Aftermath, Bailey Bradford [latest novels to read TXT] 📗

want me to,” Darren muttered. “If that sounds childish, then—”

“It doesn’t, and it’s good for me to know.” Lee headed back to the table and Darren followed. “I won’t stop cussing entirely—there’s no way I could, especially not when we’re fu—” Lee winced. “Having sex. The rest of the time, though, I’ll at least try.” He set the packages of cold cuts and cheese on the table.

“You don’t have to, and I liked it when you talked dirty while we were having sex.” It had made Darren’s lust flare even higher.

Lee shot him a wicked grin before walking to the counter to grab the bread. “Good. But I meant it when I said I’d work on the other, not cussing, at least as much as I have been.”

Darren didn’t know why Lee was so willing to try to curb his cursing but it made Darren happy that he’d offered to do so. “Okay, thank you.”

Lee pulled out a chair for Darren, which made him feel mildly insulted and touched at the same time. He still said thank you though and sat, Lee quickly doing the same.

“Now, getting back on track,” Lee began and Darren wanted to groan. “I know you felt responsible for Stefan, and everyone, including myself, let you, but the truth of the matter is, Stefan’s family was responsible for him. Me, our parents. We were the ones who should have been watching over Stefan and making sure nothing happened to him. Us, not you. We didn’t, and Stefan paid the price whether his death was accidental or…or not.”

Darren understood the legality of it but emotionally he didn’t agree. “You couldn’t watch him, you were gone, and your parents—”

Lee cut him off with a sharp slash of his hand through the air. “No. My parents could have hired someone, they could have afforded it, or they could have spent more time with Stefan themselves.” Lee grimaced and tapped his chest. “And I could have stayed in Jackson, but I didn’t. I couldn’t wait to get out of that place, and I wasn’t about to let something like a brother who needed me stop me. So don’t tell me you were selfish. I left and only came back once every year or so. I could have come home more often. I chose not to.”

Lee’s eyes were glittering with unshed tears as he stopped talking. Darren tried to find an argument against Lee’s claims that couldn’t also be applied to himself but couldn’t. He wasn’t sure whether he felt any less guilty or not. He’d carried around that weight for so long he didn’t know if he could ever let it go.

And Lee had to feel at least as responsible as Darren did, which spurred him to speak. Darren reached for Lee’s hand and waited until Lee looked at him. “Do you think Stefan would be happy knowing we both felt like this? He was so proud of you, going off and serving in the military. Do you think he’d have wanted you to give that up?”

“He probably would have rather had me at home,” Lee said, looking down at the table or his plate, Darren couldn’t tell.

“I don’t think so.”

That got Lee’s attention, his gaze shooting back up to Darren’s.

“Why don’t you think so?”

Darren could hear the hope in Lee’s voice and he prayed he’d find the right words to ease Lee’s guilt. “Stefan knew he wasn’t going to be able to leave Jackson and do the things you did. The only way he got to experience life outside that place was through you. I mean, yeah, he could see different stuff on TV, but it wasn’t the same. Every time he got a letter or a call from you, he would glow for days and tell everyone he could about his big brother. What would he have had if you’d stayed in Jackson? What would have made him so happy he practically walked on air? What would he have had to look forward to if not your calls, letters and visits?”

Lee looked thunderstruck, his eyes wide and his lips parted enough that Darren could see a strip of that talented tongue. “I don’t know.”

“Me either, but I am beginning to believe both of us need to think about why we feel like we do.”

And if they were lucky they might get some answers they could actually understand.

Chapter Eight

“Why hasn’t anyone killed that da—rooster?” Lee washed the set of deep scratches on his forearm. He wanted to cuss so bad he almost didn’t trust himself to speak. The little red bastard had got him good, digging those talons in and trying to tear a chunk out of Lee’s arm. “He’s a menace. Someday he’s going to pluck out someone’s eye or something. He’s like a chicken on meth, or maybe he’s a sociopath.” Lee considered it while Darren opened the antibiotic cream. “Yeah, that fits. You have a sociopathic rooster in your front yard.”

Darren pointed the uncapped tube at him. “Are you always this optimistic at five in the morning?”

Lee turned the sink off and took the clean washcloth Darren had laid out for him. “No, I’m usually asleep at five in the morning—although I’m certainly not complaining about waking up with your sweet lips wrapped around my dick.” Lee grinned and dried his arm off with the washcloth.

Darren had taken the initiative this morning and Lee had been so surprised, his usual control had failed him. He’d shot his wad a lot sooner than he’d wanted to, but that might have been a good thing. Lee had plans for his lover, plans that would satisfy both of them.

He held up his arm and let Darren rub the cream over the scratches. Yeah, he could have done it himself but Darren touching him, even if it was like this, was never a bad thing. Lee could grow addicted to this man. Maybe he already was. He liked Darren, and while the sex so far had been amazing, that