The day was too bright for how wrecked Riven felt inside. His skin buzzed with the weight of last night’s dream, the photo album still burned behind his eyes, and Kael’s name clung to the back of his throat like smoke he couldn’t cough out.
He wasn’t ready to confront him..not yet,
but the universe didn’t wait for readiness.
Because there he was. Kael was standing outside the bar just off Main, laughing with someone.
Riven stood still on the sidewalk, breath catching like he’d been slapped. The man next to Kael was tall, tan, and tattooed, with a cocky smile and a backwards hat. He leaned into Kael too easily, touched his shoulder like it meant something. And Kael didn’t pull away.
Jealousy wasn’t something Riven liked admitting to. But it bloomed inside him anyway, slow and sour like poison spreading in his chest.
He tightened his grip on the envelope in his hands — the one holding all the photos and old evidence he’d found.
Before he could take a step, a hand tapped his shoulder from behind.
“Jesus!” Riven jumped. The envelope slipped, photos spilling across the sidewalk like a shuffled secret.
“Oops,” Ari Hollis said, crouching down beside him with a grin. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Thought you saw me.”
“I didn’t,” Riven muttered, grabbing the photos quickly, trying to gather them before Ari could see anything.
Too late. Ari’s eyes caught the glimpse of faces and skin — maybe Kael’s, maybe his own. Riven shoved everything back into the envelope, pulse pounding in his ears.
Ari tilted his head. “Were those yearbook shots or porno stills?”
“Neither,” Riven snapped, then softened his tone. “Just old stuff. Family stuff. Doesn’t matter.”
Ari didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. “You watching Kael and Trey?”
Riven’s entire body tensed.
“Trey owns that bar,” Ari went on. “He and Kael are kind of inseparable. Been like that since forever. But don’t worry — Trey’s got zero success rate with Kael. Pretty sure no one’s cracked that guy open.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Kael’s never let anyone in. Not like that.”
Riven blinked. Heat crept up the back of his neck. He glanced back toward the bar.
Kael and Trey were gone.
He muttered a goodbye and took off down the street,to go confront Kael..fists clenched, the envelope shoved tight under his arm.
Kael was sanding something, shirt damp with sweat, headphones in. He looked up when the door bell rang. Riven crossed the room in four strides and slammed the envelope down hard on the workbench.
Kael pulled off his headphones slowly.
“What’s this?”
“You tell me,” Riven said, stepping back with arms folded.
Kael opened the envelope and pulled out a photo.
Silence spread through the room like fog.
“So?” Riven demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me? That we’d met. That we...”
Kael met his eyes. “You really didn’t remember.”
“No. But now I do. Bits enough.”
Kael looked away, jaw tightening. “What do you want me to say? That it didn’t hurt when you pretended I didn’t exist?”
Riven’s voice cracked. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn't know how I ended up denying you. You mattered so much, and I didn’t even matter to myself yet.”
Kael looked back at him, eyes burning. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
Riven stepped closer. “You’re still pretending you don’t want me. You look at me like you hate me, but last night you couldn’t stop touching me.”
Kael moved first, rough and fast.
His fist caught Riven’s shirt, dragged him forward, and then their mouths collided.
Riven moaned, grabbing Kael’s back as the workbench dug into his spine. Kael shoved him hard against the wall, mouth wild and demanding, teeth grazing his jaw, hands sliding beneath his shirt.
Riven arched, gasping. “Fuck, Kael...”
Kael’s fingers dug into his hip. “You always said my name like that.”
“Then fuck me like you used to.”
Kael growled low in his throat, and the button on Riven’s jeans popped open under his fingers.
But then the barge in the door interrupted them.
It was loud and urgent. Followed by a man screaming and alarming them…
“Fire! There’s a fire!”
They pulled apart. Rushed for the door and threw it open.
Smoke was already rising through the trees. Black and thick.
Kael’s breath caught. “That’s your house.”
*****
The firetruck came late….too late..
By the time they arrived, the house was already gone.
Riven stood in Kael’s driveway, arms crossed, ash tangled in his curls. He didn’t say a word.
Sheriff Dean Briggs arrived like he owned the air. His boots hit the gravel too loud, his eyes too sharp.
“We’ll look into it,” he said, gaze unreadable. “Might be arson. Might not.”
Riven didn’t believe him…but Kael didn’t utter a word.
By sundown, Riven had a duffel over one shoulder and Old Lady Bea Lark standing on Kael’s porch with a basket of muffins.
“Oh! You must be Riven,” she said brightly. “You’re moving in, aren’t you? Please do. Lord knows Kael needs company.”
She leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And by the way — make sure he gets some, mm? Poor thing’s probably got sperm cramps by now.”
Riven choked hard…
Kael turned red. “Bea. Jesus”. She winked. “What? I said what I said.”
______
That night, Kael laid down the rules.
“No coming into my room without knocking. No touching my tools. And stay on your side of the damn house.”
“Fine,” Riven said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “But you can’t stop looking at me.”
Kael didn’t answer. He just walked away…
---
The next morning, the bell over the workshop door rang.
Kael didn’t look up from the table.
“Can I help you?” he called, voice clipped.
Riven turned his head and saw two figures standing in the doorway.
Harlow and Roman.
Both of them were staring straight at him.
“Roman? Harlow? What the hell are you doing here?” Riven’s voice echoed off the pine-paneled walls, sharp with surprise.Roman stepped forward, his tone steady but urgent. “We got the burner alert about the fire. First flight out. We drove straight from the airport.”Harlow didn’t bother with a greeting. “This wasn’t some accident. You know that. So do we.” Her hood dropped back, revealing her platinum bob as she scanned the room like she expected something hidden in the walls.Kael turned from his workbench and cleared his throat. “Am I supposed to know what’s going on?”“I’m Kael Quinn.” He extended a hand to Roman.Roman met it with a firm grip. “Roman Vale. Riven’s brother.”Kael gave a brief nod, then looked to Harlow.“She’s my manager,” Riven said quietly.Kael studied her. “You’re the one who keeps him alive, huh?”“Most days,” Harlow replied, her voice dry but not unfriendly.“They’re here because this fire wasn’t random,” Riven added. “Someone set it.”Kael’s expression hard
The day was too bright for how wrecked Riven felt inside. His skin buzzed with the weight of last night’s dream, the photo album still burned behind his eyes, and Kael’s name clung to the back of his throat like smoke he couldn’t cough out.He wasn’t ready to confront him..not yet,but the universe didn’t wait for readiness.Because there he was. Kael was standing outside the bar just off Main, laughing with someone.Riven stood still on the sidewalk, breath catching like he’d been slapped. The man next to Kael was tall, tan, and tattooed, with a cocky smile and a backwards hat. He leaned into Kael too easily, touched his shoulder like it meant something. And Kael didn’t pull away.Jealousy wasn’t something Riven liked admitting to. But it bloomed inside him anyway, slow and sour like poison spreading in his chest.He tightened his grip on the envelope in his hands — the one holding all the photos and old evidence he’d found.Before he could take a step, a hand tapped his shoulder fro
Riven dreamt in heat and in breathless scenarios. A name echoed louder than thunder.“Kael”It slipped from his lips like a prayer, dragging him out of sleep with a gasp. Sweat clung to his chest, hands twisted in the blanket like he’d fought something in the dark.He sat there breathing hard, eyes adjusting to the dimness.Just a dream, he told himself. Only a dream.But it didn’t feel like one. Not in the way his bones trembled..And definitely not in how clearly he remembered the shape of Kael’s mouth when it said his name.He climbed out of bed on silent feet, the wooden floor cold beneath him. His head felt fogged — not from alcohol, but from something heavier.At the fireplace, he opened the old cabinet.Inside was filled worn magazines, faded postcards, a box of letters that smelled like dust and loss. At the very bottom, shoved between yellowed newspapers, was a thick leather-bound photo album. Still wondering how he didn't take notice or see any of them all this while,his fing
The sky cracked open before Riven could hurry out to go get groceries.Rain fell like punishment — harsh and unrelenting, loud enough to drown out thought.The truck's light blinked twice and died, and darkness swallowed everything except the sound.He stood by the window, coffee cooling in his hand, watching headlights bob through the trees. The light cut a jagged path through the fog until it hit the clearing. A truck,old and familiar. Kael’s.The engine sputtered, died, then turned over again and failed completely. The door opened and Kael climbed out, soaked from hair to boots, moving fast through the storm like he hadn’t meant to stop . Like something had pulled him off course and dropped him here anyway.Riven cracked the door open and shouted over the rain.“Truck dead?”Kael didn’t look up. “Yeah.”“Well,” Riven called, shrugging, “guess you’re stuck here.”Kael finally turned. His hair clung to sharp cheekbones, shirt plastered to every muscle, rain rolling off him in sheets.
The cabin was too quiet but not peaceful — just the kind of quiet that curled under your skin and made your neck itch.The coffee in Riven's hand was bitter and watery, but it was hot. That was enough. He sat on the porch step, hoodie tugged low over his eyes, staring into the thick fog as it slid between the trees like it was alive.It had only been two nights, but already the place felt less like a hideout and more like a slow, sprawling trap. His phone had two bars, barely. Still, when it rang, he answered before the second buzz.Harlow.“Took you long enough.”Her voice cut sharp. “Took you long enough to almost ruin your life.”“I thought we were past that.”“We’re not past anything, Riven. Your dick is still trending.”He leaned back against the wooden post, lips tugging into a smirk. “So it’s true what they say. Bad press is still press.”“This isn’t press. It’s war.”She wasn’t joking. Not really. Her voice cracked just enough at the edges to let the truth bleed out.“I’m in
The champagne was still fizzing in Riven’s veins when he slid his keycard into the hotel door, lips still slick with someone else's gloss from the lounge downstairs. He didn’t know whose. He didn’t care.The party had been chaos dressed in couture, a networking retreat in name only. Really it was Hollywood at its worst—messy, indulgent, insatiable. He danced until his knees ached, flirted with anything in a suit, smiled until his jaw burned.Now, back in the hush of his suite, he kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the bed without even bothering with the lights. His phone buzzed once beside him, a soft vibration against the dark. Confirmation of the order.Not food,not room service.A hookup.He didn’t usually do this. But tonight wasn't usual. Tonight was about forgetting.Then came the knock.He rose slowly, shirt open, belt half undone. opened the door and froze upon seeing a tall and built blonde. Eyes wild under the hallway light. The man’s lips parted like he wanted to speak