Page 17 of Heartbreak Honey

Now

TREVOR SORT OF TRIED to use his dog as an excuse when Skyler asked why he never spends the night. Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to spend the night with Skyler— er—at Skyler’s place. But he’s scared.

Because this new type of relationship they’ve built feels like a house of cards that could topple with one wrong move.

But it’s always been almost impossible for him to say no to Skyler, so he’s on his way over now, Stella’s head sticking out the half-open backseat window. He’s packed a bag for himself and Stella’s bowls and some of her premium organic food that costs a fortune. This might be a bad idea, but he’s doing it.

When he parks at the top of Skyler’s driveway, Stella starts squirming, confused but excited, in the confines of the backseat.

“Now listen,” he says to her as he kills the engine. “I need you to be on your absolute best behavior, because this house is filled with expensive things, and yes, I have the money to replace a lot of them, but I’d rather not have to. Okay?”

The look she gives him doesn’t inspire much confidence. She’s luckily a very mellow dog, but he’s not sure how she’ll react in a new place.

He’s kind of glad to have her with him though. She’s his best friend, and she may be his only comfort if this night turns out to be all sorts of awkward. Grown adults don’t typically have sleepovers with their friends, and this isn’t like years ago when he and Skyler shared a house.

Before Trevor musters up the courage to get out of the car, the front door opens and Skyler steps outside. He waves as he approaches the car and Stella wags her tail furiously, thwacking it against the back of Trevor’s seat.

Pathetic excuse for a German Shepard. What if this man was trying to carjack them?

Granted, Skyler looks less than dangerous with his hair up in a bun, his oversized baby pink sweater, and… Is he wearing fucking leggings? Yup. Black, daisy-print leggings.

Jesusfuckingchrist.

It’s official. Skyler James is trying to kill him.

At least the sweater is long enough to cover what Trevor knows must be a considerable bulge in the front of his pants. Small mercy, that is.

Fuck.

He realizes he’s been rendered useless at the sight of Skyler and all his Skylerness when Skyler pulls open the passenger door, says, “Let me get your stuff,” and starts grabbing things.

Stella jams her long snout in between the passenger headrest and the frame of the car trying to lick his face, and seriously? She’s useless too.

“You don’t have to do that,” Trevor says, regaining control of his faculties. But Skyler’s already got everything and is closing the door with his hip.

Stella starts whining, eager to get out and follow her food. Or maybe follow the pretty stranger, who knows? So Trevor hops out and opens the back door, attaching her leash before he lets her out. She immediately starts tugging him after Skyler, who’s already walking to the house.

When they get inside, Skyler sets Stella’s stuff on a table in the foyer and Trevor’s bag on the floor, then turns back to them. “You can let her off the leash.”

Trevor hesitates. “Are you sure? She’s pretty excited. She might jump on you.”

“I’m totally okay with that.”

I might jump on you too.

He crouches down and whispers, “Be good,” into Stella’s ear before he unclips her leash. A lot of good it does, because the second she’s free, she shoots around him, knocking him onto his ass with her swooshing tail, and runs full speed at Skyler.

Skyler greets her with open arms, bending down to bury his face in her fur. Trevor’s heart skips a beat or two at the sight of him looking so soft and sweet, loving on his dog. The man is seriously trying to kill him.

And Stella instantly loves him, looking at him so adoringly it’s like she’s forgotten who feeds her. The furry traitor. Although who could blame her? Skyler may just be the most lovable human on Earth.

As Trevor stands there watching the pair of them, he realizes he’s growing jealous of his damn dog. But it’s not fair how she’s receiving all of Skyler’s affection. How she gets his cuddles and kisses so easily, without having to ask.

Okay, he’s losing it.

When he clears his throat, Skyler straightens up, smiling at him sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s been forever since I’ve been around a dog. I was excited for this.”

That’s cute. He’s cute. S-O-fucking-S, somebody save me.

“She’s clearly excited too. But can we take this past the foyer?”

“Right, come on.” Skyler grabs Trevor’s bag again and slings it over his shoulder, but Trevor grabs the dog’s stuff this time before he can take that too.

They make their way into the kitchen, Stella trailing right at Skyler’s heels, and Skyler points out a spot in the corner for Trevor to put the bowls on the floor.

Trevor leaves the bag of food on the counter for now, pushed back far enough that Stella can’t snatch it, then fills her water bowl. She immediately starts lapping it up. She must have worked up a thirst by thirsting after Skyler. Or maybe he’s projecting.

“She’s making a mess,” he says, glancing around for a dish towel that’s not too fancy to wipe up the water on the floor.

“It’s fine,” Skyler says. “I’m not worried about it.”

“But—”

“Trevor.” Skyler gives him a soft look when he cuts him off. “It’s only water and she’s going to splash more. We’ll get it later.”

“Okay,” he relents, still feeling a tad uneasy.

Stella finally stops drinking, but as she whips her head around and wanders away, she leaves a trail of water behind. Trevor tries not to cringe.

“Let’s go to the living room,” Skyler says.

Once there, Trevor immediately spots the giant dog bed in the middle of the floor. “What’s this?”

“A dog bed.”

“But you don’t have a dog.”

Skyler gives him a no shit look, and says, “But you do, and you were bringing her here, so I bought some stuff.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I want her to be comfortable here.”

Trevor doesn’t know what to say. Because that implies Skyler wants him to be comfortable here too, doesn’t it?

It’s not like he didn’t know that. Skyler’s done everything he can to make him comfortable. But the fact that he thought to do the same for his dog? That he went through the trouble of going to the pet store? It’s ridiculously freaking sweet. Even if he might have had an assistant go for him or something.

“Um.” He swallows, tries again. “What else did you get?”

Skyler’s eyes light up like he was hoping to be asked. He runs off and comes back a few moments later with a reusable canvas shopping bag. “I got some treats. They had these fancy gourmet dog biscuits that looked so pretty, I had to buy them.”

Trevor smiles, thinking Stella would be happy with a cheap box of Milkbones, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“And a couple of rawhide bones, I hope that’s okay.” At Trevor’s nod, Skyler grins, clearly pleased with himself. “And then I got toys. I wasn’t sure if she liked the squeaky toys or rope ones or tennis balls, so I got everything.”

Trevor’s heart might burst. “That’s, um. You didn’t have to buy so much.”

Skyler frowns. “Didn’t we just go over this? I wanted to.”

“No, I know. I don’t mean it like you shouldn’t have. Only that you didn’t have to do all this. But you did, and it’s really nice of you. So I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you.”

It sounds lame, not adequate to convey how he feels about the gesture. But Skyler smiles shyly, and maybe he understands that Trevor’s thanking him for more than the hundred bucks he spent at the pet store.

They hold eye contact as Skyler says, “You know I’d do anything for you.”

Trevor’s heart starts beating a bouncy musical interlude. How can Skyler say big important things like that as if they’re something simple and casual?

But Skyler’s never been afraid to put himself out there. Trevor remembers it like it was yesterday, the day Skyler looked at him and asked when Trevor was going to kiss him. It feels like his whole world was built upon those words. Everything he ever wanted, offered up to him by a beautiful, fearless seventeen-year-old.

He wonders what would happen if he asked Skyler that same question now. Would it rebuild his crumbled world? Or would it destroy everything that’s left of it? Burn the broken remains until there’s nothing but ashes?

He doesn’t know if he can handle finding out. He’s never been as brave as Skyler.

Before he can get his mouth to work, Skyler says, “So can I give her a treat?”

Trevor glances down to discover that, while he was busying staring at Skyler, Stella has already made herself at home on the dog bed. “Go ahead.”

Skyler crouches down to give her one of the fancy biscuits, then scratches her head affectionately before standing up again. He turns back to Trevor. “Want to go make some dinner?”

“You sure you’re cool with leaving her here on her own? I don’t know what she’ll get up to.”

“I already closed the door to the music room and the yoga room. I’m not too worried about anything else.”

“Okay,” Trevor relents, then follows Skyler into the kitchen and asks what they’re having for dinner.

“I was thinking stir-fry. With shrimp?”

“Sounds great. Do I actually get to help this time?”

Skyler rubs his chin, pretending to consider it. “I suppose it’s safe to let you chop the vegetables.”

“I promise not to chop my fingers off.”

“Yeah, don’t do that. I like those fingers.”

Trevor’s eyes go wide, and his mouth flaps open like an idiot, but Skyler is already turning around to pull things out of the fridge. How can he just say things like that?

He manages to recover, not think too much about his fingers in relation to where they’ve been on Skyler’s body—or in Skyler’s body—and focus on the task of dinner. It’s incredibly domestic, the two of them preparing a meal together. Navigating around each other in the kitchen, which is larger than any kitchen has the right to be, and yet somehow, Skyler keeps managing to brush his hand over Trevor’s lower back as he moves past him.

While everything’s cooking, Skyler offers Trevor some wine.

“Oh. Uh, it’s okay.”

“Really? I could go for a glass.”

Trevor frowns. “But I thought you…”

“I still drink occasionally,” Skyler tells him. “It’s not a problem for me anymore.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. He wonders if he’s being offensive. He’s talking to a grown man, after all. But Skyler gives him a small smile and nods, so he says, “All right, wine would be nice.”

It should help loosen him up anyway. He doesn’t know why he can’t convince himself that this is just like any other evening he’s spent here.

“I have a Riesling from Germany that should go well with the stir fry,” Skyler says, opening the fridge.

“Sounds good. I usually drink whatever wine I can find at the grocery store, so I’m not picky.”

Skyler laughs like Trevor’s joking, but he’s not.

They’re both still on their first glass by the time dinner is finished. Skyler brings the bottle with them into the dining room—keeping it chilled in a fancy metal ice bucket that Trevor refrains from giving him shit for—but it’s a while before he pours them each a second glass.

Trevor’s pacing himself. This isn’t like the nights when he’s home alone, depressed, trying to drown his sorrows as he pines for the very man who’s right in front of him now. Come to think of it, he hasn’t had one of those nights since he and Skyler reconnected.

He does appreciate how the alcohol takes the edge off though. He’s been tense about this night, but as they continue to drink, he starts to loosen up. Starts to smile more, and joke more, and lean more into Skyler’s space. And that last one probably isn’t something he should be doing, but Skyler’s doing it to him too.

It’s just friendly, right?

But then during Scrabble later, when Trevor gets excited over playing a particularly good word, Skyler looks at him and says, “I love how you smile and your eyes crinkle when you’re proud of yourself.” And there’s a moment, as they hold eye contact a beat too long, that Trevor thinks maybe.

He’s not sure maybe what exactly. Just maybe something more.

Then Stella chooses the next moment to trot over and swish her tail across the board, scattering tiles, and they dissolve into laughter instead.

They’re both a bit tipsy by the time they make their way to bed. Skyler’s set him up in one of the guest rooms in the same wing as his own bedroom. Trevor double and triple checks that he doesn’t mind Stella sleeping on the bed with him, and then thanks him even though he doesn’t know what he’s thanking him for. At this point, it could be any of a hundred different things. Or it could be simply for his existence, which encompasses everything, really.

It’s not until he and Stella are alone in the room and he’s trying to fall asleep that his fun, giggly wine buzz turns into a melancholy one. Stella’s already passed out, splayed across the end of the bed and twitching lightly in a dream, but he’s staring at the ceiling.

He can’t help thinking about when he and Skyler first moved into the house together with the band. This isn’t exactly like that, because Skyler’s room is at the far end of the wing, rather than two steps across the hallway. But still.

Skyler’s here. Under the same roof. And it’s one thing for Trevor to be sleeping alone in his own house. He’s used to that by now. Doesn’t mean he likes it, but he’s used to it. But it feels wrong to be here and sleeping without Skyler. His body is restless, remembering how much better he slept when his limbs were tangled up with Skyler’s. With Skyler’s warm skin pressed against his, unruly hair tickling his face, smelling like peaches, and Skyler’s quiet breathing acting as Trevor’s own personal lullaby.

If he was completely sober, he probably wouldn’t do it. But as it is, he doesn’t have the tightest grasp on his self-control. So he swings his legs out of bed and stands. The movement wakes Stella, but she only opens one eye lazily.

“Stay,” he says, and she doesn’t need to be told twice, eyes already closing again.

He makes his way down the hall as quietly as possible, then pauses outside of Skyler’s door. What am I doing?

Turning around, he creeps back to the guest room. Stella opens both eyes and lifts her head this time. “Don’t look at me like that. Go back to sleep.”

She sighs and flops her head down dramatically.

He goes to climb into bed but stops.

Feeling like the world’s biggest idiot, he leaves the room again. This time, in front of Skyler’s door, he lifts his hand to knock. But his hand is shaking. He can’t do it. This would be crossing a line he has no idea if Skyler wants to cross.

Most likely Skyler’s a little lonely and likes having company in this huge empty mansion. He can probably tell how much Trevor could use the company too. But that doesn’t mean he’s looking for company in his bed.

Trevor’s heart is beating so hard as he makes his final decision, he’s afraid it’ll be enough to wake Skyler up. He turns to walk away, determined to fall asleep in the stupid guest room, but that’s when he hears the door opening behind him.

“Trevor?”

Shit.

Reluctantly, he turns backs around—only because running off down the hallway would be even more embarrassing—and finds Skyler still wearing the daisy leggings, this time with no shirt to cover the bulge in front.

He swallows the lump in his throat.

His mind races, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for what he was doing—he needs an extra blanket, he was wondering where Skyler kept the sugar so he could make a cup of tea, the house is on fire.

But then Skyler asks, “Do you want to come in?”

He shakes his head. “Oh no, it’s fine, I’m sorry. I—”

“Trev,” Skyler’s soft voice cuts him off. “It’s okay.”

And then Skyler does something Trevor isn’t emotionally prepared for. He reaches out, takes Trevor’s hand, and gently pulls him over the threshold.

Trevor wakes up in Skyler’s bed, feeling more well-rested than he has in a long time.

Nothing happened. He remembers standing there stunned, right inside of Skyler’s bedroom door, while Skyler walked over to the bed and crawled in on one side before holding up the blanket on the other as a silent invitation. Trevor didn’t need it verbalized—he just had a difficult time getting his feet to work.

Then Skyler said, “Come on, get in,” and Trevor’s body obeyed.

They didn’t say anything else. He remembers lying on his back, staring at the ceiling again, until the mattress shifted with Skyler rolling over onto his side to face him. He didn’t put his head on Trevor’s chest like Trevor found himself hoping he would, but he laid it down on the pillow close enough for his breath to ghost Trevor’s neck. Then, ever so slowly, Skyler moved his hand until it rested, feather-light, on Trevor’s hip. Trevor had taken a deep breath and placed his hand over Skyler’s, silently requesting a more solid touch.

And that’s the last thing he remembers, because after that, sleep came easily.

Now Skyler’s no longer in bed with him.

And that’s okay. That’s fine. It is.

Because waking up in bed together would have probably been seventeen kinds of awkward. Eighteen kinds, if Trevor’s body had acted on muscle memory and rolled over to kiss Skyler as soon as he woke up.

So yeah. This is better.

He slowly gets out of bed and stretches before setting off to look for Skyler. The door to the guest room is open when he passes it and Stella’s not in there. He expects to find Skyler in the kitchen, making the breakfast Trevor was promised, possibly with Stella lying at his feet, waiting for scraps. But no.

Instead he finds Skyler in his yoga room. He’s sitting cross-legged on a mat, facing the cracked open door, eyes closed. His hands are placed palms up over his knees, with his thumbs and index fingers pressed together. Trevor marvels at how peaceful he looks. And at the sight of Stella lying beside him, half on the mat and half off, her chin resting on his thigh, looking equally as peaceful.

Trevor should leave and wait for him to finish. But instead he remains transfixed, standing in the doorway until Skyler surprises him by asking, “Are you hungry?” without even opening his eyes.

“Uh.” He shakes his head, even though Skyler can’t see it. Or maybe he can. Who knows what kind of magical powers this man has. “No, I can wait.”

Skyler opens his eyes then, while Stella continues to play dead. “I’m done.”

“Well. Okay then. Breakfast sounds great.” It sounds like a fantasy actually. Like something wonderful he once had but never expected to have again.

Skyler glances down at Stella. “I wish I didn’t have to disturb her.”

Trevor scoffs. “Screw that. Wake her lazy ass up. I’m hungry.”

“I thought you said you could wait for breakfast,” Skyler says, smirking at him.

“I lied.”

“Lying’s not very nice, you know.”

“You’re the one who’s not nice, promising me breakfast and then making me wait for it as I stand here withering away.” Trevor might be masking his nerves with humor, but hopefully Skyler won’t pick up on that.

Skyler gives him an unimpressed look. Trevor raises a challenging eyebrow. Then Skyler lets out a crack of laughter that startles Stella awake.

Skyler gets up and pats the side of his leg for Stella to follow him. As if she wouldn’t follow him anywhere. “I already let her out in the back for a minute earlier,” he says as they head to the kitchen. “But I thought we could take her for a W-A-L-K along the property later.”

“You don’t have to spell out walk,” Trevor tells him. “She’s the laziest German Shepard to ever exist. She only bugs me to go out when she really needs to go, otherwise she couldn’t care less. If I make her go, she’ll get excited once we’re out and moving, but if I leave her alone, she’s perfectly content with staying inside napping all day.”

Skyler chuckles. “Sounds like a sweet life.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. But he can’t help but think how similar it is to his own life—at least before Skyler came back into it. And while it can be nice at times, it can also be boring and lonely.

“How about omelets?” Skyler asks in the kitchen as he starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

“Perfect.”

“Do you want to make coffee?”

Trevor nods and moves to start the French press that’s sitting on the counter. He only knows how to use it because Skyler insisted on getting one for their old house years ago.

He fixes a cup with a tiny bit of cream and too much sugar and hands it to Skyler, then waits nervously for him to take a sip. When he hums in approval, Trevor’s perhaps a bit too pleased with himself. It’s only coffee. It’s not like one of the delicious meals Skyler’s cooked for him. But he’s proud of remembering how Skyler likes it.

Skyler remembers what he likes too, obviously. He doesn’t even ask before loading up the omelets with sausage and veggies.

It’s not until they’re leaning over the island eating their breakfasts and the caffeine starts to reach Trevor’s brain that he remembers the line they’ve crossed. While he wouldn’t exactly call what they did last night cuddling, it was something. Something more than friendly.

Or maybe it wasn’t. Skyler’s always been an extremely tactile person, always craving touch. Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything life-altering.

After they eat, Skyler suggests taking Stella for a walk. “The air looks okay today.”

Trevor checks his phone to be sure since the wind yesterday sent the smoke from the wildfires their way, and it was pretty bad. But today the air quality is relatively safe, so he agrees. The fires are coming closer, and it might be the only nice day for a while.

They get Stella on her leash and start walking casually down the driveway, letting the dog sniff her way along the grass.

Trevor asks Skyler if he’s finished putting together his acoustic set for the radio station.

“Not yet. I started to, but I’ve been working a little bit on some new material.”

“Really?”

Skyler smiles at him. “Yeah, I guess I got inspired.”

“That’s great!”

“It is.”

He wants to ask more. Ask what the songs are about. Ask to hear them. But if Skyler wanted to share, Trevor’s sure he’d do it without prompting, so he lets it go. For now.

When they get all the way down by his security guards’ apartments, Skyler says, “Hey, do you want to meet Mike? You’ve already met Hal, so I feel like you should. And Mike loves dogs. Plus he makes amazing coffee, and I could go for another cup. I don’t know how he does it, but sometimes I come down here to hang out with him just so I can get some coffee.”

“What kind of fancy machine does he use?”

“Oh, he only has a regular cheap coffee maker. But he’s got a magic touch, I swear.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Trevor stops walking so he can give Skyler a scandalized look. “Are you telling me you prefer coffee from a regular coffee maker than from your precious French press?”

Skyler’s cheeks tinge pink. “Leave me alone. It’s just the way he makes it!”

He laughs. “All right, let’s go get you some of this magic coffee then.”

Skyler doesn’t even text to give his security guard a heads up that they’re coming before they walk up to the small structure and knock on the door. Mike answers right away, grinning when he sees them, which would definitely not be Trevor’s reaction to people knocking unexpectedly on his door in the morning.

It quickly becomes clear that even though Mike works for Skyler, the two of them are friends. He invites them all inside his space, which is set up like a studio, and then goes to start the coffee. While it’s brewing, he fawns over Stella.

They end up sitting outside in Adirondack chairs drinking their coffees. As Trevor sips his, he doesn’t quite get the fuss Skyler made. It’s good, for sure, but he wouldn’t call it magical. From the excited way Skyler talks to Mike about how the Dodgers are doing though—when Trevor knows Skyler couldn’t give a crap about sports—Trevor suspects he simply enjoys hanging out with Mike. Maybe he feels like he needs the coffee as an excuse.

Mike engages Trevor in conversation too. And he doesn’t try to act like he doesn’t know who Trevor is, but he also doesn’t act like it’s at all weird for him to be here with Skyler at this time of day. He keeps the conversation simple, and Trevor can see why Skyler likes him. He’s more interested in talking about sports and a new Italian restaurant that opened recently than anything having to do with Skyler’s career. Skyler must appreciate that.

“Does she know any tricks?” Mike asks, looking down at Stella who’s off her leash and flopped out in the grass with her belly in the air.

“Sure. Her favorite trick is sleep,” Trevor says, earning a laugh.

They stay at least half an hour before making their way back up to the house. Trevor figures he can’t stay here all day, so reluctantly he says, “I guess I should probably go.”

Skyler hesitates a moment before replying, “Yeah, of course.”

Skyler walks him out to his car and gives Stella a big kiss on the forehead before Trevor gets her into the back. And then it’s the two of them, standing in front of each other beside the driver’s door.

Trevor scratches at his wrist. “Um.”

This is new. Skyler’s only ever walked him as far as the front door before. It’s almost like he’s back in high school after a date at the movies. Only back then, it was him walking a girl to her car after the date. Or honestly, he’s not sure he ever even did that.

Skyler shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and see? They made it weird. He hasn’t acted nervous any other time they hung out.

“Thanks for last night,” Skyler says suddenly, then immediately looks flustered when Trevor’s eyes go wide. “I mean, shit, that sounded like I was thanking you for se—” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I meant thanks for staying. It was nice having someone to make breakfast for. It’s been a long time.”

How long? Tell me exactly how long, Trevor wants to demand.

Was he the last person Skyler made breakfast for when they were still together? Or has Skyler made breakfast for a long list of one-night stands over the last five years? For someone who was more?

He wants to know, but he also doesn’t. Worries the answer might kill him. So.

“Yeah, it was nice,” he agrees.

Skyler runs a hand through his messy hair. “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“No.”

When is he ever busy at night, really? Bingeing episodes of Supernatural in his boxers and drooling over Sam while Stella drools on his leg doesn’t count as busy.

“We could grab takeout from that Italian place Mike was raving about?”

“Oh.” Trevor twists his car keys around his fingers. “Yeah. Sure.”

Skyler frowns. “You don’t sound sure.”

“No, I am. Yes. Let’s do that. Italian sounds great,” he babbles.

“Bring Stella again?”

“She’d hold it against me if I didn’t,” he says, trying to sound calm. But he’s pretty sure bringing Stella again means staying the night again, and does that mean they didn’t make it as weird as he thought?

“Great,” Skyler says, smiling brightly. And then he leans in and gives Trevor a hug, arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing, cheek pressed against Trevor’s temple.

It’s a Skyler specialty. His limbs cling to Trevor’s body like a koala. And Trevor has no choice but to hug him back, bringing his arms up around Skyler’s shoulders. No one could resist a hug like this.

The moment he gets inside his car and Skyler carefully shuts the door for him, Trevor’s body regrets the loss of Skyler’s warmth. He tells himself he’s being ridiculous and turns the heat on as he leaves.

Stella starts whining from the backseat.

“I know, girl.” He glances at her in the rearview mirror and shakes his head. “We’re so screwed.”