Page 4 of Step Daddy

Kit nodded jerkily then hurried inside as if the hounds of hell were on his tail. “Thanks so much. I wasn’t sure who to turn to, but I figured you’d understand.” Gareth closed the door and regarded Kit who was back to hanging his head. Kit peered up at him again. “At least I hope you will.”

“Okaaay…”

While he’d managed to push past his guilt over abandoning his brother to the asshole-who-must-not-be-named, he was glad Kit had decided to get in touch—that he didn’t hate him the way Gareth assumed he did—he was at a loss for Kit’s abrupt appearance. And if he were being honest, that was half the reason he hadn’t sought him out after he’d returned from the military. A few postcards here and there didn’t count. Gareth sensed Kit could’ve benefited from having a true brother in life. Not some self-absorbed pseudo-relative.

Kit hadn’t advanced any further than the entryway and was still in the process of worrying his fingers. Gareth rubbed his forehead, suddenly more exhausted than relaxed. Clearly, Kit was waiting for permission or guidance or something along those lines. Gareth sensed his evening was about to take a distinctly different turn than he’d hoped for.

“Why don’t we have a seat in the living room, get caught up?” Gareth gestured toward the L-shaped leather couch. They started making their way to the main area and Gareth continued, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got soda, beer, some energy drinks...” Gareth frowned. “Wait. How old are you now?”

Yeah. He was an ass. He couldn’t even recall the difference in their ages.

“Oh, uh, I’m nineteen.” Gareth didn’t miss the slight cringe that danced across Kit’s features. “But I’ll be twenty next month.”

Gareth sighed. “That’s still not twenty-one. In which case, soda or energy drink?”

Kit’s forehead wrinkled in a slight frown. “I’ve had beer before. Not that I like it all that much, but it’s no big deal.”

Gareth crossed his arms as they reached the coffee table that was like a sentry to the furniture. “I have strict rules when it comes to my boy—” Shut the fuck up, idiot. He hadn’t traveled in vanilla circles for so long he had no kink filter whatsoever. “I get it. I was drinking beer by the time I was fourteen. But I did a lot of dumb shit when I was young. Back to my original question.” He arched his eyebrows the way he did when he was daring a boy to argue with him. “Soda or energy drink?”

Kit smiled, any momentary irritation he might’ve had seeming to dissipate. “Soda. Whatever kind you have is fine. I don’t do so well with those energy drinks.”

Gareth was already halfway to the open kitchen but paused. “Oh yeah? Why?”

A bizarre compulsion suddenly gripped him, the need to find out all he could about his long-lost stepbrother. Even the tiniest details mattered. That was part of what he loved about working with a boy he was interested in caring for. Gareth frowned. That was not how he should be thinking about his brother. Not when the only interaction he’d ever had with him had been between the ages of ten and twelve.

Kit had made his way around the coffee table and taken a seat. “They make me super jumpy, like I want to climb the walls. I don’t like feeling that way.” He shrugged. “I’m nervous enough as it is.”

Gareth continued into the kitchen and went about getting them both something to drink. His own feelings were jumbled together, leaving him unable to latch on to one emotion when they were all competing for his attention. The thought of Kit being nervous ate at him, yet he supposed it was none of his business. Or was he partially to blame? Already he could tell that the past that he’d buried so deeply so he could carve out a future was returning from the dead like a zombie that wouldn’t die.

Gareth returned to the living room with a lemon-lime soda and handed it to Kit, who ever-so-politely thanked him. Gareth dropped onto the smaller portion of the couch to the left of him. He took a slug of the beer he’d opened for himself, then lifted his bare feet to rest them on the glass table. He choked and sputtered. Only at that moment did he remember he was only wearing a towel. It seemed that Kit’s sudden appearance had rattled him more than he realized.

“Jesus, Kit. Sorry. Let me go throw on some sweats real quick.”

Kit’s cheeks flushed in the adorable blush Gareth had been charmed by earlier. “Sorry. I’ve completely intruded on your evening. I can go check into a motel then come back when it’s more convenient.”

Gareth was already on his feet. “Stop it. I wasn’t planning on wearing a towel the rest of the night and I don’t have any plans.” Not anymore, at least. He set down the beer bottle then pointed at Kit. “Don’t move.”

Now that Kit was here, he had to know what was going on. Gareth rubbed the back of his neck as he made his way into the primary bedroom to change. His spidey senses told him Kit hadn’t abruptly shown up in Las Vegas with no warning and sought him out to shoot the shit.

Once Gareth returned to the living room in a pair of black sweats and one of his zillions of sponsor tees, he took a second to eye Kit as he headed to his previous seat. Yeah, he could see it now. Kit wasn’t just nervous from the awkward circumstances of their meeting. The way his shoulders were slumped, how he gripped the soda can like a lifeline and the way he’d startled when Gareth had padded his way across the hardwood floor—the kid was on edge.

“So.” Gareth dropped onto the couch again. “What brings you to Vegas?” Gareth folded his hands behind his head and leaned back, hoping his casual stance would ease Kit’s nerves. “Surely, it wasn’t only for me.” He chuckled, determined to keep things as light as possible.

“A-actually, it was.” Kit winced. “I mean, is. Is only for you, I mean.”

Kit’s cheeks burst into a dark red as if he suddenly realized how his words could be interpreted in more than one way.

“I’m flattered.” Gareth’s response only seemed to deepen Kit’s color. “I suppose there’s a pretty good reason why that would be so?” Gareth propped his feet on the table again. “Whatever the reason is, don’t be shy about telling me. It’s cool. I’m your brother and I’ll help or support you however I can.”

Gareth pressed his lips together. Why should Kit believe him? “Look.” Gareth rested his arms along the couch back. “I haven’t exactly been good about keeping in touch, making sure you were okay. I apologize for that. But I’d like to make up for my previous lack of brotherly love. That is, if you’ll let me.”

Kit shook his head. “That’s okay. I loved getting the postcards from you.”

Gareth snorted. “What, all three of them?” Man, he was a fucking jerk.

“Eight.” Kit cleared his throat. “They’re cool. You’ve been to a lot of places.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug and went back to staring at his hands. “Maybe I can see different places someday, too.”

“Of course, you can. Don’t ever let anyone bring you down, tell you you’re not going anywhere in life.”

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