His eyes soften, and he looks around before saying, “I didn’t think you were out to anyone here.”
“I’m not. But not because I didn’t want to be. They just never asked.”
“You know, youcanlet others in. You don’t need to wait for them to discover all your secrets.”
I tug at my shirt, skin hot.
Over the last year, working here has become… comforting. Quiet. Predictable. A place where nobody asks questions I don’t want to answer. I thought that’s why I felt safe here. It made it easy to stay in the shadows. Kept the attention off me.
But ever since Declan started dating Seth, I’ve realized it’s more than that. I see myself in the people around me. The way Declan and Seth laugh so openly with their arms around each other, unbothered to show affection in front of people. Or howPete and Andy often stroll in, holding hands. How Oliver flirts with every available guy—and even the unavailable ones.
Nobody bats an eye at same-sex relationships here. Piper hadn’t even questioned it when she caught me watching Fletcher. It was just another budding romance to her.
“Didn’t think they’d care, I guess,” I say finally.
Fletcher frowns. “Why wouldn’t they? You’re their friend.”
“No, I’m not.” I shrug. “I’m just the guy who mans the door.”
Fletcher’s frown deepens. He shakes his head. “They care about you, Vince.”
I look away, unconvinced.
“Boss, we need you in the bathroom,” someone says from the hall. “We have some questions.”
Fletcher sighs. “Sure, Ahmed. Be right there.”
He waits until we’re alone before stepping in close to say, “For the record, I like you staring.”
I toss my head back in a laugh. “Mm-hmm. I bet you do.”
He squeezes my wrist gently before walking away. As he goes, I catch Piper watching us with a huge grin.
I tug at my shirt again and turn back to the door.
The following day is another test of my patience.
My legs are screaming long before my shift is over.
The pain isn’t sharp, but it’s constant, a dull pull up my calves and into my hips. I shift my weight from foot to foot, gripping the door between groups that come in. Sweat gathers behind my knees, sticky and uncomfortable.
I wish I could sit down. But I can’t bring myself to ask for a barstool yet. It would mean coming clean to Declan, and I’m not ready for that. Not until I have answers.
Fletcher has been busy with his crew all day, finishing up the vanity and installing sinks. I’ve only seen him a few times, so his voice surprises me when he comes up behind me halfway through my shift.
“Hey, Vince.”
I turn, pulse jumping. He’s holding a large T-square against one shoulder and he smells of sawdust, sweat, and the faint citrus of whatever beard oil he uses.
“Are you busy?” he asks.
“I’m working.”
“What I mean is, can you help me outside? Declan said it’s cool.”
I frown. “With what?”
“Just cutting some lumber. We’re starting the stalls tomorrow, so I need to prep the frames.”
