Page 88 of Winning You
“Greek?” When Bronx hummed a yes, Lucas shook his head. “Chewing hurts. I just want some pita and hummus.”
“I’m really sorry, kiddo.”
Normally, Lucas hated being called kiddo. Especially lately. He didn’t want reminders that he was still young. That people might think he was too young for Frankie. But right then, it felt good to be considered small and protected by his dad.
“Can we do dinner this week? You and Dad.”
He knew Bronx was grinning. He and Monty were always over the moon when Lucas included him in that, especially because it had been earned.
“Your place?”
“I’ll make something good,” Lucas said.
Bronx laughed softly. “Your food is always good, and yes. Monty will be thrilled. Just text me what day and time, and we’ll be there.”
Lucas tried for a smile, but the anxiety just got worse. He was going to invite Frankie, too, and maybe—probably—Elodie. He was going to introduce his dad to the new part of his life he was building, and he wasn’t sure what he would do if his dad and Monty didn’t support him.
But he didn’t want to think about that now. Not tonight.
Not for a little while.
He wanted to nurse his hurts in the arms of the man that he was—and he could say this with every fiber of his being and every atom in the universe—falling madly in love with.
Lucas got his lunch and listened to Frankie’s message as he ate. Frankie was going to be delayed for a bit. He was at Fenton’s house, spending some time with Elodie, and he had a meeting with his attorney about her adoption hearing coming up.
Frankie: But I will be home at five. I made us a reservation if you’re up for eating out. If not, I’ll cancel and we’ll eat in.
Lucas wasn’t sure he was up for eating out, but he wanted to try. He wanted to do something that felt, well, normal. He wanted to sit in a restaurant. He wanted to hold Frankie’s hand and maybe feel the flickering warmth of a tealight candle. He wanted to listen to the low chatter of people whose lives were as complicated as their own.
He wanted to eat, and laugh, and maybe kiss Frankie when it was all over.
Then he wanted to go home and be wrapped up in him, feeling every inch of his body pressed against Lucas’s. He wanted to be fucked so out of his mind he forgot how bad things were. He wanted to come down from an orgasm high listening to Frankie’s heart, feeling the wide expanse of his bare skin, and the roughness of his beard as he rubbed his face back and forth along Lucas’s shoulder.
He wanted to sleep in his arms and wake up beside him with warm, morning-sour kisses.
So whatever discomfort he might feel now, he would get through it to have this little bit of peace.
Lucas: I’m fine going out but I do look a little weird with my bruise I’m not sure if other cited people will care
Frankie: Did you know that your voice-to-text spells sighted with a C?
Lucas: Blind discrimination
Frankie: LOL. I don’t give a shit what people think as long as you don’t. I want to go out with you.
Lucas: What time should I be ready
Frankie: Reservation is at seven. I will be home before then.
Lucas: I’m going to nap I’ll leave the door open come in when you’re hear
Frankie: Can’t wait to see you.
Lucas: Yeah me two.
His phone fell against his side, and he curled up with his uninjured part of his face against the pillow and didn’t rise to consciousness again until there were warm lips against the back of his neck. For a moment, he thought it was a dream. His dreams were often surreal and difficult to tell apart from being awake when he was deep in it.
But the moment he could smell properly, he knew he was no longer unconscious. Frankie’s usual soap scent wafted across his nose, and he smiled as he turned, wincing when his bruise bumped against some part of Frankie. He ignored it in favor of a kiss.
