Knox: A Suspenseful M/M Brother's Best Friend Romance, page 8
She’s already giving her parents a run for their money at only three years old. And even though I’ll never admit it out loud as a fellow youngest, I’m proud of the little troublemaker.
“Kids, go wash your hands,” Malcolm calls out, and Greta sticks out her tongue, blowing a raspberry, but when I set her down, she runs off to obey the command.
“That girl is too much like you,” Malcolm murmurs.
“You mean awesome?” I tease.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he rolls his eyes and walks away.
That conversation Leo and Dad were suggesting is obviously overdue.
“How are you?” I ask Ayla when she enters the kitchen, looking tired as always.
“I’m okay,” she replies with a soft smile. “Exhausted, but okay. I can’t wait to be finished with chemo.”
“Only one month left, right?” I check.
She nods and sighs. “It’s probably going to be the longest month of my life.”
“If you need anything, let me know,” I say, pulling out a chair at the table for her.
“Thank you,” she replies and carefully lowers herself to sit.
The chemo has taken its toll on her body, and I hate how frail she looks. Nothing like when she first joined our family almost fifteen years ago. Hopefully, the drugs will kill the cancer, and she can regain her strength.
“Sorry I’m late,” Tatiana calls out, waddling into the kitchen. Her large pregnant belly sticks out proudly, and she grabs her back as she takes a deep breath. “I really need to get this kiddo out of me. I’m done with being pregnant.”
Ayla giggles. “I remember that feeling, but I promise they are much easier when they are on the inside.”
Tatiana laughs along and sits next to our sister-in-law. “I bet, but at least on the outside, they can’t use my bladder as a punching bag.”
“Do you have your hospital bag packed?” I ask.
She could have this baby any day now that she’s thirty-six weeks along.
“Yes, I packed it the last time you hounded me about it,” she snarks, but there is a hint of a smirk behind her put-off expression.
“I just want to make sure you’re ready to go when the time comes,” I tell her.
Her face softens as she nods. “I really appreciate you being there for me.”
“Always,” I assure her.
“I’m starving,” Gavin, Malcolm’s oldest, who is eleven, groans as he comes into the kitchen.
“Manners,” Ayla scolds him.
Gavin blushes and murmurs an apology.
“It’s almost ready,” Dad tells him. “Take a seat.”
He does as he’s told, joining his mom and aunt at the table.
A few moments later, a squeal comes from the bathroom, and fast stomping feet pound down the hall. Thomas, Malcolm’s middle child, enters the kitchen with Greta directly behind him with a mischievous grin on her face, but that isn’t what has my attention. No, it’s the fact that Thomas is soaking wet.
“Did you decide to take a shower with your clothes on?” I tease, but Thomas doesn’t look impressed by my joke.
Thomas is eight and sulky, just like his father. By his attitude, you’d think he was the oldest kid.
“Greta asked me to get her doll out of the tub, then she turned the shower on when I was reaching for it,” he grumbles.
“Greta!” Malcolm shouts, making us all flinch.
Greta’s bottom lip trembles, and tears fill her bright green eyes. “I saw-we,” she whimpers out.
Thomas is the first to cave and give his little sister a hug.
“It’s okay,” he tells her in a soft tone. “It was kind of funny.”
Greta’s frown slowly turns to a smile at her brother’s words.
“It’s not funny,” Malcolm corrects his son, putting the pout back on his daughter’s face.
“Malcolm, it’s fine,” Ayla interrupts. “His clothes will dry.”
Malcolm closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You’re right, dear,” he says to his wife, then turns to his daughter. “I’m sorry for getting mad,” he tells Greta. “But it isn’t very nice to turn the shower on your brother. Why did you do it?”
Greta presses her lips together, and her brows scrunch up. It’s obvious she’s debating what to say. “He squeams wike a gull,” she finally admits in a hushed voice.
I try hard not to laugh but can’t hold it back. As soon as I start, everyone else joins in.
“Princess, come here,” I call out to Greta, and she skips over to me.
“I know it’s funny to pick on your brothers, but it’s also not very nice to get Thomas all wet just as we are about to eat,” I explain to her.
“I know,” she says with a pout. “I saw-we Tom-Tom,” she tells her brother, who no longer appears murderous.
“It’s okay,” he tells her. “But I don’t scream like a girl,” he adds.
“Well…” I mutter.
Malcolm elbows me and shakes his head, but the smirk on his lips tells me he agrees that his son does indeed scream like a girl.
“Come, Thomas, let’s get you changed, then we can all eat,” Leo says, escorting my nephew out.
I help Dad set the table while everyone else sits and visits, and even though Malcolm often drives me up the wall, I still love being with my family.
Watching the antics of my niece and nephew reminds me of how Malcolm and I used to be growing up. I was very much the button pusher, but even when I crossed a line, we’d eventually get back to playing without a care in the world because we loved each other. We never stayed at each other’s throats for long.
I want to get back to where we used to be. I hate how strained our relationship is right now. And maybe later, we’ll be able to talk things out. I’d love to get onto more civil ground with my brother.
As soon as Thomas and Leo get back, we all sit down and eat. We talk, laugh, and eat way more than we probably should. Before I know it, we’re cleaning up, and Leo is giving me a look that I think means talk to your brother.
“Want to go for a walk?” I ask Malcolm after I’ve put away the last dish, and my dad gives me a shove.
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Leo coos. “We’ll help Ayla watch the kids.”
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Way to play it cool.
“Um… isn’t it a bit cold outside?” Malcolm mumbles, clearly not wanting to go for this walk.
“It’s not that cold. Remember the time we thought it would be a good idea to walk home from the bar on the coldest day that winter?”
Malcolm chuckles. “I think we were stuck in the snow for like two hours. I thought I was going to lose my toes.”
“If we can get through that, a short November walk is going to be a piece of cake,” I assure him.
He sighs but heads to the front door.
When I turn to look at my dad, he mouths good luck.
I’m totally going to need it.
“Something you wanted to talk about?” Malcolm asks when we are on our way down the street.
“Why do you think I’m a failure?” I ask, ripping the Band-Aid off.
Malcolm visibly stumbles and blinks at me with wide eyes. “I don’t think you’re a failure,” he replies, and I scoff.
“Really? Then how come you act like I can’t do anything without you holding my hand?” I counter.
Malcolm doesn’t immediately respond, but the gears are obviously turning in his brain. I wish I knew what he was thinking. Hopefully, he’ll actually tell me, and we can finally settle this tension between us.
The air is chilly as we walk in silence, but it’s not unbearable. Hell, even if it was, I’d suffer to regain my relationship with my brother.
“I’m afraid of losing you,” he admits quietly. Leo hit that one on the head. “When Mom passed away, everything changed. I developed this crippling fear that if I didn’t have my hand in everything, someone else was going to be taken from me. Pretty much everyone has taken that in stride except you.”
“I don’t like being treated like a child,” I remind him. “I’m not trying to push you away or be deliberately standoffish, but I need room to breathe. When you try to force your way into a situation that doesn’t concern you, it boils my blood.”
Malcolm shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and nods. “I know, and I’m sorry. Ayla’s been commenting on it for some time now, but she overheard me calling you today and lost her shit. She thinks I need therapy.”
“Therapy isn’t a bad thing,” I assure him. “I went for a couple of months after Mom died.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Didn’t feel the need to broadcast it. I just needed someone to talk to. There was a time that I felt like I was drowning.”
“I still feel that way sometimes,” Malcolm admits.
I stop walking and grab Malcolm’s shoulder. “Then get help. It doesn’t make you weak. It takes real strength to dive into your issues and put the work in to deal with them.”
Malcolm’s jaw trembles as he nods, his eyes filling with tears. “I just miss her so much,” he says, taking a shaky breath.
I pull him in for a hug and pat his back as he sobs. “Me too.”
I hold him until his crying stops, and he steps back.
“Shit. I’m not sure when the last time I cried was,” he confesses.
“You’ve never been a big crier. But remember, I’m always here if you need me,” I tell him.
“I know. I guess being the one everyone relies on is kind of a coping mechanism for me. It’s hard to give that up and let others take the load.”
“You have a shit ton of people who love you and are ready to help. Just say the word,” I assure him.
“Thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that,” Malcolm replies, and we turn to head back to the house. “How’s living with Gunnar?” he asks.
The question throws me for a loop, and I trip over nothing, damn near landing on my ass.
Malcolm laughs. “Forget how to walk?”
“Ha ha,” I respond, sticking my tongue out at him like a little child. “Living with Gunnar has been good,” I tell him after a beat.
“That’s good. I’m not surprised he took you in. He’s kind of the best.”
I smile and nod. “He really is.”
“Do you have any friends you’d think would be a good match for him? He keeps rejecting my choices, but maybe he’ll try again if it’s you setting him up,” Malcolm suggests, and I struggle to keep my composure.
“I could take him out,” I say nonchalantly, but Malcolm laughs.
“No, you idiot, you’re definitely not his type. Besides, everyone knows little brothers are off-limits,” he states, and my stomach drops.
“Why?” I murmur.
Malcolm rolls his eyes like I’m some sort of idiot. “Because relationships are risky. If things end, then what happens? Shit gets awkward, and people are forced to choose sides.” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure why we’re even talking about this. It’s not like you guys are into each other.”
“Yeah, I’ll try to think of a few friends to set him up with.”
Malcolm’s face lights up. “You’re the best. The longer you live with him and get to know him better, the more you’ll be able to brag him up to your friends.”
“Yeah,” I murmur and fake a yawn to hide the emotions wanting to break forward in my voice. “Shit, I’m tired.”
“You’ve had a few really crazy days,” Malcolm says.
“Yeah, I think I’m gonna say goodbye to the fam and head to Gunnar’s,” I tell him as we walk up the path. But before we go inside, I hear a rustling in the bush. “Did you hear that?” I ask Malcolm, but he shakes his head. “Stay there,” I command, walking toward the bush. “Anybody there?” I call out, wishing I had my gun right about now.
There isn’t an answer, and when I get to the bush, there’s no one there.
“Maybe it was just the wind,” Malcolm suggests.
I nod, but that doesn’t feel right. Something inside me screams that there was someone out there. I just don’t know who or why.
After one last look at the bush, I shake my head and follow Malcolm into the house to say goodbye. Despite everyone’s protest about me leaving, I need to go. I’m exhausted, and I can’t stop the gnawing Malcom’s words have created in the back of my mind. “… everyone knows little brothers are off-limits…”
Heading to my car, I look around cautiously, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. I don’t know if it’s from our heavy conversation, my exhaustion, or the noise in the bushes earlier, but something has me on edge.
Thankfully, I am met with silence, and with a heavy foot, I make it to my car. Then, putting the key in the ignition, I shake my head, needing to clear my thoughts for the drive.
While I drive to Gunnar’s place, my heart aches. I was hoping that Malcolm might be open to the idea of Gunnar and me giving a relationship a shot, but he shot me down hard with no room for persuasion or argument.
Releasing a deep sigh, I decide it’s best not to dwell on it for now. But those thoughts are quickly replaced with this unsettling feeling of unease about the noise in the bushes. Was someone watching me?
At this point, I’m not sure what is worse.
So many emotions war inside me, and it’s exhausting. Hopefully, a good night’s sleep will help settle me, and tomorrow will be better.
Chapter Fourteen
Gunnar
Shifts in the emergency room are always long and tiring. Today was no different, and I’m dead on my feet by the time I stumble into the house.
As my feet carry me inside, I’m met with an inviting smell that makes my mouth water.
“What smells amazing?” I call out, following my nose to the kitchen.
“I made lasagna,” Knox tells me with a bright smile, his hazel eyes shining with pride.
“Damn, I could get used to coming home to a cooked meal after a long shift,” I tease, and Knox chuckles, and I think I see the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks.
“Since Nixon is forcing me to take a week off work, I figured I’d make myself useful,” he says, turning his back to me casually, probably trying to hide his reaction to my comment.
“Well, I’m for sure not going to complain. How much longer until it’s ready?”
“About five minutes,” he informs me.
“Excellent. I’ll change quickly and come out to join you,” I say, slipping into my bedroom.
When Knox got home last night, he seemed upset but claimed he was just tired. I wanted to press the issue, but I also don’t have any right to do that. It seemed like he needed someone to talk to.
I wish I could be that person for him.
It doesn’t take me long to strip out of my scrubs and into a pair of comfy sweats. I contemplate putting on a shirt but decide to say fuck it. If Knox weren’t here, I wouldn’t be wearing one, and since I’m supposed to treat him like a roommate, I figure it shouldn’t be a big deal.
“How was your day?” I ask, entering the kitchen and taking a seat at the counter while Knox pulls out the lasagna. The amazing aroma gets even stronger, making my stomach growl.
“Boring,” he replies as he turns to set the lasagna on a pad he placed on the counter.
When he looks at me, his eyes go wide. He lets them roam over my bare chest, and my skin heats. Shit, maybe I should have put on a shirt after all.
I was the one who said we could only be friends, I remind myself.
“What about dinner with your family last night?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going. “We didn’t really get a chance to talk after. You seemed a little upset last night.”
Knox blinks rapidly and tears his gaze away from me, moving to plate us each a piece of lasagna. “It was nothing,” he assures me, but it doesn’t feel genuine.
“Are you sure?” I check as he slides the dishes in front of me, still not making eye contact.
I wish he would look at me.
“I had a chat with Malcolm,” he confides, sitting beside me.
“Oh, and that didn’t go well?”
“It was okay. We are on the road to mending our relationship, which is great. But he brought up the idea of me setting you up with a friend,” he informs me, sounding unpleased with his brother’s request.
I gasp, yet I shouldn’t be shocked that my friend would do something like that. He’s been very pushy lately. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumble. “He needs to get over this setting-me-up thing.”
“I made a joke about me taking you out, that maybe wasn’t really a joke,” he admits.
I almost drop my fork, then turn my body toward his. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope,” he responds, popping the P, and finally looks into my eyes. His are more golden than brown right now and filled with more emotion than he normally shows. “But he took it as a joke. Then he went on to say that I wasn’t your type, and even if I was, you know that friends don’t date little brothers.”
“He actually said that?” I ask as my stomach turns.
“Yeah,” he mutters, sounding defeated. “I guess you were right. Apparently, it’s too risky because if something happens, people have to choose sides.”
I nod, not sure what to say. I want to tell him some things are worth the risk, but I can’t get the words out.
Maybe this is for the best.
“I still want to be your friend and help you out. Don’t feel like you have to run away or anything,” I state, bringing back his smile, which warms my heart. I hate seeing him upset.
“Thanks. It’s probably for the best. Malcolm is right about one thing. If we tried something and failed, it would suck. I don’t want our family to lose you.”
I feel the same way. Just because I’m attracted to Knox doesn’t mean we’d be good partners. But there is still a part of me that wishes we lived in an alternate universe where Malcolm was accepting of this. Even though there is no way to know for certain if a relationship between Knox and me would work, I still want to try.
