Page 38 of My Brother’s Best Friend

I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face. Couldn’t look at Doris or Arthur either. I just tossed the screwdriver onto the counter and backpedaled towards the door.

“I’m sorry, I have to—that is, I just remembered, I need to—you should just—I’m—yeah.”

I stepped onto the patio and took off running, not looking back.

10

CAM

Oh God.

Jordan knew.

He knew.

There was no other explanation for how quickly he’d left my grandparents’ house, the minute he’d felt me brush up against him. And I couldn’t blame him. I’d practically molested him.

Why couldn’t I have just stayed away? Or at least tried to squeeze in next to him at the sink, instead of humping him. Why couldn’t I have used my brain for a single second?

It was like my body had moved of its own accord. Sure, Jordan’s ass was cute, but it wasn’t even the way he was waving it around, arching his back and spreading his knees as he peered under the sink.

Or, okay, it wasn’t only about that. It was everything about him. He was magnetic. Something deep in my core was drawn to him.

It was like he’d flipped a switch when he’d kissed me last night. I couldn’t forget the feeling of his body pressed to mine, and I’d needed it again.

It didn’t matter that the kiss had been a joke to Jordan. It had been real to me. Way too real. And now he fucking knew.

Even if he hadn’t hightailed it out of there, I would have known from the sound he made when I touched him. He’d groaned. Like I disgusted him. He hadn’t even been able to look me in the eyes before he left.

God, what if he told someone? What if he told everyone? What if I got a reputation around Summersea, not for being gay but for being some kind of predator?

Fuck, what if Levi found out?

I wanted nothing more than to run and hide, but Nana and Grandpa were confused enough by how Jordan had run off. If I left too, it would only make it more obvious that something was wrong. So I stayed long enough to diagnose the sink, buy the replacement part they needed, and fix it.

I probably didn’t do as good a job as Jordan would have, but I couldn’t let myself think about that. Couldn’t let myself think about him at all.

I put the toolbox away, hugged my grandparents, and biked home, torn between burying myself alive under several tons of fertilizer or just hiding from the world for a thousand years. But when I reached my cabin, I couldn’t do either, because I wasn’t alone.

Deacon Murphy was standing at my front door.

I blinked. Deacon and I hung out sometimes, but never on our own. I wasn’t even certain we’d had a one-on-one conversation since…possibly ever? Sure, we’d gone to school together, but Levi was the lynchpin between us. So what was Deacon doing here without Levi, unless…

My face paled. Had Jordan already talked to Levi? Was Levi so disgusted, so angry with me, that he couldn’t even tell me to my face that our friendship was over?

My heart spasmed. Levi was my oldest friend. My only friend, in some ways. What would I do without him?

Deacon didn’t look angry, but then, Deacon wasn’t the kind of guy who wore his emotions on his face. He could probably be planning your murder and still be perfectly peaceful and serene on the surface.

Feeling queasy, I leaned my bike against the side of the cabin, walked over to Deacon, and swallowed.

“Hey,” I said, willing my voice not to quaver. “What are you, uh, doing here?”

His brow furrowed, and he didn’t answer immediately. His hands were in his pockets. Not a stance that shouted, I’m about to start a fistfight, but not one that said, I’m totally relaxed and comfortable with being here, either.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, finally.

“Ah.” I nodded. Was it better to pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about? Or to just tell him not to bother, because I understood I was being ex-communicated? “What’s up?”