The Home-wrecker (The Goode Brothers)

As the lights of the theater dim, I set my elbow on the armrest between Isaac and me.

He bumps mine off and replaces it with his own. “Don’t even think about it,” he mutters, and I stifle a smile.

There’s an empty seat on his other side where his brother will be sitting once he gets back from getting popcorn.

“Did you talk to him?” I whisper as the first credit starts playing.

Isaac glances toward me and then down to his lap. “No. It’s a stupid idea.”

“No, it’s not,” I argue. “He’ll totally have your back.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Isaac says under his breath.

“Yes, it does.” My voice grows louder, and I notice a couple in front of us glance our way, so I shrink down in my seat.

“You wouldn’t understand, Dean,” he murmurs. “So just drop it.”

My teeth grind as my brows pinch together. I should tell him that I do understand. The only part I don’t get is why he’s bending over backward for a family that can’t love him and accept him the way he is.

Just then, I spot his brother climbing the stairs toward our seats.

“Here,” Caleb says as he places the bucket on his brother’s lap. “You’re in the middle, so you have to hold it.”

“Thanks,” he mutters with his eyes on the movie screen.

“What’s wrong with you?” Caleb asks before glancing at me as if I’m to blame.

I shrug in response.

“I’m trying to watch the previews,” Isaac whispers angrily.

When Caleb offers me a comforting smile, I try to let the whole thing roll off my shoulders. I want to press the topic some more, but Isaac is too scared to even try.

Out of his whole family, his brother, Caleb, seems like the most down to earth. He hangs out with us a lot now. He’s even made subtle comments that make me think he’d be cool with it.

At some point, Isaac is going to have to come out. I just figure his brother seems like the best person to come out to.

Present day

I dread every single mile of road I cover between my ash pile of a home and Caleb Goode’s house. It’s only seventeen miles, but it might as well be another planet. Because, of course, Caleb has settled his family in a cozy suburban neighborhood outside of the city.

What am I doing?

That’s been the phrase of the day. I muttered the same thing to myself this morning as I rummaged through the remnants of my home to salvage what I could—a small heap of smoke-stained belongings now piled in the trunk of my car.

And I said it again after driving away from my dad in the nursing home.

What the fuck am I doing?

As I make the final turn onto Caleb’s street, I mutter a curse to myself. Naturally, Caleb’s house has a picket fence out front. The front yard is a deep and vibrant green. The house itself is a two-story with a white-painted brick exterior and ivy growing up the side.

I pull my car into the curved driveway, staring up at the small apartment above the detached garage.

What on earth compelled me to agree to this? There must have been something, aside from the fact that they’ve offered to let me live in the rental for free. I can’t help but wonder if, deep down, I’m agreeing to live in close proximity to this pompous asshole who ruined my life when I was only fourteen for a more obtuse reason.

Like, maybe finally facing him for the first time in twelve years to tell him what an ignorant, selfish, homophobic piece of shit he is.

As soon as I turn my car off, I spot movement through the window of the apartment over the garage. A few moments later, a woman emerges from behind the small building and rushes toward my car with a warm smile.

She’s wearing a pair of high-waisted blue jeans, loose around her calves, and a soft white V-neck T-shirt.

What a little trophy she is.

She beams at me, soft and acquiescent, as I open my car and climb out.

“You must be Dean,” she says with her delicate hand extended toward me.

For the first time all day, I find myself smiling.

Reaching out, I hold hers softly. “And you must be Briar.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she replies politely. “And I’m so sorry to hear about your house. That’s just awful.”

I force myself to swallow. “Thank you.”

In the distance, I hear a door closing. Just as I drop Briar’s hand, I spot Caleb appearing from the backyard to greet us.

At first glance, I’d consider Caleb rather forgettable. A typical white man in his early thirties, wearing a pair of black slacks and a tight polo. But as he gets closer, I swallow my resentment at just how handsome he’s grown over the years.

Symmetrical features. Enigmatic hazel eyes. Long lines and warm tones. It’s infuriating.

When his eyes meet mine, I take pride in not betraying a single emotion. If anything, my expression screams indifference.

You mean nothing to me, Caleb Goode.

He bristles at my reaction. Then cordially puts out his hand.

“It’s been a long time. Good to see you again.”

I let his hand hang in the blank space between us for a moment, hoping it’ll make him sweat before I finally reach out and shake it, being sure to squeeze it enough to inflict a little pain without seeming too rough. He winces.

I watch as his jaw clicks when he releases my hand. Then he shoves his own into his pocket. “I’m sorry to hear about what happened to your house. Briar and I are happy to help.”

If he thinks I’m going to thank him, he’s crazy.

“Yes, of course,” she chimes in. “Please know that you are welcome here as long as you need. Caleb and I are just happy to help in any way we can.”

“I appreciate that,” I reply, keeping my gaze trained on her. “Please, let me offer you compensation.”

“Absolutely not,” Briar says, cutting me off with a wave of her hands.

“That’s very kind of you. But I won’t be staying longer than three months. By then, my insurance claim should be settled, and I’ll find a new place.” My tone is emotionless as I let my gaze rake over her face.

She really is beautiful in a remarkable sort of way that might go unnoticed by most. She seems like the type of woman who thrives on blending in. Her hair hangs just past her shoulders in delicate waves with streaks of warm gold with platinum blonde.

Her makeup is subtle. Some blush on her cheeks and a little liner around her glossy lips. She really is pretty.

Just then, a small child bounds out from the backyard. I practically jump when she comes flying toward us. Her tiny feet pitter-patter on the stone-paved driveway before she wraps her arms enthusiastically around Briar’s legs.

“Oh yeah,” Briar says as she strokes the child’s brown hair. “This is our daughter, Abby. Abby, this is our friend, Dean. He’s going to live in the apartment above the garage.”

The little girl smirks up at me bashfully. “Hi,” she mumbles.

I clear my throat. “Hello.”

I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that Caleb Goode would have a child. I mean, naturally, he’s in his thirties. He’s married. He lives in suburbia.

Why wouldn’t he have a kid?

And maybe it’s because I literally haven’t been around children since I was one, but I’m not exactly great around kids. I don’t know how to talk to them or how to treat them.

I don’t even know how old this girl is. She could be three or eleven, for all I know.

She’s missing her two bottom front teeth, her hair is pulled into two neat, braided pigtails, and she has a spatter of freckles across her cheeks.

There’s an awkward tension now among us since the little girl has joined us. And I briefly wonder if it’s because I’m not reacting to her the way that I should.

Am I supposed to ask her a question? Am I supposed to be talking to her? Should I shake her hand?

Finally, it’s Briar who breaks the silence.

“Well, why don’t we show you upstairs, and then you can unpack your things?” she says brightly.

I can feel Caleb’s scrutinizing gaze on me as she turns to walk toward the apartment. He’s probably wondering what I’ll do next. Or maybe he’s also questioning why I’m here and why on earth I agreed to this.

The entrance to the apartment upstairs is around the back of the detached garage. There’s a set of black metal stairs with a railing that leads to a small porch and a door to the apartment.

“You’ll have your own key,” Briar says as she opens the door.

I follow her in and notice that the apartment looks larger from the inside than it does from the outside. It’s a basic studio with a bed on the opposite wall and a good amount of shelves framing each side.

There’s a small blue couch in the middle and a mounted TV on the wall to my right. The kitchenette on the left is simple but enough to get me by. I’m not a big cook as it is, but it’s nice to at least have a fridge and a small cooktop.

“The bathroom is over here,” she says as she moves deeper into the apartment, pressing open the bathroom door to reveal a basic sink, toilet, and single shower.

“It’s perfect,” I mutter flatly.

The apartment seems well stocked with blankets, pillows, towels, and things of that sort. And most of it looks new, which means they must have just bought everything in here…for me.

Should I appear more gracious? I never asked for any of this.

“I filled the fridge and the pantry with food to get you by for now. I hope it’s enough, but if you need anything, please let me know,” Briar says in a sweet, singsong tone.

“It’s more than enough,” I reply, without looking her in the eye. My chin is held high, but I can’t seem to meet her gaze as she offers me so much more than I expected. This makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

“And, of course, you’re welcome to join us for dinner. I cook nearly every night,” she adds, fiddling with the diamond necklace hanging over her chest.

“That’s incredibly kind of you,” I reply.

Then I hear Caleb in the doorway. “I’m sure he has a life, honey,” he says, almost mockingly. “He doesn’t want to hang out with us—a boring suburban family, right?” I can feel him looking at me, but I don’t meet his eyes. “I mean, surely he works nights, don’t you?” he adds.

This time, I finally do look at him, and not because he’s speaking to me, but because I can’t help but feel as if he’s trying to taunt me. His tone is patronizing, and I didn’t think it was possible, but I think I hate this guy even more now.

I don’t reply to his question. I’m not going to entertain some close-minded, ignorant humor just because I’m a sex worker, and he thinks that’s beneath him.

Instead, I turn back toward his wife.

“I’d love to join you for dinner,” I say with a smile, “and I would be happy to hang out with a boring suburban family.”

Then I add a wink for good measure.

This makes her cheeks turn a light shade of blush pink, and I almost feel bad for a moment for toying with her in order to annoy her husband, but I can’t help it. I don’t feel bad at all.

Briar holds her hands tightly in front of her before stammering uncomfortably.

“Why don’t we go ahead and get your things out of your car?” she says.

“That won’t be necessary,” I reply. “There’s really nothing in my car I need.” Not to mention, it all smells like smoke, and I don’t want to contaminate this clean space.

“Oh no,” she says sadly. “Well, is there anything that you need? New clothes or…or…well, anything, really?”

“You’re being far too kind,” I shoot back with a slight chuckle.

“Come on, Briar,” Caleb says in a deep tone. “Let’s let him get himself settled here and get out of his way.”

“Of course.”

After she passes by me toward the door, she stops and turns back to say, “Oh, I forgot. You have free access to the pool anytime you’d like it.”

“I appreciate that,” I reply.

“All right, we’ll leave you then,” she says before disappearing through the door. The little girl gives me one more small wave before following her mother.

And then, just like that, I’m alone.

Standing in the middle of the apartment, I take a look around. I appreciate how tidy it is here. And she’s right, I will need some new clothes eventually. But for now, I just need some rest after the day I’ve had.

Slipping off each shoe, I place them together near the door. Then I drop onto the bed, resting my head on the pillow.

As I let my eyes close, I feel a sense of renewed purpose settling into my tired bones.

I don’t know if that fire was a blessing or a curse, but here I lie on Caleb Goode’s property, feeling as if I’m meant to be here. Maybe this is my chance to finally close a door that’s been haunting me for twelve years.

All of the hatred and resentment I’ve been harboring for that man has been like poison swirling under my skin, but now it feels as if atonement is just within my reach. The opportunity to cure myself of what’s plagued me for so long.

I’m not the revenge type, but if I were, the idea of making him suffer the way I did would be too tempting to ignore. It wouldn’t even be hard. I have everything he cares about at the tips of my fingers now.

I’d just have to flirt with his wife a little. It would drive him crazy. I bet she would melt like wax in my hands. But that’s not me. I’m not some vindictive guy who needs to toy with innocent women in spite of some rich prick.

Never in my life have I ever wanted to hurt someone, but God, I do want to hurt him. I want to get him back for everything he did to me when he chose to do nothing at all.

And for what he did to Isaac.

But lucky for him, I’m not that type of guy.