That had never happened before.
Usually, the men he spent the night with ended up being clingy and not necessarily in a good way. Honestly, he had expected Tate to be the same, and for the first time, Donovan would’ve welcomed it. He couldn’t explain what made Tate different, but he was.
Apparently, more than Donovan had realized.
Once fully awake, he forced himself out of bed and pulled on his clothes before slipping out of the bedroom and heading for the bathroom. He did his business, then went searching for Tate, figuring maybe he could sweet talk the man into making some coffee. And if Tate wasn’t willing, perhaps Reilly would be.
Granted, he wasn’t exactly eager to have the conversation with his sister. The one that involved him telling her that he was interested in Tate, and no, he didn’t know where this was going, but he was certainly willing to find out. There was no telling how Reilly would react. Not badly. He knew that much. But he could practically see his kid sister dancing around the living room, singing to the rafters about how happy she was.
No, he definitely wasn’t ready for that.
Because the barn was basically one large room, except for the two bedrooms and the bathroom, it didn’t take long to figure out that he was the only one there.
The house was empty.
Completely.
Reilly’s bedroom door was open, but she wasn’t in there.
Without putting on his boots, he walked outside and looked in the driveway. Sure enough, Tate’s Mustang was gone. Reilly’s truck was there, though, so where the hell was she? Did she leave with Tate?
“Fuck,” he grumbled as he went back inside.
He pulled on his boots and grabbed his coat, feeling his frustration grow with every passing minute. He locked the front door with the press of his fingers on the keypad and pulled out his cell phone as he was walking to his truck.
He had Tate’s phone number because he’d used it a few times to find Reilly. Now, as he stared at it, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to the man. He decided he wouldn’t say anything. Not until they were face to face and he could confront him the right way. Why the fuck would Tate feel the need to disappear like that?
As he drove home to shower, Donovan thought about all the times the situation had been reversed. He’d always been clear about his intentions with the men he spent time with, so he didn’t risk getting irate phone calls. That hadn’t stopped a few of them from getting pissed anyway, but most were okay with temporary, so Donovan hadn’t really thought about it much.
He could admit one thing: he didn’t like being the one left behind. Not even a little.
Twelve
Brady woke up with a smile onhis face. He wasn’t sure that had ever happened before.
Not specifically the smile. He wasn’t nearly as grumpy as Reilly used to tease him about. Quiet was a better adjective. He internalized things these days rather than sharing them with everyone. That didn’t mean he wasn’t happy. Then again, until last night, he wasn’t sure he had been. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d been feeling much of anything.
Now he was feeling everything.
So much he couldn’t contain the smile or the lightness that came with it. As though something had been lifted off his chest, and he was no longer struggling to breathe. Reilly did that to him. She brought him back to life after he’d been stumbling around in the dark for so long.
Had that ever happened? Probably, at some point. But this felt different.Hefelt different.
Last night, after he’d cleaned up, Brady had come back to bed to find Reilly drifting off, worn out from their incredible lovemaking. At least, that was what he’d told himself as he’d crawled into bed beside her. As though she’d sensed his presence, she had curled up beside him, her head on his chest, her arm across his torso. They’d fallen asleep like that—cuddling. And Brady knew for a fact that no one had ever cuddled with him. The women he’d been with, including his ex-wife, had wanted to sleep on their own sides of the bed. Brady preferred intimacy, so the fact Reilly had slept in his arms had resulted in him getting the best sleep he’d ever had.
Okay, fine. Maybe he was overdoing it with the mushy shit this morning, but he didn’t think so.
Glancing over at the clock, he saw that it was almost nine. It explained why Reilly wasn’t in bed with him. He knew she opened the store at nine on Sundays, and with his luck, she had called an Uber rather than wake him up. He hoped not. He would gladly drive her into town, but first, he wanted to spend a few more minutes with her naked beneath him.
He listened for sounds she was still in the house, but he heard nothing. She wasn’t banging around the kitchen, and there was no water running in the bathroom.
“Damn it,” he grumbled as he forced himself out of bed.
He grabbed his boxers, pulling them on before padding through the bathroom. Empty. He did his business, then went downstairs, confirming his disappointment. She was gone.
For shits and giggles, he opened the door to the garage and stared at … nothing. Like literally.
Nowthatwas new.
