Page 102 of Our Own Light

“See, you’re better at putting things into words than me.”

“I thought you two were together since you were kids. How do you know Matt found both sexes attractive?”

“He’d tell me,” Floyd said, bursting out laughing. “Golly, I hated that.”

Now Oliver was laughing. “He’d tell you?”

“Yep. Matt’d come right up to me and ask, ‘What do you think of Ruth Walker?’ and I’d say ‘What do you mean, what do I think of her? She seems nice enough, I suppose.’ And Ollie, I swear to you he’d respond with something like, ‘I think she’s handsome. I like her butt, too.’”

Oliver couldn’t stop cackling. “Oh my God, Floyd, you must have been so mad.”

“It took some time for that sort of thing not to bother me, especially once we were saying I love you to each other,” Floyd said with a shake of his head. “He wasn’t trying to be hurtful or nothing. Just honest. Looking back, I think Matt had some trouble understanding how other people might have felt about things he said or did. But if you told him something upset you, he’d come around and say sorry. Well, most of the time.” Floyd rolled his eyes. “Never could seem to stop telling me who he thought was handsome.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t your fault. I stopped minding over time. When we were older, I kind of made a game out of it. I’d try to work out who Matt might have thought was handsome at one time or another. I’d see someone, and instead of wondering whether or not I found them attractive, I’d try to figure out if Matt might like them. I’d even ask him if I was right or not.”

“Wise beyond your years. Or foolish. I’m not sure which.”

Floyd made a face that Oliver knew was probably supposed to be a threatening one—furrowing his brows and narrowing his eyes—only he was still smiling too much for it to be convincing. Holy hell, he was adorable.

“I really would shove you if you weren’t injured,” Floyd said.

“I’ll remind you to punish me somehow when it’s better.”

Floyd reached up to stroke Oliver’s cheek. “You and Matt ain’t barely alike.”

“Is that one of the reasons you pushed me away?”

“Mm-hmm. It felt like I was betraying him in some way.”

“Do you think Matt would have hated me?”

Floyd chewed on his bottom lip, thinking.

“I think Matt would have told me that he thought you had a nice butt,” Floyd joked.

“Nice butt but talks too much, right?” Oliver teased right back, and then Floyd ruffled up his hair.

“Nah, you talk exactly the right amount. I love it.” Floyd started kissing Oliver’s arm. “Matt wouldn’t have hated you. You’re a kind person, Ollie. He’d have seen that.”

“Thank you,” Oliver said, a little amazed that he was able to accept the compliment without immediately wanting to push back. “Floyd, I love you.”

Finally, Floyd stopped kissing Oliver’s arm. “And I love you, Ollie.”

Somehow, Oliver was able to accept that, too.

***

Hours later, Oliver was pacing back and forth from the bedroom to the living room, basically ready to explode with excitement for Floyd to come back.

Moments later, there was a knock. After hurrying over, Oliver threw open the door and lunged forward, flinging his arms around Floyd and knocking him back a step, a spark of pain shooting out from his shoulder in the process.

Oliver made a little “eep” sound from the sudden surge of pain before saying, “What took you so long, lunkhead?”

Floyd chuckled next to his ear, and the low reverberations of Floyd’s laughter sent tingles up Oliver’s spine.

“Missed me that much, huh?” Floyd patted Oliver on the back. “Come on, Ollie, inside.”

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