign, and I'm not at all prepared for it. I don't want to leave him. My hand reaches for him, a last-ditch effort to reason with him, but he pulls away and scoots closer to the wall and away from me. "Okay," I whisper, going against my instincts because it's what he wants. If it were me who said it—though I know I never would—he'd immediately stop all movement. He'd respect my wishes.

So I get up, grab the overnight bag I have packed, and step out of the room. I can't look at him before I go because I might end up back in bed with him to try to get him to talk to me.

Baby isn't in his room when I check, and right as I'm about to text him to ask where he is, he comes out of the bathroom.

"I thought you had a wedding to go to." He fixes his tiny pair of pink shorts, the only thing he's wearing, like he's trying to protect the modesty that definitely doesn't exist when he's dressed like that.

"It's tomorrow. I'm going home tonight, but I wanted to ask if you could do me a favor."

"Maybe."

"It's…" I'm not sure if it's a good idea to ask him to look after Nic and check on him a few times while I'm away, but it's definitely a bad idea to do nothing. I try to think of a way to word it so that I don't share too much—it's not my place to tell Baby Nic has issues. "Nic isn't feeling well."

"Because he wasn't invited to your parents' wedding?" He looks genuinely sympathetic before he walks to his room, giving me a view of his ass peeking out from the bottom of his shorts. I'd remind him about his own no-nudity rule if his question didn't surprise me.

"He was invited. He's just… sick."

"Oh." He climbs on his bed, hugging one of his stuffed animals to his bare torso. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't—he has chronic pain." It's not a lie and more believable than a cold.

"Oh, he should have told me. I have some gummies that—"

"No, that's fine. I just wanted you to check on him and make sure he was doing okay while I was gone. Please?"

He has a tiny smile on his lips as he nods his head. "Yeah, I can do that."

"What?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?" It's making me self-conscious and maybe a little paranoid. I told Nic I was fine telling people about us—as long as we held off on our parents for a while—but he didn't want that. I wanted it. I said it like I didn't care either way, but I want to be able to say that I have someone. That I'm not alone, and more than that, that I have Nic . I'd love to show him off or be someone he'd be happy to do the same with, but he said that he preferred keeping things as they were. It bothers me, and it's one of the many other things that make me self-conscious, but I don't want to upset him.

And I can deal. As long as I still get to have him, it's okay.

But things don't feel as good as they were. I'm not even sure I do have him. The new doubt is worse than any of the bullshit I was wallowing in before we started whatever this whole thing is. I don't want to lose him.

"I don't know. You're just cute when you're in love with someone other than Liam."

"Wha—"

His smile grows, and I decide it's best to save face. "Shut up." I shut his door as I leave, cutting off his quiet laugh.

I'm not in love with Nic. Not… I don't think I'm in love with Nic. It wasn't like this with Liam. That was unrequited, but I was sure I was in love with him. This is different.

It's more like an obsession. And sometimes, it feels so… unruly. It feels like my whole existence begins and ends with him. He's every bit of havoc and harmony in my own little world, bigger than anything else I've ever dealt with. I loved Liam, and even though I can't love him how I once wanted to, I know that he'll always be a part of my life. Things with Nic are more fragile, like an antique vase sitting too close to the edge of the shelf. One good jolt and it'll shatter, and most of the time, shit with Nic is a little bumpy. Loving Liam was scary, but whatever this is with Nic is fucking terrifying.

That word, the safeword he gave me, plays on a loop as I leave the apartment. It's eating at me. Leaving him alone—it feels dangerous. He's probably just going to go back to sleep, and Baby did say he'd check on him, but I feel so aimless the more distance I put between us.

I have to borrow a tie from Liam. I'd originally asked him if I could take two because I'd hoped Nic would change his mind, but that didn't work out. Nic turned down more than just an invite—that only came after he said he didn't want to be in the wedding. I wish his dad had asked him sooner and given him more time to prepare. I wasn't aware that he hadn't even bothered to tell him there was going to be a wedding at all, but asking if he'd stand up there by the altar just days before it was supposed to happen seemed like an afterthought. I'm sure that's how it felt to Nic.

He doesn't say it, but I know it hurts him that Anton doesn't try harder with him. Nic tries to act like he doesn't care, but he slips all the time and shows me bits and pieces of things just beneath all the cracks. I just wish that Nic didn't push him away so much.

Seeing Jax sitting in front of Liam's apartment door again most likely means that I'll have to wait longer than I was expecting for him to answer the door, so I send Liam a text and hope it speeds things along.

"Hey." I sit next to him on the welcome mat.

Jax chooses to flip me off instead of a greeting, but the bruise on his chin tells me that it's probably only so he can hide his face.

"What's this?" I barely brush his jaw before he's flinching away. "You okay?"

"I'd be a lot better if your bestie wasn't the actual horniest bottom to exist. What does he even eat? Because I really don't understand how a dude's ass can be so ready for dick at every hour of the fucking day."

I laugh, letting him get away with the deflection. It's none of my business.

"You sound jealous."

"Fuck off. I'm not jealous. I'm… well, you know what, maybe I am. My ass hurts from sitting on this stupid cold floor waiting for Princess Liam to be done with my best friend—and! By the time that happens, his ass is gonna be hurting in an entirely different way, and yeah. I'm a little jealous of that, but not because I want Seb's stupid dick. Or Liam's!"

"Okay."

"I just want some idiot to tell me they'd build me a pond if I ever turned into a duck, y'know? Why is that so hard to find?"

"I—" Have no clue what he's talking about. "I'm not sure, Jax."

"Whatever. And what about you—do you bottom? Does your ass hurt?"

I shrug with a smirk. "A little bit, actually." No point denying it, not to Jax. He knows more than anyone how wrapped up I am in Nic.

"Ugh. Well, unless you're willing to share him, I—"

"Nope. He likes his ass a little less yappy."

He frowns at me, a look so genuinely solemn for a moment that it has me going quiet—it reminds me of how I'm feeling. "They all do!" He leans his head on my shoulder and sniffles, and I can't tell if he's being serious or not. "I'm going to be single for… til the end of fucking time apparently because nobody likes hot as fuck twunks who maybe have a hard time shutting up sometimes. Which—" He sits up, getting fired up all over again and descending into a babbling madness. "Makes no sense if you think about it!" He leans back against the door with a thud, not even looking at me as he goes on. "Like… usually you'd want a mouth to be open, right? Can't stick your— oh! " He falls back, catching himself before he hits Liam's legs.

"What's—" Liam looks between us as I stand up, and I can see it when he decides that it's not worth it to ask. "I'll grab your tie."

"Thanks."

∞∞∞

"T here's my boy!" My mom throws her arm around, holding on for long enough that I breathe in a deadly dose of her perfume. "Come in, come in! Dinner is almost ready."

I'm still kind of mad at her, but I let her tug me inside anyway. Nic isn't here, and while yeah, he's a spiteful little shit who didn't even want to be here, I find it hard not to blame my mom. And Anton. They could have tried harder to include him in the process, asked him to come, and made it seem like they actually wanted him to. He's their kid—pseudoson to my mom, but a son nonetheless—and they don't even care if he's here or not. He's an adult, I get that, but the things they do have made him feel like he's not welcome, and it bothers me.

I realize I'm a piece of shit—that's nothing new—because I used to act the same way, only worse. But I've matured and so has Nic. I understand him a little more, see through the anger and contempt and see that really he's just lonely. He feels rejected, and everyone who should be there for him isn't.

It could be a symptom—the Dumb Dick is still going strong—but I feel it all on his behalf regardless.

I'm at least happy that Anton is more disappointed that Nic isn't here than I expected.

"I wish he'd changed his mind. Did he say why he didn't want to come?"

It's sort of stupid that he'd even ask that question. How he doesn't realize that is beyond me. It's never been a secret that Nic doesn't approve of this blended family of ours.

"He just didn't want to."

"Well, as much I wish he could just be happy for us, I have to say that I'm glad he didn't bring his negativity here." My mom scoops some of her salad in her mouth, and I know it's not entirely unreasonable of her to say, but it still bugs me. "This is a happy occasion."

"Honestly, he seems kind of sad." I purposefully ignore my mom's retort. Their wedding will be happy, but that has nothing to do with my worries for Nic.

She purses her lips in a tight line when I look at her, clearly unhappy with the topic being discussed. But my stepdad needs to know.

"What do you mean?" Anton sets his glass of wine down without taking a sip, his bushy brows pitched low in concern. I've only ever seen the one picture of Nic's mom, but from what I can tell, he's all her. I've never met Carrie, but I wonder if he gets any of his personality from her too. I suspect he gets some of the depression from her, at least.

"The past few days he just doesn't do much. Works or sleeps, and that's it. He wasn't like that before." He sits in bed all the time, regardless of how happy or sad he is, but his mood is noticeably different. It was headed this way before our Christmas break, but things sort of plummeted when we got back.

"Is he taking his meds?"

"I—what meds?" I look at my mom, see her quietly watching us, and think for the first time that I maybe should have waited until I could speak to Anton privately before bringing things up. If Nic didn't want me to know about it, he certainly wouldn't want her to know. Unless he really isn't taking them. I've seen a prescription topical steroid cream and ibuprofen, but that's it.

But then I remember what he said while he was drunk—how his meds didn't react well with ibuprofen and alcohol. He claimed it caused his nosebleed, but that was the only nosebleed I saw him get—does that mean he did stop taking things?

How could I forget something that important? I wanted to do some snooping to find out what he was on, but it never came up again. I should have paid better attention.

"I'll call him."

That won't do any good. I highly doubt Nic would answer a phone call from him—especially with the wedding being tomorrow. But he can do what he wants. "What do we do to make him less… is there anything I should watch out for?"

"You're not a babysitter, Cade. You're both adults, and you have school and work to worry about. Not your stepbrother."

"Trace." Anton looks at his wife in mild disappointment, mirroring how I feel.

"I'm just saying." She pats her husband's hand, trying to soften the blow of her dismissal. "It's not like Nic would do anything to help Cade if the roles were reversed."

I don't tell her that I think he might, but I really do. He cares about me, I know it. I feel it. "I just want to know what to look out for," I say, all my focus on Anton—on the one other person in the room who cares.

"I think as long as—"

"Tony, come on. He's just upset about the wedding—about his mother and all the crap he's always upset about. He's fine."

"His mother—what is today?" He reaches for his phone, his expressive brows raising when he spots what he's looking for. "Shit." He sighs heavily, wiping his hand over the short beard on his face.

"What?"

"It's the anniversary of her death tomorrow. I forgot." He looks at his wife, but she doesn't seem concerned in the slightest. This isn't news to her at all.

"Her death? What do you mean?" How could I not know that? Why would he not tell me? "Whe—how?"

"He didn't tell you?"

"No, he—how did she die?"

"She… killed herself. Nic was trying to get her into a treatment facility, but…"

That's horrible. No wonder he misses her so much—he hardly ever mentions her, but when he does, he speaks like it physically hurts him. The fucking necklaces I got—what an awful gift. And… "You guys are throwing a party on the day Nic's mom died?"

"It's not a party," my mom scolds. "It's a wedding, and… there were only so many dates available." She gives the table a flippant shrug that has me stunned.

"Mom, you knew? That's—no shit, he didn't want to come." I sit back and stare at her as I process all the many bits and pieces of information being thrown at me. He was just lying in bed, right where he had been for the majority of the last three days, and I left him.

"Language."

"It's my fault," Anton butts in. "I should have remembered."

"But my mom did remember. Right?" I question her, genuinely hoping that she didn't. "You didn't really expect him to come, did you?"

Just watching her face I can tell that I'm right. They could have picked a different date. Taken more time to plan the wedding, maybe even have it on their actual anniversary so they don't end up with two, but she chose to marry Nic's dad on the day his mom died. It's not… no it is. It's fucked up. Nic deserves better, a stepmom who gives a fuck and has sympathy for him. A dad who sticks up for him.

A boyfriend who cares enough to be there for him when he needs him.

"You should reschedule."

"That's not an option."

"Mom, it's not even a real wedding—you're already married."

"Maybe we should, Trace."

My mom gapes at her husband, her cheeks flushing the longer she sits with his words. "No." She shakes her head, adding to the bit of finality in her tone. "No. I'm not doing that. I've been waiting for this for years. I'm not going to let him ruin it. I'm getting married, and my son is going to walk me down the aisle—I deserve that."

"But my son isn't even going to be there."

"Cade is your son too!"

"You know what I mean."

"Mom," I cut in because I need to know. "Did you purposefully schedule it on this day?"

Her eyes roll, and it's the only answer she gives me. It's the only one I need.

"Then… I'm not walking you down the aisle."