Chapter Eleven
WYATT
Over the course of the next twelve months, Wyatt dedicated himself to two causes: building his business with Hamish, and pursuing Aled. They spent almost every weekend together, had supper several nights a week, and frequently spoke on the days that they didn’t see one another. Each day apart became harder to deal with than the one before; often he found himself bringing the botanist tea and a snack at university just to say hello.
And I’m in love and too goddamn stupid to realise it.
In the middle of purchasing a house with a large garden, Wyatt had realised he’d chosen a home for two. Hamish laughed himself hoarse over it. Both he and Trace suggested he talk to Aled before sealing the deal on the place.
Not the worst idea they’ve ever had.
In the short drive across Cardiff from their office to the university, Wyatt thought of a hundred reasons why Aled might not be ready to move in with him. They’d officially been together for a little over a year, and he’d never seen the botanist naked. Fear and scars had built a wall that they patiently chiselled away at together.
He didn’t care. Sex didn’t make a relationship, after all. He’d spent the majority of his adult life having plenty of it; this connection with Aled meant more to him than any of it.
Wyatt loved to watch Aled work. He found the botanist in the lab, of course, and stood by the door, observing. Papers, plant specimens, and charts were strewn about with a calculated chaotic organisation. He waited patiently while the man finished up his notes on his current project.
“Hamish sent a text—something about you having big news for me?” Aled moved over to the sink in the corner to wash his hands and set a tube to soak. He dried his hands off, removed his lab coat, and hung it up on a hook. “Want to grab tea with me at the Pantry? They should have those sausage rolls you like so much.”
“You grab tea. I’ll have coffee.” Wyatt would never appreciate a cup of tea like Aled. He also made a mental note to break Hamish’s cell phone when he got the chance. “I’m looking into buying a house. My paperwork is all sorted to let me live and work here without issue. I want something more than a bachelor pad.”
“Are you buying it before or after coffee?” Aled finished putting away all his equipment and turned around with a smile. He held his hand out toward Wyatt, who took it immediately. “I thought you loved your fancy flat near the wharf.”
“Manly. Not fancy.” Wyatt found it hard to glare when Aled stretched his head up for a kiss. “Manly.”
“Right.” Aled smiled against his lips and laughed, which as always sent a jolt of lust straight through Wyatt. “Well? Tell me about this house of yours.”
Over the walk to the student union, they jointly decided to stop at Starbucks instead. They grabbed their coffee, tea, and a couple of muffins. Aled led him to one of the many benches outside.
After getting comfortable, Wyatt pulled out his phone to show the photos of the four-bedroom cottage with the large garden. Aled appeared greatly intrigued, but confused by it all. He didn’t seem to understand why Wyatt would require a larger house.
Wyatt decided his normal punch to the face approach would work best. “You mentioned you’d have to move out of your apartment next month.”
Aled finished his muffin and drank quite a bit of tea before finally responding. “I did.”
What the hell does that mean?
Wyatt took a swig of coffee before glaring at the chuckling idiot sitting beside him. “Perfect house for two people.”
“Hamish moving in with you?”
“I’d kill him in a week.” Wyatt snorted into his coffee. “How much more of this teasing is required before you’re ready to talk about it?”
“Only a little.”
Wyatt flipped through the images on his phone to find one of the master bedroom. “It’s big enough for us to have completely separate spaces.”
In the last twelve months, Aled had stayed over at Wyatt’s apartment several times, and vice versa. They’d slept in bed together or squashed on the sofa watching TV. Always with pyjamas. He knew from speaking with other survivors of violent attacks that everyone healed in their own time.
There’s no rush.
Grabbing his empty cup and wrapper, Aled threw them in a nearby rubbish bin. He wandered down the path, forcing Wyatt to rush to catch up with him. They walked in silence until they reached the university gardens.
Wyatt watched Aled while he pulled gently on one of the plants. “Am I pushing you too fast?”
“If gay marriage becomes legal, would you marry me?” Aled spoke quietly into a plant, so softly it took a moment to process his question.
Marriage?
And love?
Love and marriage.
Love comes before marriage, right?
“Do you love me?” Wyatt knew what his own answer to the question would be. Hell fucking yes. He’d fallen into the deep emotional abyss months earlier. “Do you?”
“I do.” Aled sighed dramatically. “I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with their dashing hero? I, of course, should’ve fallen for one of the other SEALs, who doesn’t choose to fart in their sleep.”
“You little….” Wyatt caught his botanist by the arm to drag him into his arms. He rubbed his rough beard against Aled’s neck. “I’d marry you any day of the week.”
“You promise?” Aled tilted his head up for a kiss.
“Promise.” Wyatt gave him a searing kiss. “One day, you’ll be my husband.”
“Then yes, I’ll move in with you.”
Wyatt thought his heart might burst out of his chest. Yes, they certainly had things to work out. Aled had a lot of healing left to do, but he would help him—they’d manage it together.
Together.