Page 62 of Returning Your Love
He stumbled into view a second later, obviously hungover, eyes bloodshot and scratching his junk through his boxer briefs. Fucker hadn’t put on another stitch of clothing. He seriously tried to off my ass.
“Thanks for sticking around,” he said without meeting my eyes, accepting the cup of coffee I held out to him.
“Thanks for letting me be here for you.”
“Sorry if I said or did anything weird last night.” He sipped, a low hum of approval rumbling his chest and causing my dick to twitch.
“There’s nothing you could say that would ever make me think you’re anything less than perfect,” I assured him or hoped to at least.
He made a disbelieving noise and sipped again, and I wondered if he realized he’d been plastered to my side like the morning we’d gone camping.
“Sit,” I ordered, needing to move the fuck on from memories that would give me another boner.
Chaz collapsed into the chair I pulled out for him, and he eyed breakfast. “Looks good.”
“Eat. You’ll feel better.”
We chowed down until the plates were scraped clean, and I got up to refill our coffee, my dick finally deflated.
“Got a full schedule at the shop today?” I asked while sitting across from him again, planning on light and comfortable conversation.
“Yeah.”
“Plans tonight?”
A grimace thinned his lips. “I agreed to dinner with my parents. Put my mom off long enough.”
“Want some company so the bullshit remains at a minimum? You know I don’t mind running interference.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve owed them this visit for a while now. Especially since Dad took care of all the wake and funeral details. It was partially fear over having to be with him that had led to me wanting to get smashed last night.” A hint of humiliation coated Chaz’s admission.
“You’ve got this.”
Chaz snorted. “I’m a stubborn bastard, but I’m not a fighter like you, Jamie.”
I wanted to argue but didn’t.
He glanced up at me long enough I caught the wariness in his hazel eyes, but he quickly looked back down at the scarred wooden table, retreating into himself again.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, my tone careful. I had no wish to pry, but I was here and had the opportunity to check in without him being able to ignore me.
“Fine.”
I curled my fist to keep from reaching for his hand because that single-worded answer was a lie if ever I’d heard one. “Call me after the visit with your parents if you need to. Anytime, day or night.”
“Will do.”
Taking the hint he wasn’t in the mood to talk, I got up to clear the table. “Why don’t you go shower for work,” I suggested. “I’ll clean up our breakfast stuff and get out of your hair.”
Chaz opened his mouth but closed it again before nodding. I guessed that meant he didn’t want me to stay.
Regardless of the sting of rejection, I watched that ripe peach encased in black cotton flex with every footstep he took away from me.
Eyes lifting to the ceiling, I begged whatever god might be listening for the patience and understanding I’d been lacking lately. Babs had lasted forty-some years without losing her shit. I would find a way to do the same even if it meant carpal tunnel and a raw dick.
Lube—I needed to refill my jerk-off stash at home so that last possibility didn’t happen.
I added a stop by The Market to my small mental list for the day that included only one other thing. Worrying over Chaz’s visit to his childhood home and hoping it didn’t intensify his feelings of wishing to be gone from existence.
