Splinters (19 page)

I’m coming! No warning, not for either of us, and it overtakes me. I tense and strain, burst into him, and yell my release. It seems to go on far longer than it should as he drinks me down. I can feel him shiver under my hands before he forces his head up to gasp. A second later and he’s growling like the bear he is, swollen mouth open wide and wet inside and out. Over the pounding of my heart I can’t hear the splash of his cum on the floor, but knowing it’s there, that he got off on getting me off, makes me bask in satisfaction.

I grab a towel beside me and use it in a shaky hand to clean up his face, dab at the tears in his eyes. He sits back on his heels, looking dazed but sated. That grin is sleepy now. He offers me his hand to clean that too, and I do it, but only after sucking his middle finger. His moan is that of a man who wishes he could start again right away.

Leaning down, I kiss him. His lips are puffy and hot, no doubt sensitive, so I’m gentle with him, slow and easy. He stands up between one kiss and the next, looming over me. I touch his face and neck, feeling a sort of protectiveness well up. I want to take care of him.

“I know it’s fast,” he says and there’s some croak to his voice. “I’m not pushin’ here.” He looks me right in the eyes. “But, baby, I’m fallin’ hard for you. I’m in love, Al.”

Heat suffuses my face even as I smile. “Good.” I sniff. “I am, too.”

He sighs and hugs me tightly. I can almost feel his relief.

“Never said that before,” he says into my shoulder.

I squeeze him. Wish I could say the same. “I’ve never
meant it
before.”

He kisses my shoulder, then my cheek. His eyes are such summer tea perfection.

“Let me take you home now,” I say and trace the cut of his jaw. “I’ve got honey lemon throat lozenges.”

Duke’s laugh has some honk to it. He’s so cute.

e’re just leaving the elevator in the lobby, Duke right behind me, when I look up and… It’s like two worlds collide. Devastating déjà vu. I gasp and stop as my gaze crashes with Dean’s. He looks startled. I’m shocked.
What… How…
I don’t know what to do.

Dean knows. He aims a gun at my head.

“No!” Duke steps between us, shoving me behind him.

I can still see around him and Dean looks rough. They’re identical twins, but the beard on Dean and the raggedness of his face shows an entirely different sort of man. He’s at his limit.

The lobby isn’t crowded, but when people notice the standoff, the gun, there’s screaming and the clatter of shoes on marble. Dean glances around, his hand shakes, but he stays put.

I’ve never had a real gun pointed at me. The first time a prop gun was aimed at me, I’d marveled at the sense of danger, the fight or flight that had kicked in. But now? I don’t flinch. I don’t run. I only stare.

“Dean, don’t do this,” Duke says and the croak to his speech now makes him sound like he’s breaking.

“Move,” Dean says and, my God, the voice I love coming out of him gives me a shiver. It’s not right. This hurtful, terrifying version shouldn’t have anything in common with Duke.

“You don’t need a gun.” Duke steps closer, hands up, and I want to stop him. But I don’t. He’s the only one here who has a chance of getting through to Dean.

Of course, if this is some kind of psychological break, maybe no one can reach him.

A woman peeks over the information desk. I can see her wide blue eyes flicking all over the scene and her mouth barely moving as she speaks into the black phone receiver. I listen for sirens, but there are none.

I glance toward the wall of windows and doors to the street. I can see people milling around in the glare of streetlights. So close, yet so oblivious.

Dean glares at me. “Don’t even think of running.” His tone chills me.

“I-I won’t.” I raise my hands. “You don’t have any reason for the gun, Dean. We can just talk. Okay?”

“No. He has to see.”

I stare at the back of Duke’s head like I might peek into his brain for answers. See what? Does he even know?

“Dean, please.” Duke takes another step closer to his brother. “Nothin’ good’ll come from this.”

Dean shakes his head, closes his eyes. When he opens them, there’s something frantic growing in his gaze. His expression catches up and it’s like he’s in pain. “You don’t see!”

Duke flinches at that near-scream, too. But he very calmly says, “I do, Dean.”

“No, you don’t because, if you did, you’d see
that’s a man
.” He shakes the gun, pointing over Duke’s shoulder and right at my head.

Though Duke doesn’t look back at me, he says, “I see Al. I know he’s a man.”

“You
don’t
see! You wouldn’t want him if you saw.”

“Dean—”

The elevator behind me gives a wail and the doors begin to slowly close. I’ve held it open too long and it’s not going to wait anymore. I fast step out of the way. In the wrong direction. I wince at my idiocy because I’m now by Duke’s side and an impossible to miss target for Dean.
Oh, my God
.

But instead of taking the shot, Dean keeps talking.

“We’re alike,” he says, his gun aimed at me, but his gaze on Duke. “You and me. Always the same.”

“Not in every—”

“Yes! We have to be.” His chin trembles and his arm waivers downward. “I’m
trying
, Duke. I’m trying so hard, but you have to
see
.”

Duke edges toward me, just a small slide. “You’ve been doing great, Dean. Pa’d be so proud of you.”

Dean smiles and nods, like he thinks he’s getting through to his brother now.

“But,” Duke says, “this ain’t somethin’ we can be alike on. I like men and you don’t and that’s okay.”

Wrong move. Oh, damn.

“No.
No
.” That hard jaw clenches, eyes narrowing. “We have to be the same. It’ll all be fine when we’re the same again.”

I can see Duke’s profile now and it’s enough to see understanding dawn in him as it does in me. Dean thinks he’ll be stable or well or have back whatever he knows is missing if only he can make himself and his twin exactly alike. He’s fixated on their differing sexualities—and me by extension—as being the problem here. Get rid of me, and Dean can be whole again.

My God, the poor man.

“I showed you, Duke,” Dean says, pleading now. “Didn’t you see what he is? You showed me his photos, all lookin’ like a girl, but he’s not.” He waves the gun at me again, his expression like a magician whipping off a curtain to show the truth underneath. “I showed you
he’s a man
.”

So that’s why. He tied me up, shaved me, so Duke would see that I’m really male. The boil of rage inside me wars with my sympathies for a broken mind. I stop holding my hands up and just stare at this madman.

“Dean, you gotta stop.”

“Listen! Then I showed you the girl, right? Made sure you couldn’t miss her.” Dean smiles, eager. Goddamn him. “Wasn’t she pretty? Hot body, too, huh?”

I can hear Duke whisper, “Ah, God,” and my anger deserts me in the face of Duke’s pain.

But Dean, he’s pissed. “Did you
look
at her?”

“Please, Dean. Put the gun down.” He takes another step closer to Dean. “We can talk without it. We can work this out.”

“But you’re not
listening
.” Suddenly, Dean’s arm is rock steady as he glares at me. “He’ll listen,” he says and his voice is steely now. “I’ll do anything to help him.”

I bet Duke will say the same thing.

The eerie moment of silence is pierced by the ding of the elevator returning. All of us look over. I even lose focus on the gun as I take in Elsie stepping out into the lobby. She gasps and recoils, which only succeeds in alerting Stuart that much sooner.

Stuart puts a hand on Elsie, draws her back, and pulls his own gun in a fluid, practiced motion. I open my mouth, I don’t know what I want to say, but I can see his quick brown eyes darting across the tableau of players and danger in front of him. That same feeling of collision washes heat all through me as Stuart trains his weapon on Dean.

“No!” Duke hollers and puts his arms out.

Stuart pulls the trigger. The crack makes me flinch. Hands over my mouth, I watch as Dean is flung back like someone punched his shoulder. It’s almost slow motion, and it’s horrific how much he looks like Duke. People scream. There’s so much sudden movement, I can’t track it all. Then Dean’s on the ground.

And it’s over.

But it’s not.

Duke kneels over his brother. My heart slams in my chest from the action, but at the same time, my heart also breaks watching Duke cry.

his isn’t my first time in a Midtown Manhattan police station. I’d filed charges against a DJ who’d stolen clothes and shoes from my closet during a party a few years ago. I remember feeling like I’d walked onto the set of any number of TV dramas and being excited by it. Maybe that’s when the acting bug got me.

Being here now only feels horrifically surreal.

A friendly female detective has already spoken with Duke and me. Elsie spoke on behalf of Stuart’s actions defending his client. Stuart is somewhere else having, I’m sure, a much more detailed conversation with the detectives.

I still need to thank him. That I haven’t keeps popping into my head and startling me. I would’ve thought those words would be the first ones I’d say to him. In reality, I’d been piss poor on gratitude and asked him, “Why’d you do that?”

Thankfully, he hadn’t taken it badly. I’m not sure I’d meant it that way. It was shock. We’re probably all in shock. Elsie is still trembling.

I’m sitting between her and Duke on a sagging sofa, holding each of their hands. I bet we look like lost children waiting for someone to come claim us. They’d turned their back for just a second and we’d wandered off. But no. I might feel lost, but I imagine Duke feels splintered inside.

I don’t know what to say to him. He already knew his brother’s mental condition was tenuous, but I’m not sure Duke ever suspected it could break down to this. There’s something strangely sane about what Dean did to Elsie and me when compared to what he planned to do with that gun. In his time apart, an evolution of very bad things went on in his mind.