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His cock throbs in my ass as he spills inside me, filling the condom with his cum.

By some miracle, Carter manages to hold himself back when he collapses on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

With him still deep inside me, his hands grab my face, cradling it, my arms wrapping around his body in return.

My heart is pounding, a humming sound buzzing between my ears as worry starts to claw at my chest. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve been in years, and it scares the shit out of me.

“Please don’t freak out. I can’t—I can’t handle it if you freak out right now,” I whisper, my words barely audible.

“I won’t,” he whispers back, his lips brushing against mine. “Thank you.”

“I’ve never been thanked after sex before.”

“You know what I mean. I needed an outlet and you didn’t hesitate to give it to me. This . . . ugh. This is different, Finn. I don’t want you to think I just used you. I wanted this. Wanted you. Thank you for giving yourself to me like this.”

His words find their home deep within my heart, and I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear them. I let myself relax in his arms, hoping like hell he means it.

“What do you wanna watch? I’m in the mood for Marvel.”

“Hell yes. I’m good with that. You good with Spiderman ?”

Carter looks at me like I have ten heads, and I don’t understand. It’s not too much of a stretch that two men in their mid-twenties like Spiderman , especially since we both seem to enjoy Marvel. But . . .

“ Spiderman’s my favorite.”

Okay, maybe that’s a coincidence.

“Mine too. Which one? I swear I’ll punch you in the nuts if you say the wrong one.”

Carter cups his package with both hands and braces himself for an attack .

“Are you serious? Tom Holland is the best. Go fuck yourself if you think differently.”

“What?” I yell in shock. “Tobey Maguire put Spiderman on the map for cinema. You say Spiderman , people picture Tobey Maguire. And if they don’t, they’re either not true fans or too young to know any better.”

“I don’t know if I can stay here with you for a minute longer. Tom Holland is a king.”

“I’d like to see you try to leave, dumbass. I’ll chain you to the bed.”

His brows wiggle at me in a challenge.

“Can we agree that Andrew Garfield comes last, then?”

“Agree.”

“Rock, paper, scissors for which one we watch?”

“Deal.”

Carter and I throw our fists out, chanting as we go. Carter won with scissors to my paper.

“Suck it! Tom Holland it is!”

“No fuckin’ way! Best outta three, are you nuts?”

“Fine. You’re such a whine-ass.”

We throw our fists for another round. I win with paper covering his rock.

“Alright, may the best man win, Hayes.”

“Eat shit, Nash.”

“Rock. Paper. Scissors. Shoot.”

Carter slams his closed fist over my two outstretched fingers, winning the match. I groan loudly, dropping my head back to look at the ceiling.

“Hope you’re ready to enjoy a night with my boy. Better get comfortable!”

I grab Carter by the arms, pulling him into my space, situating us so that his back is leaning against my chest, his ass between my legs as we stretch out on the immense sofa. His deep sigh is all the reassurance I need that it was the right move.

He puts on Spiderman 2002 with Tobey Maguire without saying a word, putting a huge smile on my face that I don’t need to hide.

I want to talk to him about his texts, about what upset him and why, but I don’t want to ruin what we’ve created right now.

So I just leave it open-ended without pressing too hard.

Nuzzling into his neck, I keep my voice low, just letting him know he has someone if he needs, trying so hard for it not to come out as a plea.

I desperately want to be there for him, want to take care of him the way I wish someone would take care of me.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here, judgment-free. ”

Time seems to freeze, suspending us, and with every passing moment, I wonder if he’ll talk to me at all. Just when I’ve accepted that he isn’t ready to open up on a deeper level to me, his voice cuts through the thoughts in my head.

“I feel like an asshole for feeling the way I do, but I’m just lost and sometimes the pressure gets to be too much.

Everyone sees me as one way, but like I said before, it’s not really me, and sometimes I just want to be the mess and have it be okay.

I’ve manufactured this version of myself, and it’s not one I’m proud of.

My brothers all have their shit together, and most days, they don’t think I do. ”

“I know you love your family, but who cares what they think?”

Kettle, meet pot.

“I do. I love them so much, and they’re good people, Finn. I just want them to look at me like I’m not this fuck-off playboy guy. I’ve never slacked on anything when it comes to my job, and yet they still berate me that I’m out here fucking around instead of working.”

“Why do they think you’re here?” I can’t believe I haven’t thought to ask him what he told his family. I’ve been so consumed with only Carter, with getting him alone, that I didn’t take anything else into account.

“Told them the truth, that it was the only way you’d write the article. That it was the only time you had free.”

Okay, so not too far off base.

“It’s never too late to reinvent yourself.

You’re never too old to start over, never too old to try something new, or to say this no longer brings me joy, I’m moving on.

Life is short. Do you want to live it giving your family a fake version of yourself because you’re scared of burdening them with being human? ”

Carter looks up at me from where he rests on my chest like I’ve grown two heads, but I know my words ring true. He doesn’t say anything else, but I can tell they affected him. I hope he takes the advice that’s so easily and freely given. I wish it wasn’t so hard for me to take my own.

At some point during the movie, Carter’s shirt has ridden up, my fingers toying with the bare skin, rubbing soft circles and loving the pressure of his body against mine.

“I can feel your hard dick in my back, Nash.”

“If you weren’t such a tease, Hayes, I’d be able to stay flaccid for more than five minutes.”

“I can’t help you with that. Pretty sure my dick is raw and my balls are empty from how much we’ve fucked around this weekend.”

“I can fix that for you.”

“Watch the movie, Finn.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tonight, it’s not even a question of where we’ll sleep. Carter climbs into bed with only his boxer briefs on, and I slip in behind him, his back to my chest, our limbs twined together, my arm wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve never slept next to anyone before you,” Carter whispers the admission, barely audible over the white noise from his phone, but I hear him clear as day.

“Me neither.”

The next day, Carter and I wake up slowly, something I don’t do often, but am really enjoying the pace of. I make us a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, and Carter pours us both coffees, leaving mine black and pouring way too much milk and sugar into his own.

“You up for the beach today?” I ask him, wanting to get his ass out in the sun and into the ocean.

“Hell yeah. You have surfing here in Maine?”

I give him a little laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, we got surfing here in Maine.”

Our entire morning is very domestic, but neither of us makes comments, just move around each other like two people who’ve lived with each other for years rather than days.

We clean up from breakfast and then head to our bedrooms. We each change into our swim shorts, pull the surfboards and some beach supplies from the mud room, and Carter helps me strap everything down before we hit the road.

We drive the Jeep with the windows down, Carter’s arm resting on the windowsill, my hand itching to hold his, but not wanting to make the move.

I take him to a three-mile stretch of beach on the coast of Emberleigh that has prime surfing.

As we take our spot on the beach, I look out at a group of people who are already out in the ocean, and the waves look perfect.

It’s a hot one today, and I spray myself down with sunscreen and toss Carter the bottle once I’m done with it.

“What? Not gonna lotion me up, Nash? What gives?”

“C’mere, my baby, daddy’ll take care of his boy,” I coo, my arms outstretched reaching for him.

He barks out a loud laugh, batting my hands away. “Fuck off with that shit!”

I laugh with him as I pick up my board.

“Race you, Hayes?”

“Get ready to eat shit, Nash. Winner gets a blow job.”

“Deal.” Knowing this is not a bet I’m losing today, I shove him in the chest and take off.

“You dirty fucking cheat!”

My feet slap the water’s edge as Carter’s palm connects with my back, giving me a hard shove and knocking me off balance.

I catch him tossing the surfboard down and fall on top of it, pushing under a wave as I follow him into the ocean, laughing.

We paddle out next to each other until we take a seat and wait for the perfect ride.

“I won, so don’t even try to get out of it,” I tell him with a smile.

“Yeah, ’cause you’re a cheat. I should have known better by now.” He says the words, but there’s no grit behind them; he’s being playful back, and my heart swells.

“Damn right. Anything to get you.”

“That so?”

I splash water in his direction, spraying his face with mist. “Yeah, it is.”

We spend the next few hours surfing, and to my surprise, Carter is actually really good.

As I watch him ride his last wave, swim to shore, and walk up the beach to our spot, I realize I haven’t had this much fun in years—maybe longer—and I don’t want this to ever end.

I’m prepared to give up everything for a chance with Carter.

I need to tell him how I feel, come clean about everything, and make a plan for returning to Washington to take on my dad. I can do this. Carter’s worth it all.