Chapter Ten
WYATT
Time in Namibia and Melbourne only solidified what Wyatt had already known. He wanted Aled. It didn’t matter how patient he had to be—the botanist would be his.
My botanist.
I hope.
Wanting to avoid any triggering of Aled’s slow recovery, Wyatt spoke in depth with the botanist’s therapist. While unable to give him any specifics, she recommended he go at Aled’s speed. She also warned him it might be months or years before he was comfortable with anything more than a kiss.
He knew all of his friends had placed bets on his ability to be patient.
Jackasses.
It was a month after returning from Australia when Aled surprised all of them by being the one to ask Wyatt on a date. The botanist had left a note on the windshield of his vehicle. It said to be ready on Saturday in comfortable clothing.
Wyatt: Comfortable clothing? I’m comfortable in my boxers.
Aled: Well, that’s entirely up to you. I’m going to hazard a guess you’ll be better off in jeans and a T-shirt.
Wyatt: What are we doing?
Aled: You’ll see. Pick me up at eight in the morning? I’ve planned something you should enjoy.
His ego thanked him for not admitting that anything Wyatt did with Aled was enjoyable. He had it bad. On the bright side, his botanist appeared to have it just as bad.
Wyatt showed up early Saturday with tea, coffee for himself, and scones from the coffee shop around the corner from Aled’s place. “Where’re we going?”
“Aren’t you military people supposed to have patience?” Aled hopped into the vehicle and busied himself with plugging an address into the GPS. “Here, follow the instructions. Can you manage it?”
“Drink your weak shit.” Wyatt feigned a glare. “Not even a hint?”
“My tea isn’t weak. Is that enough of a hint?” Aled shoved a chunk of scone into Wyatt’s mouth when he opened it to respond. “Don’t be rude.”
“Me?”
When they arrived at their destination, Wyatt could only sit behind the wheel and stare in surprise at the sign. Paintball? He had no doubt he’d greatly enjoy the day. Aled, on the other hand, might not have put enough thought into what he’d signed them up to do.
There was no need to worry. Aled had booked out the entire space for two hours. They had no worries about anyone spoiling their fun or overstressing him.
“Oi. Stand still,” Aled yelled at him in frustration an hour and a half later. He’d been splattered over ten times, and hadn’t managed to catch Wyatt once. “Where did he go now?”
Wyatt grinned from behind the younger man. He stepped up behind him, looping his arms around his waist and lifting out from behind a row of bushes. “I appear to be standing still.”
Aled rolled his eyes at him. “I’m terrible at this.”
“Yes.” Wyatt decided to test his luck; he lifted both of their face guards and leaned in for a sweaty kiss. “Are you enjoying it?”
“I’d enjoy it more if I wasn’t the only one with paint on my body.” Aled reached down into a pocket on his overalls to grab what appeared to be a balloon that he smashed on Wyatt’s chest, sending bright yellow liquid all over him. “I came prepared for my failure.”
“Sneaky plant man.” Wyatt grinned. He pressed their bodies together to share the wealth of paint. “I’m proud of you.”
“For thinking ahead?” Aled tilted his head with a confused frown when Wyatt shook his head, laughing. “Why?”
“Can you imagine yourself being free enough to do this six months ago? You’re healing, Aled. Truly getting better—braver. You should be incredibly proud of yourself.” Wyatt watched as Aled twisted away, looking embarrassed. He threw him an easy escape from the conversation. “Let’s get out of this gear.”
“And?”
“Find something to eat. Kicking your ass was a lot of work.” Wyatt threw his arm around Aled’s shoulders and wandered out of the woods. “Not bad for a first date.”
Perfect, actually.
After a quick snack, they changed out of the paint-covered gear and headed back to the city. Aled asked to be dropped off at the university to check in on one of his thesis projects. Wyatt decided his day would best be spent watching the botanist at work.
Ensconced in a chair out of the way, Wyatt watched Aled flit about the research lab. A quiet confidence infused Aled when he dealt with his plants. His nimble fingers examined some delicate flower or other.
It quickly became their weekend routine. Some new adventure in the morning, lunch, and spending an afternoon watching Aled work. Trace joked about him turning domestic without rings; Wyatt ignored him.
We’re not there yet. We might get there. Fuck. I hope we get there.
“Are you going to sit there all day doing nothing?” Aled glanced over his shoulder. “Want to help me?”
“Help you ruin your project?” Wyatt pushed to his feet and crossed the lab to stand next to the botanist. “All right. How can I help you blow shit up?”
“Wrong kind of lab.” Aled elbowed him in the side.
“I’ll go sit down again, then. If I can’t blow shit up, I’d rather watch your ass in peace.” Wyatt chuckled when he earned himself another dig in his ribs. “Have supper with me afterward?”
“Depends.”
“On what?” Wyatt leaned around him to try to decipher what Aled was doing. “My ability to not screw your thesis up?”
“Exactly.”
“That settles it. I’m going to starve and you’re going to fail.” He caught the elbow this time and gently dragged Aled over into his arms, giving him plenty of time to pull away. “You’re fucking amazing.”
He was magnificently amazing.
I’m so damn lucky no one else realized it before me.