“I love you, Luis. You know I couldn’t do any of this without you.”
They hugged. “Good thing is, you never will. You’re stuck with me. Now lemme ask you something.” Luis crossed his big arms and directed stern brown eyes at him. The man spent much of his free time working out and needed those muscles, carrying David and dealing with his wheelchair. “You make it right with Colson?”
He shrugged. “I’m trying. It’s up to him now. Hopefully I didn’t screw up too badly.”
“I think if you explain everything to him and stop holding back, it’ll work out.”
He wasn’t as confident as Luis, but he put up a good front. “I guess we’ll see. I’m going to give David his bath. Thanks for the talk and advice.”
“Anytime.”
He took care of David and put him to bed.
“I love you. I’ve never regretted anything. Not one moment with you.”
David made kissing noises and moved his mouth, and Harper cupped his cheek and pressed his lips to David’s stubbly jaw. He turned on the monitor and flicked off the light.
“Sleep tight, buddy. I’ll see you for breakfast.”
Harper shut the door. The living room was silent, which meant Luis had gone down to his apartment. Harper got into bed and checked his messages, but there was nothing from Colson. He turned off the light, wondering if he’d screwed it all up. Colson had every right to say to hell with it and him and stay out of his life for good.
Chapter Seventeen
Colson sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room and watched the sun rise. He’d left home around five, and after several frustrating delays with the train and Metro-North, didn’t arrive in Greenwich until after eight. Too late to make an appearance at his parents’ house, so he’d checked into a hotel in town and tried to collect his tumbling thoughts.
What did you say to people you hadn’t seen in fifteen years? Especially when you knew they didn’t give a damn about you. He was probably stupid to have made the trip, but after sitting with Millie and listening to her talk about chances she regretted not taking, he’d decided it would either be something new and better, or the end. He hoped it would be the former, considering his mother had called him. He’d know in a few hours.
Then there was Harper.
Damn him.
They might’ve started out seeing each other to scratch an itch, but like a damn mosquito, Harper Rose had burrowed under his skin, and Colson couldn’t ignore him. Harper turning growly and possessive had ignited a flame that burned like whiskeystreaming through his blood. He’d developed an unquenchable thirst for Harper’s mouth on his, those strong hands holding him down as he took Colson apart piece by piece. He liked sitting with him and trading barbs, and he enjoyed Harper’s shrewd, sharp intensity.
Yeah, he was a little obsessed with the man.
He gazed at Harper’s message from the night before, and his finger hovered over the Delete button. Millie Johnson was a sweet lady, but she didn’t understand. He ran a hand through his hair.
“What the hell did he mean, things to work out?” he grumbled. As a writer, Colson didn’t like vagueness. “If he has a problem, he can tell me. It’s not like we’re strangers.”
But the more he thought about it, the more Colson realized he was wrong. They might’ve been intimate with their bodies, but they’d rarely shared what was in their heads or hearts. He knew as little or as much about Harper Rose today as he had the day they’d first met.
Except how hot and demanding his kisses were. How hard Harper thrust deep inside him so that even thinking about it set off mini explosions inside Colson, rendering him dizzy with desire.
“It’s him who held back. I told him about myself.” Colson paced the room. “He needs to open up and tell me why he freaked out and ran. And why he can’t spend the night. Because he’s hiding something important.”
But he’d never get an explanation if he deleted Harper’s message and ignored him. If he wanted to know, he’d need to give him another chance, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He decided to answer.
Thanks.
Colson pressed Send and turned off his phone. He wanted no distractions with what he had ahead of him that day, and if there was one thing Colson was certain of, it was that Harper Rose was the most frustrating, annoying, distracting man.
He lingered over his cold brew at a café on Main Street. Things hadn’t changed much since he’d last been there—a few stores had moved in, along with two more coffee houses. He looked as out of place with his earring, longer hair, and tattoos now as he’d felt as a gay kid pretending to be straight, terrified that people might find out his secret.
As a teenager, he’d sneak away on the weekends with a fake ID and hang out at the clubs. Sex wasn’t hard to find, and at nineteen, he’d lost his virginity in the back of a dirty Chevy Impala. For a few brief moments under a naked stranger calling him baby, he’d gotten more love than he’d ever received from his parents.
He sipped his coffee and caught a few glances from businesspeople stopping to get their drinks before boarding the train to the city. Maybe they recognized him from the profile picture on his books. He also didn’t miss the interested side-eyes from some women and even a couple of men sitting and drinking their coffee or tea.
Maybe things had changed enough that his parents were willing to open a dialogue. If that was the case, he’d be agreeable to start fresh with them and put the past with all its hurt behind him. He could be the better person. He finished his drink and tossed out the cup. He was getting ahead of himself. First, he had to be let in the house. He called for a car, and with sweat dampening his shirt, sat in the air-conditioned coolness, peering at the rolling lush lawns of the great estates.
