Double Heat [Twin Ties: 3] (2 page)

Presley groaned, wiping his hands over his face. “God, Carter
warned
me. There’s some shit you can’t un-see and
that
shit I will never be able to un-see.”

“It’s good, right? Maybe I should take up acting. And
you
know why Carter’d be horrified, and it has nothing to do with why I do such an accurate portrayal of Evan’s expression when he comes.”

That brought Presley right back. His hands fell to his lap and he sighed with something like defeat. “Yeah.”

It had been a complex process, almost happening in super speed. After they’d moved into the apartment, Brennan knew it had become clear to Evan right away how screwed he was. There were things happening on a daily basis in their lives together which Evan hesitated to relay to someone like Jimmy, who had been his confidant forever. Evan used to tell Jimmy
everything
—sexual or otherwise. But things had turned a corner. It wasn’t a matter of one hot date; it was every day, sleeping with and screwing around with multiple men at the same time. That wasn’t something you shared with a former preacher, no matter if he was like family or not.

When Presley and Carter moved into an apartment down the block, they all started hanging out together regularly. Almost daily, they would see one or the other of them, even if it was just while Luka and Presley went to work together at the gym, or for a few minutes at the end of the day. They were simply around each other a lot. Once Carter and Presley were there frequently enough, Brennan and Evan had realized how nothing was kept from them. Presley and Carter knew the twins’ sleeping arrangements. They knew about the basic dynamics between the foursome. They’d watch the game together, and not blink an eye if Luka and Alek started to make out, or if Brennan drifted from Luka’s lap to Alek’s, or if Brennan kissed Evan goodnight in a non-brotherly way.

They saw it all. But now, after only a matter of weeks, Brennan was seeing the effects. They all were.

Presley and Brennan had become good friends. They got along great.

But Evan....

“Maybe they should just bone. Carter could get it out of his system. Or you guys should just watch me and Ev bone sometime. Live vicariously and stop worrying about it so much.”

“Oh, I’m not lettin’ y’all suck him into your depravity.
Hell no
, son.”

“I was totally kidding. Relax. And Carter needs to relax, too. Evan isn’t the victim here. He hates when people think of him that way. Carter has to lay off, treat Evan like an adult.”

Jamie, who was Carter’s band mate and best friend, had recently mentioned the gun locked up in his vault—
Evan’s
gun—to Carter offhandedly, during rehearsal. Then, Carter’s questions started about why Jamie was holding onto Evan’s gun because Brennan asked him to, not because Evan had.

In the end, it had fallen to Alek to explain. He pulled Carter and Presley aside and told them about Evan’s suicide attempt, and their continued awareness of Evan’s issues with depression.

If, before, Carter had been irked by Evan’s youth and naivety when it came to him being drawn into the depraved world of the Popović twins, it was
nothing
compared to his reaction after he learned about Evan’s, albeit fleeting, death. Right away, Carter had assigned himself the duty of making sure Evan was okay. The attack at the bar during which Evan had been stabbed made them all more fearful for Evan’s safety, and Carter hadn’t been immune. The combined knowledge of all of Evan’s tragedies worked to draw Carter to Evan almost instantly.

They had already bonded over their shared love of cars and enjoyment of fantasy football. Alek had encouraged Carter to call Evan whenever he felt like it, just to shoot the shit and remind Evan he had friends out there, worrying about him. So Carter had called. And called. And called. They’d become closer friends. But, it was different than Carter’s friendships with the rest of them. There was a distinct protectiveness to the way Carter interacted with Evan. Even Brennan didn’t know how much Evan was confiding in Carter, but Brennan had witnessed, through Presley, the proof of how deep Carter’s loyalty to Evan had started to run.

Brennan sighed and continued, “It’s just that fucking protective instinct he has for Ev grown way out of proportion. I know he’s not gonna jump Evan’s bones or something. And also? How many times have you witnessed Luka and Alek going at it? Fucking hypocrite.”

Presley sputtered, “B-but that was like... they’re
seven years older
than you and... I had no choice! They were
right there
and... Eh, fuck it.” He flapped a hand at the whole conversation and went back to eating his cereal. “Were you like this before you met Luka or is it his fault?”

“Y’all give him far too much credit,” Brennan drawled with his light Southern accent. “He’s been calling me the evil one since our first date, y’know. Luka ain’t got nothin’ on me.” With his honey blond hair shining in the morning light, his blue eyes gleaming and angelic features the picture of virtue, Brennan knew his appearance was the perfect counterpoint to his words and deeds. And Presley couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the startling contrast.

“Damn,” was all he could manage. He shook his head. “Now
I’m
concerned for Evan, too.”

“Oh, poor Evan!” Brennan mocked dramatically. “Everyone loves him. He gets laid so much he might have to cut back on his hours at work just to have time to recover from three guys humping him at once. Alek wants to grow old with him. Luka gets more worried about Evan’s wellbeing than he even does with me sometimes. Out of nowhere, I fell into his life and we were instant soul mates, and now he’s got Carter—
your
boyfriend—fighting for him too and trying to shield him from his own, devoted boyfriends! Yeah,
poor Evan
.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” Presley sighed. “Weren’t we talking about your trip home?”

Brennan deflated like a balloon, groaning inwardly and watching the apartment’s front door. He would have rather kept gossiping about Carter and Evan than analyze his own dread. It was easy to vent about something relatively stupid, like the aura of fragility Evan seemed to give off at all times, which drew the alpha males in with powerful force. Brennan had never experienced such a thing before. He was always either the caregiver or mischief maker, never the damsel in distress. Of course, Brennan thought the whole thing was stupid because he could tell how strong Evan was, beneath it all. Evan might not have been able to see how strong he was, or could be, but Brennan saw it.

He wished he had some of Evan’s quiet strength to deal with what was ahead of him. The trip home was a daunting event looming on the horizon. He knew it was there. It had been there for a while, getting steadily closer, but he had chosen to ignore it as long as he could. Time was almost up. He only had a few hours left.

“Yeah. I haven’t told them about it at all yet, so if they come back—”

Presley dropped his spoon with a clatter and gave Brennan an incredulous stare, at which Brennan rolled his eyes. “What? Why not!? Have you told
Evan
?”

“Yeah,” Brennan admitted. “He’s the only one, though.”

“And? What’s he think about it?”

Brennan shrugged. “I told him he could come with. He doesn’t feel comfortable. I think it creeps him out, the idea of seeing Mom’s grave and the place we used to live without him. He’s got trust issues with people his own age, too, so he’s not super eager to meet my old friends. It’s just for a couple of days anyway.”

“But you’re
leaving him
with them.” Then Presley seemed to get distracted, staring at a point in midair and losing his train of thought. Briefly, he shook his head as if to clear it.

“You’re still seeing the O face, aren’t you,” Brennan smirked.

“
Shh!
God damn it.
Now
I am. Thank you,
Cupcake
,” he said sarcastically.

“The nickname’s much less cute when you say it,” Brennan lamented. “You and Carter can totally move in while I’m gone, you know. Set up some yellow caution tape around Evan’s pretty ass.”

“I’m tempted,” Presley said, warning Brennan with a look.

“Aren’t we all, Pres? Aren’t we all?”

Chapter 2
Evan’s Confessions

The local seafood place was pretty damn hard to find. Located in a plain, white building off the main road, behind a printing business and on the far end of a large parking lot, it sat wedged between some railroad tracks and acres of asphalt. There was one tiny sign, sun-bleached with the blue type faded way back. When Evan Savage pulled up to the place, he instantly questioned the reliability of his advisors in the day’s fish-purchasing quest. Why anyone would sell fish in such a shady, unlikely spot was beyond him. There wasn’t a river or lake or any other sizeable body of water anywhere nearby. He almost didn’t go inside but he’d heard from everyone he’d asked that it was the only place to go for fresh fish. The grocery stores weren’t entirely reliable. Everything stunk and looked like it had been laying in the case for weeks. At least there were a bunch of cars parked out in front of the weird little fish store. He figured they were all either there on the same word-of-mouth recommendations or the seafood joint was actually selling meth. Either way, he was about to find out.

The bell on the door tinkled as he stepped inside. Fish were laid out in long, glass display cases and they looked real enough. They smelled real enough, too, but in a normal way instead of an imminent-case-of-food-poisoning way.

He began to peruse the offerings. A tattooed woman in her early fifties, who looked like she just rode in on some tricked-out Harley, came over, giving him the once-over from behind the counter. She could have definitely kicked his ass if she’d wanted to, so Evan gave her a polite, if nervous, smile and tried to make a decision. He wouldn’t have held it against her if she was wondering why some befuddled teenager was in her shop. Of course, if he had told her the true reason why he was there, there was no way she would have believed him anyway.

“Help you with something, sugar?” she asked in a gravelly, cigarette-roughened voice. There was a big menu written out in chalk on a board behind her.

It seemed most of the patrons were there for lunch, seated at small tables on one side of the shop with trays of food set in front of them. He cleared his throat and nervously scratched the back of his neck through his trimmed-short dark-blond hair. Glancing up at her, he asked, in an equally raspy voice, though from genetics rather than bad habit, “Yeah, I don’t suppose you could tell me what a good ‘date night’ fish is?”

She grinned crookedly at him, looking at him in a new way. “You kidding?” she replied. “Lobster all the way.”

Evan’s eyebrows shot up and he considered it, chewing on his lower lip. “Yeah? Is it hard to cook?”

“Nah, easiest thing to cook in the world. I’ll walk you through it.” She stepped over to the tank of live lobsters, waving for him to follow.

“Awesome.” He shrugged. “I’ll go with that then.”

“So, you want anything else besides the pair of lobsters?” she asked.

“Uh, no, I’ll need four lobsters,” he mumbled, feeling awkward as hell.

“Oh!” she exclaimed with surprise, putting her hands on her hips and looking at him again. He wished she’d stop doing that. There were much weirder things in there, with tentacles and everything, to stare at instead of him. “Big appetites!”

“No, there’s four of us,” he heard himself say, with no idea whatsoever why he was saying it. Even as he thought to himself that he should have kept that information to himself lest he want someone else to try kicking his ass for not only being gay or merely sympathetic to gay people, but a gay kid in a polyamorous relationship, he discovered his mouth wasn’t done getting him in trouble. “We’re all dating each other. Together. A foursome.”

God damn it
, he thought.
See? This—this is why literally everyone in my life always treats me like it’s a miracle I’m still walking around on two legs with my senses more or less intact. Such an idiot.

The fish lady was
really
staring at him, like he’d just whacked her across the face with a flounder. Then, strangely, she began to look concerned.

“Oh, honey,” she sighed. “You’re not in one of those cults are you? You need some help?”

“No, uh,” he laughed. “Thanks. I’m fine.”

“Well, hell, no wonder you look so overwhelmed. If I had two more of my husband to put up with all the time, I’d have killed someone by now. How in the world did you get into something as crazy as that?”

“Don’t ask,” Evan grumbled. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it, but.... Thanks for the tip. About the lobsters. How do you cook ‘em again?”

Five minutes later, he was in his car with four friggin’ live lobsters in a bag. He was running the verbal cooking directions over in his head to ensure he hadn’t forgotten them already when his cell phone rang. Pulling it out, he took one look at the caller ID and answered without further hesitation.

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

“Nothin’,” Carter answered. “You get the fish?”

“Yeah. I still think it’s totally possible meth is a side-business here, but whatever,” Evan said, looking at the bag in the passenger seat foot-well and mistrusting it entirely. He wondered, vaguely, if lobsters could climb out of bags. He didn’t like the thought of the big, spidery crustaceans crawling around his car while he was driving. “Got some lobsters, actually.”

“Wow, good choice.”

“Thanks. My life’d be a lot easier if Brennan ate meat, but what can you do. Now I’ve gotta go kill some innocent creatures by boiling them alive. Feel like I should just shoot ‘em, make it a more painless exit. Um, and I may have told the fish lady I’m dating three people.”

“No shit?” Carter sounded surprised instead of amused, like Evan was behaving out of character. It just made Evan hope Carter wasn’t going to get weird on him because of it, and start to get concerned again. Maybe Evan had to learn to not joke about shooting lobsters, or anything else for that matter, especially around people who knew his history. “What’d she say?”