Page 49 of Finding Their Place

He squeezed my fingers laced together with his over his heart. “I don’t want to leave you, but I…I can’t stay, Hal.”

My breath seized at the idea of living without him. I couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

“Fuck Hollywood and fuck washing dishes,” I gasped out, my guts clenched. “Get a new job if you’re done chasing your dream of the big screen. Hell, you love working out and sweating—Wyatt is always looking for good help. You’re faithful as fuck, never call in sick…he’d hire you in a heartbeat.” I continued to spew out ideas, anything to keep him close. “Imagine how tan you would be, the extra muscle you don’t need but would gain from real labor. It would be a lot more satisfying that cleaning dirty dishes.”

A heavy sigh deflated him a bit further.

“Oh, Garrett.” I pressed in tight against his back, kissing his hair, my eyes closing to keep tears from welling. Even though he hurt, the clean scent of him, the feel of his body against mine tightened my nipples. In that moment of my heart breaking, I didn’t even give a shit he might notice the hardened tips through my thin shirt separating our skin. “I’m sorry for being so pushy. I just want you happy.”

He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles. “You make me happy, Hal.”

“Then stay,” I whispered past the thickness in my throat. “Please don’t leave me.”

“And when Wyatt becomes your person and you no longer need your gay best friend?” He sounded miserable as hell.

“I won’t ever not need you, Garrett Moore,” I argued, determined to keep him from the depression I wished like fuck I didn’t understand and feel in the deepest parts of me. “You’ll always be my person.”

But fuck, how my heart and body burned for more.

17

Wyatt

Talking to Haley every night and texting throughout the day helped me work through my identity crisis. Chatting with my sister on a daily basis proved almost as beneficial to setting my mind right too.

I expected I would have to sit down with Lionel and Tina at some point, but I wasn’t yet ready to face that emotional hurdle. Too much hurt burrowed deep inside me even though I understood their reasons for wanting to keep the truth from me.

As for my and River’s birth parents, I couldn’t contain the negative thoughts I had whenever wondering why they had abandoned us to the system.

By the time Friday night rolled around and I readied for my second date with Haley, I decided it was time to make a move. Once the weekend ended, I would look for a private investigator to assist in getting answers even though River didn’t feel the need for them like I did.

When Haley suggested we dine in at her apartment, I’d guessed her roommate would be gone again for the night but didn’t ask. It didn’t matter to me if he joined us to eat takeout and watch a movie.

I’d thought about his ass a time or three throughout the week but hadn’t pushed for information or even told Haley I’d been wanting Garrett’s fine backside. I knew I would meet him eventually and wasn’t about to rush something that might make waves.

One hell of a swell crashed into me when Haley’s apartment door swung inward at my light knock.

Garrett stood almost eye to eye with me, his eyes like dark chocolate framed by thick and curly lashes. High cheekbones like a model’s dragged my focus down to full lips wrapped around a lollipop stick.

Haley had mentioned his oral fixation, and lust surged through me with an undertow enough to damn near knock my feet from beneath me.

“Wyatt.” I stuck out my hand on instinct, and as expected, a jolt ripped through me at his touch.

Neither of us squeezed to show dominance, but we sure as fuck studied each other in the suddenly tense silence hovering over the threshold we spanned. His pupils dilated just enough to ping my gaydar even if I hadn’t been aware he preferred dick over pussy.

“Garrett,” he finally spoke around his lollipop stick, pulling his hand from mine with seeming reluctance. “Come on in. Haley’s in the bathroom.”

I stepped past him, filling my lungs with the scent of his soap and a hint of the woods.

My mouth watered.

“Want something to drink?” he offered, turning away for the fridge.

He wore sweats, same as the first time I’d seen him, but he’d also pulled on a T-shirt that clung to his back muscles I’d already gotten a peek at the weekend before.

“I’m good with water for now.”

He took out a chilled bottle of chardonnay and poured two glasses before clinking ice into a third and filling it with water.

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