CHAPTER SIX
Blade
I’m already dressed when I hear it. My name groaning from Jett’s voice. Rough. In the shower.
“Blade, suck my cock.”
It rolls over me like a crane. Like I jammed my finger in the electrical socket, and it short-circuited my thoughts.
For a second, I don’t move. Can’t move. I just stand there, staring at the closed bathroom door, the sound of water still running.
Jett isn’t yelling. It isn’t a painful moan. But it hits me so hard, I reach for my pulse because I think I’ve coded.
A sharp knock at the bedroom door pulls me out of my stupor.
“Yo, you dudes decent?” Dirk jokes.
I scrub a hand over my face, grounding myself before opening the door. “Of course,” I say, forcing a smile on my lips.
Dirk stands there looking guilty. “Hey, man. I’m sorry about Hana showing up and kicking you out of my bedroom. She decided at the last minute.”
“No problem.” I grip his shoulder, trying to get out of my fucking head. This is a big step in their relationship.
“Are you good in here with Jett?” he asks, looking at the bed over my shoulder.
The one bed. My stomach twists as his expression shifts. A small twitch furrows in his bushy brows. Is it suspicion? Guilt? Mistrust. Of me? I don’t blame him. If I were him, I’d probably be questioning my gay best friend sleeping in the same bed with my abused brother, who’s not gay.
Unless Dirk knows something about Jett that he’s refusing to admit to me.
I clear my throat to move him along. “Of course, we share rooms all the time on stakeouts. And in a lot worse places. Smaller beds, if that’s possible.”
Dirk’s jaw eases a little, but not much. “Yeah, I know. I just didn’t expect she’d show up like this. Maybe we should find a place in town.”
“No. Look, if Jett’s really not cool with it, he and I will work it out. We’re grown men. Besides, there’s always the couch.”
“Right.” Dirk nods, then his mood lifts. “Hana and I are gonna grab dinner in town. Then play some pool.”
“Want company?” I ask quickly.
“Sure, be ready in five,” he says with a punch to my arm.
When he’s gone, I knock on the bathroom door. “Jett, Dirk and Hana are grabbing food in town. Let’s go with them. Be out in five, yeah?”
No answer. Just the water shutting off.
Five minutes turns to ten, then fifteen. When Hana’s stomach growls, I stand up, ready to tell them to go without us, but Jett’s footsteps sound down the hallway.
In a tight black button-down shirt and dark jeans, boots, his hair slicked back, jaw rough with stubble, my legs go weak. Fuck, does he always look this good?
“Let’s not make it a late one,” I suggest. “We had a tough gig last night.”
And your brother almost drowned.
“Sure.” Dirk grabs the keys to Hana’s BMW and pinches her ass when she saunters out the door.
Outside, Jett looks terrified to sit alone in the backseat with me. But that text and his moaning my name in the shower set off a launch sequence no one can abort.
And I don’t want it to.
We get to the town grill and shove into a booth not made for men our size.
We order drinks and appetizers, and thankfully, Hana does most of the talking.
Her new case is the one she thinks will finally get her the votes she needs to make partner next year.
Her dark, sleek hair falls over her shoulders, catching the light every time she laughs.
It reminds me of Jett’s with the same blue-black depth of color and the same careless way it falls into his eyes.
God help me.
Under the table, my leg brushes Jett’s. Once. Then again. But he doesn’t move.
So, I take a chance. I slide my hand to his thigh, light enough that if he wants to pretend it isn’t happening, he could talk himself out of it.
He goes absolutely rigid, his breath shallow, but he doesn’t pull away. Or shuck my hand off him. When I glance right, his eyes are already on me.
There it is. Everything he isn’t telling me. Written right there in his gray eyes. Confusion. Regret. But underneath, hunger.
I almost forget to breathe.
After we finish eating, the bill comes, but Hana snags it before anyone else can. “My treat,” she says, handing over a black card. “For crashing your boys’ weekend.”
I catch Jett trying to sneak some money on the table, but I stop him with a hand firmer between his legs. “I’ve got it,” I say quietly. “I’ve got...you.”
For a heartbeat, Jett just looks at me. The moment suddenly feels like more than either of us knows what to do with.
He finally stands, slow and thoughtful, and I slide out and rise, too. Unable to keep staring, I force myself to turn and follow Dirk and Hana, but feel Jett’s eyes watching me.
The air outside is cold enough to worry about frostbite, but the local pool hall is just a few doors away from the grill. Following the happy couple, I keep bumping Jett’s shoulder.
“Narrow sidewalk,” I say when he looks at me.
He stops and pulls me aside. “Cut it out.”
“Cut what out?” I tease him.
“You’re impossible,” he huffs and walks ahead.
Inside the pool hall, the air smells like heating oil and chalk. Dirk and Hana claim one table, and I rack the balls at another.
“You breaking?” Jett asks, tossing his jacket on a nearby stool like he’s Fast Eddie, Paul Newman’s character in The Hustler.
“Go for it,” I say.
Jett leans forward, shoulders tightening as he lines up the shot. The crack echoes, and the balls scatter, gleaming flashes across the felt. Two drop into the far-left pocket fast.
“Why do you hit them so hard?” I ask Jett, figuring out my shot.
“I picture the guys who hurt me when I was a kid.”
I want to say something, anything, but he doesn’t look like he wants a follow-up about his childhood trauma right now. I don’t need details. I’ve seen enough in Jett’s eyes to know his time in the foster care system was worse than he’s ever admitted to over a few too many whiskeys.
The weight of his confession settles under my skin in a way it never has before. It’s one thing to stand up for a friend. Another for someone you...
Gasp... Love.
I want to reach for Jett, but I don’t. Not here. Not with Dirk across the room, not with Jett so tightly wound he’d shatter if I pushed him.
So I just say, “Do you picture their faces at Shane’s gun range?”
“No.” Jett rounds the table and sinks another double. “That’s too dangerous when I have a gun in my hand.”
My steps falter, and I almost miss my next shot. That’s Jett. Always intense, even when he’s supposed to be relaxed.
We play a few rounds of eight ball, and it starts to feel normal between us again. He doesn’t miss one shot, every ball sinks. Fucking impressive.
Near midnight, Hana calls out that they are heading back, and Jett sinks yet another triple shot without looking at me.
The drive home is quiet, but charged. The headlights cut through the darkness, and I can see the road is slick with frost. In the backseat, my hand brushes Jett’s cold fingers. I let it linger, just barely, like I don’t notice.
He moves his hand away. Not angrily. Just careful. Like he’s afraid of what might happen if he lets me in. Like I might detonate with lust, and he won’t be able to stop me.
At the cabin, Dirk and Hana vanish into his bedroom before the front door even shuts.
The sounds of their happiness start almost immediately.
There’s a bite of laughter and a muffled thud of discarded shoes.
It’s the telltale rhythm of two people who waited all through dinner and games of pool to be alone.
I motion toward the couch. “I’ll crash here, if you want.”
“We all know how uncomfortable that thing is. And besides, it’s freezing out here without the fire roaring,” Jett says from behind me, his voice tired. “Just stay in my room.”
He grabs some water from the kitchen and then saunters down the hall. For a second, I wonder if I imagined him moaning my name in the shower.
I follow him, and once inside, I lean my back against the closed door. He’s standing at the foot of the bed. The room feels smaller than before. Probably because I’m about to fill it with a tractor-trailer’s worth of tension.
Time to talk.
I swallow hard and blurt, “Jett, you didn’t send that text to Dirk. You sent that text to me.”
His face goes absolutely still. The armor he wore tonight fucking melts off his body. I can’t tell if he’s relieved or furious.
But all I know is after tonight, nothing between us will ever be the same again.