Feuds and Reckless Fury by K. Webster

 

Canyon

Ithought seeing Mom laid up in a hospital bed was hard.

It was—fuck how it was. But it wasn’t like this. Not coming home to detectives and chaos and blood. So much fucking blood.

Alis changed clothes after the…incident…but his neck, hair, arms are stained with the blood of the man who tried to…

Kill him.

The guy who tried to fucking kill him.

Jesus Christ, what is this life?

First Mom and now this.

Unbelievable.

“It’s okay,” Alis mutters, venturing a hand closer to me on the sofa. His pinky brushes against mine. I’m fixated on the blood under his nails.

As our dads talk to the detectives in the kitchen, I take the opportunity to cover his hand with mine, hiding the blood from my view. He says it’s okay, but the tremble in his hand says otherwise.

That guy—the same guy who tried to beat his ass after track practice—tried to stab him. The cops don’t seem to know who the guy is right now. Everything is so fucked up.

Not okay.

Far from okay.

“You should shower.” I squeeze his hand. “I don’t like…I don’t want this staining you.”

The haunted look in his dark eyes tells me it’s too late. When someone tries to kill you, it definitely fucking stains you. Hell, it didn’t even happen to me, and I’m shaken to my core.

I thread my fingers through his, unable to look away from the flecks of blood in the cracks of his knuckles.

Voices growing louder have me regretfully releasing his hand. Once our dads have seen the detectives out, they walk back to the living room, wearing matching worried expressions.

“Tomorrow is a birthday do-over,” Dad says to Alis. “Fucking hell. What a day.”

He pulls Quinn to him just like I wish I could do with Alis. Jealousy stirs in my gut. I’m envious that Dad has everything he wants—love and the ability to be in the open. Now, he even has Carrie and me.

“Are we done here?” My words come out harsher than I mean to. But there’s just something about seeing Dad with Quinn today that’s pissing me off.

It’s not fair.

It’s not fucking fair.

Dad’s gaze ping-pongs between Alis and me before he nods. “I think we all could use a much-needed nap. I’ll order pizza later for dinner.”

Quinn walks over to Alis, bends over, and kisses the top of his head. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Is he?

Anger simmers in my gut as they walk off. As soon as they’ve gone to their room, I rise to my feet, pulling Alis to his feet. Taking his hand, I guide him up the stairs and into his room. I would have taken him into my shower, but I want him to smell like himself—limes and sweetness—not whatever the fuck I smell like. I need him to wash away the horror of the day and bathe in normalcy.

I shut his bedroom door and lock it. I’m not taking any chances. I strip out of my clothes and find Alis standing beside the shower, dazed. My fingertips graze down his spine, making him shiver. Once I get the water started, and steam begins to fill the bathroom, I tug off all his clothes.

We remain quiet as I lead him under the hot spray. His arms wrap around my middle, and he rests his cheek on my chest. An overwhelming sense of relief washes over me, cleansing away the stress and worry from the day. Having him safe in my grip settles something deep inside me.

It’s fucked up.

The whole situation.

Our dads won’t understand.

Neither will Mom or Carrie or the kids at school.

It makes me want to shove Alis into the passenger seat of my Challenger, fill the tank up, and drive north until we’re somewhere people don’t know us. Where there are no expectations or anyone to disappoint. We could just be two guys who once hated each other but now simply don’t.

He’s my Chibi.

My opponent. My challenger. My counterpart. My conscience. My everything.

As the water rains down on us, I wonder if there was ever a time I thought Nae was my everything. Naomi was there for me, and I loved her and cared for her. But I never saw more with her. Not a future…just a present.

With Alis, I dream. A lot. Of possibilities. Fantasies I want to come true. A life beyond the now. I think of sharing a space with him. Making his brown eyes sparkle to life as I gift him pieces of himself and of me to prove to him home is where he makes it.

I dream of us.

Not boyfriends. Not stepbrothers. Not even friends.

More.

But every time I began traveling down that mental pathway today, I was jolted with horrifying images of loss. When Dad received the call from Quinn at the hospital, I thought I’d be sick. I’d even dry heaved.

Because I thought something happened to him.

I’d heard the words shooter and blood and Alis.

Dad assured me he was okay, but I’d been tainted by the what-ifs.

After living months and months filled with pure anger, stewing over the dissolving of my family, I’d finally found something that brought me joy. Him. And then it felt fragile and temporary.

“You’re trembling,” Alis says. “Is your mom going to be okay?”

I stroke my fingers through his wet hair and then clutch onto it, tugging his head back until he’s peering up at me. Cradling his jaw with one hand while my grip is still on his hair, I slant my mouth over his, desperate to taste the realness of his lips—to feel proof of his existence. To taste the reality that he’s mine.

He whimpers as my tongue dominates his, eager to kiss away all the bullshit we’ve dealt with today and replace it with something that feels good.

“Canyon,” he murmurs, pained brokenness in his voice that cuts me deep. “Why? Why did he want to kill me?”

“Shh.” I nip at his bottom lip hard enough he yelps. “Be quiet, Wonderland.”

His eyes fill with tears, and his body shakes. I grab the soap that smells like limes and coconut and him and begin scrubbing away the crimson evidence of the attempt on his life.

“Canyon…”

“I said quiet.” My voice sounds robotic as I thoroughly wash him from head to toe, focusing on cleaning him so we can forget this ever happened.

“Canny.”

I wince at the way his voice cracks. My eyes sting, and my throat hurts from the emotion clawing up inside me. Gripping his shoulders, I push his back against the tile wall, grinding my hips against his.

“No words,” I whisper before crashing my lips to his.

With just my tongue and teeth and needy moans, I answer all his questions.

Bad people don’t need a reason.

They’re monsters.

Enemies.

But I won’t let it happen again.

I won’t.

Not sure how I’ll make good on that promise, but I swear to fuck I’ll die trying.

He responds to my physical reassurances by submitting to me with a soft, masculine groan that sets my soul on fire. I tear away from his lips and drop kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Sucking the flesh, I mark him with claiming bruises. With each scrape of my teeth along his skin, he quakes as though the ground beneath him is shifting. I keep him held up with my powerful body pinning him to the tile wall. Desperation has me abusing his neck with my mouth, hungry to kiss away all the terror and uncertainty.

This thing between us is anything but uncertain.

It’s a real, breathing beast of passion that aches to be released.

He tilts his head back, exposing his neck even more to me, showing off the proof of who he belongs to. Seeing all the bright red splotches I’ve made with my mouth on his skin calms all the raging parts inside me. Knowing they’ll bruise and turn purple has pride blossoming in my chest. I slick both my hands up with the soap and then toss the bar back on the ledge. Taking both our cocks in my hands, I stroke us at once, loving the fuck out of his ragged breathing. My lips find his again, and I kiss him less brutally than before. He digs his fingers into my shoulders, fucking my fist like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, trembling with need. “I, fuck, yes!”

The heat spurting from his body feels hotter than the water raining down on us. It sets me off, drawing my own need from my dick almost effortlessly. Our dicks twitch in my hands until we’re both spent.

Dark, mahogany eyes bore into me like I have all of life’s answers stored deep within me. Words that have no business leaving my lips nearly escape. I chase them back by kissing him with enough force and eagerness that I’m surprised he doesn’t crack his head on the tile wall behind him.

The things I feel for Alister Sommers are too intense. Too fast. Too reckless and wild.

All today managed to do was turn a slow-burning ember into a full-on forest fire.

We’re an inferno now, and there’s no putting us out.

By Monday, life tries to continue on as normal. As though my mom and my secret boyfriend both didn’t almost die the same weekend. Everyone at school laughs and chatters, oblivious to how Alis’s and my lives have been irrevocably altered.

Every time I see a couple taking for granted that they can publicly display their affection, it pisses me off. By lunchtime, I’m ready to punch someone. Being forced to watch Alis eat lunch with his friend Leon and now Nae while I was stuck listening to Cain brag about his weekend conquest had my blood boiling

But it’s Gage who sets me off.

The guy’s been a douchebag for weeks. I can handle his stupid remarks, though I want to knock his head off for any aimed at Alis. Nothing, though, compares to the fury that explodes within me to see him flirting with her.

My fucking sister.

Carrie laughs at whatever he says, but the salacious grin he gives her has me seeing red. I charge for him, shoving him hard against the lockers as soon as I reach him. He slams into them, losing his footing only a second before he shoves me back. People yell and cheer around us. My sister shrieks, calling me a colorful string of insults.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister,” I snap, shoving him again.

“Are you serious right now?” Gage sneers at me. “While you were off sucking your boyfriend’s dick, your ex-best friend’s been fucking your sister.”

His words stun me. I’m too busy trying to understand what the hell he’s talking about to even argue about his barb about Alis and me.

“What?” I growl, taking a menacing step forward.

“Damon. Remember him? That’s right, you dropped him along with everyone else the moment you decided to turn gay and fuck that loser—”

I shove him again. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

Gage laughs and shrugs. “Ask ’em.”

Like heat-seeking missiles, my eyes cut through the crowd to Damon. His entire body is tense, guilt written all over his face.

I’m going to kill him.

I start forward, but a big ass fucker grabs my arm. Snarling, I glower at Leon over my shoulder. Beside him, Nae shakes her head at me.

“Stop, Canyon. You’re going to get in trouble,” she says with a disapproving frown. “Come on. Go to class before a teacher sees.”

Alis appears next to Carrie, whose face is bright red with embarrassment. She shoots me a scathing glare that I ignore. I’m not going to feel guilty about wanting to protect her from those assholes.

Even Damon.

Fucking traitor.

Alis’s dark stare penetrates me. In one simple look, I read him so easily. He’ll talk to her and calm her down. Make sure she’s safe. Get to the bottom of this.

Nae drags me off toward our next class and away from the fuckfaces Gage and Damon. It isn’t until we’re in another hallway, she stops me.

“What’s going on?” she demands. “You’re upset. Talk to me.”

I pull her to me for a hug and then mutter out every horrible thing that happened this weekend. By the end of it, she’s hugging me, and promising things will get better.

She’s wrong.

So far, they only seem to be getting worse.

I mean, what more can fucking happen at this point?