Vann imagined it would take a while to ease back into things, if he ever truly did. He wasn’t going to kid himself into thinking things would ever be the same, but he would adjust—as he always did—and find his new normal. He just needed to get back into the swing of things and find a rhythm that would work for Vann 2.0. He was optimistic. Nearing the end of his first week, he finally felt as if he could breathe a little easier.

He slowly chewed the biscuit, enjoying the butter and cheese flavors awakening his taste buds. The bread was so good he didn’t give a shit about Frankie and Ryan bickering at the table. He ate at a timid pace, not wanting to appear like a starved animal.

Frankie dumped his plate in the sink and left the kitchen, cursing at Ryan who followed closely on his heels.

Ben shook his head but quickly followed them. Even though he stayed out of their arguments—and they never seemed to pull him into their battles—Ben’s curious nature seemed to drive him to always linger nearby. Vann was just thankful the house drama didn’t include him in the mix.

“Don’t crowd your plate.”

Vann looked over to Julian sitting across from him at the kitchen table and swallowed his mouthful of food before responding. “What do you mean?”

“That thing you do where you rest your forearms around your plate when you eat as if you’re guarding your food. It’s a tell.”

Vann frowned, looking down at his forearms. Inside, some inmates had to eat quickly to avoid their food getting stolen or thrown on the floor by other inmates who chose to relive their grade-school bully days. But he kept his distance from the others and minded his own business, focusing on bulking himself up and maintaining that physical barrier between him and trouble. Anything to keep them away as they watched him from a guarded distance with a careful eye. They occasionally tested the boundaries, but they were quick to back off when he fought back.

He withdrew his arms and tucked them under the table. “I never had to guard my food.”

“You still need to eat, Shaw.” Matt looked to his side and gave his partner a reprimanding look.

“That probably didn’t come out right.” Julian rubbed his shaved head. “I’m guessing you don’t want people figuring out you went to prison unless you tell them. So, minimizing your tells gives you the power to control who you want to know about your past.” He leaned over to his partner and pressed a gentle kiss on Matt’s lips. “Was that better?”

Matt smiled. “Much.”

Vann ducked his head and reached up with one hand to grab the fork. He stole a glance at Matt, then mimicked him. He eased into the silence, circling the pasta in his bowl to scoop up the remaining sauce.

“Bill says you’re doing great,” Matt said.

Vann sipped his water then set the glass down, withdrawing his hand and resting it in his lap. “There was a part there with the lunch crowd that threw me off the first day, but…I’m glad to hear he thought I did okay.” He poked the last tortellini in his bowl and swirled it around, polishing off the remaining sauce before popping it into his mouth. Damn that’s good.

“You’re a thinker,” Julian said.

He swallowed his mouthful of pasta and wiped his mouth with the napkin, making sure to tuck his free hand back in his lap. “Huh?”

“You carefully think things through for a while.”

Vann frowned, not really sure he wanted to dive into a personal conversation. These people were here to help. They knew Drayton. They had this inner circle of trust, and it seemed as if they were welcoming him into the fold. Maybe he could take a chance. Maybe opening himself up a little wouldn’t be so bad. “Most people thought I was stupid growing up,” he mumbled, staring at his now empty pasta bowl.

“You’re not. Far from it. And don’t use that word in this house. You prefer to digest and analyze things before responding. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Vann hesitantly glanced up. “I know I’m a little slow sometimes.”

“You’re methodical.” Julian crossed his arms on the dinner table and leaned forward. “And you’re a quick learner. But you think things through a lot, almost too much.”

“That’s what happens when shit gets thrown your way so often, you have to make sure you pick the right thing to say and do the first time around.”

Julian kept staring as if assessing him and trying to peel away each layer of his guard. It wasn’t creepy or intimidating, but it sure as hell felt intrusive.

“Stop it, J.”

Julian looked over to his partner. “What’d I do now?”

“I brought chocolate chip cookies. From the diner,” Vann added, hoping to head off a potential argument at the dinner table.

Julian’s chair scraped against the tile as he rose, scanning the kitchen for the diner-branded bag from Lucy. He found his target and quickly dug into the bag for a cookie, moaning with each bite.

Matt leaned in. “You are a quick learner,” he whispered.

Vann ducked his head. It didn’t take much to figure out Julian. All was well as long as someone didn’t disrespect him or threaten his partner, and if he managed to have a steady inflow of food, he was a happy camper. Vann stared at his empty bowl. “The next time you make this for dinner, can you show me how to do it?”

“Absolutely.” Matt beamed. The joy he emitted was so damn bright anyone would think the man had won a prize. “Do you know how to cook?”

Vann shook his head. “Not much. Just a few survival basics I had to master growing up.”

Matt sobered. “I hope you don’t feel as if it’s an invasion of privacy, but we do know about your father and living arrangements after your eighteenth birthday.”

Living arrangements? That was one hell of a fancy way of saying he’d been kicked out on his eighteenth birthday and had to fend for himself. He had lived on the streets for eight weeks without telling a soul. Not even Drayton had figured out he was barely making ends meet and sleeping under their tree by the lake.

Until that stupid fuck-up that landed him in jail for the night. It was amazing how being hungry drove a person to have lapses in judgment. He didn’t want to remember how desperate he’d been when he had called Drayton to bail him out for shoplifting.

The last thing in the world he’d ever wanted to do was ask his rich boyfriend for anything. But hell, he hadn’t had anyone else he could call and his father probably wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving his ass in that jail considering he had tossed him out on the street in the first place.

“Shaw?” Matt said, pulling Vann from his thoughts.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize. You’ve got a lot of changes going on, and it might take you a while to adjust. Just take your time. I’ll call you down tomorrow before I start dinner. That way, you can learn how to cook a different meal each time. We can do that every night if you want.”

He nodded.

“Are you a baker or a cook?”

“I’m an eater.”

Matt laughed. “Okay, so I’ll let you know when I’m going to make anything in the kitchen and you decide if you want to sit in.”

“Thanks.” Vann folded his napkin, trying to ignore the faint flicker of hope that started to bloom.

Hope was a dangerous thing, and he knew better than to let it take root.

∞ ♥ ∞

Drayton turned into the back lot of Halfway House and pulled into the spot next to Julian’s truck. He had swiftly gone through the day, sitting in on meetings, listening in on contract negotiations with Taylor for their recent partnership, and reviewing the final details with the testing department on the motor adjustments. He sped through each meeting, limiting his input to critical points and becoming the designated time-watcher for each appointment. He had to stay on schedule. Period. There was no way in hell he would miss spending as much time with Vann as possible at the end of his day.

He exited the car and closed the door behind him, moving so quickly his first step hit the back porch before the car door finally slammed shut. He had his hand in the air, ready to knock, when the back door of the house swung open and a smiling Vann greeted him.

“I didn’t hear you drive up. I was waiting.” The smile on Vann’s face faltered.

No, Drayton wasn’t having any of that. No hesitation, no second-guessing. They had lost too much time, and he wasn’t going to waste any more of it with doubt or worry about where they stood on the relationship spectrum.

He reached out and grabbed Vann’s face, pulling him out onto the back porch and into a kiss.

Vann wrapped his arm around Drayton’s waist and yanked him closer, holding him flush against the wall of thick muscles, locking him in place with a firm grip behind his head. Drayton groaned, his body instantly hardening with possessiveness. He gripped Vann’s ass and pushed his hard and ready body against him, drawing a deep growl from Vann as he sucked and licked every millimeter of Drayton’s mouth like a starved man.

His body melded into Vann’s hold with familiar ease. He missed having this passion that always burned between them, this feeling of being wanted and needed with desperation that could only be quenched by each other. The kiss slowed to a languid pace, each possessive pull becoming a tender caress. They finally separated from the kiss but refused to inch away, letting their breaths mingle and the heat of their bodies cool.

“I missed you,” Vann whispered, nuzzling his neck and resting his head against Drayton’s shoulder.

Drayton closed his eyes, relishing the welcome ease between them, thankful their time apart hadn’t left a permanent wedge. He stroked the back of Vann’s head and pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling a swell of emotions tightening his chest. He had never been good at reading people and often missed cues others probably thought were obvious, but he had always been able to read Vann without issue.

And something felt different with the man in his arms.

Drayton wrapped his arms around Vann’s broad shoulders and held him close, a sense of protectiveness taking over as if it were his turn to watch over Vann and guard him against life’s bullies.

“You’re really quiet,” Drayton whispered.

“This feels nice. I don’t want to mess it up.”

Drayton huffed a quiet chuckle and brushed his lips against Vann’s hair. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know that you will.”

Vann quieted again as he ran his fingertips up and down Drayton’s back. They held each other, neither saying a word for some time. “Do you think things between us are ever going to be the same again?”

“No.” Drayton tightened his arms around Vann when his body stiffened. “It’s going to be better. Because we’re doing this together.”

“I don’t deserve that,” Vann said with a sigh. “But I’m a selfish prick where you’re concerned and I’ll take it anyway.”

“You deserve a heck of a lot more. You’re a good man with an amazing heart.”

Vann scoffed. “Yeah, me offing your pops and pushing your mom to cut you off. Yeah. Yay me. Way to go. I’m textbook awesome.”

Drayton nuzzled him, smiling at the hints of snark from the old Vann he knew well. He finally released Vann from the embrace, biting back a grin when he heard a grunt of protest. He cupped Vann’s face and stared into his amber eyes. His Vann was a resilient fighter, with courage and strength. But there, hidden in the depths of golden flecks, Drayton saw something broken inside and could feel Vann’s pain and sadness, regardless of how much he tried to disguise it. “You…me…we’re a team. Got it?”

“But I’m not the same anymore. I’m working on trying to put myself back together again, but I don’t think I’ll ever be that guy you fell in love with.” He looked at Drayton, his eyes pleading for him to understand. “How do you know we’re still going to work? You don’t deal with guesses and gut feelings. You’ve always worked with facts, formulas, solutions, and firm answers.”

Drayton couldn’t help the memory that suddenly came to mind.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” Vann said, withdrawing a small, foldable knife from his back pocket. “So I’m going to write it out in a way you can understand.”

“What are you going to do?” Drayton asked, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose, craning his neck and trying to look over Vann’s shoulder as he dug the tip of the blade into their tree by the lake. “You’re hurting our tree.”

Vann glanced over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes and giving Drayton a death glare. “Do you really think I’d hurt our tree?”

“No,” Drayton mumbled. “But I want to know what you’re doing.”

Vann turned and resumed poking the tree with his pocketknife as he spoke. “You know facts and formulas. You’re a brainy expert with equations. So I’m giving you a mathematical answer.” After a few minutes, Vann sat back on his haunches, admiring his work.

Drayton’s breath quickened when he saw the formula carved into the tree.

“I even put a squiggly thing in it so you know it’s an important formula.”

A bubble of laughter rose in Drayton’s throat. He loved how Vann never made him feel awkward because of his love for math and science. Rather, he embraced their differences and tried to understand the source of his passion for problem solving and always encouraged him to question anything that piqued his curiosity. He reached out and ghosted his fingertips over the equation.

D+V=∞

Drayton scanned Vann’s features, assessing and comparing the younger man to the present-day version. The confidence and determination of the Vann from his memory was absent from the man standing before him. Drayton brushed his thumb along Vann’s jaw. “We’re a team. You’ve always told me that’s an important formula.”

“But—”

“You’re not the same guy anymore but neither am I. The formula and answer haven’t changed for me.” Drayton quieted, realizing there was one variable he hadn’t considered. “Has it changed for you?”

Vann slowly straightened, his eyes sparking a fire Drayton hadn’t seen since they were in their teens. Vann stepped back and fisted the material of his T-shirt, yanking the shirt over and off his head, revealing hills and valleys of tight muscles, and a swirl of ink on his upper arm that led to his chest. “It’s the one constant for me,” he said in a raspy voice.

Drayton gasped, staring at the black ink starting midway up Vann’s arm. The ink had been hidden just inside the short shirt-sleeve, but now was on full display for Drayton to admire. “When…did you get that?”

“Inside.” Vann twisted the T-shirt in his hands, wringing the material as he spoke. “A few years ago. That one friend I mention who didn’t make it inside. His name was Iggy. He did this for me.”

A series of two-lane roads wrapped around Vann’s arm, curving and twisting upward and over the edge of his shoulder, ending above his pec and leading to their formula. Drayton reached out and ghosted his fingertips over the inked equation, just as he had done when they’d been freshly carved into their tree’s bark ages ago.

D+V=∞

He glanced up at Vann, his lips parted as he forced each breath in and out of his lungs, losing himself in the swirl of pain, hope, and fear in the amber pool of Vann’s eyes.

Vann wrapped his hand around Drayton’s wrist and flattened Drayton’s palm against his inked pec. “All roads always lead to you.”

He felt Vann’s strong, racing heartbeat against his palm. “To us. It says so right there.” Drayton stared at his hand pressed against Vann’s muscled pec. “You and me forever. We’re a team. You can’t argue with the math.”

“I might be a little slow getting there until I get my footing.” Vann lowered his brow, his jaw muscles clenching. “But I promise, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Drayton reached up and cupped Vann’s face, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “I’ll be here, waiting for you when you find your way home to me.”