Feuds and Reckless Fury by K. Webster

 

Alister

He didn’t send me those texts.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the actual fuck?

Quickly, I change the contact from Brother Lover to Creep. I’m completely skeeved out by this conversation I’ve been having with a stranger while thinking it was Canyon.

I should tell Dad and Ryan.

My stomach twists violently, making me nauseous. It’s a wrong number, obviously. Whoever has been texting with me doesn’t mean to. That’s it.

They know when your birthday is, dumbass.

No, they don’t. It’s a coincidence. The text about my birthday said two weeks, not the actual date.

One thing I know for sure is Canyon wasn’t the sender. After calling him out on it on Instagram, he genuinely seemed confused. I feel dirty and used talking to a random person while thinking it was him.

I can’t seem to sit still despite the late hour. I’ve already cleaned the mirror, shower door, and window, dusted my room, vacuumed, changed the sheets, and reorganized my closet. There’s nothing left for me to fix.

I’m still reeling, pacing my room, when Dad rushes in, a frantic, concerned look on his face. For a minute, I wonder if he’s seen the texts and is worried too.

“Hey, kiddo, you think you could make sure the guest room across the hall is ready? I know you have some extra art stuff stored in the closet, but we need the space.” He scrubs a palm over his face, weariness shining in his eyes. “Canyon needs it.”

Canyon?

“What? Why? He’s coming to stay with us?”

A slideshow of filthy images flit through my mind all at once, but I quickly shut down that line of thinking because getting a boner in front of my dad would be awkward as fuck.

“Aimee kicked him out. Ryan and I are going to head over there to help grab some of his stuff.”

My blood runs cold, the heat leeching from my body almost instantly. Did he tell her about us? No. He wouldn’t. They must have had another fight about the meet and her lying about why she didn’t go to it.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’ll get it ready.”

Dad leaves and I hurry into the guest room across the hall. The situation is shit, but I can’t deny the thrill that shoots down my spine at having him nearby. While the house is quiet, I set to emptying out the closet and moving the art supplies into my studio. I’ll organize it better when I’m not in a rush. I take my obsessive need to clean into what’ll now be Canyon’s room, making sure every surface shines and is dust free. After I’ve changed the bedding and scrubbed the toilet, I admire the space that he’ll soon clutter up. The thought, surprisingly, doesn’t upset me.

Right now, I need him here with me. I want to talk to him about the texts to see what he thinks about them. Plus, I think he needs me too. His fight earlier with his mom is the catalyst of what brought us together sexually. Emotions were running high. I can only imagine what getting kicked out of his house will do to him.

I’m sitting on his bed, waiting, when Ryan walks in carrying an armful of clothes on a hanger. His jaw is clenched and the furious glint in his eyes is one I’ve never seen before. It reminds me of Canyon so much it’s chilling.

“Everything go okay?” I croak out.

He hangs the clothes up in the closet and comes out wearing a look of a disgust. For a second, I feel exposed—as though he knows that I blew his son earlier.

“I know I fucked things up with Aimee because I have loved your dad for as long as I can remember, but it’s unimaginable that she’d take it out on Canyon.” He blows out a sharp breath. “He’s already so fragile.”

Fragile and Canyon aren’t two words I’d put in the same sentence, but Ryan certainly believes it based on the tense, worried expression on his face.

“I’ll make sure he’s okay,” I vow, meeting his sad stare. “I promise.”

And I will.

It’s messed up what me and Canyon have been doing, but I care about him more than a casual hookup. I don’t want him to hurt. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he doesn’t.

“You’re a good kid,” Ryan says, studying me with pride. “I’m proud to soon have you as a son, too.”

Son.

Yikes.

It’s a good reminder that I need to tread carefully. The last thing I need to do is screw stuff up with Ryan. Dad loves him and if I piss off his soon-to-be husband, I’ll be more disposable than ever.

Ryan leaves the bedroom and I go to the closet to neaten up the hangers that he haphazardly threw on the rack. It’s clear to see where Canyon got his messiness from. After living with Ryan for a few short months, Dad’s house cleaner, Carole, has had to come a lot more often. Poor Carole’s really going to have her work cut out for her now.

This time, Dad is the one who shows up with a stack of clothes with Canyon following him, a box in his hands. His eyes are downcast, and a frown tugs at his lips. I ache to yank him into my arms, but I’ll be damned if I do that in front of Dad. Once Dad leaves and it’s just the two of us, I do exactly as I craved the second I saw him. I throw my arms around his neck, yanking him to me in a fierce hug. His muscular arms encircle my waist, locking me against him. I press my lips to the side of his neck, murmuring assurances that have him clutching my shirt and exhaling a staggering breath.

“It’s going to be okay,” I assure him. “I promise.”

He nods and his breath grows ragged like he might be silently crying. It brings tears to my eyes, but I quickly blink them back. The last thing he needs is for me to lose it. Pulling slightly away, I study his face that’s screwed up in a new kind of pain I haven’t seen before. It’s heartbreaking how boyish and lost he appears.

I run my fingers through his hair and stand on my toes to press my lips to his. Our kiss is frantic and urgent, ending all too soon when we hear voices down the hall. Reluctantly, I pull away, gnawing on my bottom lip that still tastes like him.

We spend the next twenty minutes bringing in the last of his things. The boxes get set in a corner to be dealt with another day. Dad and Ryan head downstairs for bed, leaving me and Canyon alone.

Canyon takes in the space with a despondent look on his face. I hate the frown on his full lips and wish I could kiss it away. He lets out a sad sigh that twists my gut.

“Home sweet home, I guess.”

“If you get scared, you know where my room is.”

He smirks. “You’re going to hold me and keep the monsters away?”

“That’s what big brothers do.”

A laugh rumbles out of him. “Dude, I’m older and bigger.”

“By what? A week? Besides, I think we’ve already established I have the bigger dick.”

“I don’t ever remember this conversation going down.” His brow lifts, blue eyes flickering with heat. “We certainly didn’t measure them side by side.”

“Oh, but we will, Voss. We will.”

I waggle my brows at him before leaving him to get ready for bed. After brushing my teeth and changing into a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, I crawl into bed and turn on the next episode of Mubōna Ikari. A few minutes later, Canyon saunters in wearing only a pair of basketball shorts and a vulnerable smile. He turns off the overhead light and joins me under the covers. His arm slides under my head and he pulls me to his side. I absently touch his perfect abs, remembering how good it felt to have him in my mouth earlier.

“Want to talk about it?” I ask, my voice low and nearly a whisper.

“What’s there to say? She thinks I’m just like Dad.”

“I know you’re pissed at your dad, but he’s not a bad guy. Neither are you.”

He swallows and strokes his fingers through my hair. “I wish she’d get help. She’s clearly depressed. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can figure it out soon. Right now, rest. It’ll all work itself out.”

“So optimistic.”

If only I shared that optimism with myself…

“What about Carrie?” I ask. “How does she feel about your mom making you leave?”

“She argued on my behalf, but the second Dad showed up, she bailed, locking herself in her room so she didn’t have to talk to him.” He pauses for a moment. “I hung out with Nae tonight.”

My entire body stiffens at his words. Naomi is his ex-girlfriend. She’s my friend, but something about them being together has jealousy flaring hot in my veins.

“We talked,” he murmurs, grabbing my wrist and bringing it to the center of his chest. “She’s still my best friend. I needed to talk about…” The “us” hangs in the air.

“Me and you?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“Such a gossip, Wonderland.”

I playfully smack his chest. “I want to know if it was good or bad.”

“All good.” Warmth floods through me at the smile I hear in his voice. It all turns to ice when he asks his next question. “What was up with your messages tonight on Insta?”

I close my eyes and try to ward off the chill. “I got a wrong number text from some creeper. This whole time, I’d been talking with them thinking it was you.”

“What? Did you send them pictures?” The panic in his voice has my heart stammering.

“No, thank fuck. They kept saying weird, vague things and I just thought it was you messing with me. Tonight, it was another reminder about my birthday coming up and that it was going to be special. When I asked what you were talking about, you kept saying that I would find out. It was confusing because you were just with me and never mentioned my birthday, and then, on Instagram, you were playful and flirty, not almost cold and foreboding like the texts.”

“You don’t know who it is?”

“Nope.”

“Block the number,” he instructs. “It’s probably some freak who accidentally texted you and is now trying to fish for information. A fucking scammer.”

“I will. Promise.”

We grow quiet, lost in our own thoughts as we watch Daisuke try to cut Chibi in half with his sword. Chibi darts out of the way, a taunting smirk on his face, barely dodging each swipe in the air. When Daisuke turns red and loses his shit, Chibi throws knife after knife at Daisuke, pinning his clothes to the wall behind him. Chibi walks up to Daisuke, and I hold my breath thinking he’s going to cut his throat, but instead he tickles Daisuke while he’s at his mercy. Daisuke starts cackling and the bed shakes with laughter as Canyon laughs too, clearly amused by this part. I smile, my heart squeezing at his enjoyment.

Eventually his breathing goes even as he drifts off. It lulls me to sleep where I’m caught between memories and a dream.

“Let me have him.”

“No,” Momma slurs. “There’s no telling what you’d do.”

“I don’t know, Tammy, maybe give him clothes without fucking holes in them? That’d be a start.”

“Fuck you, Colin.”

She slaps him and I cringe. I hate when she hurts him because she always ends up getting herself hurt. Then, I try to stop their fight, only managing to hurt myself in the process. At least now he doesn’t make me pee my pants. I’m not scared of him like I was a few years ago.

“Get yourself clean,” Colin snaps, his face contorted into one of rage. “Or I’ll be forced to make you.”

“Oh, you’re so high and mighty now that you ‘quit’,” Momma huffs, making finger quotes. “Why do you care anyway?”

“I don’t. Not about you. For him.”

“Because you’re such a stand-up guy. You’re a fucking tweaker!”

“For fuck’s sake, woman, I already told you I don’t touch the stuff anymore. I just sell it.”

“Liar.”

“One week. That’s all you get. If I come back and you’re still fucked up, I’m taking him.”

My heart hurts at the thought of Colin taking me. I don’t want to go anywhere with him. He may not scare me enough to pee my pants anymore, but it doesn’t mean I want to go anywhere with him alone. When he’s come to visit a few times a year to give Momma money, they fight and then he leaves. Sometimes he forces me to sit with him and tell him about school. I hate those times.

“You will not take my son,” she bellows. “Ever.”

“If you keep treating him like your meal ticket and fucking maid, then maybe I wouldn’t have to threaten it!”

I flinch at his words. Momma’s most recent boyfriend—the same one who gave me a giant bruise on my back just yesterday—also calls me the maid. I’m not a girl who walks around dusting in a dress. I just like to keep the trailer clean so the mice will stay away if possible. I’m not a stupid maid.

“One week, Tammy.” And then his voice is directed at where I peek at them from the hallway. “Come give your pops a hug goodbye.”

I don’t want to.

But it’ll mean he’ll leave sooner.

Quickly, I run over to him, let him hug me, trying not to wince when he squeezes my new bruise, and then hide in the kitchen until he’s gone.

I hope he never comes back.

Waking in a cold sweat, I panic for a moment, wondering where I’m at. It takes a second to realize I’m at home and Canyon is curled around me, sleeping deeply. I’m thrumming with anxious energy after my dream that was more of a memory than anything. Mom made sure I didn’t go with Colin. I’m still shocked at what she did. The next morning, we packed up our stuff, left Missouri, and took the bus to Florida.

Thankfully, I never saw that man again.

It wasn’t sunshine and rainbows with Mom by any means, but it’s what ultimately brought me to my dad and my life finally turning into something good.

Knowing I’ll never get back to sleep with my mind running rampant with the past, I slip out of Canyon’s grip and sneak out of my room.