“Promise.”
Wes turned his head, caught Jake’s mouth in a kiss—lingering, reluctant. “This is getting harder.”
“What is?”
“Leaving.”
Jake’s chest ached. “Yeah.”
“Saturday. You’ll really help at the farm?”
“If you want me.”
“I want you.” Wes turned fully, cupped Jake’s face in both hands. “I really want you.”
The weight of those words hung between them.
“Go,” Jake said softly. “Before I don’t let you.”
Wes kissed him once more, then stood, grabbed his jacket. At the door, he paused.
“Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For tonight.”
“Thankyou.”
Wes smiled, then left.
Jake lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the room still smelling like them—sex and sweat and something sweeter.
His phone buzzed.
Wes:Made it to the truck. Thanks again for tonight.
Jake:Thank YOU.
Wes:Call me tomorrow?
Jake:Definitely.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again, then?—
Wes:I think I’m falling for you.
Jake’s heart stopped, restarted double-time. He typed with shaking fingers:
Jake:Good. Because I’m already there.
Wes:Yeah?
Jake:Yeah.
Wes:Good. That’s good.
Jake:Drive safe.
