Devil's Kiss (Sunset Cove #2) (23 page)

Derek took a moment and sent off a generic letter of his own explaining that everything was fine, home was pretty much the same, and he was single and living the high life.
Footloose and fancy free, Danny boy. Don’t be a stranger…
yada yada yada.
 

It was sad writing that final line, though, because that was what they’d become—strangers. Derek often wondered if things would’ve been different if he’d made more of an effort to be open with Finn instead of keeping his problems to himself. Maybe one day he’d be able to find out. Or maybe he wouldn’t, and that would be one more relationship he could kiss the fuck goodbye.

No, he wasn’t going to do that today. He wasn’t going to think of the things he’d lost in his life. Well, namely the two things he’d lost. He was going to focus on the good, and the good was all that he’d accomplished.

Once he’d finished reading his personal mail, he opened the new website’s inbox and scanned down the emails asking about group classes and rates until he came across one from Alan Pearson—his brother.
 

The subject read:
Derek?
And seeing it there in his inbox made him break out in a sweat. It had been a long time since he’d had to deal with Alan. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen his brother.

What the hell could he possibly want? And that had to be it. He had to
want
something, because never did anyone in the Pearson household reach out just to say hi.
 

He stared at the name for a good ten minutes and seriously considered hitting delete, but at the last minute clicked it open.

Derek?

If this is Derek Pearson, call me. Dad’s sick.

Alan

Derek must have read that one line several times over before he hit delete and stared at the trash bin icon.
Trash…how fitting.
His hand shook as it hovered over the mouse and he clenched his fist to stop the trembling.
 

Fuck.
He hadn’t thought about his father for years. What did he care if he was sick? He didn’t. If anything, he’d pretty much declared the bastard dead the last time he’d raised a hand to him. But as Derek leaned back in his chair and thought about his brother’s words, he wondered how long he could ignore them before they’d start eating away at him. How many nights would he lie in bed wondering what was wrong with the fucker and if he was dead or alive? Too many, and that was the sad truth right there.

Damn it. Why today?
he thought, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Why, when he was finally going places, was he pulled up short and reminded of exactly where it was he came from?

He got to his feet, snatched up his cell phone, and walked over to the window he’d just been admiring. He hated that in less than ten words the one place that wasn’t tainted by that bastard had just been infected. And that was exactly how it felt. The second he thought of him, or even let the asshole in through the cracks, all within reach was poisoned. It was one of the main reasons he’d moved out of Jordan’s home all those years ago. To not taint what was good.

Jordan…
 

Derek glanced at his phone and saw his number in his contacts list. He shut his eyes and mind against the impulse to call a man he had no right calling, and instead dialed a number he’d all but erased from his head—his old home number.
 

He told himself he would wait two rings and then hang up. Unfortunately, the phone connected after one.

“Hello?”

Derek shut his eyes against the beautiful view, and then turned his back on it altogether. “Alan?”

There was a pause, as though his brother was trying to place his voice or who he might be, and then he asked, “Derek?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t about to offer up more than that. Alan was lucky he was calling him at all.

“So that new gym, the fancy one,
is
yours…”

Derek’s spine stiffened at the tone of Alan’s words. He had a sneaking suspicion that his brother wasn’t calling just to “inform” him of his father’s ailing health, and with the next words that came out of his brother’s mouth, Derek knew he was spot on.

“You must be doing pretty fucking good to be openin’ up some gym down on the beach. Guess leaving your trash behind helped you out, huh?”

Derek ground his molars together and rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “What do you want, Alan? You didn’t just email me to shoot the shit. You said he’s sick. So what’s wrong with him?”

Alan coughed, and Derek held the phone from his ear as he heard some shuffling and then the muffled sound of a television being turned down or off.

“I found him on the kitchen floor the other mornin’. And when they got him to the hospital they did a bunch of scans on him and it turns out he had pneumonia.”

Derek waited for the sadness to hit, for something to trigger inside him that would make him feel for the old man. But nothing came.

“They told me he’s got COPD. It’s pretty advanced. He needs treatment he can’t afford or he’s just gonna get worse.”

Derek’s first instinct was to say,
So what?
But he managed to bite that back and instead ask, “And what do you want me to do about it? I’m not giving him any fucking money.”
 

Alan coughed again, and Derek shook his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if his brother was in the same boat, or pretty damn close.

“Insurance, Derek. Medical. He doesn’t have any since he was laid off.”

Derek fumed. The audacity of the guy. There was no way he was asking him what he thought he was. Was he?

“If you add him to yours, then he can get therapy. Some regular help—” and before Alan could say another word, Derek ended the call, throwing his phone on the couch like it’d just transformed into a grenade.

He couldn’t fucking believe what had just come out of Alan’s mouth. His entire body was vibrating with rage as he stood trapped in his office, looking for a way out.
 

Christ.
He wanted to hit something.
Anything
. He had the urge to destroy and get the adrenaline racing through him out of his system. He looked to the door of his gym and thought about going in and seeing if a bag was free, but that wasn’t what he really needed right then.

He paced back and forth, running an agitated hand through his hair, and wondered if he should skip out early and hit up a local bar. Maybe knocking back a bottle of bourbon would help numb the anger thrumming through him. But no, doing that made him just like them. He needed something else entirely.
 

He needed the one person who knew where he came from and everything he’d gone through.

He
needed
the one person who’d told him years ago that if he called, he would always answer.
 

And like a moth to a flame, Derek reached for the cell phone, pulled up his contacts, and dialed.

* * *

THAT EVENING, JORDAN was pouring himself a glass of Merlot as he got ready to relax in his tub after a long day at work. He’d had a jam-packed schedule this semester, and tonight was the first night in months he’d had completely to himself. Not only did he have nowhere to go, but he also had nothing to do.

Thank God.
 

He picked up his glass and walked down the hallway in his robe, determined to forget about everything in his head as soon as his tub was full, the lights were off, and his intergalactic bath bomb was working wonders on his body.

After adjusting the lights to a muted glow, he turned on the faucet and dropped the Lush bomb into the tub, then he slipped out of his robe and dipped his toe inside the fragrant water with a sigh.

Yes…
This was exactly what he’d wanted.

He sank down into the water and stared out the window to the bright lights below.
 

God, he was tired.
 

Over the last couple of months he’d had to scale back on his charity work, letting his mother take the reigns, and he’d hired two new property managers for the apartment towers. Unless something else came along that he was passionate about, that was how it would stay. For right now, he wanted to focus solely on his teaching again. Maybe he would even offer up his services as a tutor this coming semester.

He took a sip of his wine and then shut his eyes as he let the warm water ease his body. It felt amazing. Almost better than—
Oh hell no
. His eyes popped open as the thought he’d been about to let slide into his mind was shoved firmly aside. The day he thought a bath was better than sex, he might as well be buried beneath six feet of dirt. But the truth was, it had been a while. A
long
while since he’d had really fantastic sex, maybe even before Stephan, and that was years ago…how depressing was
that
?
 

In his defense, though, without a steady someone in your life, it took a lot of effort to get laid. You had to dress up, hit the bars or clubs, and even then you didn’t know if it would be fantastic. At best it would likely be average, so it wasn’t his fault that everyone lately had been
ehh
.
 

Wait…what? Ugh, what the hell is the matter with me?
He remembered a time when he couldn’t wait to go out to a bar.
Maybe I’m getting old
, Jordan thought, and then shook his head. No, he wasn’t old. He’d been bugging Brantley about going to Boyz just the other week, and, as usual, he’d refused.
So it’s not my fault. It’s Brantley’s.
He was just exhausted, and that needed to change also.
 

He shut his eyes again, and as his mind drifted off to nowhere in particular, he heard his cell phone ringing where he’d left it in the other room.
 

No
, he told himself.
Do not get out and answer it. You can let the call go to voicemail and call whoever it is back…later.
So he let his eyes become heavy as the insistent ringing ceased and he finally dozed off.
 

When he awoke a little while later, Jordan shifted and screwed his nose up at the lukewarm water now lapping his body. Geez, how long had he been in there?
 

He’d only wanted to relax for a little while, and now he looked like a glittery prune thanks to the intergalactic bomb. He laughed at himself as he stepped out onto the mat and saw the glitter covering his body.
 

Good God
, he should bathe in that before he went out clubbing next time. Because he had no doubt he’d be sparkling for the next few days. He toweled off and then grabbed his robe to slip back into it before heading through to his bedroom to check the time.
 

After picking up his phone, he swiped the screen and saw two things that shocked him. First, he’d been in the bath for nearly an hour and a half. Damn, no wonder he looked like an eighty-year-old. And second, the missed call from earlier was from
He-Man.

Derek?
Derek had called him?
What the…
 

It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to think about Derek Pearson, and Jordan had figured he’d moved on. Especially after the last time they’d seen each other and things hadn’t gone so well. Actually, they’d gone horribly wrong. No surprise there, though. It seemed to be the way between the two of them.
 

But now here Derek was, calling him like he used to back when he’d been in school, and in trouble, and fuck…he hadn’t answered.

Jordan sat his ass down on the bed and quickly hit the number, sending up a quick prayer that Derek was okay and that he would answer. Just when he thought it was hopeless and he would never know what Derek wanted, the call connected and Jordan’s breath caught at the words he heard at the other end of the phone.
 

“You didn’t answer.”

* * *

DEREK HADN’T MEANT to say that, but when he’d called earlier and Jordan hadn’t picked up, he’d sat at his desk thinking those words on repeat.

He didn’t answer. Jordan didn’t answer…

That was a first.
 

But what was more surprising was how much worse that had felt than the years where they hadn’t spoken at all. Jordan not answering had made it feel final. It had made Derek wonder if he’d moved on and decided that he wasn’t worth answering for anymore.
 

 
“No,” Jordan said, breaking through his thoughts. “I know I didn’t answer. I was—”

“With your boyfriend?” Derek asked, and immediately hated himself for it. There was a long pause, one where a fucking pin dropping on carpet could likely be heard, and then Jordan said softly, “No. I don’t have a boyfriend anymore. I was in the bath.”

Derek shut his eyes as he lay on the couch in his office and imagined the huge whirlpool tub in Jordan’s bathroom.

“Are you okay?”

As Jordan’s voice drifted through the phone, Derek sighed. “Yeah. I just…” He paused and laid an arm across his eyes. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He heard some rustling and thought it best that he not ask where Jordan was, because if he said “bed,” Derek knew his brain would remind him of the last time he’d been in that bed, years ago.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jordan asked, and Derek’s mouth split into a tight smile at the fact that even after all this time, Jordan was still where he’d always been. One phone call away, ready to talk him out of whatever mood he was in.

“Not really.”

“Okay,” Jordan said, remarkably good-natured for someone Derek had yelled at the last time they’d seen one another. “Then why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing?”

Derek started laughing at that and felt his worries lift from his shoulders, as they always did with Jordan.
 

“I’m serious,” Jordan said, feigning offense.

“I’m sure that you are, Devaney.”

“I am. I haven’t seen you for so long I’ve forgotten what you look like.”

Derek lowered his arm down to his chest and swallowed, debating his next words. Then he decided
what the fuck
, and said what he really wanted more than anything in the world. “Then maybe you should see me.”