Page 44 of The Way Home

“Uh, yeah.” He swallowed hard, because now all he could think about wasthatnight. The feel of Caleb’s warm hands sliding along his lower back. Those talented lips sliding over the head of his cock and swallowing it…

“Do you remember anything else? About me?” Caleb’s eyes were so hopeful. Jamiewantedto say that he remembered things. Like the first time Caleb came to the house and charmed the pants off his mum. Or that he remembered when Caleb spent two hours convincing Pippa that he was good enough for Jamie. Or the time he trained for an eighty-kilometer bike ride to surprise him for his birthday…

But that would be a lie. Jamie didn’t remember any of those things. They were simply stories that Pippa told him.

“No. Just… that first night.”

Jamie looked up to find Caleb a bit closer, his eyes studying Jamie’s face. The air in the room felt thicker now, and Jamie wasn’t sure if he was still dizzy from the blood or from the arousal coursing through his veins.

“What do you remember about… that night?” Caleb’s voice had taken on a husky quality, making it hard for Jamie to think.

“You… uh, I remember you wore a Chelsea shirt.”

The corner of Caleb’s mouth twitched.

“And, um, we walked to your flat. And we, uh, talked about, well, books…” The ability to speak was getting more and more difficult. Most likely due to the blood thatshouldbe going to his brain now being redirected to his cock, which was filling the more Caleb leaned in. Or was Jamie leaning in? It was hard to tell, but there were only a few inches between them now.

“What else do you remember?” Caleb rasped, eyes lingering on Jamie’s lips.

“I, well, I remember…some other things,” Jamie squeaked. His entire body was on fire. Every part of him. Screaming at him to close the distance and give himself over to Caleb. His eyes drank in the lust and arousal on Caleb’s face, and then to his bare, muscular torso.

He noticed a scar on Caleb’s shoulder and, just for a moment, he couldn’t help but stare. It looked serious, starting on his back and circling around to his armpit. Was it from surgery?

He regretted staring, because Caleb leaned away and said, “I should go.” He pushed himself up to stand.

“Oh, I, but—”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Caleb grabbed the aid kit and rushed to the door. “Call if you need anything, okay?”

Jamie took a deep breath and swallowed down all the apologies he wanted to make. There were too many, anyway.

“Okay,” he said, giving the T-shirt on the floor one last glance before he climbed into bed. He’d clean the blood up tomorrow.

Caleb snuck intotheir bedroom early the next morning and cleaned the blood from the floor. It wasn’t difficult. They had hardwood or LVP or some other easy-to-clean floor in their apartment, and he knew that Jamie would stubbornly try to do it himself.

It was the least he could do. He felt like shit for how he’d acted last night. Gettingthatclose to kissing Jamie. What the fuck was he thinking? Jamie was still recovering and hadjustfallen and cut open his hand. Jamie was confused as hell about everything in his life, and the last thing he needed was Caleb coming onto him and making him feel pressured to do something he wasn’t ready for.

Caleb’s head was so fucked these days. Overjoyed to have Jamie home, safe and healthy and in their space. But it was also torture, not being able to hold him at night and breathe him in, or kiss his lips and tell him how much he loved him.

He sighed and glanced up at the bed. Brown curls splayed over the white pillow, and Caleb waited to make sure he could see the rise and fall of his chest before leaving.

He’s alive. That’s enough.

After quietly clicking the door shut and tossing the bloody papertowels, he turned on a TV show and started cooking breakfast. He got lost in it and didn’t hear the door open until Jamie was right behind him.

“What’s this?”

“Oh!” Caleb jumped and almost dropped the egg pan. “Holy shit.” He pressed a palm to his chest and realized he was still shirtless. “Uh, eggs.”

“I’m sorry.” Jamie nervously stepped back. “I thought you heard me.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I was kinda in the zone. I get like that when I cook. There’s coffee.” He nodded to the French press that he had just prepared.

“Thank you,” Jamie said, eagerly pouring himself a cup and adding a heap of sugar. His curls were sticking out in all directions, and he had on his reading glasses. He swiveled on the stool and stared at the television. “What show is this?”

“It’s called Dandadan.”

“It’s a… cartoon?”