He stood there in his t-shirt, green-and-white assless underwear, crew socks, and sneakers.
Matt paused in the doorway, plates in hand, mesmerized.
“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude to stare?” Adam teased.
“She did. She also taught me to appreciate natural beauty. Admittedly, we were standing in a field of wildflowers when she said it. Still, all things considered, it would be rude not to stare.”
Adam turned to face Matt.
“I saw this on the mantle,” he said, holding up one of the colored envelopes. “It had my name on it, so I went ahead and opened it.”
“Bradley’s such a sweetheart,” Matt said. He set the plates on the table. “Have a seat. I’ll grab the bread and refill our wine glasses.”
A minute later, Matt was seated, ready to start eating.
Adam hadn’t even picked up his fork. He was frowning over Bradley’s note.
“What does it say?” Matt asked.
Adam looked up. “The good news is you’re not a serial killer.”
Matt chuckled.
“The bad news is that you’re hiding a dark secret.”
Matt felt gut punched. “WHAT?”
Adam handed him the letter.
Adam:
May I ask a favor?
Will you show a fearless man how to face fear?
Matt is the bravest person I know. He’s the kind of guy who’d run into a burning building to save someone. The kind of guy who’d storm Normandy Beach and stare death in the face.
And yet, I’ve always sensed that he’s hiding something.
Not a serial killer kind of secret.
More the wounded soul variety. The kind of wound you bury deep inside and hide from the world because, surely, who would love you if they knew about it?
Here’s the thing about Love, Adam, the thing you’ve got to help Matt understand. It isn’t the words we say or the sex we have or the emotions we feel that make it real. Love is trusting each other with your scariest secrets.
You, Adam, are uniquely positioned to help Matt on this journey. He needs to treat that wound before it festers into something truly ugly.
Love him through this!
Matt laid the letter on the table facedown. Forked a bite of lasagna.
“Shouldn’t we talk about the letter?” Adam asked.
Matt bolted the bite, chased it down with wine. “There’s nothing to talk about. Bradley’s just a drama queen. Nicholas will tell you that.”
“Is that really how you want to play this?” Adam said softly. “Blame Bradley? The guy you called a sweetheart earlier? The guy who cares about you so much that he’s letting you live in his house for the weekend? The guy—”
“I get the point,” Matt interrupted. “I’m not playing anything. I just want to have a romantic dinner with you, carry you upstairs, make love to you, and spoon naked until we drift off to sleep. Bonus points for waking up next to you and fucking like rabbits.”
