Bo loved him. Said he did. Showed he did. Lucky would show the commitment he once ran from. “I want to give you power of attorney. And if something goes wrong, do the right thing. I don’t want Charlotte to have to make the decision.”
“Why me?”
“She’s so softhearted and never gives up. She’d have me on life support for the next fifty years.” Lucky shuddered. “I’d like to think you love me enough to let me go.” And he trusted Bo to do right by him.
Bo blinked a few times, eyes glimmering. “I do. But we’re not going to have to go there. Everything will turn out fine. You’ll donate a part of you and come back home. To our home. In two months, you’ll be good as new, and your dad will recover.”
God, are you listening?“Yeah.”
“Sure you don’t want to let your parents know you’re alive? That it’s you doing the donating?”
Oh hell no. “And risk them telling me to fuck off again?”
Bo snorted. “They didn’t tell you to fuck off.”
Steel bands tightened around Lucky’s chest. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. “They told me not to call back. If that’s not ‘fuck off,’ I don’t know what is.”
“One of these days, I want us all to sit down and talk. The man they turned their backs on isn’t the man you are today.” The world became a better place when Lucky had Bo’s lips against his forehead.
“Maybe one day.” When Hell froze over.
“Lucky, I mean it. You talk a good talk, but I know it bothers you not to have your folks in your life. What if we have kids one day? Would it be fair to keep Grandma and Grandpa away from the kiddies?”
“You don’t understand…”
“No, I don’t. I’ll never understand what it’s like to have a living mother I can call and talk to. Or a father who taught me to hunt and fish. Gave me useful advice instead of a smack across the mouth. Who smelled of sweat from an honest day’s work instead of booze.” Bo shook his head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say such things. Sometimes, though, I’m jealous of you. You had a wonderful, close relationship, and I want you to have that again.”
Maybe not the words Lucky wanted right now, but the words he needed. Bo still wanted a family with him.
Good enough for now.
And if and when Lucky survived, they’d talk about trying one more time to reach out to his parents. Hadn’t he and Bo promised while waiting to die in a tunnel in Mexico? But when he did reconnect, he wanted to introduce the family to his husband.
If he used his original name again and they hyphenated, any kids might be in junior high by the time they learned to spell Schollenberger-Lucklighter. Or maybe Schollenberger-Lucklighter-Harrison?
Something else to worry about. Maybe they should throw out all previously used names and pick something simple for a change. Then maybe signing checks wouldn’t take so long. Smith. Nah. Walter got there first. Something short, one syllable. Were there any last names with three letters? Two? Or maybe he’d do like famous people who went by one name.
“Stop thinking so hard.”
“I’m not!” Lucky snapped, though if he contemplated his future any harder smoke might pour from his ears.
“Yes, you are. You got those ‘I’m thinking’ wrinkles right here.” Bo ran a finger between Lucky’s eyebrows.
The bad thing about having someone around who knew him so well was they knew himtoowell. He couldn’t get away with shit.
“Now, I believe you have an advantage over me. You have on too many clothes.” Bo plucked at Lucky’s T-shirt.
Lucky normally wasn’t one to do as told. But when told to do what he wanted to do anyway? Yeah, buddy. And he’d even swallow his pride and pretend this wasn’t make-up sex to smooth over Bo ripping out his heart.
No. Not fair. Bo wanted the hearts and flowers. Needed hearts and flowers. He wasn’t the kind of guy to settle to make things easier.
Not something Lucky would forget again.
He lost himself in the feel of skin on skin and the prickles of Bo’s unshaven cheeks. The cold tile on his bare ass when he shimmied out of his jeans added to his awareness of the moment.
Tomorrow could go fuck itself. He had today. He had Bo. The house he’d never even realized he’d wanted until Bo opened his eyes. The dog. The cat who’d chosen him. His life was as close to perfect as it had ever been, with him sliding his body against Bo’s.
No time now to worry about condoms or no condoms. With hands and hard thighs to hump and necks to bite and suck, nothing else mattered.
