Chapter 2 #2
Despite just having come out of surgery, he looked big and strong.
His skin—a rich tan, a combination of his Latino heritage and the unforgiving Florida sun—sported bruises and scratches from the explosion.
His dark brown hair had lighter brown strands and stuck out all over the place, which made Val smile.
He never felt this kind of want, and he’d get hurt if he didn’t stop these feelings. Bad.
Saint opened his eyes, and his smile stole Val’s breath away. Yep, he was screwed.
“Hey,” Saint said, sounding groggy. “You came.”
“I was in the waiting room. Ryden’s kept me updated.”
“You’ve been waiting for me?”
“Well, yeah. I was worried.”
“You were worried about me?” Saint smiled again, his eyes closing. He was so out of it. “That’s nice.”
Oh boy, he was stoned big time. “Of course I was worried,” Val replied. “You were hurt saving me.”
“Are you okay?” Saint asked as he forced his eyes open.
“A little banged up, but good. Thanks to you.”
“Couldn’t leave you.”
Val smiled. The guy was in the hospital, injured after risking his life, but he was worried about Val. It said a lot about the kind of man Saint was. Chances were, Saint wasn’t going to remember any of this. He’d have to thank the guy when he wasn’t lost in a fog of painkillers.
“Hey.” Saint reached up, and Val wasn’t sure what to do.
He leaned in a little, and Saint motioned for him to come closer.
Bending over, Saint surprised the hell out of him by cupping Val’s face.
He ran his thumb over Val’s cheek, stroking, then across his bottom lip, his whiskey-colored gaze fixed on Val’s mouth.
Val held his breath, afraid Saint would let go and, at the same time, afraid he wouldn’t.
His pulse shot up, and heat shot through his face when Saint moved his hand, sliding it behind Val’s neck and tugging until their faces were so close that Val could feel Saint’s hot breath against his skin.
What was happening? Maybe he was dreaming.
He’d fallen asleep in the waiting room, and this was a hot, torturous dream.
“Saint, what are you doing?” Val asked, his voice quiet. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Saint’s gorgeous mouth. All Val had to do was lift his chin, and their lips would touch.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re straight,” Val murmured, moving his gaze to meet Saint’s.
“Am I?”
What? What the ever-loving— What ?
“Aren’t you?”
“Aren’t I what?”
“Straight.”
“I am.” Saint’s brows drew together in a frown. “At least, I think I am. Or was? I’m not so sure.”
Val needed to sit down, but he didn’t dare move. “Maybe now is not—”
“I mean, can you really be straight if you think about kissing another guy?” Saint asked softly, his fingers stroking the back of Val’s neck. “What if you think it but don’t do it? Can you still say you’re straight? What if you don’t want to kiss other guys, just one guy in particular.”
Val opened his mouth, but Saint kept going.
“I’ve thought about kissing you. A lot . Like, all the time. Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”
Sweet Sandra Bullock, Saint was going to kill him.
Val had known a couple of guys who would argue that kissing a man—or getting a blow job from one—didn’t make them gay. It sure as hell made them delusional.
“Saint….” Whatever the hell was going on, Val couldn’t let Saint do anything he’d regret because he was high on pain meds.
This was a big deal, and as attracted as he was to Saint, because he was attracted to Saint, he couldn’t be his experiment.
He’d never survive if he had Saint and then had to let him go.
“What if you kiss me? Maybe then I might know.” Saint turned his face into Val’s, his lips brushing against Val’s skin.
Val sighed and closed his eyes. He reached up and lay his hand on Saint’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You should rest.” Val moved Saint’s hand away and pulled back.
“Okay,” Saint replied, clearly unaware of the admission he’d just made. “Will you stay?”
“Sure.” Val took a seat in the chair next to the bed.
By the time he sat back, Saint was softly snoring.
He was so damned sweet. Val couldn’t even be mad at the guy.
Eyes on the ceiling, Val cursed under his breath.
He’d been right. There was something between them.
As glad as he was to have his suspicions confirmed, it didn’t change anything.
Saint had a lot to think about. Or maybe he didn’t.
For all Val knew, when Saint woke up, he’d return to the way he had been before, pretending there was nothing between them, that he was straight.
Whatever the outcome, it was up to Saint, and Val respected that.
Saint was the only one to decide who he was and what he wanted to do with his life.
Whether he came out or not was up to him.
All Val could do was offer support if Saint wanted it.
What he couldn’t— wouldn’t —do was complicate things further by giving in to whatever this was between them.
Coming to terms with his sexuality had been some of the roughest years of Val’s life. He might not have been kicked out onto the streets like Frank had, but Val hadn’t been much better off with a father determined to beat the gay out of him.
Raised in an extremely conservative home where men were manly breadwinners and women were wives relegated to the kitchen and raising the children, Val had buried who he was for years, forcing himself to be the man his family expected him to be.
High school had been a self-loathing nightmare where he’d become someone he barely recognized in order to fit the mold.
Then he went to college, stayed on campus in an all-male dorm, and joined a fraternity.
His roommate had been exploring his sexuality, too.
So yeah, all bets were off by the end of his first year.
He might not have come out, but he wasn’t hiding who he was.
Saint let out a little groan in his sleep, and Val ran a hand through his hair. It was fine. He was fine. All he had to do was treat Saint the same way he treated everyone else in his life, like a friend.
Keeping Saint at a distance would be much easier now that Val was retired.
He’d keep himself busy with the tavern, fixing it up and getting it ready to open, and if he got a little lonely, he’d go to Sapphire Sands and hook up with someone, same as he’d been doing for years.
Unless Saint was on a job at the club or Val attended one of the Kings’ charity events, it was unlikely they’d see each other.
Before he retired, they’d kept getting pushed into each other’s orbit, mainly because the Kings had encountered some trouble a little while back.
When Fitz’s salon had been set on fire, Val had been called in, and Saint had been assigned to protect Fitz.
Soon after, someone tried to kidnap Gio, so Saint was assigned as his executive protection.
Things were different now. Val would no longer be called in to any situations involving the Kings.
That was that, then. All he had to do was stay away.
Initially, it might be a little challenging, but they’d eventually move on.
Saint would undoubtedly realize Val wasn’t the one for him.
He was young, gorgeous, and a good man. Once he figured out what he wanted for himself, Saint would forget whatever he thought he felt about Val.