Page 79 of Off Script

“Are you okay?” His voice was low, almost careful.

Liam’s mouth curved faintly. “Define okay.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Only the good kind.”

“Are you sure?”

Liam stared at the ceiling, speaking before he could talk himself out of it. “I feel… fucking needy.” It came out like a confession dipped in shame. “Like my body’s not mine right now. Like I want to curl into you and just… stay there. Which is pathetic. I know.”

Jacob didn’t laugh, didn’t tease. Instead, he shifted closer until their bodies touched everywhere. His hand found the line of Liam’s ribs, tracing slow and steady circles into his skin, each pass steadying his heartbeat a little bit more.

“It’s not pathetic.”

Liam shut his eyes. “Feels like it.”

“You gave me everything. Surrendered completely. Of course you feel exposed. You trusted me with your body, your safety, your mind. That’s not weakness.” His tone dropped. “That’s a fucking gift.”

Liam turned into Jacob’s shoulder, hiding in the warm press of him. The familiar scent grounded him until the sharp edges eased and he felt a little bit more like himself.

Silence stretched for a beat before Jacob’s gaze found his. “This was new for me too.”

“Yeah?” Liam rasped.

Jacob nodded once. “Never gone that far with anyone.”

Liam swallowed around the rawness in his throat.

“I’ve never fucked someone like that,” Jacob continued. “Never needed it like that.”

The ache now forming in Liam’s throat had nothing to do with the way Jacob had used it earlier. “So it’s not just me?”

“No,” Jacob said without hesitation, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

They stayed tangled like that, heat pooling between them, neither in a hurry to move. For the first time in months, there was no restless itch under his skin. No weight pressing against his ribs—there was only Jacob.

He’d known for a while now that he loved him, but nothing had prepared him for the depth of it. After everything they’d shared tonight, the truth thundered through him. He loved Jacob with a fierceness that scared him, a longing as dangerous as it was undeniable. They both belonged to others, but in the end, he knew—it would always be him. There was no coming back from this.

***

The funeral was small. No music or fanfare, just the scent of lilies clinging to the air and the heavy quiet of people who had nothing left to say. Fifteen, maybe twenty mourners had gathered in a loose half-circle around the grave.

Jacob stood like stone, shoulders squared, face unreadable. He didn’t look angry or grieving in any way the rest of them would recognize, just… contained. Like whatever he felt was locked down behind steel, and he wasn’t about to give anyone the key.

Liam stayed close enough that the brush of an elbow could have bridged the space between them. He kept his eyes on Jacob while the priest called Marcus Wolfe abeloved fatherand aman of quiet dignity.Jacob didn’t so much as flinch.

When the casket disappeared into the ground and the first shovelfuls of dirt hit the lid, Liam’s fingers itched to reach forhim. He wanted to anchor him for a second and remind him he wasn’t alone. But here, in front of these strangers—these ghosts from his past—Jacob had boundaries Liam wouldn’t cross.

The crowd began to thin, people moving slowly toward the gates. A few hands reached out to Jacob, offering condolences he barely acknowledged. Soon there were only a handful of people left by the grave.

“You want a minute alone?” Liam asked quietly.

“No.”

Jacob didn’t look away from the dirt. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to feel.”

“You don’t have to feel anything,” Liam offered. “There’s no rule.”