Back home, he stepped into the kitchen to grab a drink and take it out to the porch, where he could sit in the sunshine and hopefully stop his mind circling around Tom. Both he and Matt had taken a week’s vacation to deal with the forthcoming dog-and-pony show. And he’d better remember not to call it that in front of Jesse again, because he was losing his sense of humor by the hour and seemed to think Bryce was making fun of him.
But the sight that greeted him in the kitchen brought him up short. Tristan and Colby were pressed close together as they kissed, long and slow. He wasn’t a prude by anyone’s measure, but the intimacy between them made him uncomfortable. The reverence in Colby’s touch, the way Tristan looked at him…
Bryce had always known he didn’t want a mate, and that hadn’t changed. But something in his chest ached slightly. A feeling of emptiness, almost.
He snorted. It was too long since he last got laid, that was all. With all that had been happening, he hadn’t made it to Denver lately, with its clubs and large, welcoming pack. Too long since he’d been someone’s focus for a night. He didn’t need a soulmate. He just needed to get laid. And Tom Barrington’s presence wasn’t helping, because it was keeping Bryce on a constant low simmer.
Romeo and Juliet had finally noticed his presence and let go of one another.
“You managed to tear yourself away from Tom, then?” Tristan asked, raising his eyebrows cheekily.
Something about his statement hit a nerve, with Bryce still confused over what had just happened with Tom. But he knew Tristan hadn’t meant any harm, so he pinned a smile to his face and made a vague sound of agreement as he took the coffee Colby offered him.
“I never knew political aides could be hot,” Tristan continued. “I’m kind of stunned you haven’t hit on him.”
He laughed automatically, but it caught in his throat a little on the way out. Right now, he was pretty sure that if he hit on Tom, he’d be turned down. Politely, smoothly, and definitively.
“Yeah, well,” he said, and headed for the back door. He was unsettled and bad company, and the last thing he wanted was to be around starry-eyed lovers. He forced himself to raise the mug in friendly salute as he left. “Thanks for the coffee, Colb.”
Out in the fresh air, he wandered over to the picnic table in the middle of the yard to sit and drink his coffee in peace. As he looked at the pile of lumber waiting to be moved to the outbuilding Karl and Christian were renovating, he thought about following Karl’s example and moving out from his currentroom. He could cope with either Matt or Tristan all wrapped up in their mate, but both of them? Might be easier to move out of the house, to keep a little distance.
He’d been an important part of their lives for so long, but things had changed, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He wasn’t bitter. He wasn’t. Just... displaced. He was the part of the puzzle that had fit until the picture changed around him.
He studied the table’s rough grain, scarred with ring marks from years of faithful service. He wondered if they should get another, larger one given the rate at which the pack was expanding, but there was something about this one that nothing could replace. He and Matt had taken Tristan shopping that first weekend he’d been with them, and this table had been one of the things they’d let him choose. It had been a way to try and let him know he was here to stay.
He ran a hand over the rough surface, tracing grooves and gouges worn deep by time and weather and lives layered together. Bryce still remembered the proud look on Tristan’s face, how he’d circled it three times before pointing and sayingthat one. The table had been a promise. A marker.
But Tristan had grown up, and now he’d moved on. Matt, too.
Bryce was happy for them both. He really was. But he didn’t know where any of this left him.
Chapter Twelve
TOM
The courier’s text came in just after six a.m. Tom met him out in the parking lot, where he signed for three large crates. The air was still, and the lot quiet enough that the thunk of each crate sliding into the SUV felt louder than it should have.
He was closing the hatch when Bryce pulled in. He stepped out of the truck, wearing worn jeans, dark shades, and that easy smile.
Heat curled low in Tom’s gut, but he shut it down fast. It was one thing to find Bryce attractive—anyone would—but he knew he was reacting to more than that. Bryce was warm, bright, the kind of person it feltgoodto orbit. And that would be fine so long as Tom remembered it wasn’t personal. Bryce didn’t shine like that just for him. It was who he was.
“You always start your mornings with clandestine tech drops,” Bryce asked, “or is today special?”
“You know how it is,” Tom replied. “Romantic gestures are different in my line of work.”
He regretted it the second the words left his mouth. Too flirty. Way too telling.
But Bryce laughed, and the sound wrapped around Tom, feeling like comfort and home.
“Needed to pick something up from the hardware store,” Bryce added, all casual. “Figured I’d swing by, lend a hand. I didn’t expect you to be this efficient.”
It sounded like an excuse. But it probably wasn’t—Tom had learned the hard way not to trust his read on people once feelings were involved. For someone who read a room for a living, he sure was bad at it when it became personal.
He’d thought Zack’s shiftiness meant he was planning a surprise for Tom’s birthday. A weekend away, maybe. Something sweet and small. Instead, he’d come home to bags by the door.
So no, he wasn’t going to misread this. Whatever Bryce was doing, it was just friendliness. Just his natural warmth.
Tom would enjoy it, and try not to want more.
