Love but notinlove.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d chased that golden ring and only realized too late that it wasn’t for him.What was it his mom had said once, when he’d told her?
Cloister’s hand paused at the curve of Javi’s ass, and he wondered why he was pretending he didn’t remember.To himself, of all people.
He could still remember the threadbare apron she’d had on as he hugged her, the smell of flour hanging in the air as she made something for his school.
“I love you, Mom,”he’d said.
He’d seen his friends say it to their moms, at their houses and in the street, and with blatant intent to just get something out of it.For a second, he thought it was going to work.His mom had reached down to pat his hand, dusting him with flour.
“I suppose you would.”
That had hurt.It still hurt.It wasn’t a mistake he wanted to make twice.He rolled on his side and looked at his hand against Javi’s ass.His tan was darker, freckles sprayed over his knuckles, than the light, soft brown of Javi’s skin.
Especially not a mistake to make when he meant it this much.
The yawn caught Cloister by surprise.For once, despite the thought of his mother, he was relaxed enough to lean into sleep.As he dozed off, he heard…
…dogs in the distance, and when he looked down at his hand, he was gripping a yellow truck.It was a long way to the ground, and as he watched, blood dripped off it to splatter over a man’s boot.
Chapter Nineteen
Javiwokeupjustbefore the alarm.
The familiar steps of his morning wake-up routine were disrupted by two things.That his face hurt and that there was no one in the bed next to him, his outstretched hand finding nothing but cool sheets.
He rolled over onto his back and sat up, sheets puddled across his lap.It didn’t take long for the memory of his brawl with Limehouse to load.That explained the face.Javi gingerly reached up to check the outlines of an ache with his fingertips.It felt worse than it had yesterday—heavy and stiff—but he supposed that was to be expected.
The bed thing wasn’t a surprise.Javi had always considered himself an early bird, but then he met Cloister.Now he knew he was just disciplined.Even on nights that Cloister slept, it was more common to wake up to him gone than not.Javi just didn’t know why it bothered him.He’d spent his whole life telling people he preferred to sleep alone; now he had the perfect boyfriend for that.Yet his stomach sank a little every time he woke upwithoutsomeone’s sweaty, heavy body rubbing on him.
Sure,a sour thought told him sardonically,it’s that and not the fact you’re lying to him.
Javi took a slow, controlled breath and scrubbed both hands through his hair.He laced his hands together at the back of his skull and stared at the smooth gray feature wall.
Make that three things.
Only one of which he could fix.Javi pushed the sheets off him and got out of bed.The wooden floor was cold underfoot as he padded into the kitchen to get two painkillers.He noticed there were two more gone from what had been a fresh strip as he popped the pills out of the packaging.They were acrid on his tongue as he tossed them into his mouth and dry-swallowed them.
The fact that Cloister, a man who ran like it was self-harm, was willing to resort to medication worried Javi, but…career law enforcement hurt.If an injury didn’t invalid you out, it lingered and it ached.Tylenol was a better coping mechanism than whiskey.
At least, it was until later in the day.
Javi grimaced around the aftertaste of powder on his tongue as he checked the clock.Kincaid had given him a time that someone would come to pick him up this morning.From experience, he’d send them early, so Javi didn’t have a lot of time to get ready.
He turned to the bathroom and paused halfway across the living room when the smeared window caught his attention.The memory of last night made his cock twitch—the vivid flash of Cloister’s body reflected in the window as Javi fucked him almost tactile.It also made him wonder how generous a tip it would take for it to be OK to leave it for his cleaner to deal with.
The thought of his grandmother’s disapproval—who’d always spent the hour their cleaner was paid for gossiping over horchata with the woman from her church, the floors already scrubbed and linen folded before Celie got there—itched the back of his neck.He gave in to the ancestral pressure and accepted he’d have to do it himself.Whoever Sunny Side Cleaners sent next week could earn the tip by fixing the mess he’d make.
Before he could pull himself away, his brain decided to remind him of one more thing.
You told Cloister you loved him.
It dragged the “love”out like a child in the playground, the mockery sour with self-loathing.Javi took a shallow breath as he swallowed, as if he could still feel the words in his throat.
He had said that.
Cloister didn’t say it back.
