Ropes and Dreams

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Book: Ropes and Dreams by Bailey Bradford Read Free Book Online
Authors: Bailey Bradford
didn’t want to go, then he could cancel. Ian wasn’t going to make Drake do anything, but he hoped Drake would be proactive with his health.
    A thought coalesced from a wisp of an idea. Drake had never been treasured, not if what he’d told Ian was true of all of his relationships. It sounded like he’d never had anyone treat him like he was special, precious even. As corny as it sounded in Ian’s mind, he still wanted to do that for Drake. But how did he go about…? Courting, holy shit, that’s what I’d be doing! Who the hell does that nowadays?
    Ian did, apparently. He Googled the subject, but typing in ‘how to court a man’ turned up nothing useful. All he found were dating tips and dating sites, neither of which he was interested in.
    “Shit. I’m just going to have to do what people did before the Internet was around—think on my own.” Ian got up but left the laptop on. He walked to the sink then jumped when the home phone rang. “Fuck.” Returning to the table, he saw the unknown listing again. Ian didn’t duck the call tonight. He had some repressed anger he could use to his advantage if it was someone obnoxious calling.
    “Hello?”
    “Hey there, little bro, how they hanging? Short and to the right?”
    “Fuck you,” Ian snarled at his stepbrother Norman. “I’m not the one with the miniscule dick. We both know exactly why you’re so jealous of me.”
    “Fuck you, you little faggot,” Norman shouted. “You’re nothing but a cocksucker! You’re not any better than me. At least I’m not a pervert queer!”
    Rage seethed beneath Ian’s skin. “I am better than you, asshole, and it drives you crazy. Otherwise, you’d get on with your destined-to-be-short life and leave me the fuck alone. I stopped letting you pick on me when I was thirteen. I guess you’re just too stupid to realise there’s no going back to you bullying and abusing me.”
    “You wanted it,” Norman growled. “You queers like having a real man smack you around, just like women do. You can fucking lie all you want—”
    Ian had had this argument with Norman before. The man was fucking delusional, and twisted beyond any hope of redemption. Ian was wasting his breath, yet he couldn’t keep quiet. “Right, I wanted it so bad you had to threaten to kill my mother if I told her you hit me. Fuck you, you bastard.” Ian slammed the phone down.
    The truly horrific part of it was, Norman had already been a registered sex offender at the age of fifteen, after he’d been convicted of attempted assault on his girlfriend. When he’d come after Ian, Norman had been eighteen. Ian had been younger than that. By the time he had finally stood up to Norman, when he’d actually told on the fucker, neither his mom nor his stepdad had believed him.
    At least, they’d said they didn’t, and had threatened Ian with psychiatric hospitalisation. Ian had in turn told Norman he’d cut his goddamn dick off while he slept if he hurt Ian again. Ian had been shorter back then, and skinnier, but he’d got plenty mean. Norman had laughed and Ian had taken the small bat he’d had behind his back—it’d only been about a foot and a half long, and made of wood.
    He knew he was lucky he hadn’t killed Norman that day. The fear he’d felt when Norman had hit the ground had quickly replaced the surge of satisfaction Ian had experienced at putting an end to being Norman’s punching bag. Norman had left him alone after that—physically, at least.
    Less than a month later, Norman had been arrested again, that time for assaulting a young mother down the street. Norman had served six years for that crime. Ian wished a judge would lock the twisted fucker up for life before he killed someone.
    Ian’s mom and stepdad were still proclaiming Norman’s innocence. Norman was still trying to hurt Ian, albeit not physically. Ian refused to let him. To that end, he unplugged the phone. He’d make sure his cell was within reach, as he usually

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