Twenty-Two

Nic

T here's some dirt that needs clearing, a few rocks and weeds, but it doesn't take long. It's not much, but it makes me feel better just looking at it when I'm done. Seeing her name all crisp and clean on the headstone I picked out just over a year ago now.

It feels weird to talk to her. I don't know what I believe in as far as the afterlife goes, but I do feel her. Sometimes. Not as much as I wish I could, but then maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that means she's usually somewhere else, a place where she's happy. Somewhere I'm not.

I don't know that there's any amount of therapy that could ever convince me that my not being enough for her wasn't one of the reasons she left me. She never did get over losing her baby, and though I've lost count of how many times I've been told that I was enough, the evidence says otherwise.

And with my dad… I just don't get why neither of my parents ever put me first. That's what parents are supposed to do. But I'm not here to dwell on all of that. I can do that anytime.

"There's not much to say." I shrug, picking at the grass in front of her headstone in a way that reminds me of Cade's fidgeting. "I'm doing good."

Most of the time.

"I… moved in with Cade—my stepbrother." I don't remember us ever talking about Tracey and Cade when she was alive. My dad's new family didn't feel like a safe topic. "But it's only temporary," I try to reassure her, just in case she's against the idea. "He's not so bad." I smile as I think about him, feeling bittersweet as I sit here talking to a dead woman about a boy who I have no future with, who she'll never even get to meet. "He—" I almost tell her that he left today, that he went to the wedding, but I know she doesn't want to hear about that. "I think you'd like him. He's… kind of annoying, but he makes me laugh."

There's no telling how long I can handle keeping things between us quiet. Loving him in private only to pretend he doesn't mean everything to me in public… that's not something I can do long-term.

But then, it was never going to be long-term anyway, and I knew that. I do have enough saved up, at least I think so. And even if he did end up telling his mom about us, what happens when she's against it? I don't think he'd pick me over her, not in any scenario.

"I think I need help, Mom," I say out loud because I honestly do. I just feel so… sad. It reminds me of her, and I hate that. I need to get back on my meds. I haven't even ended things with Cade, and already, it feels like my heart is breaking. It feels like something I won't recover from.

I don't want to live like her. She was so sad all the time, and it was horrible. She just wasted away, and that will not be me, especially not because of a boy. I won't let it be.

But she was never anybody's first choice, and I'm not either. Sometimes, the weight of that is just too much. It feels like it holds me back.

"I love you, Mom." I don't know what else to say, so I figure I may as well leave it at that. I'm about to get up when I remember the necklace in my pocket. I pull it out and look at it, let it soothe a tiny piece of me. I'll have to make sure that I get her gifts from now on, that way, she keeps getting something—something other than the flowers I already bring.

"This is a Christmas gift from Cade." I open the locket, wishing she could see the little image of me and her, both of us so happy, but knowing she can't. I don't feel her and haven't since I sat down. She left—another person who didn't care enough about me to prioritize me. But I still give her time to see it, just in case. The moon is bright, and if I hold it just right, I can see both of us smiling. I close it and pull a small patch of grass up, just big enough that the necklace will fit so that I can cover it back up. "Bye, Mom."

It's cold, making it a little difficult to force my stiff muscles to cooperate as I stand up, but I manage. I've only been here an hour, meaning it's not even one in the morning yet, and I did originally plan on staying longer.

But I'm still tired and just want to climb back into bed—probably Cade's bed. I don't think it could hurt any more than it already will when things end between us, so I suppose the best thing to do is enjoy it while it lasts.

I don't expect to see him when I turn around, but there he is. The moonlight allows me to see him clearly, dressed snugly in a heavy winter coat. Of course, he was smart enough to bring one, and I'm over here shivering like a moron. It has me grinning, genuinely happy to see him. It's such an intense contrast to everything I was just feeling that it has my eyes tearing up.

I start walking towards him, needing him in a way that makes it impossible not to. I'm so grateful that he starts walking too, faster than I am so that we get to each other sooner.

"What are you—"

"I love you."

I freeze and stare at him in silence as an unshed tear finally slips free. "You love me?" It feels like a joke. Loving me is… it's too hard. If he loved me, why would he be against telling people about us? He tried to say that we could—as long as we kept it from his mom—but I could tell he didn't want to. He was just trying to make me feel better.

It doesn't make sense for him to love me.

"I do. You—I love you so fucking much, Nic." His forehead is warm against mine, his breath warming my cold lips.

"But you don't want anyone to know?" My voice is calm as I ask. But how does that make sense? He only wants to love me quietly, and how is that possible? Loving Cade quietly only works for me because my insides are constantly screaming with it—and I don't see that working for very long.

"No. I mean, yes, I do. We can tell everyone. Anton, my mom. Our roommates, Liam. We can tell whoever you want, Nic. We can be you and me together."

Our parents… "What are you doing here? The wedding—"

"This felt more important. I just wanted to see you—tell you that I love you. That I want to be with you and that I don't care how mad my mom gets. I told them I was coming to find you."

He loves me. "How did you find me?" I go for the easiest question as a distraction, the rest of it too overwhelming to tackle just yet.

"I shared your location with me on your phone."

"I—you're such a stalker." And I don't even mind.

"I know. Can't help it." His lips brush against mine with barely enough contact to even be considered a kiss. "I love you."

I smile, finally wrapping my arms around him as I kiss him again.

"I love you, Cade."

∞∞∞

"A re you still cold?"

"I'm fine."

"Nic, don't—I hate when you say that."

I grin as my arms slip out of his jacket. "Sorry. But I really am. I'm good." He'd given me his coat to wear while we sat for a bit with my mom—while we talked about things I'd kept hidden from him. I know I need to get back on track with my mental health, and I'm glad he agrees. He didn't even talk about it like he thought I was a freak. He did call me stupid for using orgasms as a reason to stop my antidepressant, but I can't really say I regret it. We wouldn't be here right now If I hadn't done that.

"Do you have to leave in the morning?" I think about telling him that I'll go with him, but I just don't want to. My mom died a year ago, and I don't want to watch my dad marry her replacement on the same day. Cade has mentioned me holding grudges, and I wish I could help it, but I can't. It's difficult to let go of something that's bothered me for so long.

"No." He walks into me, his warm hands sliding under my shirt and around to rest on my back. When his lips press against mine, I hold him there. Both of us linger, just savor the feel of each other's bodies pressed together. It's me who deepens the kiss. My mouth moves over his in sync, our lips wet as they glide across each other.

"Cade," I murmur, moving my arms upwards so he can pull my shirt off. "Little brother," I tease, nipping at the corner of his smile as he undoes our jeans. "I want you to fuck me."

He stops moving, leaning his head back a bit so that he can look at my face. I know that Cade is interested in topping me, so I'm not worried about any rejection.

"Are you sure?"

I nod my head, reaching into his pants to take him in hand. I'm not in a top kind of mood at the moment. I want to feel him inside me.

His breath tickles the skin on my shoulder as he moans at the touch. I walk him a few steps backward, but he stops when he hits the edge of my bed.

"I'm kind of nervous."

"You don't need to be," I tell him. "It's just us."

He makes no moves for the bed, so I crawl around him. He watches me lay down as he gets the lube, making sure to take his pants off before he moves onto the bed and then drags mine down my legs. I told him not to worry, but I am a little nervous too. It's not my first time, technically not even his, but it feels like it is. This doesn't feel like anything I've ever done before.

He's seen me naked, has even seen and touched my scars, but he's never seen me like this. Ready and waiting for him to work me open.

I don't have to ask him to go easy on me. The only experience he has with sex like this—with men—is what I've done to him—brutal fingers and hurried touches—but he reads me enough to know that I want something different.

It's uncomfortable at first—every finger he gives me elicits a burn that only goes away right before he adds another. It's been a while for me, and I know that it's going to hurt, but by the time he's got his cock lined up with my hole, I can't even think past the need to feel close to him.

"Wait," I hiss just as he pops through that second ring of muscle, breathing heavily as I try to bear down. "More lube."

That has him laughing, slowly pulling out again so that he can do what I said. I have to grab my knees and bring them to my chest, trying to change the angle and make it easier when he fits his glans back inside, stopping to give me time to adjust again. I nod my head after a moment, opening my eyes to check on him and finding him doing the same.

"Okay?"

I nod again, my tongue feeling too heavy to speak, and he gives me another inch, pausing when I whimper so that he can grab my dick and stroke. The added sensation helps alleviate some of the pain, but not enough.

"Fuck, emo boy."

I huff a laugh, the sound getting cut off as he sinks in deeper. "Shit." I swear his dick has grown. He gives me a few slow, shallow thrusts before he's able to give me more, and I can tell he's holding back so much just by how tight his grip on my thigh is.

He slips over my prostate, finally giving me something that has me lighting up, and I blow out a breath in relief. "Right there," I moan, urging him to do it again with a soft push of my hips. " Fuck ." It's subtle, just a light stoking of the embers as he rocks his hips into mine, but it's perfect.

He falls into a steady rhythm, his breaths mingling with the sounds of my quiet moans. "Nic." He leans over me, his free hand sliding over my ribs and adding to all the pleasure flooding my senses. The hand working my dick starts to move faster, him hinting that he's close already by bringing me right there with him.

"I love you," he whispers against my mouth, and I can only nod my head again. "I could've sworn that I've been in love before, Nic, but I was wrong. This is—it's everything. You're everything." His eyelids flutter, struggling not to close the closer to the finish line he gets. "I don't think I could ever love you any more than I do right now."

My hand curls in the hair on the back of his head, tightening as he pegs that spot over and over, timing it perfectly with every tug on my cock.

I love him. Cade, my stepbrother. It almost feels like it happened too fast, but I think I've had feelings for him for a long time. He drives me crazy, can piss me off in ways that nobody else has ever managed, and I'm so fucking happy that he's mine—that he wants me as his.

My body locks up as I start to come, everything hitting me all at once. He keeps stroking me through it, only letting himself fall over the peak when the last pearl of cum falls onto my stomach.

"You okay?" He's breathing too heavily to be talking, but he's checking in on me, and I adore him for it. I don't take it anywhere near as easy on him when the roles are reversed—not until the very end—so I appreciate him giving me this gentleness.

"Mhm." But I lightly push at his abdomen, wanting him out of me.

"You know what I want to do?"

"Hm?"

"Get married."

"What?" I try to sit up, but he stops me with a hand on my chest. "Like… eventually?"

"No. I mean now. Like right now."

"Cade." I roll my eyes.

"I'm serious."

"We can't do that." I'm risking looking like an idiot by actually taking him seriously, but he seems so sincere, and I know that some people get crazy after sex.

"We can, though. We should."

"Are you—our parents are getting married today, Cade. You're fucking crazy."

"If I am, it's probably your fault. I think we should—not today. But soon. Maybe tomorrow. I meant what I said: I can't imagine loving you anymore than I do right now. I want to feel like this forever. Will you marry me?"