Page 22 of The Silence Between

20

DEEPENING CONNECTION

ETHAN

I stood outside Leo's apartment door Friday evening, heart pounding in my chest like I was sixteen again. The bottle of wine in one hand and bakery box in the other suddenly felt like pretty lame offerings for what tonight meant. But before I could overthink it, I knocked.

Leo opened the door, and the sight of him momentarily knocked the wind out of me. He wasn't dressed fancy or anything, just dark jeans and a blue button-down that looked really good on him, but it was clear he'd actually thought about what to wear rather than just grabbing whatever was clean.

“Hi,” he said, a tentative smile crossing his face. “Come in.”

The apartment looked different from my last visit. Not like he'd done major renovations or anything, but there were little touches everywhere that showed he'd prepared. The living room was cleaner than usual. He'd set up a small table near the kitchen with actual cloth napkins and plates that matched. Music played softly in the background, some acoustic guitar stuff I didn't recognize.

“It smells amazing in here,” I said, following him into the kitchen where pots were simmering on the stove.

“Just enchiladas. Nothing special.” But I could see how much work he'd put in: homemade sauce bubbling away, fresh cilantro chopped on a cutting board, a bowl of dough that meant he'd made tortillas from scratch.

“It looks pretty special to me,” I said. “Thanks for cooking.”

He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment. “It's just food.”

But we both knew it wasn't just food. It was time he'd somehow found in his crazy schedule, effort he'd made when he was probably exhausted, care he'd taken when he had a million other things demanding his attention.

I set the wine and bakery box on the counter, then pulled out the opener I'd brought, figuring he might not have one. “Wine? Or is that too much?”

“Wine's good.” He pulled two mismatched wine glasses from a cabinet. “Got these at Goodwill. Don't use them much.”

I poured us each a glass, then followed him to the table where he was setting out the food. We started with safe topics at first. But as we ate, things got more personal. Leo asked about my writing, not the published stuff but what I was working on now, if anything. I admitted I hadn't written anything new in months.

“The words don't come anymore,” I confessed. “Or when they do, they feel fake, like I'm just going through the motions.”

“Writer's block?”

“More like writer's crisis of faith.” I swirled the wine in my glass, watching it catch the light. “I lost track of why I was writing. It became about sales numbers and reviews instead of having something to say.”

Leo nodded, getting it without me having to explain more. “Like when work is just about paying bills, not meaning anything.”

“Exactly,” I said, surprised by how perfectly he'd nailed it. “But you've found meaning at the bookstore, haven't you? I've seen how you light up there.”

His face softened, guard dropping for a moment. “Yeah. It's the first job that's ever felt like more than just a paycheck. Even when I'm tired, I don't hate being there.”

“That's how writing used to feel for me.”

“Maybe it will again.”

“Maybe.” I studied him across the table, noticing how he'd gradually relaxed during dinner, how his expressions had become more natural, less controlled. “And your business classes? Looking forward to them?”

“Nervous more than excited,” he admitted. “It's been ten years since I've been in a classroom. What if I can't keep up?”

“You will,” I said with total certainty. “You're one of the smartest people I know, Leo.”

He looked startled by the compliment, then skeptical. “You teach high school. Not exactly setting the bar high.”

“I taught college before that. And I went to supposedly elite schools. Trust me, formal education isn't the only way to measure intelligence. The way you've managed your family, figured out impossible systems, made money stretch beyond what should be possible... that takes a special kind of genius they don't teach in classrooms.”

Color rose in his cheeks, clearly struggling with the praise. “That's just surviving.”

“No,” I insisted. “That's extraordinary. And it's time you started believing it.”

He got up to clear our plates, waving off my offer to help with a small smile that told me he needed a minute to process. When he came back with the dessert I'd brought, carefully cut and plated, something had changed in his expression.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, sitting back down. “About us?”

My heart skipped. “Of course.”

“What do you want from this?” He gestured vaguely between us. “Whatever's happening here.”

The directness caught me off guard. Leo had always been the careful one, keeping things in safe territory. This willingness to actually talk about us was huge.

“I want whatever you're comfortable with,” I answered honestly. “I care about you, Leo. More than I expected when I came back to Riverton. But I get that your life has complications mine doesn't. Your family has to come first, and I'd never ask for anything that messed with that.”

He studied me, like he was checking for any sign I was bullshitting. Finding none, he continued.

“I can't do normal dating. No spontaneous weekend trips or midnight movies or even regular dinner dates. My life doesn't work that way.”

“I know.”

“The kids will always come first. No matter what.”

“As they should.”

He took a deep breath, fingers playing with the rim of his wine glass. “But I've been thinking lately about whether there might be room for something beyond just getting by. For someone who sees me as more than just a guardian or provider. For...” he paused, searching for words, “for you.”

The simple statement hit me harder than any dramatic declaration could have. Not some passionate confession, but something way more meaningful coming from a guy who'd spent ten years putting everyone else first.

“I'd like that,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite everything I was feeling. “I'd like to see where this goes, at whatever speed works for you. No pressure, no expectations you can't meet.”

Leo studied me across the table, his walls coming down in a way I rarely saw. “Were there... others? After you left Riverton?”

The question surprised me, though maybe it shouldn't have. This was Leo being Leo, needing to understand everything before moving forward.

“Yes,” I admitted. “A few relationships in college. Nothing serious until David.” I paused, watching his reaction. “We were together five years. Married for two.”

“Married,” Leo repeated softly, his fingers tightening slightly around his glass. “I didn't know.”

“It ended about eight months before I came back.” I took a breath, offering honesty for honesty. “David was an architect. Brilliant, organized, had everything planned out. We looked good together on paper, the writer and the designer, going to the right parties, living in the right neighborhood.”

“What happened?” Leo asked, holding my gaze.

“Nothing dramatic. No cheating or huge fights.” I smiled sadly. “David said I always had one foot out the door, even when I was right there. That I was looking for something I couldn't name.” I met Leo's eyes. “He wasn't wrong.”

Leo took this in, thoughtful. “And the divorce?”

“Friendly enough, considering. We still text sometimes. He's in Chicago now, working with a firm there.” I hesitated, then added, “He was right about me, though. I was never fully there, not the way he deserved. Part of me was always... somewhere else.”

Something shifted in Leo's expression, maybe recognition or understanding. “And now?” he asked quietly.

“Now I'm exactly where I want to be,” I said, the simple truth easier than any fancy words. “For the first time in a really long time.”

He nodded, relief and something like hope softening his features. “One step at a time?”

“One step at a time,” I agreed, reaching across the table to take his hand. His fingers were rough from years of physical work, warm against my palm. “We've got time.”

The simple touch meant more than any dramatic gesture could have. For Leo, this openness was a gift I wasn't sure I deserved but was determined to treat right.

His eyes met mine, something unspoken passing between us. The apartment suddenly felt smaller, charged with possibility.

“Stay,” he said softly, the single word carrying a question.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my heart racing. “The kids?—“

“Mari texted that she’s going to be home late and that Sophie's sleepover got extended, and Diego's crashing at his friend's.” His fingers tightened around mine. “I want this. I want you. If you do too.”

The vulnerability in his face nearly broke me. This was Leo Reyes, the guy who calculated every risk, who planned for everything, who never acted without thinking through consequences, choosing to take a chance. On us.

“I've wanted this since I saw you again,” I admitted, my voice rough. “But only if you're sure.”

He answered not with words but by standing up, still holding my hand, gently pulling me up and toward the bedroom. His movements had none of the hesitation that had marked our careful dance these past months. For tonight at least, he'd made his choice.

And so had I.

He led me down the quiet hallway, our fingers still linked. Every step toward the bedroom felt like letting go of everything that had kept us apart for ten years. I could hear traffic outside, the soft creak of floorboards under our feet, my own breathing getting unsteady

Leo opened the bedroom door, and a faint glow from the streetlamp outside cast long shadows across the room. The bed was made, but the slight messiness of it made me ache with how lived-in it felt. This was his space, his sanctuary, and he was letting me into it, finally, completely.

He turned to me and touched my face with both hands, his thumbs brushing the curve of my jaw. His eyes searched mine, and even though he’d already said it, I needed to hear it again.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, my voice rough.

“Yes,” he said quietly, without hesitation. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

His lips met mine like he wanted to taste every part of me. I kissed him back, letting myself feel the weight of the moment, the heat between us, the sharp pulse of want that had been simmering for far too long.

He pushed my jacket off my shoulders, fingers skimming down my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I tugged his shirt up, and he helped me pull it over his head. I let my hands roam across the familiar plane of his chest, over the muscle and scar tissue I hadn’t known before. He was solid, warm, real.

Leo kissed me again, more urgently this time, and walked us back toward the bed. My knees hit the mattress and I sat down, pulling him between my legs. I ran my hands along his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he kissed down my neck, slow and deliberate.

“You have no idea how many times I dreamed about this,” I murmured. “About you.”

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. “I never stopped thinking about you. Not once.”

My chest tightened. I reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it off, and his hands were on me instantly, exploring like he had a map in his head and was finally free to follow it. I leaned back onto the bed, tugging him with me until he was stretched over me, both of us fully clothed from the waist down, but pressed so close I could feel the hard line of his cock against mine.

“Fuck,” he whispered, grinding against me. “You feel so good. I missed this. I missed you.”

“Then take it,” I said, lifting my hips against his. “Take what you want.”

Clothes came off in a scramble. He pushed down my jeans and briefs at once, and I did the same to him. His cock was hard, thick, flushed dark at the tip. My mouth watered just looking at him. He leaned in to kiss me again, but I pressed my hand to his chest and gave him a look.

“I want to taste you,” I said.

Leo’s breath hitched. “Yeah?”

I pushed him gently onto his back and knelt between his thighs. He was beautiful like this, all spread out and wanting, his chest rising fast, his eyes locked on mine. I wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and leaned in, licking a slow stripe up the underside. He cursed, hips twitching.

“Jesus, Ethan,” he groaned, fingers curling in the sheets.

I took him into my mouth slowly, savoring the weight and heat of him, the way he gasped when I swallowed around him. His thighs tensed beneath my palms, his hand brushing my hair in something halfway between reverence and desperation.

“Fuck, that feels so good. You're gonna make me lose it.”

I pulled off with a wet pop and kissed up his stomach, his chest, until we were face to face again. Our cocks slid together, both of us slick with pre-come, the friction making my head spin.

“I want you inside me,” I whispered against his mouth. “I want to feel you.”

Leo’s eyes burned. He kissed me hard, then reached over to the nightstand for the lube. His hands were steady, careful. When he slid his fingers between my cheeks and found my hole, he paused.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I won't,” I said. “I want this. I want you.”

He pressed one finger inside, slow and gentle. I groaned, arching up into his touch. He added another, then a third, working me open with patient care, curling just right to make me cry out. I was panting, desperate.

“Leo, please. I need you.”

He moved over me, lining himself up, his cock thick and slick with lube. He braced himself on his forearm, eyes locked with mine.

“You’re sure?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been waiting ten years for this. Don't make me wait another second.”

He pushed in slowly, the stretch sharp and sweet, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. It hurt, a little, but the pain was drowned out by the sheer overwhelming feeling of him inside me. Of finally being filled by the man I had never stopped loving.

He bottomed out with a strangled sound, pressing his forehead against mine.

“God, you feel incredible,” he whispered.

“So do you,” I said, breathless.

He began to move, slow and deep, each thrust driving a moan from my throat. Our hands tangled, fingers clutching like we were afraid to let go. The rhythm built, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, punctuated by our gasps, our curses, the way he kept saying my name like a prayer.

“You're so fucking tight,” he groaned. “I could stay like this forever.”

“Then do it,” I gasped. “Stay. Don’t let this be a one-night thing.”

His pace faltered for half a second, and he looked down at me, face open, vulnerable.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

I surged up to kiss him, and he fucked me harder, faster, each stroke brushing something deep inside that made my toes curl and my vision blur. I was close, right on the edge, every nerve alight.

“Touch me,” I begged. “Please, Leo?—“

He wrapped a hand around my cock, stroking in rhythm with his thrusts, and it was too much. I came with a shout, my body seizing beneath him, come striping both our stomachs. He groaned, hips jerking as he followed, spilling deep inside me with a raw, guttural sound.

We lay there tangled, breathless, sweat cooling on our skin. His cock softened inside me as he brushed my hair back from my face.

“That... that was worth every second of waiting,” I said, smiling up at him.

Leo laughed softly, chest still heaving. “Yeah. It was.”

He rolled us onto our sides, keeping me close, one arm draped around my waist. Our legs tangled under the sheets, and for a while, there was just silence, the kind that felt safe. Shared.

“I’m scared,” I admitted quietly.

“Of what?”

“That I’ll wake up and this will be gone. That something will pull us apart again.”

He kissed my shoulder. “Then I’ll spend every morning proving to you that it’s not.”

I closed my eyes, my heart full to the point of breaking. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, I was exactly where I belonged.

* * *