Page 9 of The Beautiful Mess

“Mine are the same size, but I swear my left buddy hangs a fraction lower than the right,” Rueben said. “You hear ladies remark that their eyebrows don’t have to be twins, just sisters. You think it’s the same with our testicles? They don’t have to be twins, just brothers?”

This time, Keegan groaned. Why had he invited these two goons to his first art therapy class? Because he freaking loved the men who’d do anything to make him laugh, such as the smiley face Rueben painted on the right blue ball.

“No way Keegan’sbrothersare smiling,” Sven countered. He leaned in and painted a frowning face on the left ball.

“This looks like a social commentary about playing favorites,” Rueben said.

“One brother got all the affection while the other got ignored,” Sven agreed. “Must show them both equal love.”

Someone cleared their throat toward the front of the class, and Keegan locked eyes with the instructor, Melinda. Her expression was a mixture of the two emotions Rueben and Sven painted. Her mouth turned down at the corners, but her eyes sparkled with good humor.

“Sorry,” he mouthed before shooing his friends back to their canvases.

Their first session turned out to be a freestyle paint instead of a guided practice. Melinda had pinned several inspiration images at the front of the class, but none of them resembled his blue balls, Sven’s colorful sailboat, or Rueben’s lakeside landscape. Keegan easily recognized Rue’s setting as Seth’s fishing cabin but had never heard Sven mention anything about sailboats.

“Do you like to sail?” Keegan asked.

Sven smiled ruefully but didn’t look away from his project. “Never been. It’s just a series of easy shapes I can connect and turn into something close to art.” He brushed more sunny yellow paint on a sail to give it a deeper color. “And my mom collected sailboats. Her grandmother had grown up in Martha’s Vineyard, and my mom talked about us vacationing there someday. But money was tight after my parents got divorced, and then…”

Sven’s mother had died of cancer when he was eight, which was right about the time his father remarried. He’d moved in with Steven, Lucinda, and Kerry. Sven once referred to that period as a family of fractured souls trying their best to exist in a world that wanted them to suck up their grief and move on. Lucinda and Kerry’s entire world had been turned upside down just two years prior when Natalie’s murder destroyed their family. His mother’s brief sickness and death shattered Sven, and Steven was trying to be the stalwart rock for everyone to lean on. The environment was ripe with potential pitfalls and land mines, but they’d navigated through the storm and came out stronger on the other side. Keegan had been in their midst enough to recognize genuine love when he saw it.

“Maybe we should plan a trip to Martha’s Vineyard for next summer,” Keegan suggested.

Sven turned and smiled at him. “I’d love that, but you’ll be busy planning your honeymoon.”

Keegan rolled his eyes and turned his attention to his canvas. He would not continue the conversation they’d had the previous night. Sven was convinced Kerry had developed feelings for Keegan, but he couldn’t afford to entertain the notion. Keegan’s subconscious lacked the same discipline and had turned his dreams into vivid images of what Kerry’s love could look like. But he was awake and in control of his thoughts, so Keegan reached deep for his determination and studied his painting. What exactly was he going to do with his blue balls? Um, do about them? Keegan’s focus teetered and nearly pitched his mind back into the gutter.

“Excuse me,” Rueben said, leaning into his personal space again. “Did I hear something about a honeymoon?”

“No,” Keegan growled.

“Yes,” Sven countered. He moved in closer until Keegan was once again sandwiched between them. “You should’ve seen them last night.” Sven’s voice took on a dreamy quality, and his eyelids lowered to half-mast.

Rue narrowed his eyes and glared at Keegan. “You’re dating someone and didn’t tell me.”

“Nope,” Keegan said. “Sven has turned into a delusional matchmaker while you weren’t looking.”

“I am not the one with blinders on,” Sven countered. “Kerry was seconds away from kissing our sweet Keegan in the middle of the dance floor.”

“Kerry who?” Rueben asked. “Hart?”

“I don’t know another Kerry.” Too late, Keegan realized his answer sounded like an admission.

“Aha!” Sven exclaimed, causing everyone in the class to turn in their direction. “You admit he was about to kiss you.”

“Chill, dude.” Keegan added a soft elbow jab to Sven’s ribs with his whispered admonishment. “And Kerry wasn’t on the verge of kissing me.” Except maybe he had been. Keegan recalled the warmth of Kerry’s hands against his face and the smoldering intensity sizzling in his dark gaze. “Nothing happened.”

“Yet,” Sven countered in a singsong voice.

Rue’s quirked eyebrow expressed his curiosity, but his dark eyes glittered with fierce protectiveness. “You sound too breathy, so it definitely had to be something.”

“Something hot,” Sven said, fanning himself.

Keegan turned an annoyed glare on his friend. “Knock it off.”

“What happened to you warning Keegan away from Kerry?” Rueben asked. “Didn’t you tell us that Kerry has built vast walls around his heart and employs a miniature dragon to patrol them?”

Sven scoffed. “I doubt I said that exactly.”

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