Cast Off (7 page)

Dylan and Kurt popped back into the kitchen a few minutes later, Dylan grabbing a beer before continuing on out of the kitchen, but Kurt sat at the table.

Ian gave him a few surreptitious glances. What had his father meant? And was he ready to get into another deep conversation right now?

No. Another time. If he hadn’t been laid so well last night, his mood would be worse than flat right now. Hell, it was only eight and he had every intention of calling it a night as soon as he could. Emotional upheaval was more exhausting than he’d imagined. If he had the energy, he’d pop out to one of his usual haunts and get a blow job or something to ease him into a good night’s sleep, but more than likely he’d have to ease himself into sleep with the memory of last night.

Or the memory of curling up to a warm male body in his bed. Funny, he thought he might actually prefer the comfort of that to a blow job. That wasn’t like him at all. Or at least, it wasn’t like the player who hid his sexuality from everyone. Did being out mean he was going to be a cuddler? Rick had felt right in his arms, but maybe any man would do if Ian let them sleep in his bed.

“So, you going to start dating now?” Oh, that wasn’t right. Surely his brother couldn’t read his thoughts, now, could he?

Ian shrugged as best he could, elbow deep in soapy water. “I guess. I don’t… I don’t really know how.”

Kurt snorted. “Me, neither. I mean, I dated girls, but clearly that wasn’t successful. Davy and I never officially dated. What about Rick?”

“Oh, his name was really Rick?” Ian almost never gave his real name when out looking to get laid, and he certainly never presumed he was given his partner’s real name. Which was a lonely fucking way to live, now that he thought about it.

Kurt curled his lip. “You met him at my
home
. Helping me
paint
it. While I’m still recovering from being
shot
. It wasn’t exactly foam night at Anaconda.”

Ian pulled a hand out of the sink and flipped him off, suds flying smack onto Kurt’s forehead. Couldn’t have done better if he tried. “What would you know about Anaconda? You’ve been gay for about thirty seconds and let’s face it, you’re a bit of a prude.”

The deflection wouldn’t fool his observant cop of a younger brother.

“It’s not foam night, here, either.” Kurt wiped at the wet on his face. “And compared to a slut, I guess I am a prude.” Kurt stood and tossed a wet dish towel at Ian.

Somehow, Kurt’s words didn’t hurt or make him angry like Caitlyn’s had. But Kurt was still his baby brother and deserved a smackdown.

“Hey, I’ve gotten laid more times than you can count, baby bro.” Ian splashed suds at Kurt, soap and water dampening his shirt.

“Quality over quantity.” Kurt grabbed a handful of buttered brussels sprouts out of a nearby serving dish and lobbed them at him.

Ian let out a soft curse, and they both began looking for ammunition. Kurt dug into the bowl of sprouts again while Ian plunged his hands into the remains of the potatoes.

“And what exactly are you planning to do with those?” At the sound of their father’s voice, they froze, caught with their hands in the cookie jar, so to speak.

“Uh.” Kurt’s response was singularly unhelpful.

“Right. I think you better call a cease-fire. Your mother doesn’t care that you’re gay, but if you mess up her kitchen, you’ll be cleaning grout with a toothbrush. And Ian, that’ll all be on you, because she’s not going to let Kurt do anything with that injury.”

Kurt got an evil glint in his eyes and feinted another sprout toss.

“No fair.” The absurdity of the situation hit Ian as soon as those words left his lips and he started laughing. Kurt and his father did too.

His father clapped him on the back. “For a minute there, I thought we’d dropped through a time warp. But your mother could come in at any minute, so you’d better hurry up and get finished. Don’t miss any of those.” He raised a grizzled brow at the green sprouts littered over the floor around Ian’s feet before he grabbed a beer from the fridge and left.

“I’ll pick up the sprouts,” Kurt offered.

“No you won’t. Sit down. I don’t want Mom or Davy to kill me if you overdo it because we had a food fight. I’ll get them.”

Kurt must have been feeling tender, because he actually obeyed. “Sorry, man. I shouldn’t have made a mess.”

“Oh, whatever.” Ian rinsed potatoes off his hands and dried them before squatting and grabbing each slippery little sprout to toss in the composting bin. Just in time, too, because Ian had no sooner plunged his hands back into the dishwater when their mom wandered in to refill her wine glass. She gave Kurt an assessing look, as if to ensure he was taking it easy, before casting an expert eye over Ian’s work.

“Out of practice, my boyo? It’s taking a while.”

“Just want to make sure it’s perfect for you, Mom.” Ian gave her his most innocent smile.

“Scamp. Your old mum knows not to trust that snake-oil grin.” She grinned back at him and left them on their own.

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of dishes clanking.

“So what are you going to do now?”

Once again, he knew what Kurt meant. “I don’t know. This was such a big step, even if I already knew, deep down, that the family wouldn’t care. I couldn’t think past it. And I wasn’t lying. I’ve never dated. The places I go to get laid are not places to find dates, even if I had any idea what to do. I almost feel like I’m one of those guys who got married young and got tossed out in a divorce after so many years, floundering in the dating pool.”

Like that guy at work who’d married his high-school sweetheart, who, twenty years later, “wanted something different.” Poor befuddled bastard had to learn how to navigate shark-infested dating waters without a life preserver. And yet, Ian would have to dive right in, heedless of the sharks, if he wanted even a taste of what the rest of his family had found.

“Maybe Davy could help. Offer some advice.”

“Yeah, maybe. But let’s hold off on that. I need some time to… get used to being out. Being myself.” Figuring out who the hell that was.

Kurt smiled at him. “You know I’m here for you, even if I’m so newly out I squeak around the edges.”

“I know, baby bro, I know.”

Just like that, guilt came welling back up, and he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. Doing so would only benefit him, and he’d already been far too selfish where Kurt was concerned.

He placed the last wet dish in the dish rack, dried his hands, and sat at the table across from Kurt. The kitchen table was only big enough for four people; if the whole family was around to eat together, they ate in the dining room. The kitchen table was more like a cafeteria, catering to the different schedules of a family of nine. Which meant he was too close to Kurt’s curious gaze for comfort, and yet, this wasn’t going to be a comfortable discussion.

“I know….” Ian’s voice cracked, and he swallowed heavily. “I know I wasn’t there for you. And I’m sorry.”

Kurt shrugged. “We hashed this out last night. We’re good.”

Tempted to let it go, to take the easy way out, Ian forced himself to soldier on. His parents would know—somehow—if he shirked.

“No, I mean….” What did he mean, exactly? “I wasn’t there for you. I was a shit, and I know it. But the thing is, I somehow thought this whole life change had been easy for you. And I’m suddenly realizing it wasn’t. It can’t have been.” In fact, the more he thought about it, Ian knew it had to have been traumatic. Far more so than what he’d gone through. Because Kurt hadn’t realized he was gay. He’d probably never paid much attention to how his family or coworkers responded to gay characters on TV or in the movies. He’d never gauged how funny or offensive they found off-color jokes. Never knew if they sneered at, ignored, or even noticed a flamboyant gay man crossing their paths.

Ian had spent years analyzing every tiny reaction. He had made sure to enter a profession that was unlikely to be affected by his sexuality, because deep down, he’d assumed that if he didn’t choose to step out of the closet, he might be accidentally outed. Kurt had never had the chance to weigh his choice of profession against his sexual orientation.

Toronto was a pretty tolerant place, both in regards to sexuality and ethnicity. The police force didn’t discriminate. But there had to be some deeply seated fear that in a profession like police detective he’d have his work and partnerships suffer. Unlike Ian, who’d had years to consider how to come out, or to imagine every possible response, Kurt would have had all that crowd in on him over a matter of months.

Kurt had always been a pleasant, happy guy whose emotions were never in turmoil like Ian’s often were. The memory prompted a pallor in Kurt’s skin and a bleakness in his eyes that pained Ian like little else in his life. He may only be a year and a half older, but it was still his job to protect his younger brother, and he’d fucking failed.

“It wasn’t. No.” His brother’s voice was weak. As weak as Ian had ever heard it. Then Kurt broke eye contact to stare at the table, his fingers picking at the corner of a placemat.

“I’m here, now. Tell me.” He didn’t want to hear how he’d failed his baby brother, but his parents were right. He needed to hear this.

“Ian, I was so confused.”

Kurt proceeded to tell Ian everything he hadn’t told him last night when they’d made peace with each other.

“I started drinking. My temper was all over the place. If it hadn’t been for Simon covering for me at work, I probably would have lost my job. If it had gone on any longer, I might have needed rehab.”

Guilt tore at Ian’s gut. If only he hadn’t had his head up his ass, he could have helped Kurt through this. His parents were right. He owed Kurt an apology. He owed him more than that, but there was nothing else he could do. Not since Kurt had already worked his shit out. Or had he?

“Rehab? Are you okay now? Or are you in AA or something?”

Kurt lifted a shoulder and winced. “I wouldn’t be the first cop with alcohol-abuse issues. I think it was probably a one-time aberration, but Davy’s insisting I go talk to someone. Just in case.”

“And you’re going to go?”

“For Davy? Absolutely.”

Ian let out a relieved breath. He’d never needed the support of alcohol or drugs to ease the confines of his closet. Probably because deep down he’d known coming out wouldn’t mean losing his family. But substance abuse was prevalent in the gay community, and he’d rather rip off his own arm than have Kurt suffer like that.

“I’m glad you found a good man.” And he was able to say it with nary a twinge of jealousy that the man had apparently just dropped into Kurt’s lap like manna from heaven.

Kurt lifted his head and smiled. “He is a good man. I love him.”

Jealousy did spike, momentarily, at the utter peace on Kurt’s face. But Ian ignored it, because he wasn’t finished.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. I wish… I wish we’d been at a place in our lives where we could have trusted each other with our secrets, like we used to as kids. Most of that’s on me, because if I’d come clean in high school, or even university, this whole thing might have been avoided. But please know, if there’s anything you need—even if it’s something you don’t want to tell anyone else—come to me. Don’t let yourself spiral down again, okay? Promise?”

“I promise. But I’m kind of glad this all happened.”

Ian must have misheard. “You’re glad? You didn’t get shot in the head, did you?”

Kurt laughed, his eyes crinkling and color coming back into his face. “Nope. Not a cracked skull, either. But don’t you see? If anything had been different, I might never have met Davy. He makes up for everything I went through.”

The sweetness of Kurt’s statement made Ian tear up just a little, even as his inner drama llama wanted to spit in ire. Even out and proud, he didn’t know how to be a boyfriend or a partner. A player was the role he’d built for himself, and it was going to take some time and effort to evolve into something else.

Chapter 3

I
AN
slid into the seat at the last available table in the café on the main floor of his office building. It had been less than a week since he’d come out to his parents, and he somehow expected a huge change in his life. Expected people to notice he walked taller, with more confidence. Sort of like when he’d lost his virginity, he’d been disappointed there hadn’t been a flashing neon sign over his head announcing the momentous occasion. All things considered, his coming out was almost a nonevent, and he really was turning into a drama llama if he couldn’t be happy it had gone so smoothly.

Pushing pasta around with his fork, he sighed and picked up his book. It wasn’t terribly interesting, but he’d promised his brother Dylan he’d read it.

Trouble was, he wanted to talk with someone and he didn’t know who. His friends, while they’d be supportive, couldn’t offer any insight into what it meant to be an out gay man. Dylan couldn’t either, assuming he’d even have the time with all the wedding preparations. It had been a long time since the rest of his sibs had married, and he’d forgotten how it consumed the attention of the principals, to the exclusion of all else. And Kurt—well, he knew what it was to be a gay man, and he was out, but he plunged straight from penile-y oblivious to out gay man with partner. The whole out gay man looking for… something… had completely bypassed his fucking lucky baby brother. Kurt had offered Davy’s help, but Davy’s experience at being a single gay man was a decade out-of-date.