Page 13 of The Way Home (Pathfinders Lake Romance #5)

Jeremy

T he rest of the day we'd spent more time in each other's presence than we had in the last decade. Even while he was sitting there reading, and I was playing a video game, his nearness seemed to soothe my soul, lifting a weight I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.

It was somewhat stilted with Riley sitting as far to the opposite side of the couch as possible, but I still considered it a win. After a time of pretending to read, it seemed he'd finally relaxed enough to do exactly that.

The next couple of days were similar. We would eat together and then hang out in the living room, which acted as neutral ground.

Riley had been getting up earlier than me, probably to avoid me surprising him in his room again.

Which, considering the tent pole I'd walked in on the other day, was probably wise.

Now that I'd been able to kiss him again, I was dealing with frequent wood myself.

Morning, night, wet dreams. It was ridiculous, really.

I felt like a horny teenager all over again.

Having my teenage dream boy so close I could touch him if he would let me seemed to have cranked up my libido.

At this rate, I was going to need more lube, and the only action I'd seen was my hand. Okay… and a toy or two.

There were times I caught him watching me, and I heard his confession all over again.

“ Because I can't have you. Not the way I want to .” Riley wanted me, and the feeling was oh-so-very mutual.

Which made sitting here like strangers keeping a polite distance even harder.

He needed time, though, and I would give it.

I had a lifetime to give if it meant keeping him from running away again.

Well, I'd give him time, but maybe not so much space.

I would happily take every inch he allowed as I slowly—so slowly—slid closer to him.

I'm pretty sure I caught a little smirk after one of my not-so-subtle adjustments.

He'd even gotten to the point where he'd begun making little comments on my game as he watched over the top of his book.

“So is this what you've been doing when you say you've been preparing for your interview?”

I took the small pillow from the couch and threw it at his face. He used his book as a shield, letting out a laugh. Good. I liked his snark. It was way better than his silence.

“No, fucker, this is my way to relax. I'll have you know I have a whole playbook I've been meticulously putting together, and I go over it every night.”

Riley lowered his book and gave me a sweet smile. “I don't doubt it. I think it's great. When is your interview?”

“Tomorrow.” It was just another thing I was trying hard not to think about.

Playing video games helped distract me. Both from the anxiety of a meeting that could change the course of my life and the man I desperately wanted to touch and was trying hard not to.

Madden was doing the lord's work right now.

How did humans survive before game consoles?

“How are you feeling about it?”

I scrubbed a hand over my hair. “I don't know. I'm as ready as I can be, I think. Now, I'm just eager to get it over with.”

“Understandable. Just go in there and be yourself. They're going to love you, Jem.”

Damn, I didn't realize how much I missed hearing his unique nickname for me. Every time he let it slip was like cold aloe on a sunburn, soothing, calming. Funny how one little word could feel so good.

“Thanks, Ri. I appreciate you saying that.” Needing this interaction to continue somehow, I asked, “Did you want to play something? I'm up for a different game if you want to join in.”

Riley looked between his book and the TV with a torn expression. To anyone else, the offer of a game would simply be a game. I meant it as one, but with our history there was more weight to it.

Once upon a time, we would play games all day together only for it to turn into flirting and touching, usually ending in a variety of undress until we'd both been panting and sweating on this very couch.

The memory hit me right in the nuts as I thought of our Mario Kart foreplay. Did he remember, too?

Riley bit his lip as his cheeks pinked, and he returned his gaze to his book. “No, maybe not right now.”

So close . “All right, but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

“Mm-hm,” he mumbled, feigning disinterest, though I caught the way his legs opened a little wider. Maybe it was my own wishful thinking. Riley slid a quick glance to me before darting his eyes away. Maybe not.

I smiled to myself. The end zone was in sight, but sometimes you had to get there one yard at a time. First down: HOEs .

As the day turned to night, a chill swept through the house.

Outside, thick clouds were rolling in. A storm.

Just fucking perfect. I loved the rain, but it tied itself to the memory of getting the air knocked out of me and being unable to draw in a breath.

It seemed so minor considering what could have happened, but I always felt it building in my chest, making it hard to draw a full breath.

We'd eaten dinner and had been cleaning the dishes together when a crack of lightning sounded, and my hand went to my chest. Riley flashed me a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

I lowered my hand, trying not to look as panicked as I felt. “Yeah. I'll be okay. I wasn't expecting a thunderstorm tonight. It seems like it came out of nowhere.”

“They usually do this time of year, right? I remember how much I loved them when we first moved. We rarely got storms like this in California. The novelty wore off when I realized they happened all the time here, and well…”

“Wet feet?” I supplied with a grin, grateful for the distraction.

“Exactly.” Riley shrugged.

A flash of light pierced through the curtain followed by a boom a moment later. A boom that made me gasp, and I had to turn away from Riley so he wouldn't see me struggling.

“Hey, you have a big day tomorrow. I'll finish up here.” A hand squeezed my shoulder. I wanted to both pull away to hide how tense I felt and lean into him to draw comfort from him. Leaving was probably a smart move. I didn't want to have to brave it out or worry him if I wasn't able to.

“Yeah, thanks. I think I'll take you up on that.” I handed him the towel I was using to dry the dishes he washed.

“If you need anything, let me know, okay?” Sincerity and worry mixed together in Riley's offer.

“Thanks. Goodnight, Ri.”

“Goodnight.”

Safely behind my bedroom door, I stripped out of my shirt and pants, feeling too constricted with the weight of the air clinging to me.

I grabbed the water bottle off the bedside table and pulled a long slurp of water.

I was fine. This was fine. It wasn't anything I hadn't experienced and survived before.

I hadn't felt it this badly in a long time, though.

Being back home probably didn't help. Or perhaps it was because of rewatching the video and seeing myself lying on the field.

Of course, there was also the added stress of my interview and this whole situation with Riley.

In other words, my defenses were down, and I was fucked.

I sat on the edge of my bed, hunched over because of the top bunk, and focused on breathing.

In. Out. In. Out. A crack of lightning made my entire body tense and a bead of sweat dripped from my forehead.

My breath sucked in and got stuck. Thirty seconds of panic until it finally expelled, and I could draw another.

I hit my fist against the mattress. “Fuck! I don't need this tonight.”

I grabbed my earbuds and laid back on the bed. Turning on a playlist, I set the volume as loud as I could tolerate. There was no way I could sleep with Chappell Roan blasting in my ears, but I hoped it would at least distract me enough to chill the fuck out.

I was humming along when I saw the light flash, and my chest tightened.

It had taken a few refrains to start breathing normally again, though my heart rate was still attempting to settle.

Maybe I'd be better off watching something instead.

Just as I stopped the music and pulled out my earbuds, my bedroom door opened.

I froze as Riley came in and knelt at the side of my bed.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

I wanted to tell him everything was fine, but I didn't have the energy to pretend it was. Besides, if I was pushing him not to hide or run away, that meant I needed to do the same.

With a shake of my head, I said, “Well, not super great, no.”

“Is it the storm?”

“Yeah.” Hoping not to sound too pathetic, I added quickly. “It's not usually like this.”

Riley reached out and took my earbuds from me, placing them on the bedside table, before returning his gaze to mine. There was no judgment on his face, no look of pity. Concern, yes, but it didn't feel condescending.

He stared at me for a minute as if trying to decide what to do, when another crash sounded, and I found myself grabbing his arm without meaning to. I winced and slowly drew my hand back. “Sorry.”

“Move over.”

Riley stood and took his glasses off, setting them next to my earbuds. The action and his words weren't clicking while I was still tense and bracing myself from the thunder. “What?”

“Move over, Jeremy.” He ducked under the bunk bed and placed his knee on the edge of my bed.

A whole torrent of thoughts rushed through my head and down my body as I thought of his long, lean form in my bed.

I scooted as close to the wall as I could, leaving the small amount of space that a twin bed allowed.

Riley threw the covers back and climbed in beside me. Suddenly my breath was gone for a completely different reason. He was here. Closer than he'd been in a long time. I stared at him, certain my jaw hung open, but he deliberately kept his attention focused on the bed above us.