Page 49 of Curious

No. If he’s leaving he needs to go. It feels good now, but you’ll hate yourself when it’s over.

“Owen, stop. Yellow, damn it.”

The hand on him disappeared and Owen stepped back, surprising him. He turned away and punched the wall so hard it left a dent. “Mother fucking—”

“Jesus, Owen. Did you break something?”

“No doubt,” Owen laughed raggedly, leaning against the damage. “I fell in through your window and landed on my bad knee, broke your demon into slivers that I’ll be finding for weeks and punched your very solid wall like an idiot. But that’s not what really hurts.” He looked into Jeremy’s eyes. “You mean it. You really want me to go, and it’s my fault. I made a decision and just acted without thinking again. Without talking. I gave you this smooth speech about communication and honesty when I wanted to paddle your ass, but when it comes to us—to you and me—I keep getting it wrong.”

The pained frustration in his voice got to Jeremy. They had too much between them for it to end like this. “Getting what wrong, Owen? Talk to me. We’re still friends, right?”

Owen shook his head, rubbing his sore knuckles. “No, I can’t. Not until I show you something. Come with me.”

Jeremy hesitated before following him toward the front door. “Can it wait? We should get some ice on that hand.”

“Come to the door, Jeremy.”

Owen unlocked the front door and waited for him, looking defeated. “You know I actually thought it would be a good idea, having the family come over for breakfast without me. ‘He’ll see that everything’s really okay,’ I thought. ‘That they aren’t pretending to accept him, us, for my sake.’ Of course, my brilliant plan neglected to take into account the fact that nobody else knew about it.”

He sighed and pushed open the door. “Then I got a flat tire. ‘I can’t call now,’ I thought. ‘I’ll ruin the big surprise.’ Once again, I didn’t think about how long it would take me to change a tire by myself in the dark, or that you’d come to the conclusion that I wasn’t coming back. That I would do that to you. It never crossed my mind, so why would it ever cross yours?” He pointed toward the driveway. “Look, damn it. Underneath the streetlight.”

Jeremy stepped onto the front porch and stared. Then he blinked. It was still there. A U-Haul trailer was attached to Owen’s truck. A moving trailer? It couldn’t mean what he thought it did. Could it?

Licking his dry lips, trying to curtail the swelling of hope in his chest, he asked, “So…is that apartment roof too expensive to fix?”

“It’s not my problem since I don’t live there anymore. I handed the landlord my keys this afternoon. Sucker kept my deposit too. I’m officially homeless.”

Jeremy turned toward Owen, a million questions in his mind, but all he could ask was, “Why?”

Owen reached out and pulled him back inside, closing and locking the door before leaning against it. “Why didn’t I call you last night? I’ll admit the first meeting of the brothers after that text was rough. Mostly because we don’t keep secrets, as a rule. At least, I thought we didn’t. Stephen should have told us about Natasha years ago, and I—well, they were as surprised as you might imagine about you and me.” He sighed. “By the time all the confusion died down, it was so late I didn’t know whether I was coming or going, and I fell asleep on the floor in the family room while listening to Stephen make deals and plot villainous deeds on the phone.”

“You should have called.”

Owen nodded. “I should have called. But let’s address the question of the trailer. Am I right in thinking that you want to know why I brought my lucky, ugly lounge chair, my shamrock lamp and the rest of my things over to your house when we’ve never actually discussed the prospect of living together?”

“I would like to know that, yes.”

He smiled tiredly and Jeremy felt the hope swell out of control, filling his heart painfully.

“You know how I am when I get an idea in my head, Porter,” Owen told him. “I had this crazy notion that we could live together. That I could stay with you. Be with you and only you. I wasn’t ready for these two weeks to end and I… well, I knew I never would be. I didn’t want to give you the chance to overthink it and say no before I could convince you it was a good idea.”

Be with you and only you.

Fighting for breath, for calm, Jeremy ran both hands through his hair. “This isn’t a temporary agreement you’re talking about, is it? What you’re talking about is living together. Other people are bound to find out. People you work with. You’re talking about a relationship. With me, after only a few weeks. With me, your male friend from high school who remembers how excited you were for months after Janet Leary let you touch her—”

“Yes,” Owen interrupted, raising his voice in frustration. “I admit it, I love the female body. I respect and adore the goddess within. I’ve worshipped blissfully at the altar of the pussy for decades.”

Jeremy covered his mouth to hide his unexpected smile. “I know that altar.”

“I’m aware, and if Natasha hadn’t been secretly rocking my brother’s world, I might have convinced you to let her join us on holidays and special occasions. Hell, maybe for our tenth anniversary we can talk about it, or something like it.”

“Wait…” Jeremy blinked at him. “Our tenth anniversary?”

Owen sighed again. “Damn it, Jeremy, what is it I have to say to get through to you? You know what you mean to me. You’ve always been the first one I want to tell my news to, good and bad. You’ve always been the most important person in my life who wasn’t related to me by blood. But…well, I’ve been thinking about you differently for a while now, since your date with what’s-her-name—”

“Darla?”

He nodded. “Since Darla. Don’t ask me why, but after that I went through a lot of women trying to get the idea of being with you out of my mind. Then the party at Tasha’s happened and you looked at me for that split second and I thought there was a chance you thought about me too. And after that first night? The last few weeks? What you make me feel… I’ve never felt like that before. Like I can be myself and more than myself at the same time. I spend my day watching the clock because I can’t wait to come home to you. Just to be home with you. I wake up earlier than I have to so I can watch you fucking sleep, and I’m not stupid enough to let something that good get away. Bisexual, kinky, gay, straight—I don’t give a flying fuck what you or anyone else wants to call it. You’re my best friend and I happen to be in love with you. Does the rest of it really matter?”

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