Page 85 of Walking Wounded

“Of what?”

Hal swallows, throat working. “That we won’t get a second chance.”

“You love me.”

“I always have.”

Luke unfolds slowly from the floor, legs water-weak and trembling. The choice is his this time. Hal has laid himself bare, and it’s up to Luke to stay or go. Take him or reject him.

He remembers three years ago, choking on his own sobs, and he knows that could happen again.

But he also remembers Sadie’s funeral, and Hal’s head in his lap. The faded green of the football field, and the weight of Hal’s arm across his shoulders, the smell of sweat and grass stains. Remembers their first cigarette, passed back and forth, until both of them puked in the gutter. Remembers two little boys sharing sack lunches, the flicker of sunlight through cherry blossoms overhead.

“I miss you,” he says, throat catching around the words.

Hal blinks tears out of his eyes, head tipped back at a trusting angle as he stares up at him. “I miss you, too. Like hell.”

There really never was a decision to make.

Luke settles onto the couch beside him and slips an arm around his neck. Hal twists toward him, presses their foreheads together. They breathe, in and out.

“Are you scared now?” Luke asks.

“No.” Hal kisses him.

It’s slow and lush this time, all lips and teeth and tongues, wet and perfect. No rush and no hesitation. The thaw begins where their mouths touch, and spreads, filling Luke up with warmth and champagne bubbles. He’s happy, suddenly. Ecstatic.

He’s smiling too hard to keep kissing and pulls back, breathless, resting his forehead against Hal’s again.

Hal laughs, one rich low note; a delighted sound.

“Wait, wait,” Luke says. He can’t stop grinning. “Important question.”

“Huh?”

“Have you been trying toseduceme this whole time?”

“Ugh,” Hal groans. “I hate that word.”

Luke laughs. “You have been, haven’t you? Dude, you suck at it.”

“You want roses? I can get you roses. I did the whole romantic Italian dinner thing and that kinda blew up in my face.”

“Aw, you’re an awkward jock.”

Hal kisses him again, a fast, insistent press. “And you’re really hard to impress.”

“Wait.”

“Again?” Hal teases.

“Does this – does this mean you’ve got the hots for me?”

Hal whines, but he can’t contain his smile either. “Yes, you pain in the ass. I think you’re hot.”

“Ooh, in what ways? What parts of me do you think are hot?”

Hal gives him a slow, thorough kiss, tongue flicking against the roof of his mouth. “You really want to keep asking questions?”

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