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“I know, I’m just worried. I didn’t see Dean much when he was here, but I liked him. Bit on the quiet side, but God help me,when I found you two curled up together, I prayed you would never lose one another.”

Sloane straightened. “Wait, you saw that?”

When Sloane had brought Dean home with him for Easter, the two of them had ended up on the couch watching late-night movies. Sloane’s sisters and mother had already gone to sleep, and the two men had enjoyed the comforts of home curled up on the couch. As always happened whenever he and Sloane were close, Dean had ended up pressed against Sloane, soaking in his warmth. They had fallen asleep like that, waking up a few hours later and deciding it was time for them to go to bed.

“I went to get a snack, Sloane, and found you two. It was the first time I ever thought how cute you two looked.”

Sloane stopped walking, glancing at his phone in bewilderment. “You thought we were cute?”

“You’re so damned stubborn about being affectionate to people. Of course, you show it in your own way, but just outright affection? I rarely see it, but I saw it the night you two were huddled up on the couch.”

Sloane shook his head. “A lot of people thought there might be something going on between us.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t. I just thought you’d found one of those rare friends that some people never get to meet. The kind of friend who brings out the best in you and brings as much to the table for you as you do for them. Soulmates aren’t just romantic, you know.”

Sloane laughed softly. “That would have been helpful to hear earlier if I’d ever been worried about feeling so close to him as just friends.”

“Well, you’ve certainly stepped out of the friend zone on this one.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“So, howdoyou feel?”

And there was the million-dollar question. Where once, being asked how he felt about Dean would have been easy and simple, Sloane found the answer more complex than ever. Did he want Dean close to him for the rest of their lives? Absolutely. Did he want to see Dean smile and laugh and know that Sloane was bringing him happiness? Of course.

But now, Sloane also wanted to see those moments when Dean slept peacefully in his arms. Now, Sloane couldn’t help but remember the rumbling moans of pleasure Dean had made when Sloane was deep inside him or the look of pure ecstasy when Sloane had bottomed out in him. Sloane wanted to see Dean as they fell asleep together. When they got ready for work side by side, and while they bitched about their respective jobs.

“I want...what we’ve always had, but I want...him to be mine?” Sloane said.

“That sounded like a question.”

Sloane sighed. “I love Dean. I’ve loved Dean for years now, and I’ve never hidden that. But now, it’s like that love is...different. I want everything we had before, which I guess already seemed like what you do in a relationship. But I want it in a different way.”

There was another pause before his mother finally let out a chuckle. “It sounds like you already know what you’re going to do, and you’re just telling me.”

“I haven’t figured out every detail, but I know the general plan.”

“Then it sounds like you need to tell Dean that.”

Sloane stopped outside Dean’s apartment, drawing out the key. “I plan to.”

DEAN

Taking a deep breath, Dean sucked in the scent of the salty ocean air. He swore the smell was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind as he watched the waves crash against the shore. It was odd, considering he’d grown up in the desert, how the sight and sound of the ocean could calm him. Yet from the first time Dean had stepped into the sea with his bare feet, he had fallen in love, vowing to find a place by the ocean he could call home.

Staying in his apartment had been out of the question. Dean had woken up by himself and in a full-blown panic. Sloane’s presence had soothed any fears or worries he might have had, but without him, Dean’s mind had been left to wander over all the horrible possibilities and uncertainties he’d built up in his head.

That was until he’d laid eyes on the propped-up paper on the bedside table, with the familiar handwriting on the front.

It’s okay. Read this.

While Dean had still felt the scramble of panic at Sloane’s absence, he had taken the message to heart. Forcing himself to calm down, Dean had pushed himself out of bed, leaving the letter where it sat. Despite its attempts at comfort, Dean had putit off while he brewed a cup of coffee, washed his face, and pulled on a pair of loose pants and a shirt.

Only when he had the first sips of coffee in his system did Dean finally sit down and allow himself to grab the letter. It had taken longer than he was willing to admit to unfold the paper and read it. The letter was still in his pocket as he watched the waves. He’d read it enough times, short as it was, to the point of having memorized each word.

Dean,

Sorry, I didn’t wake you. You were sleeping so good, I couldn’t. Sorry to leave you, but I had to get to my shift. Otherwise, I would have stayed.