Page 52 of Stealing Home

“Dinner wasn’t supposed to lead you on,” Dom said. “I don’t want you thinking I invited you here because I planned for that to happen.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Dom whispered. “I wish things were different. But I don’t want to be someone who promises more than he can give.”

“You don’t owe me a promise.” Gavin shrugged, hoping he looked casual.

Dom frowned at him. “Then what do you want?”

The truth rose too quickly, and Gavin had to bite his tongue to keep from sharing it. Because the answer was that he wanted a life he had no right to imagine after one kiss. Nights with Dom and Lucia. More dinners and a seat at the table. So he chose the only answer that wouldn’t add another weight to Dom’s shoulders.

“I want you to go take care of your daughter.”

Dom’s gaze searched his. Lucia cried again, louder this time.

“Right.” He took one step toward the doorway, then stopped. “Gavin.”

“Yeah?”

“I am sorry.”

Gavin picked up the abandoned dish towel and folded it over the edge of the sink, giving himself something to do with his hands.

“I’m not.”

They stared at each other, then Dom nodded once and hurried upstairs.

Gavin stood alone in the quiet kitchen, staring at the abandoned dishes soaking in the sink. Upstairs, he could hear the faint creak of the floorboards as Dom moved through Lucia’s room, followed by the soft murmur of his voice.

The apology had been meant for the kiss, but it had sounded dangerously close to goodbye. After a long moment, Gavin let out a long breath and pushed away from the counter. There was no point in waiting for Dom to come back downstairs. No point putting either of them through another round of apologies or assurances they both knew neither of them believed.

He paused at the front door, his gaze drifting toward the staircase. For a heartbeat, he considered saying something loud enough for Dom to hear.

“Goodnight, Dom,” he whispered instead, then he stepped into the warm night air and pulled the door shut behind him.

10

DOM

Two weeks should have been long enough for his reaction to the kiss to become something less embarrassing, to be filed away with every other impulsive decision he’d ever made. Long enough for his heartbeat to stop doing stupid things every time his phone lit up. Long enough to convince himself he’d imagined how Gavin had looked at him standing in the kitchen, one hand on Dom’s face while he waited for Dom to choose.

Two weeks, it turns out, was not enough time. If anything, it had gotten worse.

Gavin hadn’t texted since that night. Dom had stared at their message thread more times than he cared to admit, thumb hovering over the keyboard before locking his phone again. Gavin wasn’t ignoring him. He was just doing exactly what Dom needed without Dom ever having to ask. He was giving him space.

Every day that passed without his name lighting up Dom’s phone made that answer less comforting.

Sunday evenings after a day game helped. They were busy enough to keep him distracted, with sauce simmering on the stove and Lucia in her baby swing, babbling happily while trying to grab the toys hanging from the mobile. Dom stirred the sauce in slow circles and reached for his phone without thinking. He’d stopped expecting Gavin to text, but that didn’t stop him from checking anyway. There was nothing except the time glaring back at him. He set the phone down harder than he’d intended. At least Evan and CJ would be inviting themselves to dinner soon.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

“You guys ever hear of texting?” he asked as he opened the door.

CJ stood on the porch alone, a loaf of Italian bread tucked under one arm.

Dom tilted his head. “Where’s Evan?

“Hey, CJ! So glad you could make it for dinner!” CJ’s voice climbed into an exaggerated imitation of Dom’s enthusiasm. Then he straightened his shoulders, dropped his voice to its normal register, and thrust the loaf of bread into Dom’s chest. “Hey, bud. Thanks so much for the invitation. Here’s some bread for the meal.”