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Chapter Eighteen

GRAHAM

“Okay, I’m coming.” The banging on my door drags me out of my bed. After getting no sleep the night after leaving Tyler’s house and a long day at work, I’m not in the mood for disruptions. Whatever neighborhood kid is pranking me is in for a rude awakening.

Instead, I find Tyler on my doorstep. Wholly drenched and shaking. “Tyler, what are you—” I stop myself. Questions later. I need to get him dry and warm first. “Get in here.” He steps inside, and I quickly close the door. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab a few towels. Strip out of those wet clothes.” He stands frozen, chest heaving between breaths. “Tyler, get the wet clothes off.” I use my most authoritative voice, the one I usually save for when my niblings are in danger, which seems to do the trick. He slowly starts to pull off his hoodie.

Content that he’s moving in the right direction, I head for the linen closet and pull out a bunch of towels, some for the floor and some for Tyler. I stop off in my bedroom to grab some warm clothes for him. On the way back, I make sure to turn the thermostat up a couple of degrees. I’m not sure what’s brought him to this point, but nothing matters right now except getting him warm and comfortable.

When I get back, he’s managed to get all but his boxer briefs off. I wrap a towel around his shoulders and rub him gently. His skin is frigid and pale. How long has he been out there? Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have left his place like that. I thought he needed space to think, but seeing him like this makes me think I should’ve stayed and let him think through things with me holding him tight. “Okay, let’s get you in some warm clothes, and we can go sit on the couch, and you can tell me why you’re here.”

I help him change into my sweatpants, rolling up the legs as much as possible so he doesn’t trip over them. He swims in my sweatshirt, but at least the combination is getting some color back in his cheeks.

Once I have him tucked under a blanket on the couch, I turn on the electric fireplace. It’s a feature I’ve only used a time or two, but this feels like the perfect use for it.

I sit down next to Tyler and take his hand in mine. I’m terrified he’s here to tell me things are over. When he didn’t call or text yesterday, I thought that was it.

He’s quiet for a long time, and his eyes stay on the fire. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gulliver slink into the room. He takes in the scene, then quickly takes up his position on Tyler’s lap. It only takes a second before Tyler snakes a hand out from under the blanket to pet Gulliver. As always, that cat knows exactly what to do. “Take your time, sweetheart.” I rub my hand down his arm, making slow circles to soothe him and get the blood pumping. Eventually, Tyler leans down and puts his head in my lap.

“Can you not look at me?” It’s the first thing he’s said since he got here.

“How about this?” I pull out my phone and use the app to turn off the lights in the living room. The only light left is the glow of streetlights through the window and the fire. Tyler’s breath sputters a few times with false starts before he starts to speak.

“I didn’t start out volunteering at Sprouting Joy. I mean, I technically was a volunteer, but it was mandatory.” My mind races. There are only a few reasons that someone ends up with mandatory volunteer work. I’d seen enough people come through with required hours for things to be able to get a general idea of where this conversation was going. “They were court-ordered. Steph took pity on me when I was calling around to places, trying to find someone who would take me for hours.” That sounds like my friend. Steph’s got a good sense for people and a soft spot for those she thinks deserve a second chance. “Everyone’s desperate for volunteers right up until you mention you’re a criminal.”

I shook my head. So many places instantly judged without asking any questions about why someone needed the hours. So many of the court-mandated volunteers were the best ones I had. They weren’t late, worked hard, and never missed a shift. People were judgmental idiots, never willing to hear the whole story or learn about the person behind it.

“What happened?” I prompt after a period of silence.

“I was going through a hard time. I’d tried dating again for the first time in a while, and while they always said they were fine with the whole side thing, it always became a sticking point. It doesn’t really matter, but it had been a particularly angry breakup with this one guy, Jasper.” He sighs. “It’s not an excuse, but it was on top of a work project where our client kept making inappropriate comments about my appearance. Everyone knew he was harassing me, but he was giving the company a lot of money, so…”Tyler trails off, and I rub my thumb against his cheek. If I knew it wouldn’t cost Tyler his job, I’d march into their offices tomorrow and demand an explanation. “I was so lost and angry all the time. I was only a couple of years out of college, and even though I still saw my friends, it wasn’t the same. None of that is an excuse.

“One day, I was walking home late from the bar. I’d been drinking after work, trying to drown my sorrows. I passed a store with a bunch of self-help stuff in the window. All this crap that said things like, The best is yet to come, and You can do anything . I lost it. I picked up a big rock and chucked it into the window.” He winces when he says it. “The police were there in no time, not that I tried to run or anything.”

“Then what?” In the back of my mind, I knew the general process this kind of thing would take, but honestly, most of that information comes from TV shows—not the most reliable source.I can picture all the worst-case scenarios easily. My heart breaks for him, going through that whole ordeal. Sure, he shouldn’t have destroyed someone’s property, but that split-second decision cost him so much.

“It’s kind of a blur. Eventually, I got to go home and wait for my court date. I ended up with three hundred hours of community service and required counseling sessions.” Wow, that’s a lot of hours. Definitely at the higher end of what I usually saw. It would take someone a lot of shifts to work something like that off. Especially while also working full-time.

“All of those things ended up being positive. I love Sprouting Joy, which is why I’m still there. The counseling was helpful, and I still see someone to talk through things. And I set up those Thursday nights with my friends to help me feel connected. I mean, it was the therapist’s idea, but still.”

“I’m glad you found some good in it.” Few people I knew could turn something so terrible into something favorable.

“Do you hate me?” The words are whispered, and I can barely make them out.

“Sweetheart, why would I hate you?” I pull him up so that I can see his face. His eyes are glassy and red from crying.

“Because I’m a criminal.” The dam breaks, and his tears start flowing freely.

“Tyler, it was a mistake. It’s in the past. We all make mistakes. Yours came with a very high cost, but it was still a mistake. It doesn’t change anything about my feelings for you.” God, he paid dearly. I can tell how much he still carries the weight of this around on his shoulders. As much as I know he loves the garden, I wonder how much of it he still sees as penance.Continuing to work off his guilt long after he’s paid back his debt to society.

“No one else knows. I mean, Steph knows because she had to sign the paperwork, but no one else.”

Oh. I see where this is going. “You didn’t tell Nathan or any of the other guys?” I’m starting to wonder whether his friends know anything about him.

“I tried a few times, but I couldn’t. I knew they’d be disappointed in me, and I couldn’t bear to see their faces.” He turns away from me and stares into the fire.

“You don’t think they would’ve supported you? Gone to the court dates with you or help you navigate the process?” Even my short time with Nathan tells me I’m right about this. Nathan would’ve been there every step of the way, holding Tyler’s hand and ensuring Tyler got fair treatment.

“Of course they would have.”

“Then why not tell them? This is probably one of the biggest events in your life. That’s a lot to carry around.” I pull him a little closer to me, rearranging the blanket over the top of us. He’s warmer now, but I still want to make him feel cozy and safe.

“That’s what I talked to my therapist about today.” He turns back toward me. The tears are slowing, but his eyes are still watery. “I stopped telling people things little by little a long time ago. First, in college, when I figured out that I’m a side. I didn’t know the term. I knew I didn’t like the same things as the other gay guys. The others were starting to have sex, going on and on about how amazing it was. I thought something was wrong with me, so I didn’t say anything. I pretended to like the same things—even to Nathan. I didn’t think he’d understand, or he’d try to offer a lot of suggestions of how he thought I could make it better.”

“And after that?”

“I think once I started segmenting my life into the things I told people and things I didn’t, the pile of things I didn’t tell people kept growing. When I didn’t tell them about being arrested, I also couldn’t mention Sprouting Joy.” He sighs. “And the list goes on and on after that.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m heartbroken for him, feeling like he can’t tell people about all the most important parts of his life. Yeah, I sometimes wish my siblings would give me a little more privacy, but I still tell them so much of my life. I can’t imagine it any other way.

“You’re right, though. It’s weird that they don’t know basic things about my life.”

“I didn’t say weird.” He snorts, and I take that as a good sign. “I guess it’s more concern. If we’re going to be in a relationship together, I want to be a part of your life. All of it, not just a small portion that you’re willing to share with me. I want the big things, of course, but also all the little things.”

“My therapist thinks I need to course correct. That it’s okay to have things that are only for me, and maybe, if you want, for you, but that I have to be willing to share more of it with my friends.”

“I think you have a very wise therapist.” I kiss the top of his head and finally let out the breath I’ve been holding. Not breaking up. Course correcting.

“Will you come with me?” Tyler bites his lower lip.

“Where?”I ask, not following the shift in our conversation.

“To tell my friends.”

“I’d be honored.”

TYLER

“Call in sick.” Graham doesn’t even open his eyes as I grope around the nightstand for my phone.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He pulls me tightly against his chest. “We were up late last night.” He kindly doesn’t mention that it’s my fault we were up late. And my fault that neither of us got much sleep the night before.For a day, I thought I lost Graham. That fucking rock cost me so much years ago, but I can’t believe how much I kept letting it take away. It almost cost me Graham.

I’m not under any delusion that things are magically fixed. It’s going to take a lot of work and honesty to make it through the mess I made for myself. There are still a lot of hard days ahead, including telling all my friends, but knowing Graham will be there at every step of the way makes me lighter.

It doesn’t take much convincing for me to send an email to my boss and take a sick day. Graham does the same, sending a quick message to the office. With that out of the way, we snuggle back under the blankets, dozing on and off for the next few hours. Anytime I’m awake, I turn to watch Graham, enjoying the way he snores softly when he’s on his back. There’s not a single moment we aren’t touching. After a day of thinking I might never see him again, it’s nice to have the closeness and reassurance.If I had my way, we’d stay like this all day, never separating for more than the moment it takes to go to the bathroom or grab snacks. Graham seems to be of the same mind, only leaving a few times, but always coming back quickly, like he’s afraid I might vanish.

There’s still a lot to do. That’s what I think about while I watch him sleep. He’s fallen back into a peaceful rest after grabbing us some bottles of water. I want to tell my friends the whole story—at least most of it—but the lingering doubts won’t leave me alone.

What if they don’t want to be friends anymore?

What if they treat me differently?

“I can hear you overthinking,”Graham mumbles, his face practically buried in his pillow.

I snort. “I don’t think that’s scientifically possible.”

“Hmmmm… I’d like to test that theory.” Graham curls around me, wrapping his arms around my chest. I’m glad we don’t have anywhere to be today. I know we’ll eventually need to move for something, but right now, the way we are is perfect.

Graham moans when I press my ass back. “Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish,” he says before sinking his teeth gently into my shoulder.

Oh, I fully intend to finish both of us. I wiggle against him, letting his cock nestle against my crack. He’s proven time and again that he respects my boundaries.

He plants kisses along my neck and shoulder, growing more insistent the longer I rub against him. My hand drifts down to stroke my cock a few times, needing something to help with the growing pressure.

“Can I try something?” Graham asks, his voice low and gravelly.

My throat thickens, and I can’t respond. Instead, I nod vigorously. Anything. Everything.

“Grab the lube.”

I set a record scrambling over to pull the bottle from the drawer of the bedside table. My cock jerks in anticipation at the snick of the bottle opening as he pours a generous amount into his hand and strokes himself a few times. I’m mesmerized as I watch, desperate to get my hands on him. “Come here,” he says, helping maneuver me back into position, his spooning me from behind. I push back against him again, this time feeling his slicked cock between my cheeks. He reaches around and strokes me a few times, coating my dick with the remaining lube.

“Fuck. Graham.” The release of all the emotional baggage last night left me feeling vulnerable. I need to be close to him, to feel him. “Yes.”

“Lift your leg a little.” I follow his instructions, moving my top leg to make space between my thighs. “Okay.” He helps me move my leg back.

Oh fuck. His hard cock is between my thighs. He moves slowly, pulling back almost all the way, then pressing forward. Fuck . That has no right to feel that good. The way he slides against my skin, how his cock brushes up against my balls. “This okay?”

“So good,” I say. “Keep going.”

He wraps me in his arms, pulling me close, before finding a rhythm. Shit . Each stoke sends little jolts through me. The familiar tingle makes its way up the base of my spine and settles in my balls.

“Graham. Please. More.” I claw at the sheets, trying to find some purchase to hold on.

“Stoke yourself,” Graham orders.

Who am I to deny him? I match his pace, thrusting into my fist. It doesn’t take long before I’m teetering on the edge of orgasm. “I’m close.”

“Yeah? Fuck, me, too. Keep your thighs tight.” I squeeze my legs together, and Graham groans. “Yes, Tyler. Come for me, sweetheart.” He grabs my hips before slamming between my thighs again.

My body can’t help but obey. It only takes two strokes before my orgasm rips through me. Graham shouts his release a second later, his hot cum landing between my inner thighs.

I’m overcome with emotion. I manage to stifle the sob from my throat but can’t hold back the tears that stream down my face. After last night, there shouldn’t be anything left. I hide my face in the pillow and wipe my cheeks clean. I don’t want him to think he did anything wrong. The opposite. Fuck, this man.

“Tyler?”

I pick my head up and roll over, hoping that any remnants of my moment are mistaken for sweat.

“That was fucking incredible,” I say.

“Well, we agree on that one.” His smile melts me. Even though there’s cum drying on my legs and abdomen, I scooch over and cuddle up against his chest. “I think I might have a few tricks up my sleeve still.”

I can’t wait.