Chapter Nine

Finn

Finn couldn’t cook for shit but he made a mean lentil Bolognese that Brandon professed to love. He wasn’t sure Brandon was telling the truth because the guy had never said a mean word to Finn in their entire history, not even when Finn asked him if he looked okay when he wasn’t sure about his clothes, or he had a big spot on his chin or his nose was bright red with a cold and the skin flaking off from rubbing it so much. Brandon always said Finn was the smartest, most beautiful, most wonderful human being in the world, so he was hardly going to tell him that his one good dish, the dish he had perfected since he had met Brandon, was shit, was he?

The spaghetti was cooking and the sauce was ready when Brandon opened the front door and unlaced his boots, leaving them on the mat. He hung his hat on a peg in the hallway. “Hey, beautiful,” he called.

“Hey,” Finn called back and busied himself stirring the Bolognese because he knew Brandon would see he was faking being okay and he wasn’t okay, not since he’d seen Holden at the diner.

Brandon came through to the kitchen. He approached behind Finn and slid his arms around his lover’s waist. “What’s going on?” he said softly against Finn’s ear.

Finn sighed inwardly. There was a reason Brandon was a cop. “It’s nothing.”

“Yes, it is. Something to do with that writer.”

Shit, there were no flies on him. He didn’t miss the slightest glance, the barest nuance in body language. Finn licked his lips. “Let me dish up.”

Brandon stepped back. “Sure. I’ll wash my hands.”

“Sublime as always, Mr. Austen,” Brandon said after the first mouthful.

“Thank you,” said Finn, not believing him even though he thought it tasted good too.

“Did you put more garlic in it this time?”

Finn shrugged. “Maybe three or four cloves.”

Brandon coughed. “Shit, Finn, good job I don’t mind your stale garlic breath in the morning.”

“Right back at you, Sheriff,” Finn said.

Brandon grinned. He squeezed Finn’s knee under the table. “Seeing as you didn’t get much sleep last night, maybe an early night is in order tonight?”

“One hundred per cent,” Finn said.

“Yeah?”

Finn leaned towards him. Their noses brushed. “Yeah.” Then their lips. Brandon caressed his thigh, moving onto its inner side.

“I love you,” he said against Finn’s mouth.

“I love you more,” Finn said.

Brandon drew back, smiling. He chewed another mouthful. “So,” he said, “what did the writer do to upset you today?”

Finn sighed. He had hoped Brandon had forgotten. His cock was hard just from the touch of Brandon’s hand and lips and the promise in his eyes, and he wanted to roll around on the sheets for a couple of hours without the conversation with Holden Maddison hanging over his head. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “You know how I told you Tyler is living on Holden’s property?”

Brandon nodded. He looked away at the mention of the house where Finn had once lived and almost lost his life.

“Well, I went over to see him yesterday with those stump socks I got him, and we got to talking…”

“And you told him about…” Brandon stopped. He reached for his water glass and took a drink.

“Yeah,” Finn said. Neither of them liked to say Dominic’s name. Even now the guy had the ability to cast a shadow over them both. “He told Holden and Holden came to the diner and asked if I’d like to work with him on a book.”

He saw the instant flash of anger in Brandon’s dark eyes before he damped it down. “And how did you feel about that?” he asked in a controlled tone.

“I wasn’t happy.”

Brandon nodded.

“I get it, though,” Finn said. “The guy’s bankrupt. He needs to make a fast buck. Maybe he thought my tale might appeal to readers.”

Brandon put his fork down. He reached out and smoothed his fingertips over the curve of Finn’s cheek. “Once again, you see the good in people even if they’re trying to exploit you,” he said softly.

“I don’t think he’s trying to do that,” Finn murmured. He leaned in to Brandon’s touch, closing his eyes. “I feel sorry for him. I feel sorry for Tyler. They’re both broken souls. They should get together.”

Brandon smiled. “Are they both gay before you try and match make?”

Finn grinned. “I told you Holden’s agent ran off with all his money, right? His male agent who was also his lover.”

“Ah, right.”

“And Tyler virtually told me he has the hots for him.”

“There’s quite an age gap.”

Finn snorted. “So what?”

“Yeah,” Brandon said. “So what? That doesn’t mean I don’t want to have a private word with Holden though.”

Finn sighed. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want you wading in and…”

Brandon lifted an eyebrow. “Wading in and what?” They looked at each other. Finn didn’t speak. Brandon regarded him. “Now I know you can’t mean throwing my fists around, right? Because that’s not me, as you know. I hope you’re not comparing me to him.”

Finn felt the blood drain from his face. He pushed his chair back and took his plate to the counter.

Behind him, Brandon heaved a sigh. “Sorry.”

Finn turned around. “Why would you say that? When have I ever thought that you’re anything like Dominic?”

Brandon looked shame-faced. “I didn’t engage my brain. Forgive me.”

The tears were springing too easily to Finn’s eyes today. He hid them by reaching a bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses from the cupboard, pouring with an unsteady hand. Then he leaned against the counter, sipping, and looking at Brandon.

“You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

Finn ignored the comment. “You don’t need to say anything to Holden. I can handle myself.”

Brandon drank some water. He watched Finn. Finn watched him back. The air was thick with tension and regret. Finn bit his lip. His voice was barely audible when he spoke. “Maybe I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“Maybe I’ll speak to Holden. About writing a book. To help others.”

Brandon swallowed. He looked anguished. “Are you sure?”

Finn gave a little laugh. “No.”

Brandon bit his lip. He pushed his chair back a little, then held out his hand. Finn walked across the kitchen, sat on Brandon’s lap, and put his arms around his neck. Brandon pulled him close. He held Finn tight, face buried against his shoulder. “Whatever you want, my love,” he said, voice muffled. “I’ll support you in everything you do. Always.”

Finn tightened his arms, squeezing Brandon. Without Dominic, and the abuse, and running for his life, he never would have ended up here in Clear Water Creek, with Brandon. It was perverse to think that way but didn’t he owe the murderous abusing son of a bitch a debt of gratitude? He smothered an inappropriate giggle and realized that if he could now laugh about what Dominic had done to him, he really was much further down the road to healing than he had thought. He stroked Brandon’s dark, silky hair and mouthed his neck, feeling his partner shiver.

“Take me to bed.”

Brandon responded by lifting Finn in his arms as he stood. Wrapping his legs around him, Finn held on tight as Brandon carried him from the kitchen and began to mount the stairs. Brandon kissed him as he carried him through to their bedroom and laid him down on the bed. Finn pulled him close and their mouths clung, tongues entwined, bodies pressing together. The night was still light and warm and through the open window, Finn could hear the soundtrack of cicadas. Brandon undressed him. He slid down Finn’s body, kissing all the way before he licked around the rim of his cockhead, making Finn arch in pleasure. Even now he was awkward at being naked with Brandon, with his many scars and deformities, his body so thin and pale compared to Brandon’s.

Looking up through his lashes as he tongued Finn’s slit, Brandon seemed to read all the thoughts in his mind. He’d kissed the scald on Finn’s arm and chest a thousand times. He’d run his fingers and his mouth over the scar on his left ankle where Dominic had broken his leg, the scars on his back where Dominic had taken a metal-studded belt to him. He knew every inch of Finn’s body and he worshipped it all. Still, Finn wished he was more. More man, less fear, less scars, less memories.

Brandon pressed a scar to Finn’s inner thigh with a sigh. “You drifted away.”

“Sorry.”

“No apology necessary.” Brandon stroked his hip. “Want to stop?”

“No. I want you.”

Brandon regarded him for the longest time. “When are you going to stop being worried about your body?”

Finn bit his lip and itched to drag the covers over his nakedness.

Brandon lowered his head and kissed Finn’s thigh, the base of his cock, and his neat thatch of pubic hair. “When are you going to realize how much I love and want you and how your body drives me crazy, despite what you think about it?”

Tears started to leak down Finn’s face before he could control them. Brandon slid up his body to cradle Finn’s head and hold him close. No matter that he’d had a laugh at Dominic downstairs, it always came back to this for Finn. The anxiety of being undressed by Brandon, those horrific injuries being viewed, and the cycle of memories once again awakened.

It would never end.