I’ve always admired how compact and oddly small Boston actually is, but when you’re in the thick of these behemoths, it’s easy to lose track. Jack’s office is in a huge building in the Financial District, amongst a nest of other massive glass towers, and I pedal up to the building and lock my bike to a nearby rack, then make my way through the revolving door and across the long polished floor. A moment later, I’m zipping up one of the many elevators, and the doors open up onto a long hallway leading up to the main reception desk. The hallway is lined with couches, and they’re just about chock-full of lawyers and their clients. The whole feel of the place is hectic, at odds with how tastefully decorated it is—a classy mix of modern design combined with old strong wood.

These are details I would never have noted before, but Cate must be rubbing off on me. The woman really knows her stuff, and it has been delightfully easy to pick up the things she says.

I walk up to the receptionist and smile as she hangs up her phone.

“Dylan Smith in for a lunch appointment with Jack Kelly.”

“No problem,” she says, picking her phone up again. “Just a second.”

I nod and smile, and turn to the side to admire the art on the wall. Nothing that I’d recognize, of course, but I do know what I like when I see it. Speaking of which… my smile gets even wider as, from behind me, I hear Jack say my name. I definitely like him.

“Hey, you,” I say, turning to greet him. I try to tone down my grin when a warm flush goes over his face at my regard. Love seeing that I affect him, though.

“Hey, yourself,” he answers, sounding a little stiff… but welcoming.

I’m going to take that as a good sign.

My grin grows at the confusion on his face, and when he nods in the direction I’ve just come from and says, “Walk with me. The front desk told me we have a lunch appointment?” I have to laugh.

Jack’s never been great with surprises, but he’s rolling with it.

“We sure do,” I wink at him, loving the way it catches him off guard. He let himself go last night. Gave himself permission to have what he wanted, even though I know him well enough to guess that there were some this-isn’t-right voices he had to fight off to get there.

Worth it, though.

I hope.

God, he and Cate were hot together.

“Did we, uh… I mean, I don’t remember…”

I laugh again at his stumbling attempt to figure out what I’m doing here, and put him out of his misery.

“Just because you didn’t know about our lunch date, doesn’t mean we didn’t have one in the works.”

Jack’s eyes widen, then he barks out a laugh, loosening up a bit. “I swear,” he says, grinning at me and just about making my heart stop. The man is gorgeous. “It’s always about food when it comes to you, isn’t it?”

“Who doesn’t like food?” I ask rhetorically. “We start and stop wars over it. The least I can do is respect it. We’re very lucky, you and I.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love food, but it’s not what I want to talk about right now. Still, I’m happy to do what I can to put Jack at ease.

I don’t want to lose him again.

“No,” Jack says, glancing at me and then darting his eyes away fast. “You’re the lucky one, Dylan. Look at your body. Nobody I know eats the way you do and looks like that.”

There’s definitely admiration in his voice, and I eat it up. I’d seen him looking at me last night. I’d been able to read him as clear as day, and it had made everything even better for me, but now… in the light of day and without his mind clouded by sex, I can sense that he hadn’t really meant to say it.

He flushes, looking away and obviously uncomfortable, but I decide to power through.

“Is that a compliment, Jack?” I ask, winking again.

“No,” Jack sputters, tripping on the carpet. He darts his eyes toward me again, going red. “I mean, yeah, but…” He shakes his head, laughing at himself. Another good sign. “It’s been a long day already, Dylan, sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying right now. I probably would have forgotten to eat entirely if you hadn’t shown up.”

Hearing that makes me even more happy that I’d decided to stop by instead of just calling or texting. He follows me out of the building without any further complaint, and the farther we get from his office building, the more I can see the tension draining out of him.

Clearly he’s overworked, and I wonder what he has in his life for stress relief. Our new stab at friendship hasn’t really gotten far enough to talk about those things yet.

We spend most of the walk in silence, and I lead him to Wilkes’ Steakhouse. It’s not one of the more high-end establishments in this city, but it’s definitely a hidden gem. It only takes us a couple of blocks to get there, so we’re inside in no time at all. The interior is dark, and the decor is all classic, rich wood. A very comfortable place that reminds me of Sully in more ways than one, so I figure it’s pretty much perfect for taking Jack out to lunch.

“Tell me why you like this place again?” Jack asks once we’re at the table. He removes his suit coat and folds it neatly, draping it over the chair beside him as he glances around.

Okay then, we’ll stick with talk of food for a little bit longer.

“Whoever buys the meat here does a fantastic job,” I tell him, inhaling deeply. “Smell that,” I say, and wait to see Jack’s chest rise and fall slowly.

Jack nods. “Nice, that’s real nice,” he says.

He’s dodging my eyes, though, and now I’m starting to worry a little bit. Last night, he all but sprinted out of the townhouse after everything was done. Doesn’t surprise me that he’s not entirely comfortable, but I didn’t figure he’d be this worked up. He’d wanted to be a part of “dessert” just as much as Cate and I had, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s got nothing to be ashamed about.

“Are you… okay, Jack?” I ask, as gently as I can manage. What I really want to do is shake him. Or kiss him. Drag him home and feed him there and then, oh yeah. Then do other decadent things with his body.

But I’m a patient man.

I know this is hard for him.

He blinks at me, looking a little scared that I’d actually dared to ask him outright… even though I’d made the question as circumspect as I could.

“Yeah, Dylan,” he says after a moment. “I’m okay. Feel fine. Let’s just order, okay?”

He picks up a menu and begins flipping through it without giving me a chance to push, and I’m wondering if it’s a good idea or a bad idea to call him out directly. To let him know that it really is okay.

To see if he’s brave enough to come back for more.

“Sure,” I finally say, once it becomes clear he’s mastered the art of not meeting my eyes. “No problem.”

I just got Jack back into my life. The last thing I need is to have him run off again.

He nods, but still doesn’t look up.

Doesn’t speak.

“What are you thinking about having?” I ask, my lips twitching. Sure, I hate that he’s uncomfortable, but Jack’s actually kind of cute when he’s flustered.

“I don’t know,” he answers me tersely, still staring hard at the menu. “Probably just steak. Well-done. Nice and simple. Maybe some mashed potatoes? I don’t know, I’m probably gonna box most of it anyway, my appetite isn’t huge right now.”

I sigh and smile, shaking my head. Well-done. Not today. I’m going to baby him out of his funk, give him something he’ll like, if he’ll let me.

And we’ll start with food.

“Jack, may I make a suggestion? You don’t have to take it, but I think you’ll really enjoy it if you just trust me on this one.”

Jack finally looks up at me, and I can see that the longer our eyes meet, the harder it is for him to hold onto this self-protective distance he’s putting between us.

There’s heat there, but he’s not okay with showing it.

Not to me.

Not yet.

“Okay,” he finally relents, exhaling as some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

Good. It’s a start.

“Alright,” I say, unrolling my silverware and folding the cloth napkin to set on my thigh. “Today, you want to order a steak, but make it medium rare. A little blood isn’t going to hurt you, and you won’t regret how juicy and flavorful a proper steak is, I promise.”

“Just a steak, then? No sides?” Jack grabs onto my suggestion like a lifeline, and I can see how relieved he is that we’re talking about food instead of how much he liked what happened at the townhouse last night.

“Of course there are sides,” I reassure him, smiling. “Get your mashed potatoes, but ask for them to sit atop a small serving of asparagus. Then, let’s see if the waiter will do you a favor and arrange to have freshly sliced strawberries to surround and complement the steak.”

Jack’s brows crinkle in confusion. “A… fruit steak?”

God, he’s adorable sometimes.

“No, of course not a fruit steak,” I answer, making sure he can hear that the laughter in my voice is with him, not at him. “Just a properly prepared steak with a complementary side, and a little bit of sweetness to offset all of the savory tastes you’ll be experiencing. Trust me, yeah? Have I steered you wrong yet?”

Another flare of heat in his eyes at my subtle reminder of last night. I grin, and he looks away again… but not before I see his lips twitch in what might have been the start of a smile. After a minute, he looks back and nods.

“Good,” I say, closing my menu decisively and then plucking his out of his hands, too. Perfect timing, as our waiter shows up to take our orders and, a few minutes later, brings us a couple of gin and tonics to ease the conversation a little.

Jack takes a few sips of his drink, then puts it down and meets my eyes. No more running.

“So,” he says. “Why are we doing this right now, Dylan?”

Direct. I’ve always loved that about Jack. No matter what, he eventually just asks the damn question.

I grin, sipping my own drink once more before answering.

Savoring.

“Cate and I decided to invite you over last night to talk about the townhouse and get that all resolved,” I remind him. “Thought it would be nice if we could all get a good night’s sleep over it. You know, be nice not to have the whole matter hovering over us, waiting in the wings like it has been for the last week or so.”

Jack snorts, and I laugh. Okay, so maybe I’m easing into it a little too slowly. After all, he’d gotten over his reluctance and addressed it head-on.

And before I can go on, he does it again.

“But…” he says, raising an eyebrow and inviting me to finish that sentence.

“But. Yeah.” I grin. “Things got a little… off track, didn’t they?”

I run my finger lightly around the rim of my drink, and I see Jack smile in spite of himself. It’s like his regular smile but somehow different, somehow more.

Sexy.

Is this what he looks like when he’s turned on in public? I’ll bet it is, one hundred percent. And when he shifts in his seat, his eyes getting back some of that heat that had me throbbing last night?

Yeah, I’m right.

Better than that, I’m lucky. He’s not running away from it. Not yet.

Hopefully, not ever again.

There’s still some of those doubts clouding his eyes, though, and I remind myself again how bigoted the environment he grew up in was. Baby steps.

“What happened last night wasn’t wrong, you know, Jack,” I say, lowering my voice in the hope that I won’t spook him. “It wasn’t a bad thing. We’re all consenting adults here, we all wanted what happened. All three of us, together.”

Jack gives a jerky nod, but still… not running away. I wait him out, and after a minute, he adds a reluctant, “I guess so. Just not—” a self-conscious laugh as he looks away for a second, “—not really what I’m used to, you know?”

He’s wrestling with the idea, learning how to be okay with it. It’s written all over his face.

Sometimes, I really feel bad for him, growing up in the neighborhood he came from. It can’t be easy to live most of your formative years in that sort of closed-minded environment, and I can see why he would struggle with the concept. I’m here for him, in every sense of the word.

I got this.

I’m never going to give up on him.

“I mean it, Jack,” I say firmly, stopping myself from reaching across and taking his hand. Might be too much for him right now, out here in public. We’ll get there, though. “You did nothing wrong. We did nothing wrong.”

I can tell my stern tone surprises him, but I don’t want him to have any room for doubt that I mean what I say.

His knee is bouncing under the table, I can tell, and after a minute, he blurts out, “So… what? You’re into that kinky shit?”

That startles a laugh out of me. “What kinky shit?”

“You know.” He shifts, looking away from me. Cute. Sexy. “Watching.”

My lips twitch. “Well, of course I enjoyed it, Jack. Two of the most attractive people on this planet, two people who mean everything to me, and they’re eating my food? Enjoying each other on my table?”

Oh, I’m getting to him. The knee has gone still and his color is rising. His breath, too. Damn, but I’d like to feel those hot little gusts on my skin.

“How could I not love watching that?” I ask, softer now. “How could anyone not love that?”

Jack’s eyes flick back to mine. “I guess. I mean, yeah. It was hot. I just don’t know if I should have done that. Should have let you… should have… wanted… ”

His voice trails off and I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows hard. I can practically hear the Irish Catholic in his voice, but I’ll be damned if I let him feel guilty over something so beautiful.

“Listen, Jack,” I say, leaning forward and willing him to meet my eyes. He does. God love the man. “I loved watching you and Cate together, but if we’re being completely honest here, I would have enjoyed participating, too.”

“You would?” Jack asks, sitting up straighter. There’s an unmistakable undercurrent to his voice now. Excitement. Want.

“Oh, yeah,” I tell him, letting him hear it in my voice. How much I’d love that. “Definitely.”

He hadn’t been ready for it last night, though. And it’s not like watching had been a chore. Hell no. It had been beyond hot. And then there’s the fact that Cate and Jack… well, they need to resolve the tension between them.

I grin, hiding it behind another sip. Yeah, I’m pretty sure that had been accomplished.

Jack’s looking at me like he’s trying to sort out a puzzle, rubbing the back of his neck. One of his tells.

“The way you were talking about Cate,” he starts. Then stops. Then starts again. “You and her… you got together?”

I nod. No hiding. Not with the three of us. Ever.

“I thought you were, you know, into guys,” he finally says. “Gay.”

I suppress the urge to reach out and punch him in the shoulder like we did when we were kids and he was being an ass. “Jack, I’m not gay.”

He looks at me, confused. How can he be so damn smart and still struggle to wrap his head around this? We used to talk about girls all the time when we were younger.

“You’re not?” he finally asks.

And I have to smile again, because yes, there was some disappointment in his voice. Totally unnecessary, though. He’s blind if he hasn’t caught onto how attracted I am to him.

“Not gay,” I say again. “I’m bisexual.”

“Oh.” And then, after a moment, “So, you do like guys?”

He looks at me, and the mixture of conflict and attraction in his eyes is as clear as day. That, plus just a tinge of hopefulness.

I feel like cheering—finally, it got through to him! I almost laugh, out of kindness of course, but I manage to bite it back. It would destroy him right now, and I need to remember that this is all very new for him. Whatever I do, I need to make it very clear where he stands with me.

He matters too much to mess it up.

I look back at him, meeting his conflicted gaze directly. Slow and easy, baby steps.

“Yes, Jack, I like women, and I like men. A lot.”

The shadow of relief washes over his face for just a moment, but before I can celebrate it, like a soap bubble popping, it’s gone. He clamps down hard, just as the food arrives.

“Actually, I’ve gotta get back to the office,” he says to the waiter, avoiding my eyes again. “Would you mind boxing that up for me? Appreciate it much.”

“Sir?” the waiter says, looking at me.

“No, I’m going to stay, thank you,” I say without looking away from Jack. The waiter leaves quickly, and I continue. “Jack, stay. We can have a nice lunch. I’m sure the office won’t miss you for another twenty minutes.”

“Sorry, Dylan,” he says, pushing out of his seat and standing up. “It’s kinda crazy back there right now, and I need to get it all sorted out.”

I don’t bother getting out of my seat, and it takes a lot not to sigh. I felt like we were starting to make progress. But that’s okay, I remind myself. It took me time, too. I need to make sure he knows that I’m committed, solid, a rock. I need him to know that I’m here when he’s ready.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be here finishing my lunch. Otherwise, we still need to talk about the townhouse and what we want to do about it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care,” he says harshly.

Oh, Jack. Self-defense, I get it… but you don’t have to defend yourself from me or Cate. You can have it all. But I can’t say that yet, not when he’s like this. Running scared from who he wants to be and who he mistakenly thinks he should be.

“I don’t need the place,” he’s saying, brusque and distant but not fooling me for a minute. “I just wanna get my share and move on with my life. If you two need to stay, fine, no skin off my back, just buy me out and we can close this down altogether.”

I can tell that he’s having to wrestle with every single word. I recognize the cold exterior that he puts on like armor, the repression taking hold again. I feel frustrated, disappointed, but more than anything, I just feel so damn bad for him. Hell of a way to feel like you have to live, especially when there’s really no need.

“We have so many memories in that house, Jack,” I remind him. “All of us. You and me. If those walls could talk, they’d be telling a hell of a happy story.”

I smile up at him, trying to draw him back into happier territory.

Doesn’t work.

“If you want the damn house so bad,” he snaps, “why don’t you get your new rich girlfriend to buy it for you?”

And that’s it. That’s all I can take right now. After having spent a week with Cate, learning about everything that led her to run away from New York, I just can’t let this slide. I like to think I’m an easygoing guy, but even I have limits. All the patience in the world when it comes to getting what I want, but if he still can’t see past his own messed-up ideas about Cate?

I get up slowly from my seat, taking a moment to hit my full height before leaning over the table with my hands pressed flat against it. He pushed too far, and now I can’t help but get in his face and push back a little.

“You’re wrong about her, Jack,” I say, and my voice comes out rough and harsh. “She’s not any of that. She’s never been any of that, and she’s not going to turn into that just because, way the fuck back when, you decided you knew her without ever getting to know her.”

People are looking at us now, and I can feel Jack starting to radiate embarrassment, but I don’t care. I’ve coddled him a lot today, done my best to make him see the good right in front of him, but he needs to hear this right now. I tried the kid gloves, but now it’s time for some old-school tough love.

“You remember her mother? Remember how we used to joke about putting coal in her ass, ’cause she’d turn it into a diamond overnight? Cate left all that behind, Jack. It’s gone. Cut off. Nothing. Everything she has, everything she ever had, all came from Sully. Sully, and her own hard work, and nothing else.” Normally I wouldn’t point, but I’m pissed—I level a finger at his chest and hold his gaze. “Just. Like. You.”

Jack does his best to put on a fake lawyer smile, clearly burning with embarrassment from the not-so-subtle stares from the diners around us.

“You two just… figure it out between you. Let me know what you decide,” he says, and his voice is strained with false professionalism. “I’ve gotta get back.”

He reaches down, picks up his glass, and drains the gin and tonic.

His hand is shaking.

The sight douses my anger. God. Jack matters, too. If only he’d just let me in. Either of us. Both of us.

“Okay,” I say, my suddenly calm tone of voice clearly startling him. “We’ll do that. And then, we’ll… invite you over for dinner.”

Jack slams the glass down onto the table with a hard smack, and a few diners gasp lightly in the background. His eyes flare up, and there’s an edge to them, something else mixed in with the anger he’s trying so hard to hold onto like a shield. And that something else? It looks a heck of a lot like that old current of excitement, the mix of rage and hunger I saw on his face when I caught him and Cate on the stairs. It’s hot as hell.

“Why?” Jack spits at me, clearly at war with himself. “You want to get off on watching us again?”

I grin, and I can tell that just pushes his buttons even more.

“I was talking about having you over to talk about the house, Jack,” I say, arching an eyebrow as I hold his gaze. “But if watching is on the menu again…” I push in my chair and walk around the table, slowly enough that he could leave if he wanted.

He doesn’t, and we end up face to face, close enough that those hot, hard little breaths I was wondering about tremble over my skin.

Oh God, I want this man.

“I can’t speak for Cate,” I tell him, letting him see everything I’ve got. “But I’d love to do that again. Or, like I said before, to be a part of it next time. An active part.”

We stare at each other for a long, tense moment, a moment where I’m almost positive he’s about to reach out and grab me by the shirt and yank me in for a blistering kiss.

God, yes.

Please.

I can see him struggling, trying to fight past his own fear, his own limitations, a lifetime of being told what he feels is fucked-up and wrong. And he comes so close, so heartbreakingly close that I’m almost reaching out, leaning into a kiss I’m sure is coming. My heart lifts, and I think finally, finally.

I’ve been hoping for this for years.

But he’s not brave enough. Not yet. I see the moment it all floods back in, a tidal wave of conditioned bullshit and self-doubt, and I’ve got a front-row seat to watch as the panic blazes back into his eyes. Jack whips around, grabbing his suit coat and sprinting out of the restaurant.

He doesn’t even wait for his boxed food.

Not that I thought he would, but… damn. The disappointment almost crushes me.