Page 109 of Stealing Home

Dom held his gaze. “I love you,” he said again, slower this time. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you without making it this whole terrifying thing.”

A strangled sound caught in Gavin’s throat. He wanted to smile and put his forehead against Dom’s and ask him to say it again.

Dom reached for his wrist. “The only family I want to build is with you.”

Gavin looked down at Dom’s hand. His fingers were warm against Gavin’s skin and his hold was loose enough that Gavin could pull away if he wanted. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true.”

“I know you mean it right now.” Gavin eased his arm out of Dom’s grasp. Dom’s fingers remained curled around the empty space for a moment before he lowered his hand.

“Right now?”

Gavin heard the hurt and wished he could take the words back without pretending he believed the opposite. “Everything is happening all at once,” he said. “She’s back, and you’ve barely had time to think, and all I’m doing is making it harder. I don’t want you to feel like you have to make promises because you’re afraid I’ll leave.”

“I think you’re the one who’s afraid.” Dom’s voice shook, but he kept his eyes on Gavin. “So you’re leaving first because…why? Is that supposed to make it hurt less?”

Gavin closed his eyes. He hadn’t let himself think that far ahead. “I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t stay here waiting for you to realize this isn’t what you want. That I’m not what you want.”

“I just told you what I want.”

When Gavin opened his eyes, Dom was still standing close enough to touch, waiting for him to answer.

“I know,” he finally whispered. “But I’ve believed that before.”

“So that’s it?” Dom demanded. “Your ex-husband is a jackass, so you’ve decided I’m going to change my mind, and nothing I say matters.”

“It matters.” Gavin wiped at his face. He’d hoped he could make Dom understand. Instead, Dom was standing in front of him with tears in his eyes. “I want to believe you.”

“I don’t know what else you need me to say.” Dom’s mouth tightened. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dom’s face crumpled for a second before he looked down at Lucia. Gavin opened the door before he did something stupid, like asking Dom to promise him forever.

Gavin pulled into his parents’ driveway a little after six the next morning, turned off the engine, and sat staring at the dark house. He’d spent nearly eleven hours putting San Diego behind him, pushing his old truck as hard as he dared. It hadn’t helped. He could still see Dom’s face when he closed his eyes. The truck ticked as the engine cooled, and Gavin loosened his hands from the steering wheel one finger at a time before reaching for the bag he’d thrown together at his apartment. He’d barely looked at what he was packing, and now a sleeve hung through the zipper. It was one of Dom’s shirts, and he exhaled sharply before shoving it back into the bag.

The porch light came on when he stepped onto the bottom stair. Gavin glanced toward the windows before remembering the motion sensor his father had installed last year. He still had a key. He could let himself in, put his bag in his old bedroom, and wait until they woke up. Instead, he rang the bell and waited. It wasn’t long before a light appeared behind the curtains and he heard movement inside, then the turn of the lock.

His father opened the door in pajama pants and a faded T-shirt, his expression sharpening as soon as he saw him. “Gavin?”

“Hey, Dad.”

His father looked past him toward the truck, then back at his face. “What happened?”

Gavin tried to answer, but his throat tightened around the words.

“Are you hurt?”

He shook his head.

“Okay.” His father opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Come inside.”

Gavin made it across the threshold before his dad pulled him into a hug. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed one until he was standing there with his face pressed against his father’s shoulder. Ben Carter was broad-shouldered and weathered, with thick gray hair, a neatly trimmed mustache, and steady blue eyes that had softened with age. Gavin gripped the back of his shirt with both hands, letting the familiar warmth and solid strength of the embrace wrap around him.

“Gavin?”

His mother’s voice came from the hallway, and he lifted his head. She stood a few feet away, tying the belt of her robe, her hair flattened on one side from sleep. “What’s wrong?”