When he could breathe again, Wes was grinning at him, smug and satisfied.
“Proud of yourself?” Jake asked.
“Little bit.”
“Come here.”
Wes crawled up, and they lay tangled together—sweaty and sated and perfect. Jake traced idle patterns on Wes’s shoulder, feeling Wes’s heart rate slow against his ribs.
“I could get used to this,” Wes said quietly.
Jake wanted to say it then—I’m falling in love with you—but it felt too big, too soon. Instead he said, “Me too.”
They lay there in the soft lamplight, wrapped around each other, and for a moment everything was simple. No distance, no complications, no Henry waiting at home.
Just this. Just them.
Wes’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Reality, right on schedule.
Wes groaned, reached for it. “Henry’s medication reminder.” He texted something quickly. “Told him I’m at Tucker’s. He’s good.”
“You could tell him the truth,” Jake said carefully.
Wes tensed slightly. “Not yet.”
“Okay.”
“It’s not about you. Or about being with a guy. It’s just?—”
“I know.” Jake pressed a kiss to Wes’s shoulder.
“How long can I stay?”
“How long do you have?”
“Another hour, maybe.”
“Then let’s not waste it.”
They laughed, kissed, got lost in each other again. And for another hour, the world outside that room didn’t exist.
Later, Wes dressed while Jake watched from the bed, the sheet pooled at his waist.
“Tomorrow, you leave for Atlanta?” Wes asked, buttoning his shirt.
“Yeah. Back Saturday.”
“That’s a long time.”
“It’s three days. Two if I get up early.”
“Still.” Wes sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “Feels longer.”
Jake sat up, wrapped his arms around Wes from behind, and rested his chin on Wes’s shoulder. “I’ll call. Every night.”
“Promise?”
