Page 1 of Except You

Chapter One

Max

Don’t know what I’m doing here, in a place I told myself I’d never go. All I know is that I’m trying to build bridges, trying to find a way back to my younger brother. I fucked it up years ago—burned bridges, fucking obliterated them—and the guilt of my actions has been eating me alive.

So, I’ve done some steps, done some soul-searching, been in therapy for a while…

And find myself in a gay club across town.

My eyes twitch from all the brightly colored lights, from the sheer amount of sequins adorning every male body in this place. It just oozes sex and acceptance—things that I’m not used to seeing on display, having grown up in a conservative home.

I see the bar lined with men leaning against it, a bartender flirting with the customers, another man kissing the guy next to him, tongues and everything.

I glance away and am met with more. And yet, I can’t look away. It’s all-encompassing, riveting, and so damn different from what I’m used to. Is that eyeshadow on that man? Lipstick? Fake eyelashes? Is that a drag queen?

I shudder with nerves, already feeling so out of place. This isn’t me, this isn’t what I do, but fuck, Magnus is my brother. He’s gay. He’s married to a man who is gay—or bi or what-the-fuck-ever Sem calls himself—and I want to be in my brother’s life.

I want to know what he knows.

Well, some of it, not all of it.

I don’t want to think about him fucking another guy. That just makes my stomach roll, makes my balls retract inside of my body. He’s my brother, for fuck’s sake. But I do want to be on the same page as him. Or at least in the same book.

My dad and my other brothers fucked things up. Big time. And I was a part of that too. The things we did to Magnus, the hateful words we said when he was just trying to live his own life… He wants nothing to do with us now, and rightfully so. He’s moved on, gotten married, and had fucking kids. And here I am, floundering, trying to find a way back into his life so I can get to know them. So I can be a better person and make amends.

I’m his older brother, for fuck’s sake. He deserves to have me show up in his life, to make an effort. And goddamn, I have an itch to be an uncle.

I want to meet those kids. I want to be in their lives, even though I don’t deserve it.

“Hey there,” a young guy in a crop top and tight pants says, blinking his long lashes at me. He carries himself almost like a dancer, lithe and loose. He’s… I swallow, trying like hell to be objective. Normally, I’d look at him and say this shit’s disgusting. Men shouldn’t dress like this, behave like this, but then, my brother does, right? So, I need to fucking clear my mind of all this homophobic bullshit and get with the program.

I try to think rationally, without any bias for just a moment, and I realize that he’s kinda pretty. In a masculine way. He has pink, full lips and beautiful blue eyes. Even the shape of him is pleasing to the eye, dips and curves in all the right places. You know, if you were into that kind of thing on a guy.

“What?” I ask, my voice low and rumbling. I see that my hand is starting to shake, so I stuff it in my pants pocket, wanting to play it cool, wanting to just get on with this damn night so I can say I tried.

So I can prove that I’ve taken steps toward being a better man.

So my therapist can be proud of me for making strides.

“I was just asking if you want a drink?” the man says, his shoulder-length blond hair hanging prettily against his face. Some falls over his eyes, and he pushes it back, his blue eyes nearly sparkling. He doesn’t look as gay as some of the other guys in here.

Just looks kind of feminine. Like he likes girly things.

“Um,” I say and then give a curt nod. “Sure.”

The guy beams and then nods toward the bar, his sleek form leading the way. People part like the Red Sea as he moves through the crowd, and when we’re at the bar, he leans over and waits for one of the bartenders. My eyes can’t help but take in his tight pants—the kind that seem like they’re sprayed on—the curve of his ass, and the way his waist dips in over his hips.

If he was a woman, I’d be halfway to drooling.

But no, he’s a guy. I won’t be thinking things like that. I’m straight. Always have been, always will be. I’m only here to make myself get used to this shit, so when, or if Magnus lets me back into his life, I won’t gape and stare and be ridiculous.

I’ll fit in. Won’t bat a damn eyelash at anything I see. Like the two of them kissing or cuddling or making sexual comments.

I swallow and slide up next to this guy, taking in his scent almost immediately. It’s floral, like the candles my mom would burn when I was growing up. It’s not intoxicating, not at all. Just overwhelming. I breathe through my mouth, not liking how that scent is making my skin break out in goose bumps.

“What’s your name?” the guy asks, his bright eyes piercing mine.

I swallow and then respond, “Max.”