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“Yeah,” I agreed, but this homecoming felt a lot less sweet than I’d expected. I’d kind of thought gorging on Beck in Vegas might get this craving out of my system, but now, as I considered that this kiss might have been our last, I was pretty sure I’d only managed to get myself addicted to something I couldn’t keep.
* * *
BECKETT
We arrivedin Granville a few hours later, our truck reeking of takeout from a burger dive we’d stopped at on the way home. I’d drowned my sorrows in a chocolate-banana shake and tried to remember how to make normal conversation with Wes.
Usually we could shoot the shit about anything.
Does a hot dog qualify as a sandwich?
Is cereal really soup?
Does pineapple belong on pizza?
Yes, yes, and hell no, but banana peppers are the bomb.
Today, we’d struggled, conversation strained as we tried to recapture our normal dynamic while working to forget the boundaries we’d crossed in Vegas. Like we hadn’t gotten married and had sex. Like finally touching Wes the way I’d secretly craved for far too long hadn’t permanently altered me.
Because I couldn’t let it.
This was Granville, the nosy small town of all nosy small towns. Pretty much everyone here knew us. Knew us as Wes and Beck, brothers. Most folks didn’t apply the step, though I was always aware of it, being the single Monroe in a household of Potters.
They’d always treated me as one of their own, but they weren’t my first stepfamily, and after my former stepdad, Craig, walked out of my life after ten years, I didn’t trust those bonds to last forever.
Much less withstand the strain of me fucking my stepbrother.
Wes drove straight to our little trailer behind Potter Landscaping, parking in the drive that was mostly dirt and dead grass. I gazed at the place we’d called home for six years. Damn, it was small.
Wes and I couldn’t take a piss without tripping over one another. That had never bothered me before, but now…with a couple of incredible orgasms between us that we couldn’t repeat…a little space would be nice.
“Well, here we are,” he said.
“Yep.”
Neither of us moved to get out.
“Home sweet home,” Wes said.
“Yeah.”
He slanted me a glance. “It seems smaller than I remember.”
I laughed, the first easy one to come since waking up in bed with Wes. “I was just thinking that too.”
Wes grinned at me, all kinds of stupid hot, and I flung open the door and fled the pickup before I did something ridiculous like beg him to kiss me again. That would not be happening, damn it. We were going to be bros, like always.
We grabbed our bags from the truck bed and headed up the rickety steps. Maybe we’d spent too long living in this tin can like a couple of frat boys. Maybe it was time to get an actual, real house.
Our living room was little more than two gamer chairs in front of a huge television and a jumble of gaming systems and remotes. My bedroom was the slightly larger one at the front of the trailer because I’d won a game of rock-paper-scissors for it. Wes’s was crammed in the back, right by the bathroom.
“Well, uh, guess we’ll catch up later?” Wes said, sounding awkward.
“Yeah…” I motioned toward my room. “I could use a nap.”
He smirked. “Feeling a little worn out from—”
“All that traveling?” I interrupted before he could bring up any other reason I might be tired. “Yeah. I’m ready to decompress.”
