“I always lock up.”
“You left it unlocked in April.”
“One time,” he shoots back.
I snort, digging my keys from my back pocket with the good hand.
He clears his throat, then asks, “By the way…when we were leaving, what did you say to Elliot?”
I turn to face him. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes trying to read me faster than I’d like.
“Told him to go home. Not talk to you again.”
“That’s not all of it,” he says, clearly not buying it.
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
He holds my gaze for a moment. Decides not to push it. “Great. You just scared off my one prospect.”
Prospect, my ass.
“Go home, G. Rest the hand.”
I wave him off and climb into the truck.
What I told Elliot was not even close.
Told him if he can’t keep up with a man like Lance, sharp-tongued and fucking impossible, all heat and no brakes, he shouldn’t be taking up space beside him. And if he ever meets someone worth getting hit for, that’s what it looks like.
You don’t hesitate. You show up. You don’t ask permission for it.
I just didn’t mention I’ve been doing it without thinking. And never in the way I just described to Elliot.
At least tonight, I got away with calling it something simple. A friend stepping in when it went sideways. Nothing more complicated than that.
15
Lance
Trevor and Becca’s place smells like garlic and lime the second I step inside, which means Becca’s cooking her mom’s Caribbean recipes again. The craftsman bungalow in North Park has a wide porch and window boxes full of herbs, exactly the sort of place where newlyweds host weekly game nights for their chosen family.
“Finally!”
Becca pulls the door open before I can knock, grinning at me. Her curls are tied up in a messy bun, already coming loose around her face. She’s all sharp smiles and restless energy already, basically Trevor in a female form.
“We’re starting charades in ten minutes, and you’re on my team because Trevor cheats.”
“I don’t bloody cheat,” Trevor calls from somewhere inside. “I’m just better at nonverbal communication than you give me credit for.”
“You make up rules halfway through,” Becca shoots back, then smiles sweetly at me. “Where’s George? I thought you two were coming together.”
“He’s just parking.” I step inside and the warmth hits me immediately, not just from the temperature but from the whole vibe of the place. Music playing from a speaker in the corner,laughter coming from the kitchen, lived-in comfort that makes you want to kick off your shoes and stay awhile.
Trevor comes out of the kitchen with a beer in each hand, grin already in place. “Lance, mate. You missed the last two game nights and Becca hasn’t shut up about team balance.”
“I’ve been busy playing nurse.” I take the beer and follow them into the living room, where the furniture’s been pushed back. “George’s hand is still in a splint. He needs help with most things.”
“How’s he doing? I’ve seen him a couple of times, but work’s been hectic lately.” Trevor drops onto the couch and pulls Becca down onto his lap.
