32. Gil
It had been six weeks since Rowan and I decided to be boyfriends, but calling him that felt obscenely childish in a way I’d never confess to him out loud. He liked calling me his boyfriend, and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be with him, I did…boyfriends just felt so small compared to the feelings that lived in my chest for Rowan Verne.
Rowan had taken Fisher to get his cast off, which gave me a now rare hour of peace alone in the garage. My quiet Sundays were long gone, but the tradeoff was worth it. I’d take the time when I could find it, even if it was a Friday at three in the afternoon.
I’d just picked up a wrench, ready to get to work on my Cougar again when the familiar purr of Jack’s Audi rolled into my driveway. Flexing my fingers around the tool, I set it back down on the box and wiped my hands on the front of my jeans.
“I see domestication hasn’t earned you clean pants yet,” he said, stepping out of the car and slamming the door behind him.
“It’s just gotten Rowan dirty ones.” I waggled my eyebrows, and Jack snorted in response. He walked straight into the garage, heading right for me, and I opened my arms for him before he bowled us both over the back of my toolbox. “What’s wrong?”
He pressed his face into the front of my shoulder and sighed, enjoying the hug before rolling out of it and throwing himself down onto an overturned bucket.
“The wedding’s tonight,” he said.
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, a dozen different responses on the tip of my tongue, none of them the right one. “Sorry.”
Jack snorted again, glancing up at me from beneath his lashes. “Why are you sorry?”
“Because he’s your family. They’re all your family.”
He shook his head. “They didn’t want him how he was. Didn’t want you. And they sure as shit don’t want me.”
“Have you talked to your parents lately?” I leaned against the toolbox then decided better of it. I went into the house, got two beers, and came back. Jack hadn’t moved, but he eyed Fisher’s mangled bike, flipped upside down and resting next to my motorcycle. I handed him one of the beers and waited for him to take a drink.
“Not since I told them I wasn’t going to stand up for what they were forcing on everyone. I told them how many lives they were ruining…”
“I don’t know if I’ve told you lately, but I love you, Jack.”
He squinted up at me, beer raised for a drink. “Does Rowan know?”
“Not like that, you prick.” I stacked the bottom of my bottle on the top of his, clanking the glass together so his immediately began to foam over.
“You absolute piece of shit.”
Jack slurped up as much of the beer as he could manage, only a few drops landing on his slacks before the contents of the bottle settled. We laughed together, and that was the last we talked about his brother and their parents. I’d long ago made peace with how things had ended between me and Philip. If anything, Rowan had unwittingly been key in that. He and Fisher had inadvertently shown me a life I never knew could be mine.
“Where’s the kid?” Jack asked after he finished half his beer.
“Rowan took him to get his cast off then we’re gonna start on getting his bike put back together.”
Jack’s mouth twitched into a smile that he hid behind the lip of the bottle. “I’ll finish this and get out of your hair.”
“You don’t have to leave,” I told him, kicking his foot. “You’re family.”
As if on cue, Rowan pulled into the driveway, parking next to Jack. Fisher was out of the car first, sullen as he always was, with his hood up and his earbuds in. Orange curls poked out over his forehead and he blissfully ignored whatever Rowan was saying to him.
“How’s the arm?” I asked.
Fisher ignored me, and I looked to Rowan.
“How’s the arm?” I asked again.
“The doctor said it looks great.” Rowan navigated his way through the garage to give me a kiss. I slid my arm around his waist and pulled him close, licking against the seam of his lips and hoping he would open.
“That’s gross,” Fisher grumbled.
“I agree,” Jack said.
Rowan smiled against my mouth, and I licked the side of his face. That earned me a squirm and a shove until I loosened my grip around Rowan’s slender waist.
“Do you remember Jack?” I asked.
Rowan’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, good to see you again.”
“Same. Thanks for making an honest man out of this asshole.”
“Hey!” Fisher chirped from beside his bike. “Language.”
I stifled a laugh, loving the way Jack didn’t know whether to be properly chastised or not.
“Even though they’re clearly off, no earbuds in the garage,” I said to Fisher.
He tried to protest, but thought better of it, shoving them both into the front pocket of his jeans.
“Fine.”
“You have to be able to hear in here,” I told him.
“I know.”
“Alright. Why don’t you take a look at your bike and tell me what you think is wrong with it. Where do we start?”
“Why don’t you take that hood off so you can see?” Rowan suggested next, reaching over and pushing it back before Fisher had the chance.
“Why don’t you go get us some more drinks?” I said to Jack, finishing off my beer and passing him the empty bottle.
“I’m a servant now?”
“Well, you’re not fixing the bike, that’s for sure.”
“Neither is Rowan,” Jack protested.
Rowan laughed, the earlier flush on his cheeks quickly dying down. Relief washed through me. I hadn’t realized how important it was to me that Jack liked him, that he liked Fisher. That the three most important people in my life got along with each other.
“I’ll help you with drinks,” Rowan said. “And I’ll order a pizza or something.”
“No olives,” Fisher said.
“I know, Fish.”
My best friend and my boyfriend went into the house together, leaving Fisher and me alone in the garage, as we so often were.
“Are you going to marry my dad?” he blurted, and I almost choked on my own spit.
“What?”
“Are you going to marry him?”
“We haven’t talked about anything like that,” I said.
But husband did sound nicer than boyfriend.
“Do you want to?”
“Fish, we haven’t talked about it yet,” I stressed, palms starting to sweat.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I arched a brow at him, but Rowan and Jack were back with beers for us and a soda for Fisher, and Fisher said no more about the whole thing. He tilted his head to the side and looked at his bike, ready to get to work.
Five hours later, Jack had gone home, Fisher was at the dining room table playing a videogame on his phone, and Rowan sagged against me like he’d just lived the longest day ever. We spent almost equal time between our houses, but only one of them was set up to give Fisher his own space and it wasn’t mine. Not because he wasn’t welcome, just that…Rowan and I hadn’t talked about that yet.
Two houses wasn’t practical forever, but things were still so new…
That was a problem for another day, a discussion for another time.
I followed Rowan down the hallway to the bathroom, pushing my way in behind him and boxing him in against the sink. I closed the door behind me and locked it, and immediately buried my face into the crook of his neck, kissing and licking his slightly salty skin.
“What are you…” he trailed off, question turning into a moan.
“Quiet, Rowan,” I warned, dragging my hand up his chest, over his throat and to his mouth. “Fisher will hear you.”
With my other hand, I got us both out of our pants, then spun him around so we faced each other.
“Lick it,” I said, groaning when his tongue dragged across my palm.
I dropped my now wet hand down between us and covered his mouth with the other, using my knee to kick his legs open and back him against the wall. I fit both our dicks into my fist and stroked, tight and slow from root to tip. He was shorter than me in all ways, his crown pushing against the underside of my shaft in the most sensitive place, and he felt like heaven.
“God, Rowan,” I whispered against his ear, “you’re a dream. You’re a fucking dream.”
He hummed against my palm, arching into me like our bodies were made for this.
“I love it when you get hard for me. When your cock gets thick under my fingers.” I shivered, tightening my grip and twisting my wrist when I reached the top of his shaft. “When you come for me.”
Rowan’s eyes rolled back in his head and he shuddered, a hot burst of cum splattering against my fingers. His spend was so hot, so copious, so sticky as I used it for more lube to get myself off too. I was close, so close, and I let go of his mouth, puckering his lips together with my hand and crashing our mouths together as soon as my release crested. I shot my load all over my fingers, across Rowan’s stomach and chest. The convulsions were so violent I worried about hurting him, but as my senses came back to me, his moans vibrated clear as day against my lips.
“Quiet down,” I whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I made a mess of you.”
He dipped his chin toward his chest, lashes fluttering at the sight of my cum splatter painted across his t-shirt.
“God,” he murmured, sinking to his knees before I could stop him and taking my cock into his mouth. The heat of him was so shocking, and I almost cried out, getting my forearm into my mouth seconds before the sound escaped. I bit down hard, dropping my forehead against the wall and fisting Rowan’s curly red hair for support.
He made quick work of lapping up the rest of the cum from my shaft, then he pulled off his shirt and used it to clean himself up. Back on his feet, Rowan blinked up at me with a sense of pride I’d never seen in him before.
“You’re filthy,” I told him.
“I just don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”
I huffed, taking his face into my hands and staring into the depths of his gorgeous ocean-colored eyes.
“I was a fool.” I kissed the tip of his nose, his mouth. “How did I ever think doing anything with you once would be enough?”
Rowan deepened the kiss, lifting onto his toes and threading his fingers into the hair that hung loose at the back of my head. Long gone was the stuttering single dad who’d never been with a man before. In his place stood a competent father, an established handyman, and the best partner I could ever ask for. Rowan Verne was an unstoppable force of nature, and I’d never met anyone willing to fight harder for the things he wanted and the people he loved.
“I don’t know.” He broke the kiss finally, tucking himself against my chest and sliding his arms around my waist. “But I’m glad it wasn’t.”
Someone—Fisher, no doubt—banging his fist on the door startled us both.
“Are you done in there?” he shouted through the door. “I have to pee.”
Rowan’s eyes went wide, and I covered his mouth with my hand again.
“There’s a bathroom in my bedroom, Fish.”
“Fine.”
He shuffled down the hallway and I waited to take my hand off Rowan’s mouth until I heard the door close.
“He knows we’re both in here.” He covered his face with his dirty shirt, groaning when cum smeared across his cheek.
“If he can deny he uses those headphones to ignore us, we can deny that we were both in the bathroom together.”
I opened the door and shoved him out. “Go get a clean shirt before he’s done.”
“He’s in your room!”
“Then you better hurry.”
Rowan glared at me, then darted down the hall just as the toilet flushed.
I washed my hands and stopped when I caught my reflection in the mirror. Down the hall, Rowan and Fisher exchanged some words I couldn’t make out, then they laughed and headed together down the hallway and back into the kitchen. I dried my hands and blinked hard a couple of times, realizing my scar didn’t hurt, and I’d been wrong earlier.
Falling in love with Rowan Verne was absolutely a once-in-a lifetime thing.
And that made me the luckiest man in the world.