BRENDEN REPLAYED the message for the umpteenth time this week, his heart aching with a renewed pang at the fierce note in Dakota’s voice. His heart wanted to believe it, but his brain knew better. As if Brenden weren’t already miserable enough, he had to add con crud on top of it all. He’d fought the sniffles and coughing all week, burying himself in after-show details and other work in an effort to avoid Dakota. Since it seemed Dakota was as dedicated to avoiding him, his efforts worked, but dammit, it depressed him. And by Friday the sniffles and coughs had blown up to fevers and chills.
He wrapped a blanket tighter around himself as another shiver racked him. He should delete the message instead of tormenting himself with it. At least Dakota wasn’t around to witness how pathetic he was acting.
He was away for the weekend in Richmond, catching up with friends and role-playing with his group. Brenden had three days of quiet to get over this stupid cold, let himself mourn what might’ve been, then work on shoving his emotions back in the box they’d erupted from. He had to accomplish that, for both his sanity and the sake of their friendship, which meant too damn much to him to let it be damaged.
Brenden spent Friday cleaning the house from top to bottom between doses of the strongest cold medicine he could find and naps. He couldn’t get rid of the signs of Dakota’s occupation, but he could make it seem like his own place again. Despite how it wore him out, by the end of the day, Brenden felt better. He could handle anything if his world was organized.
Today was his day of indulgence. He had Tron and Tron Legacy all ready to go. He had a pot of chicken soup simmering on the stove. And he’d uncovered Dakota’s secret stash of double-chocolate brownies. It would serve the jerk right if he ate every last piece. The two he’d eaten yesterday had mellowed him out. So he’d dipped into the stash again while putting the soup together.
The squares of chocolate heaven had definitely taken the edge off his heartbreak. Or maybe it was the combination of cold medicine and the congestion that had his head so floaty. Brenden didn’t care; at least he wasn’t on the verge of tears again. He hated getting weepy. It made him feel like he was a teenager. He didn’t do emo anymore.
Brenden knew exactly what he wanted: a committed relationship with Dakota where he didn’t have to hide his feelings from the world. He’d always known. But he might as well be sixteen again, wishing for his parents to be back together, for his dad not to be so absent from their lives. Loneliness drove his mom to her affair and to his dad abandoning them. But all the wishes and prayers hadn’t gone in the direction he wanted, and his mom had died while his dad still refused to acknowledge him. Instead, those wishes and prayers had landed him with a new family and a love he could never have. He must’ve fucked over his karma in a past life.
There wasn’t just one obstacle standing in his way with Dakota. There were layers of them, complete with pitfalls and false trails. And he was making himself mental going over every possibility again and again. Brenden savored another brownie as his thoughts continued to poke at the problem.
Even if Dakota were to fall in love with him in return—and let’s face it, there was nothing all that lovable about Brenden—Dakota wasn’t the kind of guy to declare his undying love to one person for a lifelong commitment. His momma had given Dakota a sour view on relationships. So there was one layer to this impossible situation. Then there was their family.
Brenden buried his face in his hands. How was he going to face Evelyn and Trev?
No. He could not think about that. He searched for the remote, his head spinning. Good thing he’d decided to go for the hot tea instead of the wine. In his sickly state, he’d pass out and miss the entire movie. Just as he hit start on the DVD, the front door opened.
His heart twisted with a renewed ache. Fuck, Dakota was home early. Brenden gave a moment’s serious consideration to pulling the blanket over his head and burying himself in his couch. “Go away!” he snapped. He was too miserable to deal with anyone.
“Brenden?”
Brenden blinked fuzzily as Aden came into view with a worried expression on his face. Great. Another Nye brother. He had a plague of Nyes in his life. But this was Aden. He couldn’t be grouchy with him. “Hey, Aden. I’m sick. You might want to stay away.” He crossed his fingers in the hope he’d be left in peace.
Instead, Aden came closer and laid his hand against Brenden’s forehead. His hand felt so cool and nice that Brenden leaned over with a sigh. “Brenden, look at me.”
Brenden tried to turn his face away. Aden would know something was wrong. He was almost as bad as Dakota when it came to reading him. Brenden could fool most of the rest of the world, but had a harder time with those two. Aden caught his chin and forced his head up. “You are high,” Aden said in a shocked whisper.
“I am not!” Brenden gave Aden an indignant glare before the ludicrous accusation made a giggle escape, which turned into a sneeze. He fumbled for the box of tissues. “That’s Dakota’s shtick, not mine. It’s cold medicine. I have a cold. And I have jerkitis. It’s all your cousin’s fault.”
“If your eyes got any more dilated, you’d start hallucinating unicorns farting rainbows.” Aden sat down next to him and handed him his bottle of water. “Drink some of that and tell me what you took. Then tell me why Dakota’s a jerk. For some reason, you love him when he’s a jerk and the rest of us want to brain him.”
“I don’t love him!” Brenden crossed his arms. In the back of his fuzzy head, an annoying C3PO voice reminded him he needed to keep his mouth shut. God, Dakota was right. C3PO was annoying, and Dakota was the lovable one. Brenden caught his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes stung. No. He was not going to cry. He was not going to sulk. He was going to eat soup and brownies until his ass got as wide as the couch and watch his damn movies. “I don’t love anybody.”
Aden cocked his head and gave Brenden another long look. “Bad breakup?”
“No,” Brenden huffed, glancing away. “I’m fine. It’s the cold meds and the stuffy head that’s got my eyes and nose all red.” He waved a hand toward the bag of over-the-counter medicines on the coffee table beside another brownie that called his name with seductive indulgence.
“Uh-huh.” Aden leaned over and studied the boxes, humming under his breath. Brenden eyeballed him. His little brother was going to be a doctor. He certainly had a nicer bedside manner than Brenden’s general physician. Aden waved the plate with the brownie under Brenden’s nose and pulled it away when he reached for it. “Where did you get these? Did you make them?”
“No. I stole them from Dakota. I hope he comes home with the munchies.” It was a petty reaction, one Brenden was a smidgeon ashamed of, but whatever. He’d apologize for stealing his stash when he was talking to Dakota again. And he had to get his pity party out of the way before Dakota came home because they were recording episodes of Geek Wars next week. So Aden had to leave. Otherwise, Brenden wouldn’t be able to have his breakdown and put himself back together again. Fuck, he was pitiful. A sad, pitiful moron.
Aden laid his hand over his face with a groan of exasperation. “Brenden, you do know what Dakota puts in his hidden brownies, don’t you?”
“Love?” Brenden snickered and rested his spinning head down on his arms. “Seriously, he bought those. The only thing Dakota knows how to make is tacos.”
“And brownies laced with enough marijuana to half knock you out for the count.” Aden peered into his eyes again. “How many have you had?”
Brenden did not want to admit the extent of his comfort food binge. “Two.” He squirmed as Aden continued to stare at him. “Okay fine, maybe three or four.”
“Between the brownies, medicine, and fever, you are fucked-up.” Aden straightened and scooped up the plate.
“I am not high. I’ve never been high in my life.” Brenden frowned as he considered that statement for truthfulness. Tipsy many times. Dead drunk, okay, a few, but yep, never high. He eyeballed the brownie Aden carried away. He couldn’t take the snacks away. Brenden craved all the food. Weren’t you supposed to feed a cold or something like that?
“Well, big brother, you won’t be able to say that again,” Aden said as he returned with a bowl of popcorn and some more bottles of water. “So do you want to watch the movie now, then cry on my shoulder, or do you want to cry on my shoulder first?”
That was a question that required serious consideration. If Brenden got it all out now, he could enjoy the movies, then crash. But he couldn’t get it all out now. He might reveal too much, so he’d have to wait until Aden decided to take himself off again. “Movie first. Wait. Why’d you come over? Everything okay?”
Aden was in and out of this house when he had free time. Though the walk-ins had decreased dramatically once he and Julie had hooked up again. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I had a favor to ask you. But I’m not leaving until you’ve started coming down. You need a little babying. You’ve taken care of me. Now it’s my turn to take care of you. You kept me together after my breakup, remember?”
Brenden dug into the popcorn. Aden had laced it with plenty of butter. It was perfect for a day of shameless excess. “I didn’t do anything. Just gave you an ear.” He’d wanted to call Julie out for being a heartless bitch. Nobody made Aden cry. It wasn’t allowed. And if Julie thought he was going to forget that anytime soon, she was crazy.
“I can listen too.” Aden nudged Brenden. “Tell me who it is so I can hate them.”
It felt as if Brenden’s insides were crumbling. He had built his adult life around certain rules, and the cornerstone had been yanked away. He’d be okay. Once he got over this stupid cold and the shit that made his head spin and some time and distance from Dakota. He was an emotional seesaw. The situation with Dakota made him want to curl up, and whatever the fuck he was on made him want to laugh. He was so tired. He hadn’t slept well in days, and his idiotic mental commentary would not cease so he could rest.
“It’s my own fault. I knew it wasn’t a relationship that could ever go anywhere and I let it happen anyway. You can’t help who you love.” Brenden paused and gazed sadly at his hands. He could hear this strange mewling, like all the morose thoughts in his head were vocalizing themselves in the room. “I love you, Aden.”
Aden smiled and half hugged Brenden. He really did look like an angel. One day his patients were going to adore him. “I love you too. You know what you need?” Brenden shook his head. “Kitten therapy.”
Brenden eyed Aden with bleary suspicion. “What are you talking about?”
Aden set the popcorn down on the table and retrieved a cage sitting by the door that Brenden hadn’t noticed. Brenden looked inside at the lump of black fur in the corner that yawned with multiple mouths. Oh man, he was fucked-up. Then the inkblot shifted and squirmed into four separate kittens, most of them black from head to toe.
“Oh.” Brenden lifted his fingers to the cage, his heart catching as one sniffed at him through the bars. “You brought me kittens to cuddle? How’d you know I needed kittens?”
“I didn’t. I wish I had, though.” Aden opened the door and scooped out the first one.
Brenden held it in careful hands, his eyes filling with tears as its little tongue rasped at his hand and it purred with an off-key rumble. The second kitten clambered over his lap, tiny claws digging into his pajamas. The third tried to climb its way up his chest, as the fourth chased it. Brenden giggled and cried and laughed some more. Once he got started, he didn’t stop until all that emotion he’d been holding back had drained out of him and his nose stuffed up so bad he couldn’t breathe.
Aden let him get it all out, remaining beside him as a comforting presence and kitten wrangler when one threatened to make a run for it. They were so damned cute. Brenden loved all four of the fluffy escape artists.
Aden handed him a cold, damp washcloth. “You shouldn’t hold so much in, Bren. It’s not good for you. No wonder you’re sick.”
Some of the fuzziness had left Brenden’s brain, but he was more stopped up than ever. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen apart like that. He pressed the washcloth against his eyes and then laid it on his head. It soothed, despite him acting like an imbecile. “Why’d you bring me kittens?”
One of them curled around his finger, gnawing playfully on it. Aden had fitted them with collars, a different color for each. “I need someone to foster them for a few days while I find them a home. I can’t take them to the pound. Superstitious idiots ignore the black kittens and leave them in there unloved, which is how I wound up with these. A friend rescued them and didn’t have the means to take care of them, so she brought them to me. But if my landlord catches me with pets again, he’s kicking me out.”
Brenden looked down at the lapful of tumbling kittens with a longing heart. “But I can’t. Dakota’s allergic.”
Aden made a disparaging sound. “Dakota isn’t allergic to animals. He’s allergic to taking care of anything. But he’s going to have to suck it up and take care of you because it’s half his fault you’re in this mess. Feeling better? You seem to be coming off it some.”
Aden understood. It was half Dakota’s fault.
If he’d listened and not kissed Brenden as he had…. Okay fine, he’d kissed Dakota first, but dammit, Dakota had been in his face and he wouldn’t have backed down, not this time. It didn’t matter who kissed who because, fuck, he’d still be sick in love with him. Who was he kidding? This was all Brenden’s mess. Except the brownies. He was going to have words with Dakota over that. “Yeah, I think so. My head is pounding, though.”
“I’m not surprised. You’re going through a physical and emotional wringer.” Aden flipped on the movie and urged Brenden to lie down on the couch. “Why don’t you watch your Tron? I’ll check on the soup and ditch the brownies.”
He was too miserable all over for his pride to be bruised because Aden had seen him fall apart. Lying over that misery like a soft fluffy blanket was the brownie haze. He understood why Dakota ate the damned things. Brenden curled up on the couch, petting the kittens as they investigated him, then wandered off, only to return to nestle against him.
They couldn’t have kittens. He’d have to tell Aden that. Brenden traveled too much. And they didn’t have anything a kitten needed. He didn’t know where to start. He’d always wanted a pet, though. Maybe it would be okay for a bit until Aden found homes for them. One of them curled up in a little ball, in the crook of Brenden’s arm, his tail tucked under his nose. He was the tiniest of the bunch and the most curious. “And I shall call you, Minime,” Brenden said in a soft voice.
The one chasing after Brenden’s toes had the hint of an underbite, and Brenden dubbed him Toothless, which left the other two. One was pure black from head to paws but had the most brilliant blue eyes. The final one had splotches of white that peeked through her fur. Brenden named them Inkheart and Rorschach.
He couldn’t keep them, but they ought to have names.
Aden’s voice buzzed from the kitchen. Deep down in the nether regions of his brain, he was sure Aden was talking to Dakota. Probably telling him all about Brenden’s breakdown. Dakota would know it was about him. Now that hurt his pride, but he couldn’t find the motivation to move and shut Aden up.
Dakota better not come charging back home out of some mistaken idea he needed to take care of Brenden. He could take care of his own damn self. He didn’t need Dakota. A tear snaked down his cheek. Dammit. No more. He’d had his cry. He was done with this whole mess. Even if he did want Dakota to come home so he’d be nearby. That was the whiny cold talking.
A kitten nuzzled at his hand, and Brenden curled his fingers over the tiny back in a caress that soothed them both. And to the sound of the rumbling purr and his favorite movie, he drifted off.