Page 63 of The Shots You Take

This was—well, no. Adam wasn’t going to pretend it was better than sex, but it was more important than sex. It was what Riley needed. And feeling Riley relax in his embrace, listening to his breathing slow until it turned into soft snoring, was what Adam needed.

Chapter Nineteen

Riley woke early the next morning, as always, and enjoyed a triumphant moment of realizing that he’d gotten a good night’s sleep before he remembered everything else about last night.

He rolled over and found Adam crashed out on top of the duvet next to him. Like Riley, he was still wearing his clothes from last night. He was on his back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other on the pillow. Riley remembered that he’d fallen asleep with one of Adam’s arms wrapped around him, unsure of what it had meant but too exhausted to care anymore.

I was in love with you too. Of course I was.

Last night, Riley hadn’t been capable of processing those words. Now, in the quiet of early morning, watching the even rise and fall of Adam’s chest, he could hold on to the words and examine each one.

The word “was” couldn’t be ignored. It provided important distinction and made the entire earth-shattering statement less exciting and more frustrating.

Also frustrating were the words “of course,” which implied there’d been something obvious that Riley had missed. Or maybe Adam had only just realized and was saying it to himself.

Riley could analyze the words all day, and it wouldn’t change the fact that hearing them had caused him to basically explode emotions all over the place. And then he’d kissed Adam and, well. It all could have gone a lot better, probably.

But Adam was still here. He’d held him through his meltdown, and he’d held him after. Riley had offered frantic, urgent sex, and Adam had said no.

I’m not rejecting you.

He hadn’t, right? Riley still wasn’t sure. It had certainly felt like a rejection at the time. But Adam had kissed him back, he was sure of it, and he’d been hard. It had felt like old times, kissing Adam messily against a wall after a night out, thrilling at the speedy arrival of Adam’s erection and the enthusiastic, drunken way Adam kissed him back. Except Adam hadn’t been drunk this time—not even close—and Riley wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

Riley, it seemed, didn’t need to be drunk to make terrible decisions about Adam Sheppard.

He could hear Lucky pacing around downstairs, which meant Riley needed to leave the bed. He moved carefully, not wanting to wake Adam. He crept out of the room and into the bathroom, where he proceeded to make himself look and feel as human as possible.

Lucky greeted him happily as always when Riley descended the stairs.

“Good morning,” Riley whispered. “Let’s go outside, huh?”

The morning air was cool and the grass was covered in dew, but the sky was clear and blue. Riley stood on the deck and gazed out at the ocean while he waited for Lucky to do his thing. He could see two fishing boats out in the bay and the lighthouse at the end of the point.

Going to the Dropped Anchor had been a mistake. He should have let Adam enjoy his evening of being adored, thenmade sure to be in bed by the time Adam had come home. Then there wouldn’t have been any fighting or crying or unwanted kissing. Then Riley wouldn’t have anything to feel mortified about.

Well, at least now Adam had seen the truth of it: Riley was still a mess, and sometimes that mess turned into a scary, unhinged, sobbing monster. Sometimes that monster would tell you to fuck off when really he just needed you to stay and hold him.

Adam had stayed, and he’d held him.

He heard the door open behind him, and then footsteps.

“Hey,” Adam said quietly.

“Hi.”

Adam stood beside him and rested his forearms on the railing. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Good.” A long silence passed, and then Adam said, “Hey! Boats.”

“Yep.”

“Are they fishing boats?”

“Yes.”

“You know exactly who’s on those boats, don’t you?”

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