Page 87 of Zero Confusion

Nothing from Miles.

The disappointment was brief, easy to push aside. He’d see his man in a few short hours.

His man. It was hard to wrap his head around the fact that he no longer had to hide his crush, didn’t have to pine in secret or sneak glances when no one was looking. He was allowed to call Miles his boyfriend, to touch and kiss him in public, to plan their future together.

The lights came on, and the faint murmur of conversation doubled in volume. Zach hopped up to stretch his legs and scrolled through his apps, checking the Kink Talk chatroom out of habit and smiling at DomAndDommer’s latest message bemoaning dating. Poor guy couldn’t catch a break.

After blindly following the crowd to the baggage claim, he eyed the line by the car rental kiosk and wondered if he should have reserved it online. A hand on his shoulder startled him, and he whipped his head around.

“Hey, you.” Miles didn’t give him a chance to react before engulfing him in a hug. “You didn’t hear me shout your name halfway across the airport?”

Zach didn’t respond, his face firmly pressed up against Miles’s neck as he desperately inhaled that familiar smell of the ocean.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have farm stuff to do?” he asked when they drew apart.

“Eh.” Miles flicked his hand in a dismissive wave. “I woke up extra early to do some chores and then told everyone I had to pick my boyfriend up at the airport. No one cared. Everything is already off-kilter with the wedding.”

Zach’s heart sped up.

It was silly. They’d confessed their love, talked about a future together. Miles referring to him as his boyfriend was nothing compared to that, yet it filled him with euphoria.

Everything was real.

While Zach processed his reaction, Miles grabbed his bag and circled an arm around his waist, gently prompting him to move. It wasn’t their first time walking this close—so many times in the past, Miles had slung his arm around Zach’s shoulders, pulling him in as they walked in sync, while Zach struggled not to completely melt into the solid warmth of Miles’s body, not to give away the extent of his overwhelming crush.

Now, he could melt all he wanted. He didn’t have to stay on guard. He could touch back, turn toward Miles and kiss him whenever he wanted, so he did—often, every few steps—doubling the time it took to get to the parking lot, losing himself in the soft kisses and featherlight brushes of skin against skin.

They had to stop once they were on the road, and Zach compromised by resting his palm on one of Miles’s beefy thighs, squeezing gently while listening to him rant about the wedding preparations.

And there was a lot to rant about. Since neither Raymond nor Max cared about anything beyond actually getting married, they’d made the fatal mistake of letting the Carter matriarch take care of the planning. To no one’s surprise, Laura Carter turned out to be the queen of going overboard. Both the budget and guest list had increased exponentially from where they had started, and she was showing no signs of slowing down.

Zach listened with amusement, staring out the window at the open fields. Small prickles of anxiety, like tiny needles, ran down his spine at the thought of facing the entire town, but he fought them back. Everyone’s focus would be on Max and Raymond, not him, and the biggest homophobes wouldn’t show up to a gay wedding in the first place.

Hopefully.

As if noticing Zach’s mood, Miles started cracking jokes about Ray’s complete apathy toward anything Laura had tried to involve him in, like his inability to tell the difference between forest green and emerald green while picking linen. Apparently, Raymond had loudly declared that cowboys didn’t need colorful napkins at their weddings before storming off in a huff. As far as anyone could tell, that was the first and only time he had referred to himself as a cowboy.

Before Zach knew it, they were driving down a familiar stretch of road.

“Do my parents know I’m coming? I haven’t talked to them.” Zach chewed on his bottom lip, grimacing at how much he’d been keeping his head in the sand—changing the subject each time Miles tried to talk to him about his family, and not even messaging Jerry about his visit. He wasn’t sure why, except that anxiety was a hell of a thing. “Are they going to the wedding?”

Miles threw him a worried glance. “Of course they are. Your mom’s been helping out with the decorations.”

That was a surprise, but also a good sign. Zach held his breath as Miles made the last turn and slowed to a stop in front of the familiar house that hadn’t changed in decades—the off-white, dusty siding, the dark blue shutters his dad repainted every spring, the three stone steps leading up to the door, one of them chipped from when Abe dropped a cast-iron skillet full of oil that he managed to set on fire while attempting to deep-fry a pickle.

Zach’s heart squeezed in a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. Every inch of this place was ingrained, a part of his fabric, and the fear that it might not be home anymore struck suddenly and fiercely.

“Ready?” Miles asked.

Zach closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. “Ready.” He grabbed the door handle and turned back to Miles. “I’ll see you later?”

Miles turned off the engine and hopped out, making his way around to the passenger side before Zach could ask what was going on.

“It’s later.” Miles beamed and offered his hand. “You’re freaking out, and I’m not letting you do this alone. Whatever happens—good or bad—we’ll get through it together.”

Zach’s vision shimmered and blurred with the tears he could no longer hold back. He launched himself at Miles, foregoing the offered hand and wrapping himself around his solid bulk instead.

It might take him a while to get used to Miles calling him his boyfriend, but it would take a lot longer than that to get used to having a partner, someone who would always be there to support him.