Page 69 of Stealing Home

“Goodnight, Dom.”

“Night, Gavin.”

The call ended, and Dom stayed on the stool with the phone in his hand until the screen went dark and his heartbeat had returned to something normal. Only then did he pick up the baby monitor and carry it upstairs.

Lucia’s room was quiet except for the soft hum of the sound machine. She was asleep on her back, head turned toward the room, lips parted around each breath. Dom stopped beside the crib and rested one hand on the rail, waiting for the familiar rush of love and fear that came every time he looked at her. It came, as strong as ever, and wrapped around his ribs before it lodged under his sternum. But beneath it was something lighter, almost like hope.

He pressed a kiss to his fingers, then touched them gently to the top of her head before heading to his own room. He lay awake longer than he would ever admit, replaying every word of the conversation like game film, searching for the moment he should have panicked and hadn’t. He never found it. Eventually, he gave up and let his eyes close.

Maybe, just maybe, wanting Gavin didn’t have to mean taking something from Lucia.

13

GAVIN

Ten days after their conversation, Dom finally had an off day at home, and Gavin convinced him to go out for coffee. They had spoken on the phone every day, sometimes even video chatting, and had texted even more frequently, but Gavin would be lying if he said he hadn’t been looking forward to seeing him in person again. Now, Gavin sat beside Dom on the shaded patio of a coffee shop, Lucia asleep in her stroller, and the only thing spoiling the afternoon was his ex-husband’s name lighting up his phone.

Dom saw it. He knew from the way Dom’s voice cut off in the middle of making fun of the photo Gavin had shown him. His client had posted a picture of the black walnut coffee table he’d built for her, complete with too many exclamation points and a close-up of a vase of flowers arranged on top as if the table had been commissioned for a magazine spread. Dom had been halfway through reading the caption aloud in an exaggerated imitation of someone overwhelmed by the miracle of furniture when the first text came through, and Dom fell silent before sliding the phone across the table.

A second later, the screen lit again.

Ethan.

The name sat above the preview of a message Gavin didn’t bother reading. Gavin left the phone untouched and reached for his coffee.

Dom knew who Ethan was. Gavin had told him a little about his marriage during one of their calls, along with the business they’d built together and the fire that had helped destroy both. It was all history, but Ethan’s name on the screen dragged all of it into the present. Gavin didn’t want that today, when he and Dom were finally taking the first cautious step toward something neither of them was ready to name.

“You can answer it,” Dom said.

Gavin didn’t like how Dom wouldn’t meet his eyes. He took a sip of coffee. “I don’t need to.”

“That wasn’t what I said.”

“I know.”

Lucia made a soft sound from the stroller, and Dom looked down immediately, his whole body turning toward her before he realized she hadn’t actually woken. Her fist twitched near her cheek, then relaxed again, and Dom settled back in his chair just as the phone buzzed again. Gavin flipped it facedown, but his jaw tightened before he could stop it.

Dom sighed. “Gavin.”

“I’m fine.”

Across from him, Dom was finally looking at him, studying him. “You don’t look fine.”

“I’m not not fine,” Gavin replied. He looked at Dom, who was gripping his iced coffee tightly enough that the sides were caved in. “You’re one to talk.”

Dom rolled his eyes but loosened his grasp on his cup and sat back in his chair. “Is he okay?”

The question caught Gavin off guard. He’d expected Dom to ask what Ethan wanted. Maybe ask how often they talked or why Gavin hadn’t mentioned that they still did. Instead, Dom’s first thought was that something might be wrong.

“Yeah,” Gavin said. “As far as I know.”

“Okay.”

Affection tugged at Gavin as he watched Dom trace a circle through the condensation left on the table by his cup. He was trying so hard for casual and missing by a mile. Dom wasn’t nearly as good at hiding what he felt as he thought he was. Every question crossed his face before he asked it, along with all the ones he decided not to. Gavin could see the tension in his shoulders, and he knew Dom was already turning three unread text messages into every possible version of what might happen next.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Don’t do that.”

Dom looked up and blinked. “Do what?”