Chapter 3

Chapter Three

brONX

"So Frey was telling me he has this friend?—"

"No." Bronx's voice was sharp. He didn't mean to sound mean. Not really. But he'd been waiting for someone to start in with the "So I know a guy" bullshit. Dallas looked hurt, and Bronx had always folded whenever he saw that look on his little brother's face, but he was sticking to his guns this time.

"Babe, your brother's not trying to be a dick," Kylen cut in, smiling at Bronx over the rim of his wineglass. "He literally just got back from seeing his ex. Now's not the time to get back into the dating pool. He needs time to get over it all."

"Isn't the best way to get over someone to get under someone else?" Dallas asked.

Kylen made a choking noise. "I love you, but no. Stop."

"Fine, fine." Dallas put his hands up. "It's probably better that the ace guy doesn't give sex advice."

"You give fine advice," Bronx told him. "But you know better than anyone how much it sucks to try and date right after your life falls apart. "

Dallas bowed his head. "Yeah, no. I guess I thought my problem was me being…different or whatever."

Bronx felt a wave of sympathy for his brother, knowing what he'd gone through recently. It ended the best possible way a big come-out could end. Being madly in love with a really amazing man who understood him in ways no one ever had.

But Bronx also knew Dallas was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he was on the asexual spectrum. And that after all these years of thinking he knew what he liked and who he wanted, he'd fallen in love with a man.

Bronx felt a little bad because he couldn't really relate. He knew early on who and what he liked. His come-out had been quiet and without a lot of fanfare. The only problem was, in the past, he'd been attracted to men like Jules, and he was absolutely and completely done with that nonsense.

It was the newest item on his "get my shit together" list: no more douchebags. Jules had been the worst of the worst, but there were too many men out there like him, and Bronx needed to make sure he was in the right headspace to see all the red flags.

He didn't want to start that journey by having his brother's friends set him up on blind dates that were definitely going to end in disaster. Hell, he wasn't sure he ever wanted to date again, if he was being honest with himself. He wasn't opposed to a friends-with-benefits sort of thing. It had been too many years since he'd been involved in hookup culture, but that sounded a hell of a lot nicer than giving his heart away again.

The problem was he felt a little too old to be playing those games. And frankly, who was going to want some washed-up man with slightly saggy nipples, grey chest hair, and a teenage kid ?

The answer to that: no one.

"What's that look?"

Lucas lifted his face. "What look? Describe it in so much detail he wants to fling himself into the ocean."

"It's almost like you get a sick enjoyment from tormenting me," Bronx complained. "I just—" His words were interrupted when Flora began to bang her fork on the plate.

"Enough," Kylen warned her.

Flora's face went flush around her cheeks. Bronx knew that look. He hadn't seen it in years, but he knew what was coming. He braced himself.

"I want…to…play… drums !" she screamed.

Lucas winced. He'd always been more sensitive to noise—a combination of an autistic thing and a blind thing. He used to melt down at the sound of slightly raised voices, and it had taken him years to cope with people being really loud.

Luckily, they didn't live with toddlers, or he would've been screwed.

Bronx took a breath to try and distract Flora, but Lucas pushed away from the table and stood up. "Hey, princess. Wanna go show me that Rapunzel game you have?"

Flora's jaw snapped shut, and she looked at Kylen, whose face was torn. Bronx knew he didn't want to reward her screaming, but it was obvious he wasn't going to die on this hill tonight.

"Go for it," Kylen said. "But no screaming. Remember, it hurts people's ears."

"Okay," Flora whispered. She shifted off her chair and seized Lucas's hand. "I could show you."

Kylen sat back with a heavy breath and rubbed a hand down his face. "I need to be paying him a fucking salary for being able to calm her down."

Bronx waved him off. "He's always been a kid whisperer."

"Does he want any of his own?" Kylen asked.

Dallas and Bronx both laughed. "So far, he says not anytime soon, if ever." Bronx pushed his plate away, then stood and stretched his back. "I wouldn't mind being a gramps, but I'm hoping he waits until I feel like a grandpa instead of just looking like one."

"You're not that old," Dallas pointed out.

His back begged to differ. He'd pulled something rolling out of bed that morning. And yes, he wasn't that old. He'd gone grey early, which he was pretty sure was thanks to the stress of caring for his little brother when he was meant to be a teenager, but he'd never actually blame Dallas for that. He just felt a little like the world had passed him by while he was stuck, and now it was too late for him.

He'd had his chance at happily ever after, and it had blown up in his face.

It was time to move on to other things, and frankly, he didn't mind the idea of setting up a little bungalow near the water once Lucas went off to college. He could get a dog, maybe a couple of cats, a few birds. He'd set himself up a little menagerie, and he had a feeling it would be the happiest he'd ever been.

Animals loved more purely and unconditionally than humans. That was all he really wanted. To come home and be welcome. To not have to walk on eggshells, trying to think of anything that might have pissed his partner off.

He hadn't realized just how bad it had gotten until Jules left. Until the house was quiet and he no longer had to pause before letting out a breath for fear of being accused of sighing. He could sit around in silence and not worry that his partner thought he was being passive-aggressive.

He could just…be.

That was the life he wanted to live.

"Let me help with dishes," he said, shaking his head out of his thoughts. Dallas was grabbing all the plates in his arms.

"If you want to get the cups, that'll help. But we have a dishwasher. It's not like when we were kids."

Bronx snorted. They'd grown up with a dishwasher, but neither of them had been allowed to use it. It sat there like some kitchen ornament, and it was the one thing he'd indulged in when he and Jules had been picking out a house. His had been state-of-the-art, and when he'd seen Dallas's, he knew his brother had walked away with that same trauma.

They stood at the sink a few inches apart, and Bronx mused on just how happy Dallas looked now. He hadn't ever said much when Dallas was married, but he'd always hated Katie. She was unkind to Bronx and Lucas. She made it feel like they should be grateful she even looked their way and that visiting them was a chore.

He hadn't put up much of a fight when Dallas stopped coming around, but maybe he should have. Maybe he could have saved him a few years of pain.

"So, I wanted to say?—"

"Can I?—"

They stopped, and Dallas rolled his eyes, laughing. "You go."

Bronx bit his lip, then finished his sentence. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go for it." Dallas could likely tell it was going to be heavier than a favor. He didn't meet Bronx's gaze, fixing his eyes on the sink as he rinsed the plates.

"Did I fuck up?"

Dallas glanced over. "With what? Jules? Because I swear to God, Bronx, if you're thinking of going back to him?—"

Bronx felt a surge of anger, and he took a step back. "Why do you keep saying that? Why does anyone think I'm going back to him after what he did to me, never mind Lucas ? You think I'd take back a man who treated my son like that?"

Dallas looked immediately apologetic. "Hey, look…"

"No," Bronx snapped. "Do you seriously think that low of me?"

"No. God, no." Dallas threw his towel down, closed the dishwasher, then took a step back, leaning against the counter. "That's not a criticism of you. It's…" He trailed off, licking his lips nervously, then grimaced. "There was a period of time right before Audra was born where I realized I would take her back if she'd asked me to. She didn't, thank God, but I was so fucking lonely and weak, and I just wanted to have a family that wasn't broken, you know?"

Bronx did know. A little too well. And it was probably a quiet reason kept in the shadows for why he'd lasted so long with Jules. He deflated. "No one would have blamed you, Dallas."

"Yeah, but I would have been miserable, and I'm really glad I stayed strong. But I didn't want you to hit that point, you know? I wanted to be able to talk you out of it if you somehow got there."

His feelings were hurt only because it didn't matter how low he was, he'd never take back a man who treated his son the way Jules had. He assumed his brother would have known that about him. But then again, there had been distance between them for years, so maybe it wasn't fair to assume Dallas knew him very well at all these days.

"So, what do you think you fucked up?" Dallas asked.

Bronx had almost forgotten his question. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "Everything with you. Katie was so terrible with Lucas, and you were so miserable, but I didn't think you were going to leave her, so when you walked away, I let you go. And I wouldn't blame you if you hated me a little bit for that. It's like you said—there were moments of weakness, and I wasn't around to be able to talk you out of them."

This was a conversation a long time coming. He knew that much. He should have said this months ago. Before his own life had fallen apart.

Dallas blinked, then let out a very soft laugh. "Are you serious?"

Bronx shrugged. "Well, yeah. I've been there for you your whole life, but when shit hit the fan, I just…wasn't. I let you shoulder all of that by yourself, and I feel like a giant dickhead."

Dallas crossed his arms and looked at him for a long moment. "If I was upset about it back then, I'm not now. But I'm pretty sure I got what I deserved. I let her treat Lucas the way she did. I mean, we fought about it, and I told her to stop being such a fucking weirdo about him, but I could have done more. I should have made sure he heard me standing up for him."

"I knew it wasn't you," came a voice to their left.

Both Bronx and Dallas turned to see Lucas standing in the kitchen doorway with his hand on the wall. Dallas took a step closer to his nephew. "Yeah, but actions are a lot louder than words, and you deserved to hear me tell her she was out of line. "

"When you're blind, words are definitely more important," Lucas said with a small grin. He walked forward, his hand out, and Bronx caught him and guided him closer. For a moment, with the way he was holding his head and the smirk on his face, he looked so much like Jules.

He hated it, but not more than he loved his son.

"Don't be a smart-ass," Dallas said. "You know what I mean."

"Bruh, you've apologized like twelve times now. We're good ."

"Don't call your uncle bruh," Bronx said.

"You're going to have to get over that," Dallas told him. "My kinders have started using sigma Ohio and some other shit I cannot pronounce."

Lucas grimaced. "Please don't group me in with those. My generation is not that bad."

"Well, thank God for small favors," Dallas said and pulled his nephew close. "Anyway, Luke is right. We're all good here, okay? No one fucked up. We got through the shitty parts in our lives, and we're moving on."

"Fuck yeah," Lucas said.

Bronx elbowed him. "Don't push it."

Lucas just grinned and rested his head on Bronx's shoulder. "We're good, Dad."

His heart swelled. Dad . He could reclaim that now, with his son's permission. And no other word had ever sounded so good.