“It’s you; I don’t need to.”
“How do you know I’m not some kind of psychopath?”
“Well, let’s see,” he says, rolling his hips, our once-frozen cocks now half hard between us.
“For one, Jaxon trusts you with his business and his friendship.Just the other day, I saw you helping an old lady across the street,” he says, an eyebrow raised.
“What? She had her arms full of bags. She looked unsteady on her feet.” I start to shrug, but he holds my gaze, like he’s not going to let me pretend kindness is an accident.
Wanting to get off this topic of discussion, I bring it back around to him.
“Okay, so you’ll do whatever I tell you?”
He nods. “Anything.”
“Kiss me until we fall asleep.”
He smiles as if he’s just been handed the easiest assignment in the world and leans in, mouth warm and sure. The first kiss is a slow exhale, the second a promise. I reach up to turn off the bedside lamp, and he tumbles to the side, laughter soft. He kisses the corner of my mouth, my cheek, my eyelids. I bask in the glow of affection. Something I’m not used to.
The kisses keep coming, unhurried. Gentle lips to my temple, a nuzzle at my jaw, the softest press to my nose that makes me smile in the dark.
Tucking him against my chest, one arm curls around his waist. My hand lands on his ass, giving it a gentle squeeze, the other linking our fingers together.
Our rhythm is slow. Kiss, breathe, sink… kiss, breathe, sink… My thoughts drift to the feel of him, the weight of his palm on my chest, the faint smell of soap and skin surrounds us. Somewhere between one kiss and the next, my eyes drift shut. His last kiss lands on my forehead, a soft seal of goodnight. Even with thoughts of my father swirling above, I’ve never felt so at peace.
“Uh… Earth to Dom?”
“What?” I ask, hammering a nail down and barely missing my thumb.
Jaxon leans on a post, squinting at me like I’m a strange bird he’s been tracking. “What’s going on with you? You seem a million miles away.”
What do I say? That I’m freaking out? I took control and—God help me—showed Beckett what I actually need. Touch. Care. Love. Things I usually keep folded and hidden in the drawer marked “Do Not Disturb.” All week it’s been all I can think about.
Jaxon doesn’t wait for me to form a lie. He kicks the next board toward my boot. “How about we start with why we’re suddenly making your deck bigger?”
“I told you. I was thinking about getting a bigger grill, took measurements, and realized my deck is tiny.”
“Mm-hm.” He gestures with his tape measure. “And how often do you grill?”
I roll my eyes. “Enough.”
Jaxon gives me an all-knowing look.
He hands me another board, and I slot it into place before hammering it down.
“So,” he says casually. “How’s Beckett?”
“Psh. What do you mean?”
Jaxon’s mouth twitches. “Like… has he talked to you about what happened? Why he came home?”
I stop, the drill still pressed to the wood. When I look up, I see he’s not being nosy; he’s worried. That loosens something. “He’s okay,” I say. “I promise.” I tiptoe around the rest. On one hand is his concern, on the other, it’s not my story to share. There’s a reason Beckett hasn’t told anyone. “I think he got a little lost for a bit,” I add. “But he’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’s… happy.”
Jaxon’s eyebrows climb. “Would any of this happiness be because of you?”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But I think a lot of it is because of him. He’s choosing things that feel like him.” I set another screw, drilling it into place. Watching Beckett muddle through finding his way makes me look at my own stuff I’ve ignored. My father and the parole hearing that’s like a rock in my shoe. The fact that I’m just floating through life with no path forward.
“Beckett has decent instincts. I know he’ll find his way,” Jaxon says.
