“You have never been able to accept who you are,” Blay bellowed, “because you’re afraid of what people think! The great iconoclast, Mr. Pierced, crippled by his fucking family! The truth is, you’re a pussy and you always have been!”
Qhuinn’s expression was one of absolute fury, to the point that Blay was ready to get hit—and hell, he wanted to have a punch thrown at him just so he could have the pleasure of corking the guy back.
“Let’s get this straight,” Qhuinn barked. “You keep your shit on your side of the aisle. And that includes my cousin and the fact that you fucked around on him.”
Blay threw up his hands and had to pace before he jumped out of his own skin. “I just can’t stand this anymore. I can’t take this with you again. I feel like I’ve spent a lifetime dealing with your shit—”
“If I’m gay, why are you the only male I’ve ever been with!”
Blay stopped dead and just stared over at the guy, images of all those men in bathrooms filtering through his brain. For the love of all that was holy, he remembered each and every one of them, even though Qhuinn no doubt didn’t. Their faces. Their bodies. Their orgasms.
All getting what he’d been desperate for, and denied.
“How dare you,” he said. “How fucking dare you. Or do you think I don’t know your sexual history? I had to watch it for far longer than I cared for. Frankly, it wasn’t that interesting—and neither are you.”
As Qhuinn blanched, Blay started to shake his head. “I’m so done. I’m so over this—the fact that you can’t accept yourself is going to fuck up what’s left of your life, but that’s your issue, not mine.”
Qhuinn cursed long and low. “I never thought I’d say this…but you don’t know me.”
“I don’t know you? I think the shoe’s on the other foot, asshole. You don’t know yourself.”
At that, he expected some kind of explosion, some theatrical, over-the-top, light-up-the-world emotion to roll out of the guy.
He didn’t get it.
Qhuinn just set his shoulders, leveled his chin, and spoke with control. “I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out who I am, dropping the act, getting clean—”
“Then I say you’ve wasted three hundred and sixty-five nights. But like everything about this, that’s on you.”
With a vicious curse, Blay turned and strode away—and he didn’t look back. No reason to. There wasn’t anyone in the corridor he wanted to see.
Man, if the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result, then he’d lost his marbles years ago. For his mental health, his emotional well-being, and his very life, he needed to put this all— Qhuinn hauled him around by the arm, the guy’s furious face shoving into his own. “Don’t you walk away from me like that.”
Blay felt a wave of exhaustion tackle him. “Why. Because you have something else to say? Some insight into yourself that’s supposed to put the puzzle pieces together in a way that fits? Some big confession that’s going to right the ship and make everything sunset-on-the-beach perfect? You don’t have that kind of vocabulary, and I’m not that naive anymore.”
“I want you to remember something,” Qhuinn growled. “I tried to make this work between us. I gave us a shot.”
Blay’s mouth dropped open. “You gave us a shot? Are you fucking kidding me? You think having sex with me as a way to get back at your cousin is a relationship? You think a couple of sessions in secret is some kind of love affair?”
“It was all I had to work with.” Those mismatched eyes raked around Blay’s face. “I’m not saying it was a grand romance, but I showed up because I wanted to be with you any way I could.”
“Well, congratulations. And now that we’ve both sampled the goods, I can solidly say that you and I are not meant to be together.” As Qhuinn started cursing up a storm, Blay shoved a hand into his hair and wanted to rip the shit out of his head. “Listen, if it helps you sleep during the day—and I can’t believe this is really going to bother you for longer than a night—tell yourself you did what you could, but it didn’t work out. Myself? I prefer reality. What happened between you and me is exactly what you’ve done with all the other randoms you’ve been with. Sex—just sex. And now we’re done.”
Qhuinn’s eyes burned. “You’ve got me wrong on this.”
“Then you’re delusional as well as in denial.”
“People can change. I’m not like that anymore, and certainly not with you.”
God…it was a sad relief to feel nothing as those words were spoken to him. “You know…there was a time when I would have fallen to your feet to hear something like that,” he murmured. “But now…all I see is you jumping up from the floor the second someone came out a door and saw us together. You say that reaction is because of Saxton’s and my relationship? Fine. But I’m really sure…no, I’m totally sure…that if you scratch the surface on that, you’re going to discover it had much more to do with you rather than your cousin. You’ve hated yourself for so many years, I don’t think it’s possible for you to really love anybody or have any sense of who you are. I hope you figure it out sometime, but I’m not going to be part of that Lewis and Clark—I promise you.”
Qhuinn shook his head, his frown so deep it looked like a gully had grown between his brows. “Guess you’ve got me sewn up tight.”
“It’s really not that hard.”
“Just so you know, I was in love with you.”
“For three days, Qhuinn. Three days. During which there was enough drama going on to make War and Peace looked like a comic book. That’s not love. That’s good sex as a distraction from life being a shithole.”
“I’m not gay.”
“Fine. You’re bi. You’re bi-curious. You’re experimenting. Whatever. I don’t care. I really don’t. I know who I am and that’s how I get through my life. You’ve got another drill going entirely—and good luck with that. It’s clearly working so fucking well for you.”
With that, he walked away again.
And this time…Qhuinn let him go.
SEVENTY-FIVE
ONE WEEK LATER…
Where in life resumed its normal course, Qhuinn thought as he pulled his leathers up his thighs, yanked a muscle shirt on over his head, and grabbed his weapons and his leather jacket.
God, he couldn’t believe just seven nights ago he was inducted into the Brotherhood.
Seemed liked forever.
Leaving his room, he stalked down past the marble statuary, went by Wrath’s study, and knocked on Layla’s door.
“Come in?”
“Hey,” he said he went inside. “How you doing?”
“I’m great.” Layla shoved herself up higher on her stack of pillows and then rubbed her belly. “Make that, we’re great—Doc Jane was just here. Levels look perfect, and I’m sticking with ginger ale and saltines, so I’m good.”
“You should have some protein, no?” Shit, he didn’t want that to sound like a demand. “Not that I’m telling you what to eat.”
“Oh, no, it’s okay. As a matter of fact, Fritz poached some chicken breasts for me and it stayed down, so I’ll be trying to do that every day, too. As long as food doesn’t taste like much, I can stomach it.”
“Do you need anything?”
Layla’s eyes narrowed. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Name it and it’s yours.”
“Talk to me.”
Qhuinn jacked his brows up. “About?”
“You.” She let out an exasperated curse, tossing the magazine she’d been reading to the side. “What is going on? You’re dragging around, you aren’t talking to anybody, and everyone is worried.”
Everyone. Fantastic. Why the hell didn’t he live alone?
“I’m fine—”
“You’re fine. Right. Uh-huh.”
Qhuinn held his hands out in quasi-submission. “Hey, come on, what do you want me to say? I get up, I go to work, I come home—you’re doing well and so is the young. Luchas is slowly recovering. I’m in the Brotherhood. Life is great.”
“Then why do you look like you’re in mourning, Qhuinn.”
He had to glance away. “I’m not. Listen, I’ve got to go grab something to eat before I—”
“Doyoustillwanttheyoung.”