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I couldn’t imagine what the hell had happened to cause the brothers to be at odds, but I couldn’t deal with any of it right now.
I got Aleks to our room. Con ran ahead of us to open the door. As we passed him, Aleks said, “I’m sorry, Con. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
“No worries, Aleks,” Con said, completely flustered. For once, he looked at a loss for words.
I kicked the door shut behind me and then carried Aleks to the bed. I settled him on top of it, then crawled in behind him. He turned over and pushed into my arms and I gladly wrapped them around him.
“I didn’t go away, James,” he said softly against my neck. “That’s good, right?”
I knew he was talking about the fact that he hadn’t blacked out.
“That’s amazing,” I said. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”
“It means I’m fighting back,” Aleks murmured. I could feel him trying to ward off the sleep that was threatening to take him.
“Yes, it does,” I said. I rubbed my hand up and down his back. “Just sleep, Aleks. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He nodded and snuggled deeper into me. “Tell Con I’m sorry I got upset. And tell him I’ll do it, okay?”
“Do what, baby?”
Aleks was so quiet that I thought he’d actually fallen asleep. But when I heard the words he whispered right before he drifted off, I felt a chill go through my bones.
“Wear the collar.”
Chapter 22
Aleks
It was interesting to watch the men fight, even when they were all in agreement about an issue.
It was also really exhausting.
And loud.
The issue in question was the dreaded collar that was currently sitting about twenty feet from me on Luca’s desk. I couldn’t actually see the collar, but I recognized the box from the previous week when it had been sitting on his desk in the other house… the one in the Hamptons.
Because of my freak-out when Con had shown me the collar, we’d ended up spending another night in the ocean-front house and it hadn’t been until the following afternoon that we’d made our way to the city. I’d slept through the entire night after my meltdown, so Vaughn and I hadn’t made love. I’d woken up in his arms with him watching me with a solemn expression on his face. I’d kissed him and told him I was okay, but it hadn’t been hard to figure out that he was upset. He hadn’t asked me about what had happened, so I’d figured he’d talked to Con about it at some point while I’d been asleep.
But it wasn’t until Vaughn and I had entered the kitchen that morning for breakfast that I’d realized Con hadn’t had a clue about the collar I’d been forced to wear for so many years.
And how hard it had been to give it up, both figuratively and literally.
Poor Con had been an absolute mess when Vaughn and I had shown up for breakfast.
The first thing we’d both noticed were grits.
Everywhere.
They’d been in containers all over the counter and Con’s clothes had been covered in flour and all manner of ingredients. When he’d caught sight of me and Vaughn, he hadn’t stopped moving for even a moment.
He’d just kept right on cooking.
And talking.
Dig in, guys. There’s all kinds… sausage and cheese, bacon and cheese, ham and cheese, just cheese… this one’s got cinnamon and that one’s got fruit on it but maybe don’t try that one because it was more of an experiment. I didn’t make shrimp ones because that’s Vaughn’s thing but if there’s another kind you like, I can make them for you…
As he’d spoken, Con had pointed to the different containers full of grits. And he hadn’t stayed still for a moment. I’d never seen one of his fights, but I could picture him in the ring… always on the move and always waiting for that next strike to come his way.
My heart had broken for him and when I’d tugged my hand from Vaughn’s, he’d instantly let me go. I’d walked around the large kitchen island. Con’s verbal diarrhea had only gotten worse as I’d approached him but when I’d walked into his body, he’d shut up and then he’d put his arms awkwardly around me.
Then he’d hugged me hard. I’m sorry, Aleks. I didn’t know.
It hadn’t really bothered me that Vaughn had told him about the collar I’d been forced to wear because I’d known Vaughn wouldn’t have shared anything beyond the facts.
I’d squeezed Con in response and it had been enough. When he’d released me, he’d handed me a spoon, and I’d started trying all the different versions of grits he’d made. I’d liked them all, but I’d ended up grabbing the cinnamon ones. I’d never seen Con looking happier than when I’d pushed my bowl away and let out a loud belch that I hadn’t managed to quell.
