EIGHTEEN
It was early yet, not even time to make supper. It was barely into the afternoon, actually, and John didn’t know what to do.
He could pack to leave since it really seemed like that’s what Brett wanted, but for whatever reason, John wasn’t quite willing to take that step yet. Not until Brett actually told him to go. And he needed to talk to Brett, along that vein, to ask him what he wanted to do. John was going to be bringing a baby home, and he knew that wasn’t going to be fair to do to Brett without them coming to some sort of understanding.
Maybe he would have to move again. But that would be Brett’s call, John decided. So, since he couldn’t have that conversation right at the moment, John ended up cleaning the small house from top to bottom, then flopping down onto the couch. Turning on the TV, he found Netflix, then started to watch some brainless action movie that didn’t require a lot of his attention but did feature many big explosions.
Big men, too. Muscular men. Men that he had to admit, at least to himself, that he found somewhat attractive. He’d had these thoughts for a long time but had pushed them so far down that he had barely even acknowledged them.
None of those huge men had anything on Brett, though. Apparently he had a type. He was learning more about himself every day.
There was the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, footsteps crunching through the snow, and John frowned. It was far too early to be Brett, and his first thought was that it was Madison, maybe stopping by on her way to the hospital to tell him that she was in labor. Which was ridiculous, of course, she wouldn’t do that, but who else could it be?
No knock came at the door. Instead, it swung open, and John peered over the back of the couch. From there, he had a clear line of sight, and he watched as Brett stormed in, his face blank, but his eyes burning furiously.
Very few times in his life had John seen Brett really, truly angry. Brett tended to be the type of guy who just shut down rather than lashing out, but the way he pushed on the door, so that it flung open and bashed into the wall, the way he stormed in, almost stomping, John knew that he was seeing what very few other people had seen.
“Come in,” he invited, standing up by the couch, worried, and not particularly trying to hide it. “What’s going on, man?”
Brett didn’t say anything. He slammed the door, stripped off his winter gear as though it had personally offended him, and only then did he start to walk toward John. It was then that his back, which had been pretty good up until then, gave a sudden spasm, and John gasped and grabbed the back of the couch.
Ever since Brett had been working on his back, these spasms happened a lot less often. But the stress of the paternity test, and then seeing Brett so worked up, it had apparently all been too much for his poor body, and the muscles seized up tight and taut and painful.
“John? Are you okay?” Brett finally spoke, and it was a relief to see some of the rage leave his face. It was a little intimidating, seeing someone who was normally so calm, so passive, in such a rage.
“No. My back,” John explained, and even with everything that had happened between them, even with how uncertain things were, Brett still came to him, and his strong, sure fingers gently probed at John’s back, finding the muscle groups that had gotten so tense and thick.
The relief wasn’t complete, not right away, but it did start to feel a little better almost immediately. John knew that he was lucky, given the state of things between them, that he was even getting what he was, but at the same time he couldn’t help but want more. He wanted Brett back, wanted for things to be somehow like they had been for that all-too-brief period.
“What happened?” John asked again because even the pain in his back couldn’t distract him from Brett’s dramatic entrance. “Was it something at work? Did your boss give you a hard time again?”
“Let’s go to bed,” Brett replied, but it didn’t seem like he was exactly avoiding the question, just thinking about how to respond to it, so John just nodded. It seemed that Brett was still willing to take care of his back, so that was something.
They went to bed, as they had done many times before, only this time John wasn’t at all sure that sex would come from it as it had pretty much every time that Brett had rubbed his back in the past. Still, his body had been conditioned. It didn’t know that he and Brett weren’t in that place anymore. At least, John didn’t think that they were. His cock was already half hard as he settled down onto the bed on his stomach, after stripping off his shirt.
Those hands, so strong and sure, were on him in a few moments, and the relief, this time, was immediate. Brett, as always, knew just how to touch him, and John’s body relaxed utterly, trusting this man’s touch. He closed his eyes and just basked, and, for once, he let himself do this without guilt because he needed it so much.
And just not the release of tension, either. Just having Brett’s hands on him again was heaven.
“There was a man at work,” Brett spoke finally, just as John had thought that he would. “Someone new, and when I was working on him, he grabbed me.”
“What?” John whispered, and all of a sudden, it all made sense. How very furious Brett had been, how he had been slamming doors and everything. Honestly, John could slam a few doors himself at the moment, and his body tensed up, everything in him telling him to launch himself to his feet and go after this bastard who had laid his hands on Brett.
“Yeah. He grabbed my ass and hit on me,” Brett continued, and his thumbs dug into the ridge of muscle that ran along John’s spine, just a little deeper than he usually went so that it actually sort of hurt. It was just that one movement, and then Brett had himself under control again, but it was another sure sign of how unwelcome that advance had been.
“What did you do?” John asked, breathing slowly and deeply, because he wasn’t even Brett’s boyfriend. He had no right to be this protective. At the same time, though, he couldn’t help but be gratified by how much Brett had clearly not been interested. Did that mean anything, John had to wonder?
“I threatened him with a lawsuit and left,” Brett admitted, and John closed his eyes, a slight smile on his lips. Not that he was glad that something like that had happened to Brett, of course he wasn’t. But at least he wasn’t going to have to worry about Brett running off with someone else.
Though it could happen, he supposed. Just not with this one guy. And he still wanted to jump up and go after the son of a bitch. Brett was his.
Only he wasn’t.
“Good,” he contented himself with saying. “But I think that this is a good chance for you to think about leaving. Setting something up on your own. You don’t need to put up with the sort of shit they put you through, babe, and …”
Oh fuck. He hadn’t meant to call Brett that. The term of endearment had just slipped out. Hopefully, Brett wouldn’t notice, would focus more on the content of what John had said, because slip or not, he had meant it. Brett didn’t need to put up with that sort of thing.
“Maybe,” Brett said slowly. “I told Sidney that I didn’t want to see that man back. If they do let him come back, I know I would quit.”
