Page 22 of His Middle

By the time Sawyer made it to Noah’s house, he’d already talked himself out of, then back into, going through with his plan to stay. But as soon as he pulled up the long driveway, the tightness in his chest gave him his final answer. Seeing Oliver’s home for the first time since he’d last visited filled him with a tumble of emotions he hadn’t anticipated.

How truly, truly alone Noah must feel in that large, empty house.

If Sawyer was this affected by the sight of the place Oliver had lived in for almost twenty years, how must it be for Noah? He’d grown up there, lived almost all his years there. He must see his father in every corner, hear his voice calling in the darkness, pulling him from a lonely sleep.

Sawyer couldn’t imagine the poor kid having to face living there by himself in addition to the clusterfuck at the club. It spoke to how strong Noah truly was. If only Noah could recognize what fine qualities he possessed. Sawyer made a determination. Regardless of anything else, he’d make sure Noah knew his worth before he even considered leaving.

Sawyer pulled up behind Noah’s blue MINI Cooper and parked. As he pulled out his two large duffels and computer case, various memories ran through his head of all the times he’d spent at there. Weekends, day trips, the occasional special event like a birthday, or when Noah graduated from high school.

His cheeks flushed as he bumped the back door with his shoulder to slam it shut. He’d noticed that Noah was becoming a handsome man prior to that, but the graduation celebration had been a revelation. Noah had matured into an adult, had clearly been working out, or perhaps hitting the trail a lot. A love of the outdoors was something they both shared.

And boy, had Noah been outdoors a lot that particular day. Perhaps he’d been more mindful of what he wore in front of others, or maybe the speedo was only saved for specific times when he wanted to put on a show. For that celebration, Noah had worn board shorts for his party. But it hadn’t mattered, hadn’t helped Sawyer keep his eyes off his best friend’s son. The sculpted chest and soaking wet nylon that clung to Noah’s muscular thighs had more than made up for a tiny, butt-hugging strip of cloth.

And what was it about a man’s back? Noah’s was a work of art, perfectly shaped, showcasing every muscle as it rippled beneath Noah’s tanned skin.

Sawyer scrubbed his face with one hand as he made his way across the flagstone walkway. He needed to tear his thoughts away from that memory, from any memory of how attracted he’d grown to Noah after that, how his desire had begun to eat away at him to the point where he’d make excuses for why he couldn’t come to the house, encouraging Oliver to meet him in the city or at the club instead.

Sawyer dropped the two heavy duffels onto the granite front entry then tucked stray stands of hair behind his ears. He hadn’t even had the chance to get his hair trimmed after arriving home.

Sawyer sucked in a deep breath to steady himself. He was here for one thing, and one thing only. To help Noah. God knew Noah’s mother couldn’t be bothered. Perhaps that wasn’t fair, she did have an obligation to her employer, probably couldn’t drop everything to come back to the States.

At the same time, she’d rarely bothered to visit Noah after she’d left Oliver. Sawyer had never understood that. Sure, she was angry that Oliver had come out to her as gay when Noah was two, but it sometimes seemed to Sawyer that she’d punished her son because of it.

He grunted to himself. That graduation party was also the last time he’d seen Madeline. While he couldn’t be sure, he didn’t recall Oliver mentioning any visits from her after that. Maybe that was also the last time Noah had seen his mother.

No wonder he feels so abandoned.

Deciding that he’d stalled long enough, Sawyer rapped on the door. The thumping of what Sawyer predicted were Noah’s bare feet charged toward him. Noah grinned as he opened the door.

“I was afraid you’d gotten lost. Here, let me grab one of these.” Before Sawyer could respond, Noah had hoisted one of the hefty bags over his shoulder. “Geez. Are there bricks in here?”

Sawyer grabbed the other duffel and followed Noah inside. “No, just my books.”

“Ever hear of an e-reader or tablet?”

“Funny. Yes, I have, smarty pants. I just prefer the feel of a book in my hands.”

Noah peered over his shoulder with a smirk. “Yeah, I prefer the feel of things in my hands, too.”

Sawyer narrowed his eyes at Noah, and he had the good sense to turn right back around.

If I were his Daddy…

Sawyer mentally slapped himself as Noah continued through the living room, skirted the edges of the sunken center, and strolled past the dining room as he made his way to the wide staircase. He halted in front of the first step.

“I’m putting you in the large guest room since that’s the one you always use. Is that cool?”

“Yeah. Sounds great.”

They started up the stairs and the deeper they drew into the house, the more he was assailed with stabs of pain whenever his gaze would land on a familiar photograph, or another memory from his many stays would leap into his head. But he couldn’t indulge in those feelings in front of Noah. Those demons were ones Noah had been facing for months already—he didn’t need further reminding.

Noah pushed the partly ajar door open to the familiar room then flicked on the light. “I changed the sheets while I was waiting for you and put some towels on the bed.” Noah hoisted the bag onto one side of the king-sized mattress. “I have no idea whether Vera ever changes the sheets in these rooms. I don’t know why she would.” He sighed. “It’s not as if anyone ever stays here these days and she only comes in twice a week.”

Sawyer drew his eyebrows together. “Not even Arlen?”

“Oh, he stays here whenever he can, but we usually crash in the den downstairs after a night of video games and pizza. We have that huge, ultra-plush sectional, remember?” He shrugged. “The sliding doors to the pool and Jacuzzi are right there along with the kitchen. I keep a pile of pillows and blankets on one end for whenever we get the chance to hang out. I’ve sort of been a party pooper lately.”

Sawyer dropped the duffel he was carrying at the foot of his bed then set the computer bag next to the other one on the bed. “I’m glad Arlen’s been such a good friend to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, knowing he probably shouldn’t say anything, but wasn’t able to stop himself. “Garth never came over?”

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