Page 7 of Sugar

“You’re not that old. And you’re the least grumpy person I’ve ever met,” Juno said, sounding startled.

Piper barked a laugh. “To you. You make my day a lot more tolerable. And…” He hesitated, but he decided Juno deserved his honesty. Then he could make an informed decision. “If you wanted to have sex with me, I wouldn’t say no. I’ve liked you that way for a while now. But I’m not doing this because I have expectations. I’m doing this because you’re a kind person, and you’ve been given shitty news, and I kind of get that.”

“You lose one of your senses?” Juno asked, his voice a little tight.

Piper’s lips thinned. “No, but I was told that if I didn’t stop what I was doing—my old job—that my heart was going to give out on me. And it still might. When my doctor dropped that on me, I was shit-scared and had to pretend like I was fine because I was taking care of my brother, and I had a ton of bills to pay. It’s not the same as what you’re going through, but I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Juno said very, very softly. “I keep coming at you, don’t I?”

“You’re reacting exactly the way I did when I had a medical crisis. And you can use me as a verbal punching bag all you want, okay? I can take it. But let’s do it in the car where it’s not as hot and sweaty as Satan’s balls.”

Juno burst into laughter and squeezed his hand a little tighter. “Fair enough. Let’s go. I could really use a burrito right now.”

Juno looked up a place on his phone, and though it was twenty minutes in the opposite direction of Piper’s town house, he drove it without complaint. He ordered them each the burrito that Juno had been waxing poetic about, then got some extras to snack on for later.

Soon enough, Juno was sipping on an icy horchata as Piper headed back to his side of town. It was quiet in the car between them, a sort of strange but almost comfortable tension now that all the cards were on the table. They were virtual strangers when it came to knowing anything about each other, and yet, Piper was struggling to remember life before he met the gorgeous baker.

He stole several glances at him and realized he might be taking advantage because it was Juno’s left side, and he didn’t know how much he could see. It didn’t stop him, of course. He always found it impossible not to stare. Every time Piper did his rounds near the bakery, he indulged whenever Juno was lost in his own world, frosting cupcakes and decorating sugar cookies.

Now was no different.

Except then Juno turned his head, flushed, and smiled a little. “Do I have frosting all over me?”

Piper indulged in a long look as they sat at a red light. Juno’s skin was always a rainbow of decoration, and today was no different. He had smears of red, blue, and orange on his arms. “You look fine.”

“Just fine?”

Piper’s brows rose as he hit the gas and turned onto his street. “Are you fishing?”

“It’s been a bad day. Feed me and tell me I’m pretty.”

Piper’s chest went very warm. “You’re pretty, Juno. Very, very pretty.”

“Ha. You should meet my friend Oliver. You’d probably never look at me twice again. But he’s taken, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Trust me. I don’t think that’s possible,” Piper said, and he appreciated when Juno didn’t argue. It was hard to imagine a better-looking man. He felt frumpy and old and awkward around him, but he also didn’t mind that much. Especially because Juno never treated him like he was any of those things.

Piper’s dating history was both small and sad. He’d been in the closet for longer than he cared to think about—something that had left scars behind. When Phoenix came out, Piper had been tempted, but it had taken him almost a decade after that to be brave enough to say it aloud to himself. And longer than that to say it to another person.

And he still hadn’t dated anyone. His hookups had been secret and short-lived. He’d been busy with his career and then making sure Phoenix would survive if he didn’t, and yeah. This—taking even a small indulgence for himself—it was very new.

Pulling into his parking spot, Piper turned off the car, then turned to face Juno, who hadn’t moved. His face was pointing straight ahead, and his eyes were closed.

“You sure you want to hang out with me?”

Juno nodded without looking up. “Yes. I just don’t want to be a burden.”

“On whom?”

“You,” Juno said with a strained laugh. He finally looked over. “Me. My friends. Society. Anyone.” He let out a slow breath. “I’m going to have to relearn how to do everything.”

“You’re not going to need to relearn anything. You’re going to have to learn how to do things in new ways. But I don’t think it’s going to be as hard as you’re afraid it’ll be.”

“How do you know?” This time, Juno’s question wasn’t an accusation.

“I don’t know. Not for sure. But I worked with several disabled guys at my old job, and all of them were as good if not better than I was.” He’d also known two blind astrophysicists, and granted, they’d been blind most of their lives, but the point was they did the job just fine.

Differently, but he supposed that was a given.

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