Chapter 8: Chapter 8
The voices were muffled, but Kai could hear every word like they were standing right outside his door.
He lay frozen in bed, the sheets tangled around his waist, the morning sunlight cutting a sharp line across the floor. His mother’s voice was tense, hushed—like she was trying not to wake him.
*"We just started counseling, Michael. It’s not going to fix everything in one session."*
A low scoff. Then Michael’s voice, rough and impatient. *"You think talking’s gonna stop you from flinching when I touch you? From barely being able to take a quarter of me before you tap out?"*
Kai’s breath caught.
Silence. Then—
*"Is there someone else?"* His mother’s voice was quiet. Dangerous.
Another beat.
*"Would it matter if there was?"* Michael’s tone was flat.
Kai could picture them—his mother standing by the kitchen island, arms crossed, Michael leaning against the counter, that unreadable expression on his face. The same one he’d worn last night when Kai came home smelling like Jake.
His mother’s voice cracked. *"You know why I married you."*
*"Yeah. The money."* Michael didn’t sound angry. Just tired. *"And I married you because I need an heir. We’ve both known that from the start."*
Kai’s stomach twisted.
He’d always assumed they loved each other. That the way his mother laughed at Michael’s jokes, the way Michael’s hand lingered on her waist at parties, meant something real. But this—this was cold. A transaction.
*"We agreed Kai wasn’t going to be that kid."* His mother’s voice sharpened. *"You said—"*
*"Kai was never my son."* Michael’s words landed like a hammer. *"You knew that. You just didn’t ask why."*
Kai’s chest tightened.
Because suddenly, he *knew*.
Michael hadn’t married his mother for her.
He’d married her for *him*.
Four years ago, Kai had been eighteen. Still a kid. Still off-limits. But Michael had stayed close. Watched. Waited.
And now?
Now Kai had given him exactly what he wanted.
His mother’s voice shook. *"Four years, Michael. Four years of trying, and you still can’t even get me pregnant."*
*"Because you can’t take me."* Michael’s voice dropped.
His mother exhaled sharply. *"Tonight. We’ll try again. I’ll—I’ll take it. All of it."*
Michael snorted. *"Sure you will."*
*"I mean it."* Her voice hardened. *"You’ll get me pregnant. I promise."*
Kai rolled onto his side, his pulse pounding in his ears.
He couldn’t listen to this.
He threw the covers back, grabbing the first shirt he found—Michael’s, left behind after one of his late-night drives—and yanked it over his head. It smelled like leather and that stupid expensive cologne Michael always wore.
Downstairs, the argument had stopped.
Kai took the steps two at a time, his bare feet silent on the hardwood.
His mother stood at the stove, scrambling eggs like nothing had happened. Michael leaned against the counter, coffee in hand, his expression unreadable.
They both looked up when Kai walked in.
His mother forced a smile. "Morning, baby. Hungry?"
Kai ignored her, heading straight for the fridge. The air between them was thick, charged—like the moment before a storm.
Michael’s gaze burned into him.
Kai could feel it—the weight of everything unspoken, the way Michael’s eyes dropped to the shirt he was wearing. *His* shirt.
Kai pressed his lips to his mother’s cheek, the way he always did. Her skin smelled like vanilla moisturizer and something faintly acidic—stress sweat. She stiffened for half a second before patting his arm.
“Sleep okay?” she asked, too brightly.
“Like a baby.” He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, biting into it with a crunch that made Michael’s jaw twitch. Juice ran down his chin. He didn’t wipe it away.
Michael’s fingers flexed around his coffee mug. The silence stretched, thick as the August humidity pressing against the windows.
Kai tossed the apple core in the sink. “Gonna hit the gym.”
His mother’s brows knitted together. “You never go in the mornings.”
“New routine.” He flashed her a grin, all teeth. “Gotta stay pretty, right?”
Michael’s knuckles went white around the mug.
———
The gym was empty except for a couple of die-hards grinding through their routines. Kai pushed through his sets with a focus that bordered on violent—weights slamming, muscles burning, sweat slicking his skin. Every rep was a fuck you to the tension coiled in his gut.
His phone buzzed halfway through his shower.
**JAKE: So that happened.**
Kai snorted, water sluicing down his back.
**KAI: Regretting it already?**
Three dots bounced. Stopped. Started again.
**JAKE: Nah. Just didn’t peg you for the type to ghost before breakfast.**
Kai turned the water hotter, let it scald.
**KAI: Had shit to do.**
He didn’t mention the way Michael’s gaze had followed him out the door. Didn’t mention the fight. Didn’t mention anything at all.
———
Dinner was a quiet affair. His mother picked at her salad, the tines of her fork scraping against the porcelain with tiny, grating sounds. Michael ate methodically, his eyes flicking to Kai every few seconds like he was waiting for something.
Kai twirled his pasta around his fork, the silence pressing in. “So. Counseling today?”
His mother’s fork clattered against her plate.
Michael wiped his mouth with a napkin, slow. “Yeah.”
“And?” Kai popped a meatball into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously.
His mother’s smile was brittle. “It was… constructive.”
Michael snorted into his wine.
Kai leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs until his foot brushed Michael’s calf under the table. Michael didn’t pull away.
———
The house settled into an uneasy quiet after dinner. His mother disappeared into her room with a murmured excuse about a headache. Michael lingered in the living room, flipping through channels without really watching.
Kai hovered in the doorway. “You gonna check on her?”
Michael’s thumb paused on the remote. “Wouldn’t help.”
Kai hummed, leaning against the doorframe. The TV flickered, casting shadows across Michael’s face. He looked older like this—tired in a way Kai had never noticed before.
“You’re wearing my shirt again.” Michael’s voice was rough.
Kai glanced down at the stolen fabric clinging to his shoulders. “Looks better on me.”
Michael’s eyes darkened. “Yeah. It does.”
Upstairs, a door clicked shut.
Kai pushed off the doorframe. “Night, Daddy.”
Michael’s breath hitched.
———
The wall was cool against Kai’s bare back as he pressed his ear to it, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
His mother’s voice was muffled but clear enough. “Just—slow, okay?”
Bedsprings creaked. A sharp inhale.
“Relax,” Michael murmured, voice low.
“I’m trying.” His mother’s words were tight, strained.
Kai closed his eyes. He could picture it—Michael between her thighs, the way he’d been that first night Kai watched. Careful. Methodical.
A choked-off whimper.
“Too much?” Michael’s voice was flat.
“Just—give me a second.” His mother’s breathing was ragged.
Silence. Then—
“Do it,” she whispered. “All the way. Just—just get it over with.”
Kai’s nails bit into his palms.
A gasp. A sob. The headboard slammed against the wall once, hard.
Then silence.
Kai exhaled, his body thrumming with something dark and ugly.
Down the hall, his mother cried softly.
Michael didn’t comfort her.
Michael didn’t comfort her. The bed groaned as he rolled off, the sheets damp with sweat. Sarah curled into herself, knees pulled tight to her chest, her breath hitching in the dark.
"You okay?" His voice was detached, clinical.
She didn’t answer. Just wiped her face with the back of her hand, fingers trembling.
Michael exhaled through his nose, staring at the ceiling. The room smelled like sex and salt—her tears, his release. He flexed his fingers against the mattress, still feeling the ghost of Kai’s skin beneath them.
Down the hall, a floorboard creaked.
Michael’s pulse jumped.
Sarah sniffed, rolling onto her side. "It didn’t hurt as much this time."
He grunted. The lie was obvious. Her thighs had been shaking the entire time, her nails biting into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. But she’d taken it. All of him.
That was the deal.
The AC kicked on, a low hum cutting through the silence. Michael sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The carpet was rough under his bare feet.
"Where are you going?" Sarah’s voice was small.
"Shower."
She didn’t argue.
The bathroom light was too bright, glaring off the white tiles. Michael turned the water on hot, stepping under the spray before it could warm up. The sting grounded him.
He braced his hands against the wall, head hanging.
Kai’s face flashed behind his eyelids—the way he’d smirked at dinner, the way his tongue had darted out to catch the juice from that fucking apple. Michael’s jaw clenched.
He should’ve stopped this months ago. Should’ve put distance between them the second he realized what was happening.
But the kid had looked at him with those wide, knowing eyes, and—
Michael cursed under his breath, gripping himself roughly. The water scalded his back as he worked, his thoughts a blur of stolen shirts and whispered *Daddy*s.
He came with Kai’s name lodged in his throat.
———
Kai’s room was dark when Michael passed it, the door slightly ajar. He paused, listening. No movement. No sound.
He pushed the door open just enough to see.
Kai lay sprawled on his stomach, sheets tangled around his waist, one arm flung over his head. The stolen shirt had ridden up, exposing the smooth dip of his lower back.
Michael’s fingers twitched.
He could wake him. Could press him into the mattress the way he’d wanted to since the kid first moaned his name in the backseat.
Kai shifted in his sleep, a soft sigh escaping his lips.
Michael stepped back.
———
The kitchen was a minefield of half-empty glasses and crumpled napkins. Michael poured himself a whiskey, neat, and downed it in one go. The burn did nothing to quiet the static in his head.
The sliding door opened behind him.
"You’re up." Michael didn’t turn.
Kai padded across the tile, barefoot, his reflection flickering in the dark window. "Couldn’t sleep."
Michael poured another drink. "Yeah. Me neither."
Kai leaned against the counter, close enough that their arms brushed. He smelled like sleep and something faintly sweet—the body wash Sarah bought him last Christmas.
"You heard us." Michael kept his voice low.
Kai’s fingers traced the rim of his glass. "Yeah."
"And?"
"And I think she faked it."
Michael barked a laugh, the sound too loud in the quiet house. "No shit."
Kai smirked, taking the glass from his hand. Their fingers lingered a second too long. "You could’ve done better."
Michael’s pulse jumped. "Not the point."
"Isn’t it?" Kai took a sip, his throat working as he swallowed. "You could’ve had her screaming. Could’ve made her *want* it."
Michael snatched the glass back. "Careful."
Kai’s grin was all teeth. "Or what?"
The air between them crackled.
Michael set the glass down hard. "Go to bed, Kai."
"Make me."
For a heartbeat, Michael thought he might.
Then the upstairs light flicked on, casting a yellow square across the patio.
Kai stepped back, his smirk fading. "Mom’s up."
Michael exhaled through his nose. "Yeah."
They stood there, frozen, the moment slipping through their fingers.
Kai turned first. His hand brushed Michael’s wrist as he passed—light, deliberate.
Michael didn’t follow.
———
Sarah was sitting up in bed when he returned, her phone glowing in the dark. She didn’t look up as he undressed.
"Did we at least—" Her voice cracked. "You know."
Michael yanked the covers back. "Doubt it."
She set her phone down, her face unreadable. "We’ll try again tomorrow."
Michael didn’t answer. Just rolled onto his side, staring at the wall.
Her hand touched his shoulder, tentative. "Michael?"
He closed his eyes. "Sleep, Sarah."
Her fingers curled into the sheets.
The clock ticked.
Somewhere down the hall, Kai’s bed creaked.
Michael ground his teeth.
The sheets were still warm from Sarah’s body when Michael finally gave up on sleep. He dressed in the dark, jeans pulled on rough, belt buckle clinking. The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against his eardrums like a physical weight.
The garage smelled of motor oil and stale cigarettes. Michael cranked the engine, the Lexus roaring to life, tires spitting gravel as he peeled out onto the empty street.
He didn’t know where he was going.
Didn’t care.
The highway stretched ahead, black asphalt swallowed by predawn fog. His knuckles whitened around the wheel. Every fucking night the same routine—Sarah’s hesitant hands, her quiet winces, the way she’d clench around him like she was bracing for impact.
And Kai.
Always Kai.
The kid had become a goddamn menace since that night at Jake’s. The stolen shirts, the lingering touches, the way he’d arch his back just so when Michael walked into a room.
Teasing.
Taunting.
Michael punched the accelerator, the speedometer needle trembling toward ninety.
——
Kai woke to the sound of the garage door groaning open. The clock read 4:17 AM. He rolled onto his back, the sheets sticky with sweat.
Michael hadn’t come back to bed.
Not that he’d expected him to.
The thought sent a slow curl of heat through his gut. He palmed himself through his boxers, biting back a groan.
Three months.
Three fucking months since Michael’s hands had been on him. Since he’d been stretched open on that backseat, panting Michael’s name like a prayer.
His phone buzzed.
**JAKE: Up?**
Kai exhaled, thumb hovering over the screen. Jake was good—solid, rough in all the right ways. But he wasn’t—
The garage door rumbled shut downstairs.
Kai tossed his phone aside.
——
Sarah’s morning routine never varied. Lemon water, yoga, a brisk walk around the neighborhood. Today, though, she lingered over her tea, fingers drumming the countertop.
Kai watched her from the doorway. “You’re up early.”
She startled, sloshing tea onto her wrist. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Her collarbone was bruised.
Kai pretended not to notice.
Michael’s footsteps thudded down the hall, heavy with exhaustion. He barely glanced at them as he grabbed the coffee pot, black circles under his eyes.
Sarah’s fingers twitched toward him. “You were out late.”
Michael took a long swallow straight from the carafe. “Drove.”
The air between them crackled.
Kai leaned against the fridge, popping a grape into his mouth. “Jake’s coming over later.”
Michael’s grip tightened on the carafe.
Sarah brightened. “That’s nice! Are you two—”
“Fucking?” Kai grinned, watching Michael’s jaw tick. “Yeah.”
Sarah choked on her tea.
Michael set the carafe down with deliberate care. “We’ll be out. Meeting with the lawyer.”
Kai arched a brow. “Everything okay?”
Sarah’s smile was brittle. “Just some paperwork.”
Michael didn’t look at either of them as he left, his boots echoing on the hardwood.
——
Jake arrived at noon, smelling like weed and cheap cologne. Kai let him in with a lazy kiss, fingers hooked in his belt loops.
“Missed you,” Jake murmured against his neck.
Kai bit back a laugh.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Michael’s shadow in the hallway. Watching.
Good.
He pulled Jake closer, letting his hips rock forward. “Pool?”
Jake’s grin was all teeth. “Hell yeah.”
The water was cold against Kai’s skin, the shock of it stealing his breath. Jake followed, his hands already roaming, calloused palms sliding up Kai’s thighs.
Michael stood at the kitchen window, coffee in hand.
Kai arched into Jake’s touch, his back to the glass.
——
That night, the sounds from their bedroom were different.
No whimpers. No protests.
Just the steady creak of the bedframe, Sarah’s breathy moans, Michael’s low grunts.
Kai pressed his ear to the wall, his stomach twisting.
She sounded—
Happy.
Fuck.
The bedsprings groaned, a wet slap of skin on skin. Sarah cried out, the sound raw, unfiltered.
Michael’s voice, rough with strain: “You okay?”
A breathless laugh. “Don’t stop.”
Kai’s nails bit into his palms.
——
Morning came too soon.
Sarah hummed in the kitchen, scrambling eggs with a vigor Kai hadn’t seen in months. Her cheeks were flushed, her movements loose, languid.
Michael watched her with narrowed eyes.
Kai stole a piece of bacon from the plate. “Good night?”
Sarah’s smile was secretive. “Very.”
Michael’s chair scraped back. “I’ll be in the garage.”
The door slammed behind him.
Sarah took a sip of orange juice, her gaze distant. “We’re trying again tonight.”
Kai forced a smirk. “Wow. Twice in one week?”
Her fingers tightened around the glass. “We have to.”
The subtext hung between them, heavy as the humidity.
An heir.
Stability.
Kai’s stomach churned.
——
The pattern repeated.
Every night, Sarah took Michael with a newfound enthusiasm, her cries ringing through the thin walls. Every morning, she glowed, humming under her breath as she made breakfast.
And every afternoon, she disappeared for exactly two hours.
Kai noticed.
Michael didn’t.
——
Jake’s hands were rough on Kai’s hips, his breath hot against his neck. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
Kai braced himself against the pool table, the felt rough under his palms. The windows were open, the summer breeze carrying the scent of chlorine and freshly cut grass.
And leather.
Michael leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Kai met his gaze over Jake’s shoulder.
Michael didn’t look away.
——
Three months passed like that.
A dance.
A lie.
Sarah’s belly remained flat.
And Kai?
Kai waited.
The pool table creaked under his weight as Jake thrust harder, his fingers digging into Kai’s hips. The air smelled like sweat and chlorine, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the felt.
Kai kept his eyes open.
Michael still stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Jake groaned, hips stuttering. "Fuck—Kai—"
The garage door rumbled open downstairs.
Kai barely had time to react before Sarah’s voice floated up from the kitchen. "Honey? You home?"
Jake froze. "Shit."
Kai shoved him off, grabbing his discarded shirt just as Sarah’s footsteps hit the stairs.
The door swung open.
Sarah froze, her designer purse dangling from one hand. Her gaze flicked from Jake—still half-hard, scrambling for his jeans—to Kai, shirtless, lips swollen.
She sighed. "Again?"
Jake choked. "Uh. Hi, Mrs. Nichols."
Sarah waved a hand, stepping over a discarded condom wrapper. "Don’t bother with the formalities. I walked in on him with the mailman last summer."
Kai wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, watching her closely. There was something off—her usual polished composure cracked at the edges, her fingers drumming against her purse strap.
Sarah rummaged through her bag, pulling out a slim white stick. "Guess what?"
Jake edged toward the door. "I should probably—"
She ignored him, thrusting the pregnancy test at Kai. The little digital screen glared up at him: **PREGNANT**.
Kai’s stomach dropped.
Sarah’s smile was too wide, too bright. "Surprise!"
Jake whistled. "Damn. Congrats, Mrs.
She beamed, rubbing her still-flat stomach. "Isn’t it wild? After all this time—Michael’s gonna lose his mind!"
Kai forced his fingers to unclench. "Yeah. Crazy."
Sarah bounced on her toes, her excitement almost manic. "A little sibling for you! Can you believe it?"
Kai could.
He’d heard them that night—Michael’s voice sharp in the dark. *"You think talking’s gonna stop you from flinching when I touch you?"*
Sarah didn’t seem to notice his silence. She prattled on about nursery colors, her words tripping over each other.
Jake cleared his throat. "I’m just—gonna go."
Sarah barely glanced at him. "Mmhm. Bye, Jake."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Kai stared at the test in his hand. The plastic was still warm from her grip. "When did you find out?"
"This morning!" Sarah plucked it back, cradling it like something precious. "I was late, but I didn’t think—I mean, after all the trying—"
Kai’s jaw ached. "Michael know yet?"
"Not yet." Her smile softened, private. "I want to tell him tonight. Make it special."
Special.
Kai pictured Michael’s face when he heard—the careful mask slipping, the shock, the calculation.
Sarah tucked the test back into her bag, oblivious. "God, I wish you could’ve seen his face when we got the first negative. Like someone kicked his puppy."
Kai swallowed. "Yeah?"
She sighed, adjusting her blouse. "He hides it, but he’s wanted this so badly."
The lie settled between them, thick as the August heat.
Downstairs, the garage door groaned open again. Tires crunched on gravel—Michael’s Lexus pulling in.
Sarah lit up. "Speak of the devil!"
Kai watched her go, her heels clicking down the stairs, her voice already rising in excitement. "Michael! Baby, guess what—"