12. Eleven - Izzy

Izzy let Keegan deepen the kiss, sinking into it and reveling in Keegan’s warmth and strength. He wondered how much convincing it would take to get him upstairs. Bonus points if fucking Izzy into the mattress made Keegan forget the line of questioning they’d been on. Izzy didn’t want to go there. He was barely holding shit together as it was.

The house of cards that made up Izzy’s life was swaying precariously, and for some reason, the solid foundation his fucked-up brain had decided to latch on to was his worst enemy.

Except, that wasn’t fair. Keegan wasn’t his enemy anymore. Maybe he never had been. Maybe he’d been the scapegoat for all the crap Izzy didn’t want to deal with. Either way, Keegan had seen Izzy at his worst, he knew what Izzy was capable of, and despite Izzy’s best efforts, he was still there.

The past week had felt like a series of back-to-back panic attacks interspersed with Izzy desperately searching for distraction—often finding it in Keegan. It had reached the point that he’d dug up an old bottle of anxiety meds. The doctor at the hospital had prescribed them after his accident to help him sleep. Izzy had tried them once, hated how foggy they made him feel, then shoved them into his medicine cabinet and promptly forgotten about then. They didn’t seem to be doing much this time, but Izzy wasn’t sure if that was because his brain was too screwed up for even medication to fix or because they were really fucking expired.

Keegan worked better than anxiety meds anyway.

Izzy had already begged off the New York trip—there was no way he could fake being fun-Izzy for four days with his anxiety on a hair trigger and a panic attack just a stray thought away. More than that, Ev was apparently the viral celebrity of the moment and had even been seen in the company of Remy Dalton. The last thing Izzy needed was to be linked to someone famous and have some reporter start digging into his past. His only goal was to keep his head down until all of this blew over and people forgot they’d ever heard the name Joshua Martin.

Keegan broke the kiss in increments, coming back for more several times before he chuckled and stepped away. “You’re more addictive than caffeine,” he said.

“And I can get you up faster too,” Izzy shot back with an exaggerated wink.

Keegan laughed through a groan, then dove in for another kiss that made Izzy’s head swim, his toes tingle, and left him panting. “Such a brat,” Keegan said when he stepped back again. “But you’re not wrong.”

Izzy grinned, warmth pooling in his belly. He dropped his gaze to the front of Keegan’s pants. “Want me to do something about that?”

His phone buzzed with an incoming text, and Izzy’s warmth evaporated. Sammy had been keeping him up-to-date on the media firestorm. It had only gotten worse when she’d released her own statement, backing up Emma’s story and telling the world that she had also been victimized by Joshua Martin.

He thought about ignoring the notification until later, but just like every other time, he couldn’t do it. The anticipation was more than he could handle.

It wasn’t from Sammy. It was from his father.

Dad

A reporter called the farm earlier today with questions about you and Josh Martin. A newer member of the office staff gave him the number for the ranch.

Oh god. Izzy fumbled the phone and watched as it fell, landing faceup in the bedding.

Keegan stooped to retrieve it.

Izzy wanted to push him away, yank it from his hands, shout at him to go away and leave Izzy to have his mental breakdown in peace. Except he was frozen. Numb. A dull roar filled his ears, and he blinked spots from his vision. It had finally happened. Someone was putting the pieces together, and now it was just a matter of time before the truth came out. Before the whole world knew the part Izzy had played in what Josh had done.

“Isaac,” Keegan said, his hands cupping Izzy’s cheeks. “Take a deep breath for me, baby.”

“My phone,” Izzy croaked.

“It’s in your hand. I didn’t read it.”

Izzy could have cried with gratitude. Instead, he pushed Keegan away. He needed space. He didn’t want Keegan to see him like this.

The winter air was frigid on his cheeks, the world blindingly bright. Izzy sucked in one icy breath after another, hoping to numb the nausea crawling up his throat. He could see Josh’s smile, hear his laugh, feel his hands. Izzy coughed, folding at the waist, elbows braced on his knees as he spat out the saliva pooling in his mouth.

Izzy’s leg throbbed, pain radiating outward from the break. Emma held his hand and cried. Izzy hated that he couldn’t cry with her. Everything was so fucked up. Josh was laughing at him, mocking him for how naive he was. Izzy wanted to punch him in the face, but he couldn’t. His arms were too heavy.

None of this was real. He was spiraling. Clinging to his moment of clarity, Izzy shoved his hands into the snow. He hissed as the cold bit into him, but he didn’t pull them back. He needed the shock of pain to help him focus.

“Izzy.” Keegan’s warm hands were on his cheeks. Izzy wasn’t sure where he’d come from, but he didn’t fight him, just shut his eyes and focused on his breathing and the icy cold burning his hands.

Izzy didn’t even realize they were on the ground until Keegan eased back and asked him if he thought he could stand. Izzy shrugged, then nodded, so Keegan helped him to his feet. His knees were as wobbly as a newborn foal—and he’d seen enough newborn foals to back that statement up—but he managed to stay vertical.

“Easy,” Keegan said, gripping Izzy’s elbow when he stumbled. Izzy focused on putting one foot in front of the other instead of the sudden desire to tell Keegan he was fine. To push him far, far away.

Keegan led him to Ryan’s office and got him settled in the big armchair in front of the desk. It was Archer’s favorite napping spot when he’d had a long night. Archer’s long nights were nothing like Izzy’s. Archer had a habit of getting sucked into a project and forgetting what day it was. Izzy loved to give him shit for his “wild all-nighters with his muse.”

Someone was talking. Izzy tried to blink the world back into focus. Everything was fuzzy and far away, almost like he’d had a few too many drinks, except Izzy was pretty sure he hadn’t been drinking.

“I’m not comfortable leaving him,” Keegan was saying.

“I’ll talk to Micah,” Ryan replied. “But I know he’ll feel the same way. We can go to New York another time.”

Crap. Izzy fought the brain fog. “Don’t fucking cancel your trip,” he snapped, his voice not nearly as strong as he planned. “I’m fine. I don’t need babysitting.”

Keegan was frowning, his arms folded over his chest in a way that made his biceps bulge and would have distracted Izzy in any other situation. Ryan just looked unimpressed.

“You might not want to tell us what’s going on,” Ryan said evenly, “but no one is convinced that you’re fine.”

Izzy pushed himself upright and gripped the armrests until the dizzying wave of exhaustion passed. “What, are you the feelings expert now?” he sneered. “’Cause I know for a…for a fact…that…” Izzy stumbled to a stop, eyeing Keegan.

Keegan’s arched eyebrow dared him to continue, and as much as his gut was screaming at him to raise his defenses, he couldn’t do it.

He deflated, slumping back. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” he grumbled.

“I guess you’ll have to settle for a kidnapper then,” Keegan said, tone desert-dry.

Izzy gaped at him. “ What ?” he squeaked.

“You don’t want Micah and Ryan to cancel their trip, and you made it clear you aren’t going to New York, so your only other option is coming to the cabin with me.”

Izzy was already shaking his head. “That’s bullshit. You can’t make me do that.” The last thing he wanted was to be stuck up on the mountain with Keegan for however many days. There wasn’t nearly enough to distract him. He’d go stir-crazy. “Who’s going to take care of the horses?”

“The same people who were going to when you were coming to New York with the rest of us. Alice, Maggie, and two of the summer part-timers.”

“And the rescues?”

“They’ll be fine, Izzy.”

Izzy tried to find the energy to argue, but he was just too tired. Apparently, he was getting kidnapped. Was it still kidnapping if you didn’t fight it?

“What do you mean, there’s no reception?” Izzy asked, aghast. What the fuck was he supposed to do up here with no phone?

“I didn’t say that,” Keegan replied, tone unbothered, which Izzy thought was bullshit. “We don’t get internet, but calls usually go through.”

“ Usually ?” Izzy was going to have another panic attack. He was sure of it. “Worst kidnapping ever,” he grumbled as he tossed his phone down on the coffee table in front of him.

He could feel Keegan’s amusement from across the room where he was unloading groceries. Prick. Izzy flopped over and pulled up his feet. There was a hole in his sock. Had he packed other socks? He couldn’t remember. Most of the time between when Keegan and Ryan had given their ultimatum and when they were bouncing up the fire road in Keegan’s truck—Chance and Lucky climbing over each other in the back seat and Riley sprawled across Izzy’s lap in the front—was a blur of dissociation.

Izzy let his arm hang off the side of the couch until his hand brushed fur. Riley had been glued to his side since they’d picked her up, and Izzy loved her for it. Resting his hand on her back and feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing was comforting. It had been a few hours since his meltdown, and even now, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Keegan had given him a brief tour of the cabin—well, as much of a tour as you could give when the place was basically one room, a bathroom, and a sleeping loft. It was cozy. Well, it was freezing at first until Keegan got the woodstove going, and then it warmed up quickly. Now it was cozy. And toasty enough that Izzy had shucked out of his winter gear. He was down to his jeans and a long-sleeved thermal shirt. Keegan had done the same and hung their outerwear on hooks by the door.

Everything was wood—the floors, walls, and vaulted ceiling all made out of the same stuff. The living area was open to a small kitchen made of more wood, both the cabinets and countertops, though those were a different color at least. An eating nook was just off the kitchen holding a small table and two chairs.

In the living area, a woven rug warmed up the space, along with a few tables, also wood. Izzy was stretched out on the only comfortable piece of furniture in the cabin—barring whatever was in the sleeping loft—a massive leather sofa with deep, squishy cushions. It had been cold, too, at first, but now it was warming to his body temperature. The woodstove helped with that.

The walls held several bookshelves packed with titles that Izzy couldn’t make out from his vantage point, but they seemed to be a mixture of colorful paperbacks and big, hardcover textbooks. Izzy had the sinking suspicion that those were Keegan’s main source of entertainment up here. God, Izzy was going to be bored to tears. Maybe he could just sleep the week away. At least he could avoid his thoughts that way since doomscrolling wasn’t going to be an option.

Well, there was always sex too. He might not remember if he’d packed socks or not, but he’d been sure to include a large bottle of lube and—because he’d wanted to see the look on Keegan’s face—a few toys. Sex and sleep. It didn’t sound bad when Izzy thought of it that way. And if it gave him a break from the shitshow happening out in the real world, all the better.

He’d just need to get Keegan on board with his plan.

He blinked as a steaming mug was lowered into his field of vision, then rolled to his back to meet Keegan’s eyes.

Keegan looked soft in his worn sweater and jeans, his reddish-blond hair more rumpled than normal from his hat. His cheeks, more scruffy than stubbled at the moment, still held a hint of pink after unloading the truck and carrying in a few loads of firewood from the covered front porch. Izzy had offered to help, but Keegan had been firm that all he wanted Izzy to do today was sit his ass on the couch and warm up. Apparently, Izzy’s panic attack had freaked Keegan out a little, and now he was in overprotective, papa-bear mode. Izzy…didn’t hate it.

He pushed himself upright enough to lean against the armrest and took the steaming mug. He expected coffee but was startled by a whiff of cinnamon instead. Tea? He took a careful sip. No. Not tea, but cider. Warmth settled in Izzy’s chest, and he sighed. “Thanks,” he told Keegan as he returned from the kitchen with his own mug and sat at the other end of the couch. Izzy shoved his toes under Keegan’s thigh.

Instead of grumbling like Izzy thought he would, Keegan gave his ankle a squeeze. “Need a blanket?” He nodded to the throw over the back of the sofa. “I have a thicker duvet in the cabinet too, if you want.”

Izzy suddenly felt much too warm. He shook his head. “I’m fine.” He needed a different topic. “Where are the other dogs? Do you just let them run wild out here?”

As if sensing his attention, Riley pushed herself up to sitting and dropped her head to the cushion next to Izzy. He stroked the soft spot between her snowy ears.

“They don’t go far without me,” Keegan explained. “They all have trackers in their collars and orange safety vests so no one mistakes them for hunting targets. Not that hunting is allowed up here or we see any people. It’s more for my peace of mind than anything.”

That helped Izzy’s peace of mind too. He knew from the drive up that Keegan’s land was bordered on three sides by national park and on the fourth by the top edge of the ranch. Still, it was better to be safe. “So with you, they do wander?”

Keegan shrugged and sipped his cider, drawing distracting circles on Izzy’s ankle bone with his thumb. “There’s a ten-mile loop that we take in the summer. It has a gorgeous waterfall at the halfway point that hardly anyone knows about. The water comes straight out of the mountain, so it’s freezing, but it feels great to strip down and dive in after a few hours of hiking.”

Izzy bit his lip to keep from telling Keegan he wanted to see it. That felt too personal somehow. “Aren’t you worried about shrinkage?” he said instead.

Keegan chuckled and gave Izzy’s ankle a squeeze that sent tingles up his leg and caused the opposite problem from shrinkage. “It’s never been something I needed to worry about.”

Izzy scraped his teeth across his lip, wondering if Keegan meant because he was big enough that he didn’t care, or that he’d never had anyone up here with him for size to matter.

“Speaking of cocks,” Izzy started, causing Keegan to sputter around the next sip of his drink then start coughing, his eyes tearing up with pain. Izzy winced. “Sorry,” he said.

Keegan waved him off. “I should have expected that,” he rasped, clearing his throat and wiping at his damp eyes.

Izzy tensed. What was that supposed to mean? That Keegan should have known Izzy would segue into sex? “I feel like I should be offended,” he said, then paused. “But I guess that’s fair.” Izzy did change the topic to sex a lot, but he didn’t see it as a problem. He liked sex. He liked feeling good. Feeling wanted. Anyone who had a problem with it should probably look for a different friend, because Izzy didn’t plan to stop. “But, speaking of cocks,” he kept going, ignoring Keegan’s pained chuckle, “I hope you’re staying hydrated. Because, as my kidnapper, you’re gonna have to keep me entertained while I’m trapped with no internet.”

Keegan’s eyes shone with mirth. “That’s an interesting view you have on kidnapping.”

“I mean, you can let me get bored,” Izzy said. “But I don’t think you want to be responsible for my actions if I am. Just ask Micah what happens if I’m cooped up too long.”

“I could always tie you up and gag you,” Keegan suggested.

Izzy’s skin warmed, most of the heat rushing south. He shifted on the sofa cushion, pretending he was just trying to get comfortable instead of trying not to let his squirming arousal give him away. “Kinky,” he teased. “But I think you underestimate my ability to drive you crazy without words.”

“I definitely don’t,” Keegan murmured, his gaze focused on where he was rubbing his palm over the rough blond hairs on Izzy’s calf.

Izzy squirmed again. Dammit. Now he was really horny. That hadn’t been the plan, but Keegan was too good at getting him worked up. He set his mug aside and crawled into Keegan’s lap.

Keegan sucked in a breath but didn’t protest. His hands found Izzy’s hips, and he helped position him over his cock. Keegan wasn’t fully hard, but he was getting there.

Izzy rocked his hips, a pleased hum slipping free. Yes. This was what he needed to chase away the last of the unsettling feelings from earlier. He was already anticipating the burning stretch of Keegan’s cock splitting him open while Izzy rode him on the couch.

“Izzy,” Keegan said, his tone all wrong for where Izzy’s brain was at. Izzy ignored him until he tried again. “Isaac,” he said, a clear order to stop. Izzy sighed but slowed the undulation of his hips.

“Yes, Henry?” he said, half teasing and half liking that he could call Keegan something that was just his. Pet names felt too weird, and Kee was a terrible option. It made him think of Ghostbusters . I am Zuul .

Keegan huffed. “I’m not saying no,” he told Izzy, voice firm.

Izzy didn’t like where this was going. He looked down to where Keegan’s bulge was pressing against the front of his pants, matching his own. “Yeah? ’Cause that would be a stupid thing to do,” he replied, trying not to get huffy.

Keegan slid his fingers into Izzy’s hair and gave a tug that made him shiver, even as he was forced to make eye contact again. “You’ve had a rough day.”

Izzy scowled, his warmth fleeing. “Fine. Whatever.” He tried to extricate himself from Keegan’s lap.

Keegan tugged on his hair again, hard enough to make Izzy wince. “Are you going to listen to me, or are you going to jump to the worst possible conclusion?”

Izzy’s nostrils flared, but he stopped trying to get away. “I’m listening.”

Keegan loosened his grip, stroking his fingers through Izzy’s hair in a way that made him want to melt. “You’ve had a rough day,” Keegan said again, then paused and seemed to rethink what he was trying to say. “I’m going to say something you might not like, but I want you to think about your answer before you get pissed at me.” He cupped the back of Izzy’s neck and gave a brief squeeze.

Izzy rolled his eyes. “I suppose I can do that.”

Keegan’s expression warmed with amusement. “Thank you.”

Izzy took a steadying breath and waited for whatever Keegan had to say that was so terrible.

“Do you really want sex right now? Or do you just want closeness?”

Izzy frowned. That was Keegan’s big, scary question? He didn’t get it. “Sex,” he answered easily.

Keegan nodded slowly. “All right. Can you tell me why?”

What the hell was Keegan going on about? “Look,” Izzy huffed. “If you aren’t interested, I can take care of myself. I packed toys.”

“You packed—” Keegan looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or give Izzy a shake. It was an expression he was used to. “We’ll come back to that. I’m not asking because of anything I want or don’t want. I’m asking because you had a panic attack this morning that scared the shit out of me, and then you spent half the day dissociating. I’m having a hard time believing you’re anything other than exhausted.”

An electric shock of adrenaline shot through Izzy, and the only reason he didn’t do everything in his power to escape the conversation was Keegan’s steady, questioning gaze and the strong hand on the back of his neck. He blinked and swallowed, searching for words but coming up empty.

“Can we try something?” Keegan asked, stroking Izzy’s arm with his free hand.

“I…guess,” Izzy said, still reeling and unsure.

Keegan nudged Izzy from his lap. “Stay right here.”

Izzy did as he was told. Riley was curled up on the rug again, her nose tucked under her fluffy tail. She was too cute, and it was a struggle not to crawl off the couch and bury his face in her fur.

Keegan returned a minute later and dropped a pillow on the couch. After some rearranging, Izzy found himself playing little spoon under a thick, fluffy duvet, with his head on the pillow. Keegan wrapped his arms around him and squeezed.

“So we’re just…gonna cuddle?” Izzy asked, more confused than anything. Cuddling without sex seemed weirdly foreign, though he knew it shouldn’t. Plenty of people just cuddled with their partner. Not that that was what he and Keegan were, even if Keegan was acting like one at the moment. It was probably just cause of what he’d said—that Izzy’s panic attack had freaked him out. Maybe Izzy just needed to convince him that he was fine and it wouldn’t happen again.

The problem with that plan being, it was going to happen again. Oh well. He’d deal with that shaky bridge when they were forced across it. For now, he was cuddling with Keegan Reid. What even was his life?

Izzy’s tension started dropping in increments. Keegan was solid and strong behind him, his breath warm on the back of Izzy’s neck, his arms tight around Izzy’s torso and applying the perfect amount of pressure.

God, it felt good . It was enough to put him to sleep if he wasn’t careful. He trailed his hand along Keegan’s forearm, enjoying the coarseness of arm hair against his palm.

Maybe Keegan was onto something with this cuddling stuff. The itchy need under Izzy’s skin, something he’d always assumed could only be fixed by getting fucked nice and hard, was melting away. Izzy wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Well, he felt good, obviously, but he also didn’t want to think too hard about what it meant.

He was distracted from his thoughts by a soft kiss to the back of his neck. “It’s okay. Don’t overthink it,” Keegan murmured, slipping one of his hands under Izzy’s shirt and stroking his chest, skin on skin. He placed another kiss on the soft spot behind Izzy’s ear.

Izzy shivered, and his eyes welled up. He tried to blink the tears away, but they just kept coming, sliding silently down to drip onto the pillow.

“It’s okay,” Keegan said again. “I’ve got you.”

Izzy shut his eyes and let go.