Page 113 of Stealing Home

Gavin nodded and grabbed his bag from where his dad had left it by the front door. In what used to be his bedroom, he pulled Dom’s shirt from his bag.

You could leave a few more things here, you know. Dom had said that when Gavin wore it home. Gavin had kissed him instead of answering. Now he lay down with the shirt gripped tightly in his hand. He set his phone on the pillow next to him and turned the volume up. Just in case. He didn’t know if Dom would reach out again or what he would say if he did. But if Dom continued trying, Gavin wouldn’t ignore him again.

20

GAVIN

Gavin woke with his hand reaching for the other side of the bed, fingers twisted in the cool sheets. For a few seconds, he lay still and listened. He expected the low murmur of Dom talking to Lucia, the bathroom faucet running, or bare feet coming down the hall. Then he opened his eyes and saw the bookcase his father had built when he was twelve.

Right.

His phone had slipped between the pillow and the headboard, and he retrieved it, pressing the button to light the screen. Two-fourteen p.m. A reminder about an estimate he needed to send and an email from a supplier filled the screen. There was nothing from Dom.

Gavin opened their conversation anyway. The last message hadn’t changed while he slept. He read it twice, then scrolled up to the messages Dom had sent while Gavin was driving to his parents’ house, the ones that had made his phone buzz in the cupholder. He hadn’t looked at any of them. Every time he’d thought about it, he hadn’t known what to say.

Dom

Did you get home?

An hour later, Dom had tried again.

Dom

I need to know what you meant. Are you asking for space, or did you just break up with me?

Gavin sat up. Fuck. The next message had come after midnight.

Dom

I’m angry, but I’m also really worried. Please just tell me you’re okay.

He remembered the phone lighting up in the cup holder. He’d turned it facedown at the gas station because seeing Dom’s name had made it harder to keep driving. At the time, he’d told himself he’d answer when he could manage it without falling apart.

Dom had spent that time wondering whether they were still together.

Gavin put his feet on the floor and bent over the phone. He started an answer, deleted it, and started again. I wasn’t trying to break up with you. He paused with his thumb above the screen. He’d told Dom he loved him, rejected everything Dom had said in return, and left. Of course Dom thought he was breaking up with him.

He erased the sentence.

Gavin

I’m sorry I left you wondering what was happening. I want to be with you.

I love you, and I should have stayed instead of running.

I understand if you don’t want to talk to me right now.

Gavin read the message once and hit send. Then he stayed on the edge of the bed, staring at the screen. He’d left Dom waiting for hours, but apparently he couldn’t manage five seconds without hoping for something in return. Reassurance or a way to fix it. He was still expecting Dom to make it easier.

“Jesus fuck,” he whispered. He tossed his phone on the bed and dragged a hand down his face. “You’d never know I was the older one in this relationship.”

He set the phone down and went to shower. His mother was sitting at the kitchen table when he came downstairs, glasses low on her nose and a book open in front of her. She looked up as he stopped in the doorway.

“Want a sandwich?”

She marked her place and was already at the refrigerator before he could answer. He pulled out a chair and watched her set the same cutting board, mustard brand, and stack of small plates she’d always used on the counter. His stomach rumbled now that he was awake enough to notice his hunger.

“Where’s Dad?”