Kieran’s expression betrayed nothing, as usual, but his icy eyes held mine, old and new pain bleeding into their aquamarine depths, bruising them a deep sapphire. A touch of color stained his cheeks and he quickly averted his eyes but I couldn’t get that image out of my head. Or get rid of my newest suspicions.
We finished breakfast in amiable silence. Kieran seemed content without conversation but I had to mentally restrain myself from shooting out questions and demands. The last thing he needed from me was a damn interrogation. And the last thing I needed was to get caught up in this thing, to get even more entangled in Kieran O’Brien.
As much as I told myself to leave it be, I found myself wandering outside the minute Kieran retreated upstairs to finish getting dressed, searching for Molly. The tent offered only a snoring Rick splayed out on sleeping bags, his mouth hanging loose and drool seeping from the corners. Jesus, he was disgusting. How did Molly stand the lumbering jackass?
Shaking my head, I backed away from the tent, arms huddled against myself and chafing my hands together for warmth. The dewy dampness of the chilly early morning had goose bumps pebbling my skin but I had to admit the place looked enchanted. Everything fresh and new, the earthy scent of damp earth wafting up my nose, the silvery hue of dawn sparkling off everything.
I picked my way around the cabin, passing by Kieran’s outdoor shower, and came upon a small deck around back that overlooked the sparkling moat. Molly sat up there, her legs crossed at the ankles and propped on the railing, her bare toes wiggling. The sun lent a copper shine to her red hair, the freckles across the bridge of her nose in stark relief.
I had no idea what she was fiddling with — was that a bar of soap? — but she didn’t appear to be projecting the need for space. I climbed the stairs and sank into the lounge chair beside hers.
“Hey, Fitzgerald,” I greeted. “I gotta ask you something about—”
“Doesn’t this smell good?” she interrupted, shoving the soap under my nose.
I sniffed. “Yeah, sure. Now, about Kieran—”
“I make this for Kieran,” she said, again interrupting me. “He likes using that outdoor shower while he’s here. It’s the most eco-friendly shower ever and I make this soap out of all natural ingredients so it’s not harmful to the environment.”
I blinked. “You make soap?” I demanded incredulously, momentarily forgetting my agenda. How hadn’t I known that?
“Yup.” She bobbed her head. “Shampoo and conditioner, too.”
Shaking my head, I snorted a laugh, marveling at Molly’s eccentricities. “Um, that’s weird,” I told her. “But, uh, about Kieran—”
“I’m not gonna delve into Kieran’s personal life,” she murmured, long lashes veiling her eyes. “Not even for you, Ethan.”
“Can you just tell me if his dad…” What? Beat him? Whipped him? Hated him? How the hell could I finish that sentence?
Molly’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “His dad,” she sneered. “His dad disowned him years ago and Kieran, glutton for punishment that he is, keeps going back searching for his approval. Approval that he’ll never get because Uncle Liam is a narrow-minded prick too set in his backwater, bigoted ways.”
O-kay, then. “But what about—”
“He couldn’t accept him the way he was so he tried molding him into the perfect, model son. When that didn’t work, he tried beating him into submission. When that still didn’t work, he disowned him, completely renounced him as his son.” Her eyes narrowed. “Kieran’s been through some shit but instead of just surviving, he’s thriving. And he deserves some happiness, for once. Deserves someone his dad will be ashamed of but who he’ll always cherish.”
Shit, that’s why Molly brought me here…?
“And you do, too, Ethan,” she continued quietly. “You deserve to finally get what you need, what you want.”
My jaw clenched. “What I want is for you to quit bringing this shit up.”
“But Ethan…” she beseeched.
“No,” I snapped. “I’m not gay, Molly.”
It was the first time I’d said it aloud and the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. The most truthful I’d been had been yesterday, to Kieran, but I still couldn’t bring myself to explore any of it further. For one, would a true gay dude only lust after one man? Then again, did a completely straight guy do any lusting after the Y chromosome at all?
You could see what a quandary I was in here.
“Ethan,” Molly started quietly. “You really need to stop denying who you are. So you like guys. Is that really such a bad thing?”
“One guy,” I corrected against my better judgment. And, yeah, it was a very bad, disturbing thing.
She frowned. “Huh?”
“You said guys. No, only one guy,” I gritted out.
“Kieran?” she demanded.
Damn it, why was my head nodding? I shouldn’t have been nodding, shouldn’t have been encouraging her, giving her more ammunition to fire at me later on. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself. My fists clenched and I purposely kept my gaze straying. The minute my eyes stopped roving I was afraid they’d fill with tears or some shit and I was not turning into a crybaby.
“That… is so… romantic,” Molly sighed dreamily, clasping her hands over her heart. “It’s like a movie of the week. One man, a womanizer too afraid of commitment to keep a relationship for over a year, being swept off his Nikes by the only man he’s ever desired. That would be the best rom-com.”
“More like a horror movie,” I groused.
“Oh, what do you know? It’s romantic,” she insisted.
“Whatever,” I muttered. “Can we drop this now?”
“Depends.” Molly quirked an eyebrow. “Are you still in denial?”
Sighing, I left Molly there with her homemade soap, retreating back into the cabin. I didn’t have time to dwell on my confusing and conflicting feelings, thank God, because soon the other three were raring to start the day. Molly suggested fishing and majority ruled in her favor. I think it was safe to assume I was the only one who objected to it — you might remember me mentioning getting my cheek hooked? I had no desire to repeat that experience but I was dragged along, anyway.
So there I was again, stomping through the underbrush, mosquitos swarming and making a snack out of me, the tree cover so dense the sun couldn’t even penetrate. But this time I wasn’t lagging behind all by my lonesome.
I peeked at Kieran from the corner of my eye. He shortened his long strides to meet mine, steadying me whenever I stumbled, sweeping away scraggly branches before they could slap me in the face, all without directly looking at me. We were both excelling at maintaining distance without actually separating physically.
Damn it, what was it about him that he had me questioning every relationship I’d ever had? In hindsight, each one of them had been shallow, superficial, only concerning ourselves with getting off on a regular basis. I hadn’t invested much of myself in those relationships, never got to know any of them past a surface level, and I never allowed them to get any glimpses inside me. All those women had been mild distractions, nothing less and nothing more.
So why did I actually feel around him? For him?