Page 68 of Stealing Home

Dom glanced at the kitchen sink, at the space where Gavin had backed him against the counter and made him forget everything except his name. His stomach twisted at the memory of how badly he’d wanted Gavin, and he could feel the same panic he’d felt that night start to tighten his throat. He swallowed hard. “I know that now.”

“Do you?”

The question held no accusation, which somehow made it harder to answer. “I’m working on it.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” Dom expected more, like Gavin telling him to figure it out and call him when he did.

“What do you want me to say?” Gavin’s voice was low and rumbly through the phone.

Dom rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. This was easier when you were making fun of how I text.”

“You gave me better material.”

“I can hang up.” Dom said it lightly, but some small part of him was still looking for a way out of the conversation.

“You could,” Gavin said. “But I don’t want you to.”

Dom pulled out one of the stools at the island and dropped onto it. “I don’t know what I can promise you,” he said.

“I didn’t ask for a promise,” Gavin pointed out.

“But you want something.” It wasn’t a question.

“So do you.” Gavin’s words were said gently, and Dom couldn’t argue.

“I’m not looking for another marriage,” Gavin continued. “Not now. Maybe not ever. Most days, I’m not sure I even want a relationship at all again. But that didn’t stop me from wanting you, and staying away from you hasn’t made that go away.”

“Yeah, hasn’t worked so good for me either.”

Gavin laughed, but his voice was serious when he spoke again. “We can take this slowly. I probably need to, and so do you. But what I can’t do is pretend that I don’t want you so we can go back to being friends like this never happened.”

Dom closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. “I don’t want that either.”

They fell silent, and Dom stared at the baby monitor, watching as Lucia shifted her head and raised one tiny fist toward her face before settling again.

“What if I freak out again next time?” Dom asked quietly.

“Then tell me,” Gavin said. “And I’ll tell you if I do. We need to be able to talk to each other. If you don’t run away, I won’t.”

That was more than reasonable, and Dom nodded. “Okay.”

The word barely left his mouth before Gavin spoke again. “Do you want there to be a next time?”

Dom’s pulse sped up and left him lightheaded. The kitchen seemed to shrink around him until all he could see was the place where Gavin had stood, and all he could feel was the warmth of Gavin’s hand on his face.

“Yes.” No hesitation, and the silence that fell between them wasn’t awkward. “So what happens now?”

“Now, you go to bed because you sound exhausted,” Gavin said. “Call me tomorrow.”

Dom frowned. “That’s all?”

“That’s enough for tomorrow.” Gavin sighed softly. “Taking it slow, remember?”

Right. Slow.

“Okay,” Dom said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”