28
Frankie
“I was thinking the four of us could go to dinner sometime,” Jackson says as we head to our vehicles after a long workday.
“Oh, double date? That’s cute. My how things have changed since you didn’t want me to know about you and Derek.”
He cocks a brow. “I could say the same thing about you and Evan. You’ve sworn you were nothing but friends and suddenly you’re together.”
I guess he has me there. I lean against my car and Jackson crosses his arms, standing across from me. “It kind of just happened…we stumbled into it in an unconventional way but now…” I shrug. “I guess I wonder what took us so long. He makes more sense than anything in my life ever has, and I wonder how I didn’t see that he was more than a friend all along.”
Jackson smiles a smug, all-knowing smile. “Don’t say a word, Daddy Jackson.”
He laughs. “You’re not allowed to call me that, and I promise, I wasn’t going to say I knew all along, that I was waiting for it to happen and that you were being stubborn.”
“Didn’t you just say it?”
“Oh.” He grins. “I guess I did. Maybe that means I should also say that I think you were giving him the time you knew he needed and deserved, whether you realize it or not. You were going at his pace and that’s an admirable trait, Frankie.” Jackson covers his mouth and speaks quickly when he mumbles. “You’re a good man.”
A laugh tumbles out of my mouth. “Thanks, Papa Bear. Right back at you. I’m…happy.” I didn’t realize a relationship was something I wanted. And maybe it wasn’t, but I guess that’s how you know something is real—when you never knew you needed it until you had it and then it becomes everything.
For a split second, I think about talking to him about the puppy play. He had no experience with the daddy thing until he started it with Derek. There’s a part of me that knows Evan wouldn’t care if I told just Jackson—not really since he knows how important Jackson is to me, but still, I hold back.
“Anyway, man. Thanks. I appreciate it, and yeah, we should plan something with the four of us sometime.” I pull my beanie onto my head before reaching out and giving Jackson a half hug. “Go take care of that boy of yours.”
“You do the same. See you tomorrow.” He jogs over to his Jeep as I climb behind the wheel of the car. Traffic is a little backed up, so it takes me about ten minutes longer than usual to get back to Metropolis, but I’ll be back before Evan gets home.
I consider going to the coffeehouse to wait for him but decide to just head upstairs. Once I’m in our unit, I take a quick shower. With my towel wrapped around my waist, I head to my dresser, pull out a pair of trunks and slip them on, then the jeans I’d laid over the dresser, leaving them unbuttoned. Just as the drawer is almost closed, I see the cover of the envelope that’s been taunting me ever since it came in the mail.
Tim Johnson, Tim Johnson, Tim Johnson.
Honestly, I don’t know why in the fuck I haven’t tossed it. Whatever he has to say, I don’t want to hear it, but still, it’s there, resting beneath my underwear.
My fingers tremble as I push the clothes aside and pull it out. I hear it then, the sound of his fist connecting with her face. Her cries, the echo as she hits the floor.
His eyes pop into my head—brown like mine.
His pale, white skin that made my tone shades lighter than hers.
His height which is so much like mine. His build, his smile. His…what else do I have of his?
“Fuck.” My hand tightens around the envelope, crumpling it. He represents my failures, my fears, and it’s been too damn long for me to continue to let him have that power over me, but I’m not quite sure how to change it. There’s a strange push and pull inside me that I don’t quite understand and before I can let myself think about it too much, I begin ripping the envelope into as many pieces as I can, then throwing them all into the trash.
The sound of the door closing jolts me out of my thoughts. Turning, I head toward the living room, trying to push aside the strange mood the letter put me in. I don’t want to give him any more space inside my life.
“Hey, you.” I smile as I come into the living room and see Evan plucking his collar from the counter drawer and fastening it around his neck. As we talked about, he wears it all the time when we’re home alone now, and I admit to the surge of pride and possessiveness that bursts inside me to see it.
“Hey.” His eyes meet with mine and asks, “What’s wrong?”
Damn it. I should have known he would see it.
“Nothing. Come,” I tell him, and he walks over and wraps his arms around my neck.
“Something’s wrong. Tell me. This is a two-way street.”
He’s right, and I fucking know he is, so I lock my hands under his ass and lift him. Evan laughs, twining his legs around my waist as I walk over to the couch and sit down with him still on my lap. “I saw the letter from my dad, and it got me thinking, is all.”
He brushes his thumb against the stubble on my cheek. “Thinking what? Did you read it?”
“Thinking everything and no. I ripped it up and threw it away.”
Evan sighs, then leans in and rubs his smooth cheek against my scruffy one. “I’m sorry, Frankie. I wish I knew what to say, what was best. I don’t really know what I would have done…if I would have read it or not.”
“Have your parents ever tried to reach out to you?” I ask.
“Nope. Not once, but even if they did, our situations are different. He physically hurt your mom.”
“And they hurt your heart.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same.”
I put my hand against his chest. “It’s safe now,” I say and then…then I fucking laugh. “Oh my God. That was the cheesiest-ass shit I’ve ever said. Can we forget it?”
Evan joins me, his happy giggle making his chest vibrate against mine. “It wasn’t cheesy. It was sweet.”
“Maybe it was some fucked-up kind of sweet cheese, but I assure you, there’s some cheese in there.”
“Eh. I guess I like cheese.” The curve of his mouth straightens and without him saying anything, I know he’s going to get serious again. “Did you tell your mom? That he wrote?”
“No. I probably should have, but I know she’d want to read it and I just…want to protect her, I guess.” Protect her from my dad’s letter or my inability to read it, I’m not sure.
“You can’t protect everyone you love from everything.”
“I can try.” Those three words are like a small jolt to my heart, and I realize that’s truly what this is. I always want to protect Evan because I love him. I’m in love with him. I tighten my hold on Evan. “Distract me, Pup.”
And he does. His mouth covers mine and we kiss until I can’t fucking breathe without him. Until I wonder how in the hell I was happy in my life when kissing him wasn’t a thing I could do.
Grrrrr.
I pull away at the sound of his stomach growling.
“Oh my God.” Evan drops his head back, laughing again. His Adam’s apple vibrates, making his tag jingle.
“Obviously, we need to feed you.”
“I’m starving, but this is nice too.”
“We can pick this up after. I’ll make us some quick dinner.”
“Do you mind if I go wash the coffee off?”
“Nope, go for it.” He climbs off my lap, and I immediately miss the weight of him. Evan goes to his room, and I hear the shower kick on as I fry up a piece of ham from the fridge and make ham, cheese, and green pepper omelets.
There’s a loud screech from outside, so I walk over to the window to see what’s going on below. Whoever it was is already gone, so I lean against the window frame, looking at Midtown. My mind immediately goes to my pup, which is what he truly feels like he is to me now. Yes, he’s my boyfriend, my friend, but there’s such a strong desire inside me to claim him as something deeper. For him to truly be my pup. I don’t know why the bond there feels so much more concrete, but it does. Maybe because I know it’s such a large part of him and obviously of me too, and we’ve both discovered that together.
“Holy shit, you have no idea how hot you look right now. Jeans unbuttoned…I changed my mind. No food. I just want you.”
Rolling my eyes, I chuckle. “Food first, fucking later.”
“Please.” He bats his eyelashes playfully.
Walking over, I press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’m not falling for that, Pup. Let’s eat.”
We eat dinner at the small table, talking about our days. When we’re finished, and wash the dishes together, I ask, “What do you want to do tonight? Do you want to play?”
“I thought we were fucking.”
“I think you only like me for my cock.”
Evan grins mischievously. “Puppies do like bones…”
“Naughty, Pup,” I tease.
“I do want to play, but can we do it later? I want to sing. We haven’t sung in so long. Please, Frankie?” He grabs my wrist and starts to tug me toward the other room. “We sing, then we play. I think I want to play with some toys. Then lots of belly rubs and cuddles, then sex. I think that’s the perfect night.”
“So spoiled,” I tease even though it does sound like the perfect fucking night to me. “Let me go get my guitar.”
It only takes me a second to grab it from my bedroom closet. When I get back into the living room, Evan is on the couch, waiting.
“What do you want first?” I warm my fingers up by playing a few scales.
“Our song, ‘Him & I.’ ”
“You always pick that first.”
As my fingers dance up and down the strings, Evan sings. It’s shitty and pitchy, but I fucking love it. Love his strength, the confidence he shows here in doing something he enjoys so much no matter how bad he is.
We go through song after song, me on the guitar and Evan supplying vocals. It’s silly and fun. We laugh and screw up and, Christ, there is nothing like these moments with him.
When we’re done, Pup Runt comes out to play, wagging my favorite tail. We play catch, and I walk him on the leash before belly rubs and cuddles.
When Evan’s back, I strip him bare, as he does me. We moan together when I push inside him, a sweaty mess of limbs, heavy breaths, and come.
Just like he said—the perfect night.