Page 24 of Tender
More fingers were back in his hair, not quite tender, but not painful. Just…there.
“She didn’t deserve him,” Emmett said softly.
Something hit Cosimo in the chest—a realization: Emmett had been thinking about Miles while getting off.
The idea wasn’t absurd. Miles was Emmett’s type. They’d had more than one younger man between them who shared the same look. But no one with their soul crying out for something that Cosimo knew only Emmett could give.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”
Beneath him, Emmett froze. “…what?”
“He’s beautiful.” Cosimo lifted his head and looked into Emmett’s face. “Anyone can see that. He’s…different.”
Swallowing heavily, Emmett glanced away. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
Cosimo didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. This would need to be a slow and steady burn if it was going to work, and for now, they had time.
He didn’t know how much, but hopefully, it would be enough.
Cosimo assumed that after a day or two of rest, Miles would start to come out of his shell a little bit. But, if anything, he seemed to get worse. He was more profoundly aware of it because he was home on his vacation. He’d only been called in once for an emergency for one of his patients, and that had turned out to be a false alarm.
So, while he normally had work to distract him, he was now profoundly aware of their lodger in the pool house.
He caught glimpses of Miles late at night, waiting until he thought everyone was asleep. The younger man would creep into the kitchen with the dishes Emmett had left at his door, scraping plates and washing them in the sink.
It was also obvious he was trying to be quiet, but much like Selene, even with his CIs, Miles wasn’t entirely aware of the noises he made. And the fact that his were old and desperately needed replacing, he also wasn’t aware of noises around him.
Cosimo felt a bit like a bastard for spying. But he also wasn’t alone.
The other thing he’d caught was his husband watching from behind curtains and half-closed doors.
A few times, Miles got brave enough to lounge by the pool. He wore t-shirts and shorts and would take a big bottle of water and sit in a chair under one of the bigger umbrellas to work on his laptop.
The thing was also ancient and looked like it was on its last legs.
Cosimo was not a caregiver. By any means. But Miles inspired something in him he was unfamiliar with. He wanted to wrap him up and feed him until they couldn’t see the collarbones under his skin anymore and kiss him until that half-dead look in his eyes went away.
Cosimo knew part of it was grad school, of course. Medical school had been a different experience, but he remembered the look on Emmett’s face when he was finishing up his own doctorate.
He knew the bigger part of Miles’s spiral was coming to terms with the fact that after a long, probably neglected childhood, he’d gotten into bed with an abusive partner who hadnever really loved him. Cosimo had his own story—his own past, his own awful ex. He never talked about it, but he understood.
He just wished he knew how to cross the divide and help Miles figure it out.
“Is he out there again?”
Cosimo startled, then pushed away from the sink and his window view of Miles who was now walking laps around the pool. “Mm.”
Emmett sighed and walked over to him, pressing his front to Cosimo’s. The packer rubbed up against Cosimo’s side and he felt a tiny spark, though it was eclipsed by the way everything else was feeling. He was going to need Emmett again. And soon.
Staring at him, Emmett eventually reached up and rubbed his thumb across Cosimo’s brow. “I wonder if it’s this? Scaring him away?”
He frowned. “My wrinkles?” He felt a little insulted…and outraged. He’d earned those wrinkles, goddamn it.
Emmett’s face softened. “No, my love.” Ah. Cosimo didn’t care for many pet names but that one…oh that one. His toes curled in his house slippers as Emmett leaned in and kissed him. “I love every line on your face. But you can be a little…terrifying. Or intimidating. You weren’t the warmest to him at the lunch.”
Cosimo felt a little raw at those words. He eased back away from Emmett’s touch. “I was angry. Not at him, but?—”
“No, I know. So was I. But people who come from backgrounds like his tend to be a little sensitive. He’s been blaming himself a little. He probably thought you did too.”
