Page 65 of Operation Sunshine
Franco had no intention of declining.
He toed his trainers off and sniffed. The air smelled faintly ofcoffee and something cedar warm. They moved wordlessly through the motions: Ben fetched him a clean t-shirt for the morning, the cotton soft and smelling faintly of Ben’s detergent.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Ben was already stretched out naked in the bed, propped on one elbow, watching him in a way that made Franco’s stomach twist with both terror and want.
“Gotta like a man who sleeps in the raw,” Franco murmured. He slid under the covers, and Ben shifted closer, until Franco found himself tucked against his chest, his head resting under Ben’s chin.
The silence pressed in again. Franco hated silence. It left too much room for his thoughts to gnaw at him. But then Ben’s fingers traced slow circles at the small of his back, and Franco felt himself unravel in a different way. The knots inside him loosened. His body softened against the solid warmth holding him.
“Ben?” His voice was barely a whisper.
“Mm?”
“I don’t know how to do this.”
Ben pressed a kiss to his temple, lingering. “You don’t have to. Just… be here.”
And somehow, impossibly, that was enough. Franco’s eyes slipped shut, his body finally giving in to exhaustion. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he fell asleep not with the churn of restlessness, the mask of bravado still clinging to his skin, but with someone’s arms wrapped around him.
When sleep claimed him, he dreamed not of fire and flight, but of staying.
Chapter Eighteen
The kitchen had long since quieted, but Franco lingered at his prep station, idly spinning a spoon between his fingers. Ben was in his office dealing with paperwork. The last of the staff had gone, even Willow, but Raj was still wiping down the counters with the same methodical care he always took, as though the shine of the stainless steel said something about the man who ran the place.
Will I be sleeping alone tonight?
It didn’t matter that Ben had acknowledged to the staff they had something going on: Franco wasn’t going to take it for granted he’d be sharing either his bed or Ben’s that night.
Where is this going?
Perhaps the more pertinent question should have been where was Franco going?
Am I going anywhere?
Right then he had no clue.
“Clock out already, mate,” Raj said without looking up. “You’ve been staring at that spoon as if it’s about to tell your fortune.”
Franco forced a grin he didn’t feel. “Maybe it will. Maybe my destiny’s hidden in the reflection. Look…” He angled the bowl toward Raj, where his own upside-down face stared back, distorted. “Don’t you think that’s the face of a man meant for greatness?”
Raj snorted. “No, that’s the face of a man who needs to go home and sleep.” His eyes sparkled. “Especially since I’m pretty sure you’re dealing with a sleep deficit these days.” His gaze flickered toward Ben’s office door.
Franco ignored the bait. He set the spoon down and leaned on his elbows.
“Can we be serious for a minute?”
Raj blinked. “Well,Ican. I’m not sure about you, though.” He went back to wiping down the counters.
Franco’s stomach churned. “Do you ever wonder if this is it?”
Raj finally looked at him, his eyebrows raised. “It?”
“This.” Franco gestured to the empty kitchen, the shelves stacked with neatly labelled jars, the lingering smell of onions and garlic. “Six years. Same menu, give or take a few changes, same walls, same bloody customers asking if the arrabbiata is ‘too spicy.’ I mean, I love it, I really do, but sometimes it feels as though I’m stuck in a rut.”
Raj didn’t answer right away but wrung out his cloth and folded it neatly. “You’ve never been stuck a day in your life. You keep this place alive.”
“That’s great—for the restaurant, I mean—but what aboutme?” The words came out sharper than he’d intended them to be. He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I wantmore, Raj.”
