His raw honesty is unexpected, especially when he’s kept everything so locked up.
I want to tell him he doesn’t need to be embarrassed. That there’s nothing wrong with finding a workaround. Hell, anyone in his situation would’ve done the same. Plus, there’s no shame in using sex toys.
But to feel like heneedsit—that’s different. That has to be hard to accept.
I want to reassure him. Hold him. Tell him he’s not alone in this. But the words get lodged in my throat. Because how do I respond without revealing too much? Without letting it slip how much I care? How deeply those sounds affected me?
I take a slow breath and squeeze his shoulder gently. “Well, you know I’m not judging you for it, right?”
He glances at me, a small smirk touching his lips. “Oh, but you are. At least a little.”
His teasing tone makes me laugh. “Okay, maybe I am, but I mean, come on! Who puts that small of—anyway, yeah, I’m totally taking that vibrator away.”
He laughs for real, holding his stomach.
“But seriously. If you need more stimulation to get off, so what? There’s no shame in that. Just get yourself some better toys.”
He blushes and looks away.
“And for what it’s worth? I’m here, okay? For whatever you need.” I quickly backpedal, realizing how that sounds. “Fortalking, I mean! Or venting. Or whatever. Not… that. I’m not saying that needs to happen again.”
He chuckles quietly, and something in the air shifts. We both feel it, our gazes locking. It’s a moment we could step into—or step away from. Because we both know if Vince asked, I’dabsolutelygive him a helping hand.
Vince is staring at me like he’s waiting for something—permission, reassurance, maybe for me to take it all back? But I can’t. I won’t. I want him to trust me, even with this.
I squeeze his shoulder lightly before pulling away. “Anyway, you okay?”
“Yeah. Just embarrassed.”
I grin. “Hey, it could’ve been worse.”
“With a trip to the ER, you mean?”
“No. My sweet old neighbor could’ve been the one who heard you. We both know she would’ve come running.”
That does it. Vince barks out the loudest, rawest laugh I’ve ever heard from him. He’s met Rosie, and that woman would’ve had a heart attack if she’d seen Vince in that position.
Something in my chest loosens as he relaxes into the couch, resting his head on the back of it. He rubs his leg, staring up at the ceiling. Slowly, he turns to me. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not making it weird.”
“Oh, it’s weird,” I assure him. “Definitely weird. Top-five weirdest moments of my life.”
He cracks a smile. “Great.”
“But,” I add, nudging him again, “it’s not bad. Weird doesn’t mean bad.”
A soft snuffling sound breaks the moment, followed by the thump of paws.
Bones trots into the living room, holding his giant knotted rope. He looks from me to Vince and then makes his choice and heads straight for Vince.
“Hey, bud,” Vince murmurs, bending forward to scratch the dog’s ears. Bones presses his giant head into his knee.
I blink. Bones has always come to me first when Georgie isn’t around. He’s loyal to a fault—glued to our side most days. But he’s leaning so hard into Vince’s leg that he’s squishing Vince into the arm of the couch.
“Traitor,” I murmur.
