Love Brewing (Love Brothers #3) (3 page)

Then he’d declared, “I want to kiss you.”

And she’d let him. It had gone pretty far considering, but
she’d put a halt to it. Something about him gave her weak knees, but also put
her on guard.

At that moment, she let anger rule
. Dominic is not a good
guy
, her better self yammered. And now she knew that for a stone-cold fact.

She ducked into her room, shut the door and sat on her bed,
still wrapped in her damp towel gnawing her lips raw with the effort to will
the tears away.

“You girls all right up there,” her mama shouted up the
steps. “You’re not roughhousin’, are ya? Come on down and eat. Diana, you gotta
get that bloody mess cleared out of the barn.”

“We’re fine, Mama, sorry. Something fell off my dresser,”
Jen’s muffled voice called from behind the door.

But Diana could tell her sister was right outside her
bedroom door. She gritted her teeth at the sound of a soft knock. “Go away.”
She pulled on underwear, a bra, jeans and one of her rattiest shirts for the
clean-up duty she had ahead of her. Dominic Love was not hers. That had been
made perfectly clear. She’d best get on down the road to forgetting him.

She set her jaw and when Jen slipped into her room, hair a
mess, color high, and looking as guilty as sin, she was able to smile at her.
“Hope he used a condom. Last thing we need around here is a Love brat.”

Jen grabbed Diana’s arm as she tried to brush by her. “Di,
I’m…I don’t know what…I’m sorry. He just showed up and you were asleep and he
was so sad about something, and one thing lead to another.” Her sister hung her
head. Diana observed as if from a million miles away that even in her abject
embarrassment and coming from doing what she’d been doing with the very boy she
knew dang good and well her own sister liked, Jennifer Brantley was still, as
always, model-perfect gorgeous.

“Don’t talk to me.” Diana kept going out the door and
hovered at the top of the steps when she heard another voice.

“Diana,” Dom said, his sexy, gruff voice barely above a
whisper, sending a shiver of fury down her spine. She gripped the smooth ball
of the top railing, noting for some reason at that moment how it had worn
smooth on the side everyone seemed to grab when they’d head downstairs. “Please
don’t….”

She took a second to sort through her commentary options and
decided not to try any of them. There were no words for what she felt right
then anyway. And she had work to do. She stomped downstairs and away from them
both.

Now

Dom let the wind whip his hair as he opened up the throttle
and took the familiar curves into Lucasville. He felt light somehow, knowing
what lay ahead for him. He was out now, for all intents and purposes. Although
he still wasn’t sure what it—being
out
—meant for him. Fact was, he’d
really enjoyed exploring that hidden side of his personality with a man as
funny, bright, encouraging and downright sexy as Kent Lowery, but had less than
zero desire to try it ever again. He’d gotten too close, let himself feel real
emotion for the man. And that, he well knew, would never, ever do.

But since he had revealed that particular deep, dark and
dirty secret, right in the church where he’d grown up no less, he had to face
the music now, and no amount of,
but I was just fooling around
, would
suffice. He didn’t even know what had transpired after he’d run out, since he’d
thrown his mobile phone into the Lucas River at the first opportunity that
initial, horrific day of his new reality. If Kent tried to call or text him,
Dom didn’t want to know about it. Not anymore. Not ever.

It felt beyond strange not to be tethered by a phone. But
liberating at the same time. Maybe he’d go without one of the damn things the
rest of his life.

He had royally screwed up. He knew it. After all those years
shielding his heart from emotion, not getting really close, even to Diana, God
bless her, or to Gina, the woman who’d bolted out of his life still pregnant
with his kid, had lead to him dropping his guard. That’s when Kent traipsed
into his life at the precise moment Dom had needed something substantial,
ruining him forever. Plenty of time with his annoying therapist had taught him
that much. Money well-spent, he supposed.

Waiting at the first light, he took in in all the familiar
sights, absorbing the sounds of his hometown on a quiet mid-morning. It had the
sheen of strangeness, a sort of watching a TV show where
all-is-well-in-small-town-America, but only-on-the-surface sensation.

He shook his head, having spent so many hours of his life
hating it here, then loving it, then hating it all over again. It exhausted him
even contemplating what he’d do next, where he’d go, who’d hire him. Because
his time at Love Brewing had come to an end, that much he knew. His father
would never accept that his son was gay, or bi, or experimenting, or whatever
spin he put on it. He, Dominic Sean Love, had kissed a man. He’d touched a
man’s dick. He’d fucked another man in the ass. He’d let the same man suck
his
dick. He’d participated in three and four-way sex with a bunch of other dudes
at that man’s suggestion, and had enjoyed it.

But he knew for a fact he also loved women. So perhaps he
wasn’t gay.

Goddamn. What a shit show this is.

“Fuck it.” He opened up the Harley and let it blast its way
down Main Street. He’d spent too much time and effort trying to come to terms
with his own desires. Besides, the whole thing had happened on a whim—something
he’d done because he’d been bored out of his skull with his life and thought he
could spice it up with yet another thrill-seeking adventure. He’d be damned if
he knew how to explain any of it to his traditional, hide-bound father. But
he’d experienced a legit flicker of hope, thanks to Kieran and his eagerness to
get Dom in front of their parents. Maybe, just maybe things would resume their
status quo.

But as he eased the bike up his parents’ gravel driveway,
the small knot of anxiety in his gut exploded into a full-blown panic attack.
He sat, holding onto the grips, unable to move. His boyhood home always filled
him with so much angst and confusion. He’d been miserable there, but yet, there
had been a medical explanation for that.

Diagnosed as manic-depressive the summer after high school
graduation, after dropping off the deep end into some seriously bad doo-doo,
the second time he’d broken up with Diana Brantley, Dom had fought it tooth and
nail. His father had been in his corner then.

No one medicates my boy just because he gets down
sometimes. I don’t trust head shrinkers
.

Dominic shook his head, recalling how tough his mama had
been, threatening her husband with all manner of repercussions if he did not
get
off his
redneck, ignorant high horse and get her son the medical help he
required
. The second half of that insane summer Dom floated along in a haze
of medication adjustments as the doctors tried to find a mix of antianxiety
meds and antidepressants that didn’t transform him into a total zombie.

“Hey!” A voice startled him out of his frustrating trip down
memory lane. “Where ya been, Sean?” His oldest brother Antony smacked his
shoulder.

Dom opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His brain had
fuzzed over, harking back to those early days of medication tinkering. But he
was clearing out his system. He hadn’t taken anything for the better part of
five months now.

You can’t medicate me out of wanting to fuck men
,
he’d thought more than once.
I’m sick of not feeling anything, even the
lows. I want the highs
.
I need the highs
.

But right at that moment, he’d give anything
not
to
be experiencing the oh-so-familiar, horrific, skin-crawling sensation, as if
spiders were skittering across his scalp, neck and shoulders. It was one of the
milestones in his body’s detoxification from chemicals he probably should think
twice about skipping so nonchalantly.

Antony headed toward the pool then disappeared down the
hill. Memories rushed at Dom, filling his brain, all his stupid and stupider
mistakes with his family and with girls he’d committed there suffocated him. He
had to concentrate on not hyperventilating. Kieran walked up, saving him from
toppling over and pulling the heavy motorcycle with him.

“Come on.” His brother unpeeled his fingers from the bike’s
grips. “I brought these.” Kieran shook a paper bag in his face. “You gotta get
back on them.”

The familiar sound of multiple pill bottles rattled deep in
Dom’s brain. He nodded, dismounted, and tugged his shirttail down over his
jeans. There had indeed been a bunch of his clothes left in Diana’s bedroom.
He’d forgotten about most of them. But leaving things behind as if they never
existed was sort of his
M.O
. His vision tunneled, his chest hurt, but he
followed his brother to the house, knowing the sooner he dealt with this
particular reality, the better—somehow, maybe.

The lower patio, where he’d spent so many summer evenings
with family, friends and countless girls, was set for a meal. He gulped and
glanced around, seeking support. His younger brother Aiden sat, holding a beer
and reading something on a computer tablet. Angelique, the younger sister they
all doted on appeared, carrying a tray with veggies, dip, and a sweating
pitcher of iced tea. She set the stuff down and launched at him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she muttered into his chest. “You
dumbass.” Before he could react, she gave him a no-fooling hard slap. “Mama is
going nuts over you.”

He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. “I know, I know,
fatso,” he said, hoping to regain some of his equilibrium as the Official Love
Family Jester and Insult Hurler. He shrugged when she stuck her tongue out at
him.

Someone else whacked the back of his head hard enough to
make him flinch. He spotted Aiden, now standing over his shoulder. “Okay, I’m
good now,” Aiden said, returning to his chair.

Dom grinned and flipped him off then dropped into the
nearest seat. He glanced up when Antony’s wife, Margot, appeared in the open
sliding-glass doorway. Her tall, cool, good looks gave him a twinge of jealousy
over his oldest brother’s luck until he recalled how crappy Antony’s life had
been before meeting her.

“So.” He gestured at the empty chair next to his. “You’re here
to….”

“Facilitate.” His sister-in-law the shrink smiled and kissed
his cheek. “Although I’m not sure it’s such a great idea. I’m technically too
close to the subjects.” She put her lips near his ear. “Your mother is not
dealing with this well, Dom. If nothing else, we have to reassure her, okay?”

Dom nodded and reached for the pitcher of beer. Margot moved
it out of the way before he could snag it and emptied the bag of pill bottles
out onto the table between them.

“We’ll start here.” She inspected the medications one by
one. “I understand it took a while to get these right. It’s a delicate balance,
you know? To get your brain chemistry sorted out.” After placing each bottle
into a neat row in front of him, she tapped each of the bottle lids.

Dom tried to ignore the anger building in his head, making
his temples pound. “I know, I know.” He swept the bottles back into the bag.
“I’ll take ‘em. Relax, Doc Love.” After pouring a beer he raised the glass to
her and winked. “God
damn
, you are hot. Does my stupid brother appreciate
the amazing riches at his fingertips?”

Antony sat on her other side and leaned across her. “You’d
better not be sass-mouthin’ my wife, punk.” Dominic well understood the
seriousness behind his brother’s lighthearted half-threat.

Aiden’s wife Rosalee, materialized in the doorway carrying a
platter of corn on the cob and a tray of hamburger patties. Dom blew her a
kiss, noting the look that passed between her and Aiden but biting back the
smartass commentary urge. Angelique fired up the grill. Dom frowned at the
scene. His father had always been the acknowledged grillmaster of the Love
house, no matter what kind of drama materialized.

“All right, I’ll hop onto the thousand-pound gorilla and
ride that son-of-a-bitch across the yard. Where the fuck are the parents?” He
crossed one ankle over his knee, mainly to hide how much he shook.

“You’d best watch your foul mouth, Dominic Sean.”

Dom jumped up and headed for his mother, surprised at the
depth of his response to her words. She stood in the doorway holding a bowl of
potato salad and frowning at him. He took it and set it on the table, then
folded her into a hug, breathing in everything about her that always calmed
him. The combination of Ivory soap, chlorine, a whiff of rich malt, and a hint
of flowery lotion wafted through his senses.

“Mama, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry, I
swear it.”

She disentangled and held him at arm’s length, her
deep-green gaze clear. Her face was thin, but it had been for the last year or
so. Her hair had grown in post chemotherapy, thicker and curlier, and bright
red as ever. It took all he had not to collapse into her, to let her hold him
and soothe him out of this current mess—essentially shielding him from his
father. She’d done it a lot during his youth and teenage years. His chest ached
all over again at the thought of all the work she’d done just so he could go
and really blow it.

“I always worry. That’s a mother’s curse.” She smiled,
brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, and cupped his chin with her callused
palm. “I’m not speaking to your father at the moment, but that’s why you’re
here, I’m guessing.” She glanced at her children and their various significant
others. “Where are my grandbabies?”

“AliceLynn is watching Jeff, Josh and Mandy,” Aiden said,
referring to Antony’s teenaged daughter from his first marriage who’d been put
in charge of the three youngest members of the Love clan.

“I told you I wanted you to bring them.” Lindsay frowned at
Antony.

“Mama, we don’t need kids distracting us today.” Antony shot
Dominic a hard look.

The words,
I’m not gay, I’m bi
, rose in his throat
and stuck there. His head pounded as he kept an arm around his mother, alarmed
at how frail she felt. The group sat silent, words he should say to it hanging
in the air, unspoken.

“Well,” Rosie interrupted the extreme awkwardness from the
grill. “Dinner’s almost ready.” The smell filled Dom’s nose, reminding him he
hadn’t eaten yet since…when? He had no concept of time anymore. Just of tasks,
things he had to do. Another symptom, he knew. Another reason to get his sorry
ass back on his medication. Things always got stretchy and confusing when he’d
go into one of his
funks
as his brothers used to call it.

He looked up when Rosie put the plate of burgers on the
table, surprised in a detached way by how fast they’d cooked. He was slipping
again, losing track of time passing. Not a good sign, really.

He flopped back in his seat, deflated, picked up a fork and
tapped it on the table. His mother sat and poured a glass of tea. “Antony, say
grace please.”

Dom bowed his head, but left his eyes open, the one, pretty
silly rebellion left to him when confronted once more with his mother’s
dinner-table traditions.

“Dear Lord,” his brother intoned. Then Dom stopped listening.
His mother squeezed his hand twice, the typical Love family, end-of-prayer-time
signal, so he raised his head and noted the seat at the other end of the
glass-topped patio table was now occupied. A terrified, heavy feeling settled
in Dom’s chest.

Anton Love rose, fingers tented on the table, a brown
cardboard box in front of him. Dom met his gaze without blinking.

This he understood. This he’d experienced plenty of times.
Parental wrath—or more specifically, paternal wrath and maternal disappointment—he
thought he had a handle on from years of experience. The distinct
calm-before-the-hurricane sensation rippled through his psyche, bringing a
tinge of red to the edges of his vision. He gripped the fork tighter and
tighter, only letting go when Aiden eased the bent-in-half utensil out of his
white-knuckled grip.

His mother got to her feet and glared at her husband down
the length of table, their family silent between them.

“Anton.” Her voice remained calm. “Do you have something you
wish to say?”