23
Jayne
Later that night, curled up on the opposite side of the couch from Caleb with a second plate of what could only be described as a pasta bake, Jayne sent Simon a text.
You around?
Nothing. It was six o’clock in California, so there was a chance he was eating dinner. There was just as good a chance that Simon’s retired SEAL boyfriend had him too busy in bed to want to bother with his phone.
It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like their apartment had burned down or anything.
Jayne snorted and put his phone on the couch cushion beside his thigh. Right now, not even the allure of the Single Dad chat appealed to him. What he needed was to eat his body weight in pasta and space out for a while.
He glanced at Caleb.
As long as Caleb was quiet, it wasn’t impossible. The guest bedroom wouldn’t work—Parker was down for the night, and Shep was in there on his phone, no doubt texting his internet friends to brag about how he’d escaped being captured by the FBI. Or was it the CIA? Whatever it was, Jayne didn’t believe for a second that the government had burned their apartment down for whatever it was Shep got up to late at night with his computer. Someone in another unit had probably forgotten a pot on the stove, or, more likely, the old wiring had finally given out and started an electrical fire.
Mrs. Bunding, as infuriatingly stubborn as she could sometimes be, had a point—Moe Fulch, their landlord, was more likely to perv on young men than he was to get off his ass and bring the building up to code. Shep, who was still young enough to believe the world revolved around him, would never agree, but Jayne saw the fire for what it was—an accident.
Or insurance fraud.
There was always the chance it was insurance fraud.
Jayne sighed noisily and flipped his phone screen-side up. No new messages.
“Dollar for your thoughts,” Caleb said, scooting his ass so his feet were on the couch and his legs were tented in front of him.
Jayne squinted. “I’m pretty sure the expression ispennyfor your thoughts.”
“Yeah.” Caleb shrugged. “But no one gives a shit about a penny anymore.”
A comfortable feeling worked its way through Jayne, much like waking up fully relaxed after eight hours of sleep. It swirled through his thighs and loosened the tension in his calves, then made its way through his stomach and into his chest. By the time it hit his arms, Jayne felt mellow. He put his plate of pasta aside, then sagged onto the couch and looked Caleb over, well aware that it was Caleb who’d made him feel that way. “I was thinking about my brother.”
“Shep?”
“No, Simon.” Jayne looked at his phone again, but nothing had changed. “He’s the middle brother—older than Shep, younger than me. He followed his boyfriend back to California not even a month ago. I should have sent him a text earlier today to let him know what happened, but with everything going on, it slipped my mind.”
“No one would hold it against you.”
“You’re right.” Jayne dropped his head on the arm of the couch and looked at Caleb from down the bridge of his nose, then stretched his legs and wedged his toes next to Caleb’s ass. The contact they made was minimal, but the heat of Caleb’s body and the memory of how fine his boxer-brief-clad ass had been earlier that morning sent a current through Jayne that turned even the smallest touch electric. Jayne’s heart raced, but he tamped the feeling down. After the day he’d had, it wasn’t in his best interest to go hopping on the nearest dick, even if that dick belonged to a guy who made him feel like everything was going to turn out for the better. “At least, you’re partially right. There’s one douchenozzle that would’ve told me that not getting in touch with my brother sooner than this makes me the equivalent of a fungal infection gone sentient.”
“Your ex?”
“Yeah.” His name dripped from Jayne’s tongue like highly viscous slime. “Bastian.”
Caleb shifted his ass, putting extra pressure on Jayne’s feet and increasing their contact. Jayne could have waved it off as an innocent gesture meant to help Caleb sit more comfortably, but the protective glint in Caleb’s eyes convinced him otherwise. It shimmered with low-burning fury that made Jayne feel like Caleb hadn’t only heard, but that he cared.
Jayne had seen that look in Harlow’s eyes when he’d squared off against Bastian, but it had been meant for Simon.
Now, with Caleb…
Jayne slid one ankle against the other until he’d displaced Caleb’s shirt just enough that they were skin to skin. The current intensified, and an illicit shiver swept through Jayne. He had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from saying anything stupid. He’djusttold himself he wasn’t going to hop on anyone’s dick.
No one’s.
Not even Caleb’s.
Not even if Caleb’s dick wasveryglad to see him.
