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“Look guys, I only called to let you know that—”
Whatever I was going to say is cut off when I get a text from Damon that has me grinning from ear to ear.
Damon: If the offer is still on the table, I would like it if you came to Nevada with me.
“I want to let you know I’ll be going to Nevada with Damon,” I tell them, seeing everyone but Savage give me a toothy grin. Savage still saves most of his grins for his husband. The half smile he gives me now is miles better than his old stoic expression. “I’m staying. I’ll keep you all updated. But I’m staying.”
Chapter 10
Damon
Thenextfewdaysare spent getting ready to leave, doing extra training at work, and trying to stay out of my family’s way. I succeed for the most part, only having to do small chores and cook dinner when Fallon ordered me to. I decided to make some meals and freeze them, so they would have something to eat. Knowing James, he would try to call my boss to get me back home just because they didn’t want to cook for themselves. At least this way, they’ll survive.
I’m putting the last of the meals in a container, labeling it with Fallon’s name when he walks into the kitchen. Fallon narrows his eyes at me, and I curl in on myself, trying to make myself smaller so he won’t do anything.
When he just stares, I clear my throat and ask, “Are you hungry?” I just made dinner for the night about an hour before, but my stepbrothers are big guys. They can really put it away.
“You think you’re hot shit, huh?” He asks with a sneer, and I wince. I’m not sure what he’s referring to, but I shake my head. “Think you’re some big deal because you’re going out of town.” He moves around the island to stand beside me, and I lean away from him subtly. He’s not as violent as Conrad, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try to put his hands on me, just because he can.
Instead of answering, I shake my head again. Not just because I want him to leave me alone, but because I don’t understand why Mr. Archer chose me. I’ve been wracking my brain all week to try to figure it out. If it weren’t for me going down to payroll and watching them adjust my current pay to include my new per diem, I would think it was an elaborate hoax that my family set up, further crushing me when I think my work is recognized.
But no, none of that happened. Mr. Archer checked over my notes that I added and gave me his seal of approval and commended me on catching some of the things he missed. He even told me that he knew he chose the right person to do the training.
However, with Fallon talking to me like this, I’m inclined to believe that Mr. Archer is lying to me. My stepbrother knows me better than Mr. Archer. He knows that I have no reason to think I’m as good as Mr. Archer thinks I am.
“I don’t,” I murmur, turning to put his Tupperware in the freezer. “I don’t know why he chose me. My review is coming up, so—”
He cuts me off by slamming the freezer door just as I pull my hands free. I jump and huddle back to the corner, holding still and dropping my eyes. I don’t know what issue any of them have with me. I haven’t done anything to them. I’m always out of the way and try to keep to myself.
I watch his feet as he walks closer to me and I flinch back, hoping I won’t have to go to work tomorrow with bruises. He grabs my arm and yanks me forward. Luckily, his grip isn’t too tight. “I don’t give a fuck about that. You need to hurry back so you can take care of this house. What are we supposed to do while you go off doing fuck all? Starve?”
Pushing my glasses up, I draw in a deep breath and look up at him. His face is impassive, like he’s not scaring the shit out of me. “I … uh … there’s food, Fallon. I made enough for three weeks, just in case. And … there’s a cleaner—cleaning service,” I correct myself. “I hired them to come twice a week.”
James chooses that moment to come into the kitchen. “And who’s paying for that service?”
Swallowing thickly, I gently try to pull my arm free from Fallon’s grip. With a quick, hard squeeze, he lets me go. I take a few steps away, then grab the dish cloth to wipe the counters to give myself something to do. “I paid for it already. The company will … take care of my food while I’m there. I used my grocery money. It covers two and a half weeks.”
Instead of the ire I’m expecting for being presumptuous, James smirks. “See there, Fallon? He’s not as stupid as he looks.” They laugh and pull a beer out of the fridge. They both look at me, then back at each other and laugh again, their mirth trailing behind them and grating on my ears and self-esteem.
Blinking back tears, I drop the cloth and go to my room. It’s a waste of tears to let them bother me, but I’ve spent the week trying to figure out if I’m good enough and my family reminds me that I’m not. Only one more night and I’m on my own.
Well, not on my own. Michael will be with me.
I’m still surprised that I got up the nerve to invite him. Hell, I’m surprised I asked if I could hug him. An even bigger surprise? I went to his hotel room. I’ve never done anything like that. I wanted to talk and ask questions, but I also wanted to get to know him. There’s something about him that makes me want … more. More of him, more of our conversations, more of him looking at me like he wants to eat me alive.
Laying back on my bed, I adjust my dick behind the zipper of my fitted jeans. Growling in frustration, I sit up and pull my pants off, having a bit of an issue because of the massive erection I have thinking about how Michael looks at me. I don’t miss it whenever his eyes land on me. It’s hard to believe that someone is looking at me like that when no one else has.
Tossing my pants in my hamper, I glare at them in annoyance. I’m not sure why I keep buying them loosely fitted, knowing I don’t feel like myself in those clothes. I feel like a fraud, someone pretending to be this caricature of what’s expected of me. That deflates my cock.
What I wouldn’t give to dress the way I want. To do the things I want. To be who I see myself as—a young, queer man, exploring the world and how I fit into it. I want to fit into it as the real me. But as long as I’m here with this family, I’ll never know what that feels like.
The one time I tried, with a pair of leggings a few years back, I was teased and laughed at by my family so badly, I burned them in the backyard, the heat from the fire drying my tears. When I used to see Abel wearing the things he wanted—crop tops, leggings, tight jeans, make up—with no regard to what anyone else thought, I was always jealous. Not of him, but of his carefree attitude. I want that.
Maybe in Nevada …
No, that would just be a waste of time. I wouldn’t want to seem like I was playing dress-up while I was supposed to be working. Although …
Would it be dress-up? I’m playing dress-upnow. Wearing clothes that make me invisible. Probably why Ifeelinvisible.
