Page 65 of Off Script

“I wasn’t doing school plays. I was figuring out how to make twenty bucks last a week and keep the lights on. My mom was an addict. Some days she was there. Most days she wasn’t.”

Liam’s chest tightened.

“I worked at a gas station after school. Did homework when I could. Slept when it was quiet enough.” Jacob shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “That’s what it was.”

He said it like he was narrating the weather. Just facts.

“You still talk to her?”

Jacob shook his head. “No. Haven’t seen her since I was sixteen and she kicked me out. Her boyfriend at the time didn’t want a kid around. She agreed.”

“Jesus.”

Jacob didn’t flinch. “It wasn’t a surprise.”

“And your dad?”

“Left when I was six.”

Liam hesitated. “He had another kid, right?”

Jacob’s jaw flexed. “Yeah. Knox. Twenty years younger. Never met him.”

“He still in Stockton?”

“As far as I know.”

“You ever thought about reaching out?”

“No. Some people think blood means something. I don’t.” Jacob’s voice wasn’t bitter, just firm.

Liam didn’t speak; words felt wrong and useless. Instead, he let his hand drift across the quiet space between them, fingertips grazing Jacob’s. For a heartbeat, nothing happened—then Jacob’s hand shifted, turning to catch his, their palms finding each other in the stillness.

They didn’t look at each other. They didn’t have to. The lake shimmered below them, the trees whispered overhead, the only sounds coming from the wind, the water, and Jacob’s steady breathing beside him.

For one impossible moment, the world felt right.

Chapter 29

Jacob

The hike back from the lake had been slow. Not because they were tired, but because neither wanted to let go of that rare moment that felt like it was theirs alone. Now, in the narrow hall of the lodge, the silence had shifted—no longer tender, but electric.

The hike had left Liam flushed, his shirt damp and clinging to his skin. Jacob tried not to linger on the way it outlined his body, but he caught himself staring anyway.

He stopped outside his door. “Shower with me?”

Liam’s eyes flickered—hesitation, temptation, the usual storm—but his feet still carried him inside.

Steam filled the small bathroom quickly, fogging the mirror. Jacob stripped without hurry, aware of Liam behind him, the sound of clothes hitting tile one by one. He stepped into the shower, the heat swallowing him as water pounded over his shoulders and sluiced down his back. He tipped his head beneath it, letting the warmth loosen muscle and bone. Then he glanced over. “You coming in?” he asked with a low smirk. “Or should I drag you?”

Liam paused only a moment, eyes flicking to Jacob before stepping inside. Steam drifted up around him, threading through his hair, as water ran down his chest in uneven trails.Jacob watched the droplets travel, each one an invitation he didn’t bother to resist.

Jacob reached for the soap and held it out. “Wash me.”

He turned his back toward Liam, one hand braced against the tile as the spray rolled over his shoulders. Liam stepped in close without hesitation, slick hands gliding over hard muscle, spreading soap in deliberate strokes. His touch carried weight—fingers pressing in like he was committing the shape of him to memory.

By the time his palm skimmed low across his back and ghosted his waist, Jacob was done standing still. He spun sharply, catching Liam’s wrists before he could retreat, pinning them high against the tile. His body pressed in close, heat sparking where skin met skin.