Chapter 31

THIRTY-ONE

Colin

" W hat he said, and if you don't mind, I'm just going to borrow this." I slip a couple of the photos off the island, tucking them under my arm.

Oliver glares. "Don't think I don't have copies."

"Like seeing me and your brother fuck? Kinky," I snap back.

Isaac gasps, and Oliver seethes.

"Unless you want a live show, I suggest you get the fuck out." I cross my arms and stare at Oliver.

Owen wraps an arm around my waist and kisses my temple with a smile on his lips.

"Ridiculous!" Oliver grabs Isaac's hand, and they storm from the room.

I smile up at Owen. "That was fun."

"You know he's not going to drop this." He holds my chin and kisses me slowly, teasingly, and I melt against him. "But it was pretty funny."

"If you don't stop, we're going to give the photographer something new to take pictures of before you get back to work."

He kisses me again, lingering before he pulls away, smile faltering. "I'm sorry. He's always been like this. I think it's how he's learned to deal with life."

"What do you mean?"

He drags a thumb over my lip, then slides his hand back to cup my cheek.

"Oliver thrives on control. Growing up, he found by thinking faster than everyone around us, being more cunning, and sometimes ruthless, gave him power and protected us. He knows what our name means, and after all the shit we dealt with, with our parents, it's how he protects himself and those he cares about."

I think about that for a moment. I can see that. "I definitely understand it. I was taught early on to need nothing from anyone. It was a soft spot, something that could be used against me. But Cassie needed me. She might be the baby of the family, but she's the only female, and there are expectations that come along with it. I'm sure you saw it with Olivia. The girls are expected to be quiet, do what they're told, and ask no questions."

"Yes, and for the men it's okay to be ruthless, but the women have to do as they're told. My sister noped out of that game early. I'm positive it's why she moved to London." Owen nods and leads me to the couch so we can sit.

"You need to go back to training. Not have me unload my daddy issues." I hesitate because of the reserve Owen's already shown today.

"Training can wait a bit." He settles against the arm and pulls me down to sit in his lap with my back to his chest. "Tell me."

"I experienced the same. The training started early, and even as a child, I knew it wasn't okay. I was pushed to be aggressive, dominating, demanding while my little sister was basically told to sit down and shut up. I figured out when I was about ten that I wouldn't stand for it. Cassie is such a sweet soul, a people pleaser with no self-preservation. If I didn't stand up for her, my father would use her until there was nothing left, sell her off to the highest bidder, and not look back." I let out a deep breath, but Owen doesn't comment, just lets me get my thoughts together. "I'm worried about her. My father is still trying to sell her off. She's been on a bunch of dates. One guy was in his thirties. She's not strong enough to stand up to him."

"We'll protect her anyway we can." He puts his arm around my chest.

I smile to myself. I've never been able to rely on anyone, not really. I had to just figure shit out on my own. Asking for help wasn't an option. Having someone in my corner would be a game changer. "It was about the same time that I figured out I like boys," I start again. "My father was furious when he realized I couldn't be used as a bargaining chip later on. He tried to make me feel ashamed of it, like it was a dirty secret to hide away in the dark recess of the closet he wanted me in, but I couldn't do it. He had taught me to be aggressive and demanding. Unfortunately for him, I used it on him. So when he would go after Cassie for something, I would make a scene. Dress in something he despised or say something uncouth. Anything to get his attention off her. I knew I could take his anger, and she couldn't."

Owen rubs my arm in a comforting rhythm. "I'm so sorry you felt like you had to do that to protect her. I'm sure Oliver has felt the same."

I nod, even though I hate to think Oliver and I are alike. "I quickly learned that sex felt good, and I loved the rush it gave me when someone wanted me. There's such a base-level power that's completely addicting. Luckily, I'm hot."

Owen chuckles but doesn't disagree. "You're good at it."

"So I've used it to get my needs met. When I needed a hug, needed a self-esteem boost, I fucked. It's how I feel loved, even if it's just for a little while. It's the only time I'm someone's sole focus and I matter."

He runs his hand down my arm and entwines our hands. "You are worth more than that, not that I'd tell you it was wrong. You should just be able to get a hug."

"It's fine. I'm used to it. I know I've never been good enough for my parents. Cassie is the only one who saw me for me and loved me anyway, but she needs me. I don't know who I am without being needed. I'm only worth what I can provide. No one has ever liked me just because I'm me."

"I like you for you," Owen whispers.

I try to fake a smile because he does for now. "At some point, everyone gets tired of my shit. I need to be needed. It doesn't matter how. Whether it's making sure you took your meds, convincing Isaac his father is garbage, or knowing someone wants to fuck me. It's all the same. And it's always temporary. I've done it to myself. You don't need me for things like med reminders. You've found a system that works. Isaac has Oliver. And anyone who fucks me only wants that. I'll start running my mouth on purpose to push people away. That way they leave on my terms. I control it, and I don't get hurt."

"I have to take my meds when I'm traveling, but that doesn't mean I don't need you. I do." Owen wraps our entangled arms around me, holding me against him until he surrounds me. He nuzzles my hair and kisses behind my ear.

With a shudder and my eyes closed, I say the words I'm most afraid to speak out loud. "I fought with myself a lot in the early days of this. I knew you needed to stand on your own feet and stop letting Oliver decide everything for you. I had to do the same thing with Cassie, but it worked so much better on you. Now you don't need me as much. One of these days, you're not going to need me at all, and I'll be sent on my way."

He's quiet for a minute, resting his lips on my skin and just holding me. "I don't feel that way. I think we work well together. I've always struggled by myself. I had friends. But I don't remember being happy. Not like living here with you."

"Why weren't you happy?" I ask, not understanding at all.

"I just never have been. My earliest memories I remember being worried about everything, and my parents being annoyed by it at first, and then irate about it as I got older. They kept taking me to doctors, then ignoring the recommendations for medications or more therapy. They wanted to be told I would grow out of it."

"What the fuck? They didn't listen to doctors?"

"So it got worse, and I'd have panic attacks, and they'd ignore them or act like I was throwing a tantrum." Owen shakes his head. "They hated that I never wanted to leave the house. They hated that I felt like I needed to bring all my important things with me when I left the house because I was scared it would burn down. They got tired of dealing with it, so they sent us to boarding school. They claim that isn't the reason, but we were enrolled in a prep school in the city, then suddenly plans changed days before the start of fifth grade, and we were flown out to the middle of nowhere and dropped off."

"Are you fucking shitting me?" My heart hurts for the little boy that was so worried all the time. With my free hand, I wrap it around his arms, holding his as much as I can.

"It was fine at first. Oliver makes friends everywhere…well, friends isn't the right word. Admirers. He thrives in any environment." Owen exhales a long breath. "Because he was with me, I was okay at first, but then my parents told them to separate us. They said they didn't want us to be co-dependent twins. I think they were worried I'd somehow infect Oliver. So they made me change rooms and moved all our classes so I never saw Oliver. I tried to be okay by myself, but nothing was in my control. I couldn't follow a routine and barely knew anyone. My anxiety got worse. I couldn't focus. My parents kept threatening to send me to a different boarding school if I kept up the depression act."

"What fucking assholes." I can feel how much fear that threat caused. Even all these years later.

"Holidays were unbearable. We'd go home and my parents would ignore me, or freak out if I was having a panic attack. They told me to act right and fix myself, or there would be consequences. As soon as they realized I couldn't or wouldn't, they stopped allowing me to go places with them. They left me alone to figure it out when I was at my worst. It's why Oliver started taking care of me. He knew my parents wouldn't. I feel like a fucking burden to him, and I don't want to feel like a burden to you. I think you're going to leave like my parents and my friends."

"Baby." As someone who has seen one of those panic attacks, I want to crack both of his parents upside the head. No wonder Oliver stepped in and started running Owen's life. He was trying to protect his brother. As much as I hate to admit it, my heart softens a little to the jerk. I hug his arm tighter around me. "You're not a burden."

"I feel like one. Oliver puts me first, but I know he can't anymore. Oliver shouldn't have to take care of me. I should be able to take care of myself. But I hate it. I hate that I don't come first to anyone. I never have. I've always been the spare. For the first time, I feel like someone is choosing me, and I'm scared to lose that. My friend. You feel like my best friend. I feel like I'm in control of my life since moving out and joining the national team. You listen to me and let me choose. I know why Oliver chooses everything for me, but he's kind of his way or the highway. I love him for that, but it's not like that with you. I like it. I like our little sanctuary."

A little light starts in my heart. It's delicate and wispy, but it's there. I turn to face him, straddling his lap. He looks a little apprehensive, and I cup his cheeks. "I like it too. For the first time, I feel like maybe I'm not alone against the world."

"You're not." He shakes his head.

With a smile, I kiss him. It's comfortable, not meant to entice or excite. He wraps his arms around me in a hug, and I do the same. For a few minutes, we just exist in this space. Sharing air, both a little lighter for sharing, a little vulnerable, but happier.

"Sorry, I'm sweaty and probably stink."

"I like the way you smell." I lick his neck to prove my point, and he groans, his hips flexing under me.

"I have to finish my workout before I reward myself with you."

I blush. Which is gross. I don't blush. "My ass is definitely a reward."

Owen bites my neck and stands. I squeak, an embarrassing sound, and he laughs as he drops me on the couch. "Stop distracting me with your delicious ass."

"Can I watch?" I ask.

"As long as you behave!" Owen just laughs.

"No promises!"

I'm not sure why I like watching Owen practice. I've seen it so much that it should just be a normal part of my life, but I'm always drawn to it. Sometimes he lets me sit in the room, sometimes he banishes me to the hallway, and sometimes we spar when he needs the added challenge. But if I'm home and he's in here, I always find myself here too.

Maybe I just want to be near him?

But since he's trying to secure a spot on the Olympic team, he's doing what he does with most of his time. Practicing. People don't understand how much work it takes to be a top competitor in a sport. You have to want it more than anything else. Dedication. Pushing through the moments you want to give up. Forcing yourself to rest when your body is telling you that you need it. It's a head game as much as a physical one.

I'm flipping through social media instead of doing homework because I need time to decompress after the heavy conversation, but I find myself watching him instead. Maybe it's because I'm also a sabre-est, so I know just how difficult this is, that I'm in awe of him.

I lift my phone and balance it on my knee to hold it steady and press record. He has his back to me and everyone who watches or practices fencing knows fencers have fantastic asses. The precise movements, the muscle strength, the conditioning all come together to make this beautiful human the machine he's become.

Owen spins around, catching a glimpse of me with his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and he cocks an eyebrow.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a video of my sexy husband's ass."

"For what purpose?" He grabs a towel to wipe his face.

I shrug. "To jack off to later? To post on TikTok so everyone is jealous of what's mine?"

His eyebrows pull together as he takes a drink of water. "Post on TikTok?"

"It's an idea. I'm betting we could have fan pages of the people worshipping you," I joke.

"The only person I want to worship me is you."

I smirk. "You already have that."

"Post a video of that. See how people like seeing you worship me."

My dick hardens. "I'm not exactly opposed to that."

Owen chuckles. "You're an attention slut."

He's not wrong.

Owen caps the water bottle and comes for me in sure, confident strides. Before he gets to me, I'm damn near panting and hard as fuck. He rips the tie from my hair and grips it, pulling my face up toward him as he kicks my legs open.

"Start your video."

I swallow, flip the camera, and press record. Using my hair as a leash, he drags my face against the bulge in his dark wash sweats.

I moan into the fabric, opening my mouth to drag against the ridge of him. He makes me insatiable. Needy.

With my free hand, I slide it up his thigh to the waistband of his pants and slip my fingers under the fabric.

"Such a needy boy," he growls, and I shiver.

"Only for you."

"Damn right." Owen lets go of my hair and pushes me onto my back, following me down and grasping my throat to ravage my mouth. I whimper into his kiss, desperate and needy so fucking fast.

"Please tell me you're done training."

A wicked smile lifts his lips, and I could cry.

"Nope." He licks my lip, gives me a quick peck, then gets up and goes back to work.

"You're the worst."

"Put that in a damn TikTok. You're welcome."

I open my mouth to respond, but actually…

"Wait a minute."

He turns to look at me with a ‘don't you dare' look.

"What if we post our story on social media? Then we control the story and what people know. We can spin it the way we want instead of hoping the journalists don't fuck us over."

Owen stops and thinks about it, which I appreciate. He didn't just blow it off.

"Do you think that would work?"

"Can't hurt." I shrug. "The people get what they want and we can show the media that we can't be controlled by their bullying and bullshit, and we stay in control."

"It's not a bad idea. I'll have to check with the PR department before we do anything major."

"Oh husband, don't you know it's better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission?" I slide my phone into my pocket and crawl across the wood floor to him. His eyes heat instantly, and I kneel at his feet.

"Are you going to beg?"

"I usually do when you're involved."

"Good boy."