7. Derek

Briar"s apartmentwas part of a new complex behind the downtown Dairy Queen.Derek stood behind him on the landing, ready to catch him just in case he crumpled and fell down the stairs.The kid was already a waif, but right now he looked so weak that a strong gust of wind would send him ass over teakettle.

Derek was tempted to dislike everything about him: his softness, his weakness, even his youth.He hadn"t been chewed up by life yet, and an ugly part of Derek resented that.But he couldn"t act on it. There was something about Briar that inspired a strange gentleness in him.Something like the way he felt about his siblings—but different.Very different. It unsettled him.Besides his family, the only other person to inspire any kind of tenderness in him was Claire.But he didn"t like to think about her, or how foolish he"d once been. Trying to be straight for her had just ruined both their lives.

So, he stood there wordlessly, and he didn"t offer to help when Briar fumbled clumsily with his keys.Briar glanced over his shoulder, embarrassed, and Derek looked pointedly at his watch.

Susan and the kids were still waiting for him to deliver their food.He should have headed straight over as soon as he"d finished replacing the belt, but that was when he"d spotted Briar from a distance.It looked like he had weights strapped to his ankles as he stumbled into the Stop n" Shop, all wobbly legs and bloodshot eyes.His normally pale skin had a gray, clammy sheen.It was such a stark contrast to his vibrant, lippy energy from the other night that it stopped Derek in his tracks.The kid had obviously needed some help.Derek wasn't a monster, after all.

"Home sweet home," Briar muttered, avoiding Derek's eyes as he opened the door and flicked on the lights.

The apartment wasn't much more than a white-wall box, devoid of personal touches.Derek glanced around impassively, surprised by the spartan furnishings.The space was dominated by a worn-out carpet, speckled here and there with budget furniture.No photographs. No art. Just a stack of veterinary journals piled on a rickety coffee table.Derek was no design expert, but to his critical eyes, it looked like a stopover.The room lacked any hint of permanence, like a cheap motel with an inhabitant who didn"t know how to settle down.

"It's just temporary," Briar blurted, as if reading his mind."I'm just here to help Nate get the clinic off the ground.Then it's back to city life for me."

Derek only nodded.

"Thanks...you know, for helping me out," Briar mumbled.He looked ready to collapse. He was swaying on his feet, and his face was flushed and sweaty.

"You need a shower," Derek said, eyeing him critically."Warm, not hot. I don't need you passing out in there."

Briar rubbed at his temples, looking pitiful and exasperated.He opened his mouth to argue, but Derek wasn"t listening.Nobody ever won an argument with him.He grabbed Briar by the back of the neck, gently turned him toward the bathroom, and added, "At least get out of those ridiculous clothes and into something you can sleep in."

"They're not ridiculous," Briar muttered.

Derek rolled his eyes. Briar"s fashionable shirt was absurdly out of place in Sweetwater, like lipstick on a pig.But Derek couldn't resist rubbing his thumb over the silky-soft fabric before giving Briar a gentle shove down the hall.

The shower hissed on a moment later.

Derek busied himself in the small kitchenette, setting out supplies and digging a cheap saucepan from one of the laminated cabinets.The canned soup was just a base to build on with some bone broth and veggies, flavored with a dash of turmeric and ginger that he'd made sure to add to the basket.

Even if he hadn't been listening for it, he"d have known the instant Briar entered the room by the light, soapy waft of his bodywash.The simmering soup hadn"t been able to make his mouth water—but this scent did.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" Briar asked as he sat at the counter.He looked young and vulnerable, clad in a pair of fleece pants and a threadbare t-shirt, with the tips of his hair still dripping."It's surprisingly…domestic."

"I guess a guy like me can"t cook, huh?" Derek snapped."I just send the little woman to the kitchen to make me a sandwich?"

Briar flushed. "That's not what I meant."

Derek just snorted and turned his back to ladle soup into a bowl.It was exactly what Briar had meant, and they both knew it.

A minute later, Briar asked softly, "You have a girlfriend then?"

"What?" Derek glanced back at him, annoyed.Briar's face was already beet-red from the shower, but he could have sworn it darkened a couple more shades under his scrutiny.

"You said—"

"It was a figure of speech," Derek interrupted, but he felt himself gentling against his will.His voice had lost its growl.He slid the bowl and a few pills across the counter."Here. Eat up."

"I can't believe it knocked me out like this," Briar murmured, shivering and cupping his hands around the bowl for warmth."I don't usually get sick, but this hit me like a freight train."

"It"s going around." Derek placed a glass of electrolyte water beside his dish."You just need some rest. Get some fluids down and then I'll leave you to sleep."

They sat in silence for a few minutes with only the distraction of Briar slurping up his soup. When he'd finished half the bowl, he sat back and sighed.His complexion had lost some of the gray, waxy cast that had first caught Derek"s attention.His lips were slightly parted, but they were flushed pink again like the night they met.Derek"s attention focused on them for only a split second before he forced himself to look away.

It was old habit by now to stuff those confusing urges down and cover them with his more familiar protective instincts.

"How'd you get so good at this?" Briar asked suddenly.His voice was a painful rasp that sounded distressingly good.Like his throat had been used.

Derek coughed into his fist. "My little brother used to get sick a lot," he said, and then he lied through his teeth and added, "You remind me of him."

Maybe if he repeated it enough, he"d start to believe it.

Briar didn't seem to like the sound of it any more than he did.He frowned, and his eyes dropped back to his meal.

"Well, thanks for playing big brother, I guess," he muttered, forcefully shoving around the leftover carrots in his bowl.

Derek felt like he"d just done something dirty, like intentionally putting his boot down on something delicate and precious.Guilt tasted bitter in his mouth.Maybe that was why he volunteered, "I took care of all my siblings growing up."

Briar"s eyes sharpened. "Where were your parents?"

"Dad worked the oil fields most of the time," Derek said reluctantly, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut."Sometimes he was gone so long that the littlest ones barely recognized him when he came back.So, it mostly came down to me."

"What did?" Briar asked, cocking his head.

He shrugged. "Everything."

He'd already finished wiping the counter and now he just stood there with his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, trying to make himself look smaller somehow.Trying not to fill up the room like he"d done ever since hitting puberty.Briar wasn't acting like he was an ax murderer anymore, but it was hard to ignore the way he tensed up every time Derek got close, so he tried to make himself non-threatening.

Briar"s expression was contemplative, like he wanted to ask something else, but he reconsidered and snapped his mouth shut.When he opened it again, all he said was, "I grew up in foster care, so real meals weren't a thing most of the time.I can operate the microwave and make grilled cheese, but that's about it."

"Never too late to learn."

"I usually burn the grilled cheese." Briar added, raising a challenging eyebrow.

It startled a chuckle out ofDerek."You might be a lost causethen."

"Story of my life." Briar smiled, and somehow, Derek found himself smilingback.

They studied each other for a long moment, and Derek swore he could feel something unfurling between them, connecting them like the morning glories that grew up his mother's old trellises. Later, after he'd loaded the kid up on cold meds and made sure the door was locked behind him, it felt as if something dangerous had takenroot.

Something he had to stomp out, no matterwhat.