Kept Read online

  “So let’s mock them, huh?”

  “Look, I’m sorry.” She crumpled the paper. “I told Adrienne about you, and she said people like you existed.”

  “Yep. Put us in the zoo.”

  “Dillan, stop it. What do you want me to do? Right a retraction on my blog? Take it all back? It’s a stupid blog. What does it matter?”

  “What does it matter?” He took a step closer, relishing the way he towered over her. “You called me gay!”

  “I was trying to make sense of it, and that was the only thing that fit.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Real men don’t wait. Real men, in my world, don’t make it to twenty-nine—”

  “Like you would know a real man.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

  “You think Mark’s a real man, that Kendall’s a real man? Why? Because they use you?”

  “It’s how they make me feel, Dillan. They know how to take care of a woman—”

  If he hadn’t been mad before. “They’re using you, Miska. Wake up!”

  “Fine.” She clenched her fists, stepped up to him. “Call it how you see it, I don’t care. But a real man knows how to make a woman remember she’s a woman—”

  If that’s what it took— He grabbed her shoulder, pushed her back against the wall. His mouth covered hers.

  She caught her breath, her soft lips open in shock.

  Good. He kissed her again, pressing against her to make his point.

  Her hands settled low on his chest. Her lips moved against his.

  Oh.

  Oh, man.

  His hand slipped to the wall behind her, flattening her curls.

  Her hands slid up his chest.

  He pulled back just enough to give himself a better angle, and she came with him, like metal filings to an industrial-sized magnet. He wrapped his good arm around her back as her hands glided up over his collarbone and neck. Her fingertips slipped into the hair around his ears, the length of her fingers blazing against his skin.

  He groaned against her mouth. She was so soft, so much woman. And the way she responded— He didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t stop.

  She stretched up against him, back arching beneath his palm. “Dillan,” she breathed against his mouth. Her kiss turned aggressive. “Oh, Dillan.”

  His breath came even faster. He had to stop. He’d made his point. But he didn’t want to let her go. Her body against his felt so amazing.

  “Dillan,” she groaned. He stumbled back a step, and she followed his movement again. “Let me show you. Please.”

  He pulled his mouth from hers. Show him?

  “Let me show you how wonderful it can be.”

  What had he done? What was he doing? He raised a shaky hand to his hair, rested it on top of his head. God, no. Please. No.

  “We can take our time. Go as fast or slow as you like.”

  No. No, he couldn’t. “Oh, God,” he begged, everything in him shaking with longing and shock. What was he doing? What was he thinking? To treat her like this? To touch her? Kiss her? He closed his eyes and backed away, his fingers clenching his hair. “Oh, God. Help.”

  “Dillan, it’s okay. We’ll just—” She grabbed his elbow, tried to pull it down. “We’ll go slow.”

  “No!” He jerked away. “Get your hands off me.”

  “Dillan—” She reached for him again.

  He frantically grabbed for her doorknob and yanked on it. The door flew open, and he raced the few steps to his door and banged it open. He slammed it behind him. Flipped the deadbolt.

  Safe.

  He sagged against the wall and stared at the thick white baseboards. His chest heaved as if he’d finished a set of sprints. He leaned over, hand pressed to his thigh. What was wrong with him? What kind of a man was he?

  He swallowed. God, what have I done?

  A knock sounded on the door.

  He startled and stared at it.

  “Dillan?” Miska called. “Will you open the door? Please?”

  She’d come after him?

  “Dillan, let me in.”

  He backed away.

  The knob twisted. “Dillan!”

  The woman had no shame. No remorse. No soul.

  She knocked again.

  He crossed to the far corner of the living room. Still he could hear her knocking. He opened the door to Garrett’s room and slipped inside.

  Shadows hung in each corner.

  He closed the door and sat on Garrett’s perfectly made, king-sized bed. He stared through the partly open curtains and catalogued the view—blue water, white boats, clear sky.

  But all he could remember was Miska in his arms, her lips responding to his, her voice in his ear.

  Let me show you.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sitting uncomfortably on her hallway floor, Miska pressed an ear to her front door.

  Voices, but they were going the other way.

  She stretched her legs. Three hours had passed since Dillan had kissed her, kissed her thoroughly. She’d never imagined he’d look at her, much less kiss her, but he had.

  Now he wouldn’t open his door.

  So here she sat. If she could catch Garrett before he talked to Dillan, maybe she could get inside the condo and make Dillan listen. He needed to know that she hadn’t viewed him as gay for a long time.

  Her laptop clock said seven.

  Yawning, she set it aside and struggled to her feet. Of all the days for Garrett to get home late. Where was he?

  Keys jangled.

  Miska looked through her peephole.

  Garrett stood outside his door.

  She stepped into the common hallway. “Hi, Garrett.”

  He didn’t look up, searching his keys instead. “Hey, Miska.”

  He seemed tired. Worn out. Sick maybe? “You okay?”

  He glanced up. “Yeah. Fine. What can I do for you?”

  “I just—” She had to pretend this was an ordinary coincidence. She shrugged one shoulder. “I had a question for Dillan. Is he home?”

  “Far as I know. Come on in.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  She followed him in.

  Dillan sat in front of the TV, in navy blue sports shorts and matching Fighting Illini T-shirt. His hairy legs were spread, his forearms covering each arm of the chair. He stared at the TV as if he wasn’t seeing a thing in front of him.

  Good. He was still thinking about it.

  Garrett stepped into the kitchen and hefted his briefcase onto the island. “Dill. Company.”

  Dillan’s head turned, his eyes meeting hers. He jumped to his feet. “What are you doing here? Garrett, what are you thinking, letting her in?”

  Garrett turned from beside the refrigerator, eyes wide.

  Miska rounded the couch. “Can we talk? Garrett can stay—”

  “No way. I want you out of here.” He kept the chair between them, fingers gripping the seatback, eyes dark.

  He couldn’t be mad. “I know you didn’t mean it, Dillan—”

  “Get out.”

  “Don’t you owe me a minute? After what you did?”

  Rolling his eyes, he let go of the chair and marched around the far side of the couch.

  She ran back the way she’d come, trying to cut him off before he escaped down the hallway. “Dillan!”

  They made it there at the same time, almost colliding. She reached for him. “Please. Let’s—”

  He yanked himself back, hands up by his shoulders as if she were vile. Infected. “Don’t touch me.” He slipped past her. Another second and he was at the door, wrenching it open and rushing outside.

  The door banged shut behind him.

  Trash. Worthless. Her shoulders sagged. Her vision blurred. She pressed her fingertips against her eyelids. Was that how he viewed her? Scum? Tramp? Whore?

  Garrett still stood by the refrigerator, mouth open. He blinked. Shook his head. “What was that?”

  He
’d hear it from Dillan eventually. Hear Dillan’s side anyway. She motioned to the couch. Maybe Garrett would know what to do. “You got a minute?”

  *****

  Night approached by the time Dillan returned.

  Silence greeted him as he stepped off the elevator and turned down his hallway. He’d spent the last hour and a half in the gym. He needed a shower, but that could wait. First he had to pack, because in the morning he was leaving.

  As he neared his door, he eyed Miska’s.

  It stayed shut.

  Good. He slowly turned his doorknob and let himself in, then sneaked to his bedroom.

  The condo was quiet. No TV. No NBA Finals. No ESPN. Where was Garrett?

  He dug a suitcase from his closet and plopped it onto his bed. A stack of shorts went in one corner. He grabbed jeans and arranged them in another.

  “What’re you doing?”

  He stilled at Garrett’s voice behind him. Man, he didn’t want to talk about this. But Garrett had seen him and Miska. Garrett wouldn’t stop until he knew all the details. Like how good of a kisser she was, how far—

  He dropped the last pair of jeans into the suitcase and stared at it.

  Garrett sniffed. “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” He grabbed a handful of books from his nightstand.

  “Miska told me what happened.”

  Garrett probably had her tell it twice, just to have details to lord over him. He shoved the books between his jeans and shorts. “Did she?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmm.” He crossed to his closet and grabbed sweatshirts from the top shelf. He tossed them at the suitcase, not caring that they fell half in, half out.

  “What’s with the suitcase?”

  “I’m leaving. I’ll stay at Mom and Dad’s until I figure something out.” Returning to his childhood bedroom made him sick. He wasn’t running home, but he had to get out of here, away from her, and right now home was his only option. “Maybe Cam has a spare room.”

  “Don’t go, man.”

  “I can’t stay.” He faced Garrett. “Not with her next door. Not with Tracy bringing her over and including her every time I turn around.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “Where have you been for the last month?”

  Garrett stared at his feet. “Tracy won’t be bringing her here anymore.”

  “So you already told her what happened. Awesome. Thanks.”

  “No.” He straightened and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Tracy called off the wedding.”

  What? He stared at his brother. Just the night before, he’d seen them leaving the singles’ group, laughing over something. “What happened?”

  “She found out I was…” He shuffled his feet, rubbed his jaw line. “I was seeing Adrienne.”

  Dillan’s eyes closed. Aw, Garrett. Suddenly he felt so tired and sick of it all. He sat on his bed, beside the suitcase, and propped his elbows on his knees, rested his head on his good hand. What a mess. And not just Garrett.

  He was a mess too.

  Garrett coughed. “Stay, man. I don’t—” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to live alone right now.”

  Dillan doubled over, rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted to leave. Run. He had to leave, didn’t he? He was weak. He couldn’t stay.

  But Garrett… Dillan wouldn’t want to be alone either. Together the two of them could be tough. For a while. Then Garrett would be better and he’d have figured out another place to live.

  Aching, he raised his head, stared at his open closet. “I’ll stay.”

  “Thanks.” Garrett pushed off from the doorjamb.

  “Gare.”

  His brother looked back, eyebrows raised.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Garrett quirked a shaky smile. “My fault.”

  Dillan watched him go. There’d been more to his “I’m sorry” than he’d been able to say, but Garrett hadn’t caught it.

  Later.

  He set the books back on his nightstand. His Bible lay on top, and he flipped through it, the words merging in a smeared, unreadable line.

  How had this happened?

  He sniffed, blinked a few times. His Bible lay open to 1 Corinthians. He scanned the pages, reading here and there until a familiar phrase stopped him.

  Such were some of you.

  He backed up to the beginning of the chapter and began to read. Every single word.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Her father’s story was heartbreaking, though he tried to shrug away his abusive childhood as if it weren’t that big a deal.

  Curled up on her couch, Miska hurt for him. “I’m so sorry, Dad.”

  He held out his hands. “What are you going to do? Can’t change it. Can’t stop it. I guess we learn and go on.” He rested an ankle on his knee and fiddled with his loafers. “Can I tell you something? Something you probably won’t like?”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Something you said the other day… I think it might give you hope.”

  “Even though I won’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to hear it if you don’t want to.”

  Man, he was good at the guilt trip. “By all means, go ahead.”

  He scooted to the edge of his seat. “I helped one woman raise a child.”

  “You raised one of your kids?”

  “No. Jake wasn’t mine.”

  “Jake, huh?” Some kid who didn’t share a drop of DNA had gotten his time while those who could donate an organ had not? “How long were you with his mom?”

  “Until she died. Jake was fourteen when I met her. His dad was like my dad, cruel and evil when drunk—which he was a lot. We were together two years when she found out she had cancer. She died six months before Jake turned eighteen. She named me as his guardian and made me promise to raise him until he was of age.”

  “You were a single father.”

  He chuckled. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “How is Jake now?”

  “He’s good. Just graduated from college. I went to his graduation.”

  Of course he did. “You’re right. I don’t like that some guy had four years with you, years he remembers. How is this supposed to help?”

  “Remember what you said about your nephew, that you wished some good man would step in and be his dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well.” He spread his hands. “I checked on him.”

  “You’ve seen Liam? How is he?” Almost five years had passed since she’d held his tiny body, four and a half years since she’d seen him rocking back and forth on hands and knees. After Zane and Lacey split, Lacey had cut the whole family off. They’d been—no, she’d been too wrapped up in her mom’s final days to protest.

  “Liam’s fine. Tall. Looks like your mom. Better than that, he has a good dad.”

  “Lacey’s re-married?”

  “A year ago. Good guy. Loves Lacey, loves Liam like he’s his own.”

  “Hates Zane.”

  He grinned. “We didn’t go there.”

  She laughed. “How astute you are.”

  “Yeah. So it seems your prayer has been answered. Liam will be okay.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, but I didn’t pray for him.”

  “Then your prayer was answered before you even prayed it.”

  What did he mean? “Do you believe in prayer?”

  “Sometimes. I’ve prayed for things to happen, and they’ve happened. Other times I’ve prayed for things and—nothing.”

  “Which proves it isn’t real.”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, what is God? A genie? That’s a slave, not a god.”

  Her heart beat faster. “Dad.” She slid to the edge of her seat. “Do you believe in God?”

  He looked out the window. “I think so. I look at people, and I’m pretty sure there has to be someone.”

  The possibility of a god out there, a god beyond her world, made her shiver. But if he were r
eal, wouldn’t it be best to find out? To know what he wanted?

  How did she do that?

  Her phone rang. The screen showed Tracy’s picture. “You mind if I take this?”

  “Go ahead. I need to leave anyway.”

  “Okay.” She answered the call. “Tracy, can you hang on a sec?”

  “Sure.”

  She pressed the phone to her shoulder.

  Dad picked up the messenger bag he carried everywhere. “Thanks for lunch.”

  “Thanks for coming over.”

  He kissed her temple and left.

  After the door shut, she raised the phone to her ear. “Tracy? Sorry. My dad was just leaving.”

  “I didn’t mean to chase him away.”

  “You didn’t. What’s up?”

  “I should have called earlier. Now you’re working and—”

  “Don’t worry about my schedule. I can edit later.”

  “Really? I was praying you’d say that. Can I come over?”

  Tracy had prayed she’d be free? If God were real, then he’d just listened to Tracy, had just said yes to what she’d prayed.

  What had she been thinking before Tracy called? Wondering how she could know if there was a God, if he were real.

  “Miska? I don’t have to come over now—”

  “No, you do.” She relaxed her grip on the phone. “Now is perfect.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  *****

  Tracy settled onto Miska’s couch. “It doesn’t look like you’ve heard.”

  Miska set her glass on a coaster. “Heard what?”

  “That Garrett and I broke up.”

  Miska’s mouth fell open. She grabbed Tracy’s hand. “Oh, Tracy. No! I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. I did the breaking up.”

  Why? “Are you okay?”

  The question filled Tracy’s eyes, and Miska ran to the kitchen for a Kleenex box. When she returned, Tracy was wiping beneath her eyes, blinking rapidly. She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at them. “I can’t believe there are still tears.”

  “We’re women. There are always tears.”

  Tracy laughed, a sniffle interrupting it. “Sadly, that’s true.” She folded the Kleenex, sniffed, and squared her shoulders. “Okay. Garrett’s been seeing Adrienne.”

  “What?” Miska rose up on her knees. “Adrienne? My sister?”

  “Yep.”