Forever Mine: Love was as close as the next bedroom

Finding love close to home

Finding love close to home

I took care of Patrick for most of our young lives. We formed an unshakeable bond. Most nights, he crept into my bedroom and into my bed to snuggle, keeping his childhood fears at bay.

During his teenaged years, I began to notice him in new ways. I deliberately pulled back, unsure how to process what I started to feel for him. I moved away for college and stayed away.

When my stepmom asks if Patrick can move in with me to attend the same college, I can't find a way to say no. I have a spare bedroom. And I desperately want to see him again.

Patrick arrives at my door looking more gorgeous than ever before. He's matured and filled out while I was away from home. When he sees there's no bed in his room yet, he makes a suggestion that shocks me and gives me more hope than I thought possible.

Are we on the same page?

Does my stepbrother, Patrick, love me the way I love him?

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As I sat at my small wooden desk in my cramped bedroom, I flipped through my textbooks for this winter's semester of college. I was in my third year and the courses were becoming increasingly difficult. I liked to be prepared by skimming through the first couple of pages of each chapter for every one of my textbooks. Classes would be starting in a few days.

I was doing fairly well, maintaining a 3.8 grade point average. Not enough to get me into a master's program but enough to make my dad proud. And truthfully, that was the goal. I'd put my dad through hell while I was a teenager. The least I could do was be a productive adult.

I rolled my eyes when I heard a knock on the front door. This hadn't been my idea. My stepmom had called me a few months ago, asking if her son could room with me. He'd been accepted into the same college as me and she would feel better if I was able to be there for him.

How could I say no. She'd been there right alongside my dad as I'd caused havoc at home. Drinking and drugs, staying out all night, and bringing random boys back to my bedroom to fuck. I'd been obscene.

My coming out as gay at fifteen had been spewed at them with venom. Daring them to stop putting up with me. Taunting them to stop being so supportive and nice to me.

Not sure why I had been testing them.

Being accepted into a college halfway across the country was the freedom and independence I needed at nineteen. To be honest, I still did. Embarrassed to say, I didn't stay in touch with my parents as much as I should. Didn't even go home for holidays. I had been a beast to them and until I got my shit straightened out, I decided to stay away from my family.

Which meant, I hadn't seen my stepbrother, Patrick, in years. He was four years younger than me and had latched onto me as soon as he and his mom moved into the house with me and my dad after their whirlwind marriage that seemed to come out of nowhere.

My birth mom had taken off when I was a toddler. I'd never been given a reason why she left. Never saw her again. All I knew was that when my dad met Patrick's mom, my world changed.

I was ten when they blended our families. I still remember Patrick looking up at me with the saddest and most round, intense blue eyes I'd ever seen outside a cartoon. He'd had his little bottom lip out and I could tell he'd been crying. It would be an adjustment for us both.

When I'd showed him to his room, he'd flung himself at me, hugging me around the hips and burying his face in my belly. It had broken my heart that he was so scared.

I'd hugged him back and that's when we started our complicated relationship. I was his stepbrother, but I also became his nurturer, protector, confidant, and source of comfort.

My dad and his new wife got down to playing house from day one, leaving us boys to manage ourselves. I took on the task of getting Patrick ready for school in the morning and tucking him in at night. Some nights he stayed in his room, but most nights found him sneaking into my room and snuggling up against me in bed. He told me he felt safer there. I never argued with him.

Which made not seeing him for years a dick move on my part. I hadn't been home, and I'd put him off every time he expressed an interest in coming to visit me. I didn't want to see him. Having fifteen-year-old Patrick climbing into my bed at night had started to make me feel uncomfortable. My body wanted to tangle with his. My conscience barely kept me in check.

It's one of the reasons I decided to move away. The idea of talking to him, telling him I didn't want to comfort him anymore was one I couldn't bring myself to have with him. It was easier to have an excuse, so I'd applied at colleges everywhere but those close to home.

I left my bedroom and headed across the sparse living room to the front door. A couch, a table, and a big-ass television were the only things in the space. I was not expecting what I saw when I opened the door. At eighteen, Patrick was stunning. I struggled to find my next breath.

"Pa-patrick. H-hey." I'd never stuttered before in my life, but the sight of him, all filled out with broad shoulders and prominent muscular pecs in his tight t-shirt had sent my brain offline.

And his eyes … God, I'd missed those eyes. The crystal blue depths threatened to haul me into them and never let me go. He cocked a smirk at me with full lips that looked far too soft.

"Are you going to let me in?"

"Uh … sorry." I stepped back out of the way so Patrick could come inside. "It's just a bit of a shock seeing you all grown up."

He furrowed his brow at me. "Whose fault is that?"

I raised my hands. "I know … I know. I've been a prick."

"You got that right. Mom and Dad miss you. I missed you. Those monthly phone calls never did it for them. And holidays were a nightmare without you there."

He had every right to be upset and attempt to rattle my cage. My family, including my little brother had needed me and I'd hidden out across the country instead.

I gave him the only excuse I was willing to share.

"It's what I've been able to give. I've been busy trying to get my head on straight."

"We can talk more later." Patrick lifted his bags in front of himself, giving me a heady show of his firm biceps and reminding me he had luggage, and it was probably heavy.

"I'll show you your room."

"Thanks, Chandler."

He followed along behind me down the hall to the bedroom beside mine. The upstairs of the house I rented only had two bedrooms. I'd never rented the second one out. I preferred to work longer hours for the landscaping company that employed me part-time and have the place to myself. Having another person there taking up space was going to be an adjustment.

"I guess I'll need to buy furniture." Patrick looked around the empty bedroom. I'd never bothered to furnish it. The only thing it had was a standard lamp occupying the corner.

"You can sleep on the couch until you get a bed."

Patrick wrinkled his nose. "Maybe I'll go out and buy an air mattress for the interim."

"Whatever suits you." I nodded at him. "I'll leave you to unpack." I had managed to buy hangars for Patrick. The closet should have enough for him to hang his clothes, and he could use the shelf in there to store stuff that would normally go into a dresser.

I went to the kitchen to make some lunch. Like I was on autopilot, I made two sandwiches. One for each of us. It had been easy to fall back into a pattern of looking out for him.

"One of those for me?" Patrick wandered into the kitchen and lifted the plate with the second sandwich without waiting for me to answer his question. He knew damned well it was for him.

"Old habits," I murmured then took a seat at the table. Patrick sat across from me and double palmed the smoked ham, Havarti cheese, and broccoli sprouts creation. Extra mustard and mayonnaise on his, which dripped onto his plate as he took a bite. I handed him a napkin.

"How was your last year of high school?" I wasn't sure where to start. We hadn't even spent any time talking on the phone during my monthly calls. He was nearly a stranger at this point.

Patrick shrugged. "I was on the football team, so it wasn't half bad."

"Yeah, Dad told me. I couldn't imagine you out there with those big guys."

"I'm not the scrawny little kid you left behind anymore."

I hated the wording of that statement. Yes, he was right. I'd left him behind. But it's not like I could've taken him with me. Not possible and I'd needed to get away from him.

Now he was here. Sitting across the table from me. Moved in.

I admired his chest and the beauty his face had matured into. "I can see that. Playing the game has been good for you. Your mom says you got a football scholarship."

I'd never called my dad's wife Mom. Never felt like it fit. Over the years, I'd come to think of Patrick as my brother. Until he became a teenager and my feelings toward him changed.

"Full ticket." Patrick smiled at me. "So, school's covered and I've saved up enough to pay for my rent and food for this semester, but I'll need to pick up a job over the summer."

Not sure why I said it. "We can ask at my work when the time comes." It was so easy to slip back into being his support system. It's like we were cogs of a single wheel.

As I watched him eat, I realized how much I had missed him. When I stood, I placed my hand on Patrick's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He hummed in appreciation of my touch and peered up at me from beneath hooded lids, sending tingles to every nerve ending in my body.

I cleared my throat. "I'll take you to the store to buy that air mattress."

Patrick blinked a few times, his lips parted as he studied me. "Do I need one?"

I could feel my forehead wrinkle as I tried to decipher what he was suggesting. My body imagined all sorts of lurid things, causing my cock to swell. His being seated placed him eye level with my growing desire. "You said you did. That you didn't want to sleep on the couch."

Patrick raised his hand. "All right. Just thought there might be another option."

"You're not a kid anymore." I spun away, headed for the sink. "Not sharing my bed with you."

I groaned as Patrick rose and pressed his chest to my back and wrapped his arms around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his hot breath sweeping across my cheek.

"You don't think I noticed," he whispered. "Before you left … that my presence in your bed was doing things to you."

I swallowed—hard. "That was years ago." No use in lying. Patrick had my number.

Christ on a cracker.

Patrick leaned his hips against my ass, wedging his bulge between my cheeks. I closed my eyes and let him carry my weight as I settled against him. He felt so good with his strong arms around me. He had a good five inches of height on me, making me feel secure.

While I'd been off finding myself, Patrick had grown into a sexy and confident man.