Page 12 of Risky Taste
“How the fuck—” I choke on the words..
“Breathe. There you go. Your brother doesn’t know the meaning of privacy. I don’t care about him right now. I’m focused on you. And you need a shower.”
I try to twist away, to claw back some semblance of control, but the bedroom door bangs open with a violent crash. Sebastiandoesn’t flinch as he tugs me toward the shower and guides me under the scalding spray. Hot water slides over my skin, stinging where it meets the tension knotted in my shoulders. He steps in behind me, pulling the dark curtain closed, a flimsy shield cloaking us from my brother.
I’m not entirely sure why I’m hiding from my brother. Why I don’t just confront him. And then I remember how angry Kurt gets when things don’t go his way and the conversation he had with Bast—how I’m ‘off limits’. I suck in a breath and bury my face into Sebastian’s chest, warring with my need to confront my brother and the desire to stay hidden for just a while longer.
And at this point, it’s too late to just step out from the shower and be like, ‘hey, I slept with your friend last night.’ Kurt would take that as a betrayal, and he doesn’t deal with his emotions very well.
The bathroom door creaks open, my heart in my stomach as Kurt’s exasperated sigh cuts through the hiss of the water. “Ah, there you are. Should have known you still get up early as shit. Had a little party without us, eh? Was it to celebrate Heath’s departure or are you broken up about him? Don’t lie to me either. I know he’s gone. His stupid car was always in the driveway.”
A sob catches in my throat and I can’t find the words or the energy to speak. I sag against Sebastian, seeking his strength, the only thing keeping me upright as the room spins. “We’re separated,” I manage at last, my voice a broken thread barely audible over the water.
“No shit. Missed that too. I missed a lot of things and I’m sorry about that. But hey, I’m back for a while and we can catch up.”
His apology is hollow, laughter following it as it echoes faintly from the bedroom. He’s oblivious to the wreckage he leaves behind, always has been. And I’m left here, drowning in thedark, clinging to a man I shouldn’t want, haunted by a brother I can’t escape.
Sebastian’s hands tighten on my waist, anchoring me as the world tilts toward chaos. I want to scream, to rage. My nod is weak, barely a twitch of my head as I force the words past my lips. “Sure. Um. Breakfast?”
“Sounds good.” Kurt pushes out. “Look. You should probably get some help. Yeah? You look like you could use someone to talk to. I wasn’t expecting to get the mopey version of my brother.”
His presence lingers for a few seconds and then the bedroom door thuds shut, leaving my head a bigger mess than before. My throat seems to close, the rational part of my mind fully giving way to panic as I crawl my way out of the shower.
Kurt doesn’t know Ronny’s gone. He doesn’t know I’m a recovering alcoholic, tearing my way out of a pit I dug with every bottle I emptied. He doesn’t know about Heath’s hands around my throat, the bruises that faded but left scars beneath my skin. He doesn’t know how I drowned in whiskey to forget the weight of his betrayal. And he never will.
Not because we aren’t close—though that’s true enough—but because he wouldn’t understand. He never does. His answer to every wound I’ve ever bared is the same: suck it up. Move on. As if pain is a switch I can flip.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I crawl anyway, nails scraping the floor, desperation driving me forward. My breaths come in ragged heaves as the bathroom spins, a blur of white tiles and fogged mirrors, until Sebastian’s hands find me. He lifts me effortlessly, pulling me into his lap as he sinks to the floor.
His skin is hot against mine, a stark contrast to the icy dread seeping through my veins. Soft kisses press against my forehead, his broad hand tracing slow, sweeping circles across my back.I cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, my chest still shuddering with every labored breath.
You’re so fragile. Weak.The voice in my head sneers. I wince, unable to argue. It’s right. I’m breaking apart, piece by jagged piece, and I don’t know how to stop it.
“Noah.” Sebastian’s voice is gentle, a low murmur against my ear. “I hate to say this. But this is the one time your brother might be right. I think you need to talk to someone. Ronny was your rock. Without him, you’re going to spiral. You need to talk to someone.”
He doesn’t say shrink, doesn’t push that loaded word into the air between us. Still, the thought of spilling the chaos in my head—of dragging those memories into the light—twists my stomach into knots.
I don’t want to relive them. The nights I blacked out with a bottle in my hand. The mornings I woke up to Heath’s cold stare. Moments when I wasn’t enough to fight Ronny’s demons or my own. I want to forget. Talking won’t fix me. It’ll only rip the scabs off wounds that never heal.
“Shit. Again?”
A familiar voice cuts through the haze and my body locks up, every muscle seizing as shame floods me.
Logan’s standing in the doorway, his royal blue eyes no doubt taking in the pathetic mess I’ve become. To the veterans at the clinic, I’m the charming doctor with the practiced smile, the steady hands that stitch them back together. Here, I’m nothing.
A failure sprawled on the bathroom floor, naked and shivering, my dignity stripped away by my own unraveling. I pull free from Sebastian, my gaze darting for a towel, anything to cover me. Ignoring Logan, I shove past him, his outstretched hand grazing my arm as I dodge it. I need out. I need to breathe and it’s not going to happen in my bathroom.
“Don’t pull away, Noah.” Sebastian’s steps follow but I block him out too. My hands shake as I yank on a pair of sweats, the fabric clinging to my wet skin, cold and clammy against my thighs before dragging on a hoodie.
“Noah.”
“No.” I spin around, my voice cracking as I face them. Logan first, his arms folded across his chest, concerned etching lines into his face. Then Sebastian, standing there unashamedly naked, water still glistening on his scarred torso. “We can’t do this. Kurt… he won’t get it. He doesn’t know what I need. Oh. Don’t look at me like that, Logan. I remember that night. But it can’t happen again. None of this can.”
They freeze, rooted in place by the weight of my words. Logan tilts his head, studying me like he can see through the lie I’m choking on. Sebastian’s green eyes darken, the man chewing on his bottom lip as if he’s holding back what he truly wants to say. I already told him that I needed him last night, let him see a part of me I’ve been holding back. He knows I’m lying.
“Noah.” Logan purrs, still studying me. “Are you saying you need us?”
A tortured breath escapes me as I stumble back. “No.” It’s a lie, bitter on my tongue. “I just—” I don’t need them. I crave them. I desperately crave the touch that all three of them have given me, the way they made the world disappear until it was me and them. Even when we weren’t in bed, they saw me, justme. Not Kurt’s little brother. Not another soldier. Butme, Noah.
