With his body dipping below the surface of the water and rising above it moment to moment, Galen felt drawn to touch those tattoos, and he wanted to pull Bede aside to ask him what else he missed in prison. Maybe he should also ask Toby and Owen what they missed, and maybe do something about it.
Taking a deep breath, Galen dove back under the water, then let out the air from his lungs, but slowly.
He opened his eyes in the lake water, saw the darkness below and the bubbles from his lungs rising lazily to the surface. Saw the thrash of canoe paddles, and over-eager arms and legs that didn’t quite know how to coordinate themselves.
When he broke the surface of the water again, Bede was on the dock, wrangling for his turn at the green canoe. Royce was at his side, making large, expressive gestures, and Galen realized Beck had joined them, wearing worn, camo-patterned swim shorts.
Eventually, Bede stood back and let Royce and Jonah take over the green canoe, with Beck slithering into the middle. The canoes were two-man canoes, and probably weren’t meant for three, but as long as Beck kept still, they would be okay—which he did not, and the three of them were toppled into the water with shouts of laughter.
From the dock, Bede was laughing so hard that he was doubled over, and as Galen swam close, he felt that laughter, that sense of joy and amusement settle over him, buoying him up.
“I’ll take a turn with you,” he said as he climbed the ladder at the end of the dock.
“Sure,” said Bede.
He grabbed the line of the empty blue canoe, which came floating toward them, seeing as how the occupants, Toby and Owen, had decided that rocking back and forth was the best fun, and they’d ended up tumbled into the water.
“I can paddle, I guess, but don’t know how to steer.”
“I can steer,” said Galen, settling himself on the back seat in the canoe. He picked up the paddle and twirled it in his hands as he watched Bede gingerly get into the canoe and sit on the front bench seat. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about that.”
He smiled as Bede looked over his shoulder, that wide grin in place. Then Bede took up the paddle, and together, Galen doing his best to match Bede’s strokes, they eased out into the lake, a large blue and gold circle of the sun on the water all around them.
The pleasant interlude on the water lasted all afternoon, and though there were clouds forming along the ridge, there was no threat of rain or lightning, so they could wear themselves out. Finally, Gabe announced that it was dinnertime, and they all swam or paddled back to the dock.
Galen took charge of dragging the canoes up to the bank and turning them upside down so they could dry. Beck and Bede stayed to help him, and quite soon Galen made his way to his tent. There he grabbed his shower things, eager to wash the lake water away, get dressed in dry clothes, and have a good hot meal.
He took a good long shower, using way more liquid soap than was probably necessary. When finally he rinsed off, every single bone in his body felt like it was melting.
Sure he could work twelve-hour days, but messing around and goofing off for an afternoon? Was exhausting. Fun, but exhausting.
As he was putting on his socks and tying up his boots, he realized he’d been slumped over on the bench, just sitting there for a good long while, and that he needed to get a move on. Hustling, he gathered his things and opened the curtain, swishing it back just as Bede was stepping in.
“Sorry—” Bede stopped, putting his hand to the frame of the shower to keep his balance, to keep from running over Galen. “I didn’t hear anyone inside. Thought it was empty.”
“It’s empty now,” said Galen, thinking Bede would move back so Galen could slip out and leave Bede to his shower.
But Bede didn’t move and Galen didn’t move, and it took Galen a full second to realize that Bede was still in his swim shorts, the bare skin of his shoulders and chest sun-warmed, with little drops of water silvering his hair. That his arm was raised, shower things tucked under his other arm, and that he simply wasn’t moving.
“What do you need, Bede?” asked Galen, his voice coming out a croak.
Then Bede kissed him, one hand cupping his cheek, moving to curl his fingers around the back of Galen’s neck.
Bede’s lips were warm, a soft caress, rather than the hard aggression that Galen, quite simply, had been imagining pretty much from day one. This kiss was followed by a second, equally gentle, then Bede sighed and caressed Galen’s cheek with his own.
Bede’s skin was warm, and his breath was warm, his fingertips cool where they tangled in Galen’s hair. He should get it cut so Bede wouldn’t have to worry about it?—
—he should pull away. Falling for kisses on a darkened path in the woods was one thing. This was another.
He should stop this. But he didn’t.
The moment lingered, the two of them standing in the partly curtained doorway of the last shower stall in the row. The other four showers were occupied, the water flowing at full bore, steam billowing up to the ceiling.
Hot water and privacy in a shower. That’s what Bede had been missing.
Galen should let him get at it. But he wasn’t going to.
A bit urgently, he rose on his toes, lay his palm on Bede’s cheek, and breathed into the next kiss, claiming it.
