14. Byrd

14

Byrd

" W e're having company?" Echo asks as I hit the end-call button on my phone and toss it onto the couch next to me with a sigh. He's been lying on the mat since my sister's call interrupted our training session, toying with the tail of the rope like a lazy kitten.

"Looks that way. James is going to pick Elke up in Oakland and drive her up. He'll spend the night at an Airbnb in Navarro, and she'll be here for who knows how long. Hopefully, not more than a week."

"You and your sister don't get along?" There's no judgment in his voice, only curiosity.

"We get along fine, most of the time. But she's…a lot. You'll see." Elke has reliably questionable intentions, no filter, and creates chaos by simply occupying a room. I have no idea what she'll make of Echo.

"And James is her boyfriend?" He bats the tail in my direction with a smirk. "Is he hot?"

"James is my brother-in-law. Ex now, I guess. And a good friend."

"The video game guy? "

"Yes."

"So…" He catches the rope on its next swing and pins me with his sapphire gaze. "Is he hot?"

"He's straight. And too old for you."

That cracks him up, of course, and he peels himself from the mat and stalks toward me on all fours. My dick starts to pay attention, and I palm myself through my joggers. "He's also Lara's brother, in case you missed that part. You're going to have to behave while he's here."

"I always behave." He climbs into my lap and straddles my thighs, arching that damn brow at me until I reach up to smooth it away with my thumb.

"Don't," I say, unthinking.

"Why not?" the cheeky little brat asks, waggling it at me. While I fumble for an answer, he pulls the elastic from my hair and starts to card his fingers through it.

Because it reminds me of your brother.

"I'm serious," I warn. "About James." That too .

His grip in my hair tightens, and he tugs my head back, eyeing my mouth, as my hands find their way down the back of his shorts to squeeze his ass. Which might not be helping me get my point across. "Elke will be enough drama. I don't think I can handle the fallout if James figures out…" I trail off, and Echo goes still, his lips an inch from my own.

Shit .

"That you're with a guy now? Or that it's me?" His tone is dangerous, and his eyes have gone flat and hurt.

"Echo." I could almost laugh if he wasn't looking at me like that. " No one could be ashamed of you. You're a walking wet dream, and you know it." I dig my fingers into his ass again and tug him against my erection in demonstration. "But James is very protective of his sister. Despite how long we've been friends, I'm pretty sure the only reason he still talks to me now is because the divorce was Lara's idea."

"And what? You think if he sees you've moved on, he'll be pissed?"

"Or hurt. And I don't need to rub it in his face. I also think it won't kill you to keep it in your pants for one night."

"It might." He drops his hands from my hair to his thighs. "I've never really done the whole ‘in the closet' thing."

He's pissed, and the guilt makes my own temper flare. "Jesus Christ, Echo. I'm not asking you to pretend to be straight. You can't tone down the flirting for a few hours while he's here?"

The disappointment in his eyes as he pushes off my lap burns acrid in my gut.

"You play nice in public all the time," I plead, frustrated. "Why is this so different?"

"I guess it's not." He reaches the rope and starts to climb. "But if you think anyone at Big Top is fooled, you're deluding yourself."

I want to stay angry, secure in my righteous belief that it's not asking too much to respect James's sensitivity for one night. I want to grovel, to beg forgiveness for asking Echo to sacrifice pieces of his identity the way I've spent my life doing for others.

Instead, I tread lightly, expecting him to withdraw, and tell myself it's easier with distance between us.

His response is to wage war with his body.

Taking advantage of the warming weather, he abandons his shirts entirely. My days are spent watching him walk around in ass-hugging joggers and faded jeans slung low on his hips to reveal the irresistible V of his obliques below the lean expanse of his torso.

He attacks the rope during every practice, pushing himself to the edge of his fear as if determined to prove it was never there to begin with, and every movement is calculated for seduction. Wheel ups and scorpions and arabesques—anything that lays him out, arched and exposed.

One afternoon, he rediscovers his ninja roll, landing the internal rotation of the half pirouette in a perfect back balance, his body displayed in a vaulted line from toes to fingertips. The look in his eyes has me crossing the mat, tugging his head back and down with a fist in his hair, and capturing his delighted mouth while he's still in the air. For one moment, we're back on the same side, and I'm lost in the verdant taste of his joy, sweet and splendid on my tongue.

Each hour I resist him is punished when we inevitably come together, a toll paid in lust and flesh. His grip painful in my hair as he razes the sensitive skin of my throat. His teeth fierce on my nipples and bruising my lips. His fingers sunk in my ass, stroking my prostate as he works me with his tongue and compels ecstasy from every agony.

By the day of James and Elke's arrival, I have to wear my hair loose and a collared button-down to hide the marks of his retribution, while Echo oozes sin in a deceptively simple white V-neck tee, thin enough to reveal the shadows of ink across his ribs.

"At least I'm wearing a shirt," he snarks, sliding a pile of diced onions into a bowl and passing it over. We're making lasagna, and he's been alarmingly docile all day. I can't tell if he actually plans to behave himself or if he's setting me up, and I'm no longer certain I care.

"You need a haircut," I observe, although I like the way he tosses his head to clear the blue-tipped strands from his eyes. It's an excuse to touch him, to rub the dark silk between my fingers and brush my thumb along his winged brow. His eyelids flutter, and he leans back against the counter, gripping the edge when I slide my knee between his thighs.

"Do they have any decent salons around here?" He tilts his head as I run my jaw up his neck, tickling him with my stubble. That damn purr starts in his chest, the vibration hitting the base of my spine, and I pull back before I get carried away and start burning the onions.

"There are a few that cater to the weed wives and big-city transplants. I'm pretty sure at least one of them survived the Covid lockdowns." Blood back in the big brain, Byrd . I move back to the stove.

"Maybe I'll do it for my birthday."

"Your birthday?" I look over, hand halfway to a can of tomatoes. He's still leaning on the counter, watching me through half-lidded eyes, the hard outline of his cock pressing against his jeans.

"Twenty-one in two weeks. You'll finally be able to take me to bars."

"We've already been to both pubs in town." Patterson's is a regular dinner stop for us on our way home from Big Top, and one Sunday afternoon, he dragged me to Dick's to shoot pool after a grocery run. He's never been carded.

"Well, soon we can do it legally. Maybe we can go down to the city and hit up one of the famous San Francisco gay clubs."

"Would you like that?" I was married to Lara the whole time I lived in the bay. I know the places he's talking about, but I've never been inside one. "A birthday trip?"

He pushes off the counter and closes the distance between us to rub his hand over the front of my jeans.

"What I'd really like is to ride your eight-inch cock until I come all over your chest and then return the favor, but I'm not holding my breath." He presses his lips to mine, stealing my groan, and then shoves me gently before returning to his station at the cutting board. "In the meantime, I guess I'll settle for a haircut."

"I'll make an appointment," I choke out, clearing my throat and dragging my eyes back to the stove. We definitely need new onions.

"I can't wait."

"Do you only shoot buildings?" Echo and Elke are sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through pictures of my sister's latest project on her tablet and finishing off the third bottle of wine while James and I tag team the dishes.

"Well, all the money's in weddings, so I do a lot of those, but my passion is architecture," Elke tells him. "Especially urban architecture in Europe. I love the juxtaposition of the ancient and the modern."

"She wanted to go to design school as a kid but didn't have the patience to stay in one place for that long. Or to learn all the math." I swat away the wine cork she throws at me with the dish towel in my hand. "Show him the Amsterdam series you did last year so he can check out his new playground."

Echo shoots me a look, but I'm not rescuing him. He's handled her enthusiasm and her incessant questions surprisingly well all night, turning his easy flirtatious charm her way. He's been confident and polite with James as well, his trust-fund manners on full display.

Even now that he's a little drunk, I'm the one struggling to maintain the facade. The whole time I'm drying and putting away the dishes and catching up with James at the sink, I can't keep my eyes off him. His flushed cheeks and wine-stained lips heighten his already-dramatic coloring to paralyzing levels, and I'm jealous of every brush of his arm against Elke's, every bump of their knees under the island.

When he catches me staring for the hundredth time, he bites his lip to hold in a smile, arching his brow. It's getting easier to banish Gabriel every time Echo claims the gesture, overwriting old memories with new. My lips quirk in response, and I shake my head as he bends back to Elke's iPad.

"So," he says, shoulders trembling with suppressed laughter. "Amsterdam?"

"So," Elke responds, deadpan. "Are you fucking my big brother?"

I freeze, fingers tightening reflexively on the wineglass in my hand, as James's head comes up beside me and Echo's eyes flash to mine.

"Not yet." He holds my gaze a second longer before turning to her with a shrug. "He's playing hard to get."

"Really? That doesn't sound like Coen."

"Elke."

They both ignore me.

"Oh yeah," Echo continues. "He's been a paragon of self-control. Apparently, he's immune to my wiles."

"Tell me more."

"Elke, give it a rest."

James is watching us now, the dishes forgotten in the sink .

"This is you playing nice?" I add to Echo when he finally looks at me again.

"You said keep it in my pants." He turns on his stool, knees opening, and spreads his arms. "Fully covered."

"You're quite the brat, aren't you?" Elke giggles like a goddamn teenager, and I can feel James tensing at my side. "I bet you could teach Coen a thing or two."

"You have no idea." Echo tilts his head at me. "Gonna send me to my room now?"

"That might be a little awkward since it's currently my room." My sister tosses me a devious smile. "But I'm happy to switch and take the couch."

"Jesus, Elke." Damage control. "Can you keep your mouth shut for five fucking seconds?"

"I'm only trying to help."

"No you're not. You're trying to stir up shit, as usual."

"Wait." James . "Before you two get into one of your sibling battles, can I ask a question?" He doesn't wait for my reply. "I thought Echo was supposed to be your student?"

"He is." Here we go .

Is it too late to turn back the clock and stop myself from staring at Echo for five seconds too long? To prevent the inevitable collision of curiosity and pride? I should have taken James out to dinner and left Echo and Elke to babysit each other.

You wanted to show him off.

"So this is all bullshit? Or is ‘student' some kind of new euphemism for fuck toy in the gay community?" Sarcasm drips from James's voice.

Echo bursts out laughing. "Don't you live in San Francisco?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" James glowers at him.

"He means," I say, placing a hand on my friend's arm before he can stomp across the kitchen and start something we'll all regret. "It's 2024, and you design video games in the Bay Area. Half the guys you work with are gay."

"I know that." He shakes himself free of my grip. "I'm not a homophobe. I just didn't know my sister's husband was one of them."

Echo's eyes shoot daggers above a contemptuous smirk, while Elke frowns like she's not the one who lit the match.

"Technically, I'm bisexual," I say dryly, letting the "husband" comment slide. "And I would have told you years ago, but Lara wouldn't let me."

"Lara knew?"

"Of course she knew. I would never keep something like that from any partner, let alone my wife."

"Is that why she really kicked you out, then? Because she stopped being enough? You wanted to fuck men?" His tone grows louder and nastier with each question, but before I have a chance to try and calm him down, Echo jumps back into the mix.

"If he's not trying to suck your dick, why do you care who he fucks?"

"I'm curious about that too," Elke pipes up from the peanut gallery.

For fuck's sake.

"I care if he was trying to stick his dick in some kid's ass while he was married to my sister."

"I wish," Echo murmurs, not quite under his breath.

"Fuck off, James," Elke explodes, jumping up from her stool. "You know as well as I do that Lara was the problem, not Coen's dick."

" Enough ." My voice cuts across the kitchen, shocking them all into stillness. "James, I was never unfaithful to Lara, and you know better than anyone why we fell apart. You were there. "

Coloring, he looks away.

"Elke, please never talk about my dick again." I shake my head at her cross-my-heart gesture. "Echo…" I tried to warn you.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He's still flushed, brilliant and untouchable in his rebellious truth. "Go to my room."