The cops were finally, finally gone.

And they’d taken the guy—Jack Pearson, a perfectly ordinary name for a guy who’d seemed larger-than-life in the fearful place River had been mentally stuck in for weeks now—with them.

If everything went as it should, Jack was never going to bother him again. The detective in charge of his stalking case had already been alerted. Jack had looked downright scared when the cops took him into custody. He had a hell of a long road ahead of him, and good.

River was tired. So fucking tired he couldn’t even describe it. The exhaustion dragged at his very bones, slowing his movements and his thoughts.

But more than that, he felt… wrong.

Not just from the words Jack had whispered when they were fighting. Not just from the words that still flashed in his head from every card and note. Not just from touching him—if in self-defense—and fighting his way out from under him more than once in that struggle. Not from the guilt and shame, from the way the cops had eyed him when asking Jack if it was true he’d been stalking him, as if assessing if he was a hot enough piece of ass to chase all the way from Vegas.

Everything, together, made him feel dirty.

When they finally caught their breaths after the door closed and River went to get them water, and Zeph approached him at the counter, River held up a hand before he could even speak. “Not yet.”

Zeph hesitated, then nodded slowly and took his glass of water to chug it in a few quick gulps. “When?”

“Just wait. I need a shower.”

Zeph looked relieved, and then contrite. “Of course. Sorry. I’ll…” He waved vaguely at the living room. “Unless you’d rather I left? But I want to say this first.”

“Don’t you dare leave after all that,” River whispered. Zeph gave him a quiet smile and reached out to touch his arm, then took his empty water glass. He hadn’t realized he was still holding it.

“Go shower.”

It was all he’d needed. River blinked back the tears of gratitude and nodded, trying to unknot everything that was tight and hot in his chest. He strode for the bedroom and shut the door, stripped, and hit the shower in record time.

With the hot water running down his body, blasting against his scalp and rinsing his face, he started to feel more grounded. More present, and human. Gradually, the exhaustion lifted, making it easier to sort through his thoughts.

Of course Zeph had come here for a reason, not just magically knowing Jack was there. River was almost positive Zeph was here to talk about their relationship.

What was that? Anger?

Yeah. He was angry at Zeph. River rolled his head back, letting the water stream down his face before he blinked and twitched free of the stream to gasp a breath.

He let himself own the emotion, let it fill his chest and tighten his body, and then fade slowly, washing down to the back of his mind, down his body, down the drain.

Hearing those things from him had hurt. Nic and Kyle were both right—he wasn’t justified in saying, even if he hadn’t outright, that he didn’t care about him, or that they were better off apart. And River was so damn tired of teaching men how to handle their feelings, having random hookups dump their feelings on him like he was their mother just because he wore a damn skirt sometimes.

But Zeph wasn’t doing that on purpose, because he was too manly to have feelings and he wanted someone else to handle them for him. Zeph was approaching him like this not because of who River was, but because of who Zeph was.

River drew a breath and let it out. Zeph didn’t know exactly how to figure out how he felt, and he was quick to anger, and he was very quick to get scared, and shut down, and hide his feelings. River had known that for a long time—since their last relationship.

It didn’t mean he didn’t care. In fact, Nic and Kyle’s words the other day had shaken River up. He hadn’t realized that he was afraid of loving Zeph, but when it was put like that to him… Yeah. It was scary. And River was starting to suspect that Zeph feared how much he cared, too.

Didn’t mean he wouldn’t tell him what an asshole he was being when he was being one, but still.

By the time River got out of the shower, he was feeling calm and ready to talk. He dried off and found a fresh t-shirt and jeans before he came out and plopped on the couch next to Zeph.

Following pure instinct, River drew a breath and leaned into Zeph’s side, taking his hand between his own. “Go.”

“Uhh.” Zeph blinked, caught off-guard, and then he gave River one of those beautiful, crooked smiles. “Makes it hard to think when you do that.”

“I’m not sorry.” River winked. “Makes it hard to rely on your usual brick wall of manliness.”

Zeph closed his eyes as he laughed richly, then opened them again and looked at River. “You’re a goddamn miracle, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” River stuck out his tongue, then pulled up a knee to shift sideways and look at him. “But that doesn’t sound like an apology, and I’m fairly sure I’m owed one.”

“Yeah.” Zeph drew his breath and laced his fingers with River’s. “I’m sorry. What I said the other day… I was scared, and you’re right. God, were you ever right. I started being stupid, and thinking about things, and I got so afraid of hurting you.”

“So you hurt me, to keep from hurting me. Genius.”

Zeph blinked, then nodded. “Yeah. I know, right? I’m… If you’re willing to try it with me, I want to try to make it up to you. I can do better than that. I want to. Uh, I have no idea what I’m doing, but… I’ve never wanted to make it work so badly. And you know when I find something I really want, I’ll work my ass off for it.”

That sounded like a good apology to River, but Zeph wasn’t done.

“And I found that thing, and it turned out to be you.”

Zeph was nervously licking his lips. He’d never been this nervous—not before the fight, not before a show, or even when he’d asked River out the very first time. That was adorable.

River’s lips tugged into a slow smile. “You want me to forgive you before or after the sex?”

“B…Before?” Zeph eyed him like it was a trick question.

“Damn. We’ll save the hate sex and the make-up sex for next fight, then.”

“Next… fight?”

River offered a grin. “Yeah. Next time you’re an asshole, I’m not leaving the room until you admit it.”

Zeph closed his eyes and groaned, but he was smiling anyway. “God. What have I gotten myself into?”

“I think the question is, what are you about to get yourself into?” River purred, walking his fingers up Zeph’s thigh before he stood up and tugged open the button of his jeans.

As he walked, he slid down the zipper and started pulling his t-shirt off, keeping his pace to a steady saunter.

He didn’t even have to look behind him to feel Zeph following him. To his bedroom, to his heart, to the very core of him and to his darkest fears, Zeph would follow. He might be clumsy and scared, but he was willing to own that now. River could work with that.

God, he was proud of him.