“I get home around six on a good night. Meet me then?”
“Yeah. Yes.”
I paused, glancing out the window. “What are you doing with the rest of your day?”
“Filming some content,” he said.
Swallowing, I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. Lincoln and I had already talked about this. I knew making adult content was how he paid the bills, and I’d meant it when I told him I didn’t have a problem with it, but knowing he was going to be at home getting off while I was stuck at work did have me feeling some kind of way about the whole thing.
“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, ever defiant.
“No,” I assured him. “It does make me jealous, though.”
“Why?”
“Because every time you come I want to see it,” I told him.
On the other end of the line, Lincoln sucked in a sharp breath. “You asked for a close up before. Should I film that today?”
The yes was on the tip of my tongue, but heat pooled deep and dangerous in my belly before I could get the word out.
“Would you let me film it?” I asked instead. “Later tonight?”
Lincoln hummed, so low it almost vibrated the phone. “For me to upload or for you to keep?”
“Why not both?”
“Fuck,” he cursed and cursed again under his breath. “That shouldn’t be so hot.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
“Something for me to look forward to then,” I said, the original intent of my call lost to me until my ear pinged with an incoming text message that I simply knew was from my brother. “As delightful as this revelation is, I was calling to ask if you’d told Silas about us yet…or Smith.”
“I haven’t talked to your brother, but Silas…”
“Did you tell him?”
“Not explicitly,” Lincoln murmured. “He knows me well, though, and he’s good at putting the pieces of my secrets together.”
“Marshall knows, I think,” I confirmed for us both. “He just messaged me about getting lunch, and he’s already downstairs waiting for me.”
I turned off my monitor and stood up, checking my pockets for my wallet and keys before heading to the elevator.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…” He trailed off before adding, “Silas used to keep my secrets.”
“I don’t want to be a secret,” I said, maybe with more force than I meant because the receptionist’s head snapped up and her eyes went wide. I gave her a conciliatory wave before stabbing my finger into the elevator button and repeating, softer, “I don’t want to be a secret.”
“I don’t want you to be,” he whispered back.
“But I’d like to be the one to tell Smith. Do you think…do you think that would cause issue with your friendship with him?”
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside, turning to rest my ass on the back handrail. The doors closed, and I gave my reflection a quick onceover, wondering what exactly Lincoln saw in a man like me.
“If it does, he’s not a friend worth having.”
“All of my brothers are friends worth having,” I corrected.
