Chapter Fifteen #3
“I think she likes it,” Austin said in an impressive understatement, like Pepa wasn’t losing her mind with joy.
Joe kind of wanted to kiss the dumbass. And also maybe punch his shoulder for being so ridiculous.
Austin had built Pepa a prosthetic. Joe couldn’t even guess how much work had been involved, and he’d done it without help—or at least without Joe’s help.
Pepa finally calmed down enough to beg for more cuddles, which she did now, pressing her body so hard into Austin’s that she toppled him from his crouch.
He went down laughing and rubbed her ears and called her a good girl as her tail whipped everything within range.
She settled down with her head in his lap, but the tail kept going.
Austin’s cheeks were pink with pleasure, and he kept crooning and petting her, going for her belly when she turned onto her side.
“Sweet girl, you deserve it, don’t you.” When he stroked his fingers through the ruffled fur on her tummy, she kicked the prosthetic out, the way dogs sometimes did by reflex if they had an itchy spot.
It hit Joe then. Austin was a mechanic, but that wasn’t just his job.
It was who he was, it was what he did. They’d inherited a dilapidated home and Austin wanted to fix it, make it into something homey and functional, something with purpose.
He’d fixed up the record player too, sold that off to finance their ongoing renovations once Joe took the two hours to replace the bubbled wood veneer.
Now he’d apparently moved on to healing living, breathing things.
Joe’s heart was doing something dumb and treacherous in his chest—something it hadn’t done in months or maybe years, something he’d thought it might never do again.
It felt like it was beating too fast, suddenly, like it had run around the breezeway with Pepa wagging its tail.
And now, he realized in horror, it was lying with its head in Austin’s lap.
If Joe had realized Austin building Pepa a prosthetic would heal Joe’s dumb broken heart too, he could’ve braced for it. But how could he have anticipated this? Jesus.
He sank to the floor, because a whole half of Pepa’s belly was going unrubbed while Joe had a crisis, and that was just not acceptable.
He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on Pepa’s fur. “Where’d you learn to…?”
Except then Austin answered, and Joe had to look up, didn’t he? His eyes were deep and soft and fond. He shook his head knowingly. “I told you. You can learn anything on YouTube.”
Joe swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. “Think there might be more soul in this than there is in my cooking.”
Austin flushed at the compliment. Joe wanted to throw himself off the roof.
His heart might have given the green light, God knew his dick had been revving the engine, but his head was still in the driver’s seat, screaming and pumping the brakes.
But, “I don’t know,” Austin said. The words came out bolder than Joe expected, though he couldn’t have said why he thought Austin would be shy about the compliment.
“Pretty sure that celebratory dinner you made was as close as I’ve come to a religious experience. ”
Joe did not have the slightest suspicion that Austin was talking about the risotto.
His ears burned. “Um.” Jesus Christ. He swallowed again.
He needed… space. Room to breathe. A pillow to scream into.
Starling, maybe, to talk him off the ledge he’d sleepwalked onto.
“I actually forgot I need to, um. Call Starling about—the wiring. I better—yep.”
Joe didn’t run away. That would be undignified and also highly suspicious.
He did lock himself in his bedroom and settle himself as far away from the door as he could, so as to avoid being overheard, and pulled out his phone.
“Hey, Joe,” Starling greeted casually.
“I’m going to fall in love with him,” Joe blurted out.
“Oh-kay,” Starling said slowly.
“Not okay,” Joe whisper-shouted, cognisant of Austin still in the house. “Starling, he built Pepa a prosthetic leg.” It came out something like a wail.
Starling hummed in acknowledgment, like Joe hadn’t provided her with the most damning piece of information that anyone could have uttered. How was Joe supposed to stay strong in the face of that?
“Don’t just hm at me.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Offer advice.”
“For what?”
“My problem.”
“Which is?”
Joe let out an agonized groan. “That Austin is incredibly hot and sexy and cute and I’m living with him and will fall in love with him. Starling, I can’t fall in love with him. That would be a horrible idea. Absolutely horrible.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Starling agreed dryly.
Joe groaned and buried his face in his free hand.
This was disastrous. He couldn’t be in love with Austin.
He didn’t want to be in love with anyone right now, let alone with the worst possible candidate.
Between the living together and working together fixing the house they owned together, he was a bad idea on paper.
And that didn’t even get into the fact that Austin wasn’t interested in dating or relationships.
Falling in love with Austin would lead to heartbreak.
Joe told Starling as much.
Well, he tried to.
But he might not have expressed himself very clearly, since Starling just hummed once more and didn’t offer much by way of horror or advice.
Finally he got fed up with her lack of response and huffed indignantly. “Starling.”
“Joe,” she parroted in the same tone. “Are you done being dramatic?”
Joe gaped. “Dramatic?”
Oh, wait. He heard it now.
He huffed again. “Fine. Yes. So done being dramatic, Starling.”
“Watch the sarcasm,” she shot back, amused and warm. “Joe. Tell me honestly you didn’t see this coming.”
Joe swallowed. “You already know the answer to that.”
“I do,” Starling agreed. “We’ve had this conversation before. Has anything changed since then?”
He let his body sag against the wall, tilted his head back so he was staring up at the ceiling. He was looking forward to having that light fixture work, for sure.
Had anything changed since the day after Joe let the red wine do the talking?
Well, Austin had met Joe’s mother, for one. Built the dog a prosthetic. Started looking at Joe with fond, hot eyes. Brought home dinner. Debated over wine pairings with red ears, like he was thinking about what the red wine did to Joe.
“Yeah,” Joe admitted, a little hoarse.
“Have you talked to Austin about those changes?”
Joe made an indignant noise.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, dumbass.” He could hear her rolling her eyes. “Here’s a thought. You don’t actually need my advice.”
This was not something Joe ever expected to hear from her. “I don’t?”
“No. You need to sack up and have an actual adult conversation with the guy you want to bone about how your heart is fragile and he’s not allowed to toy with your affections.”
For fuck’s sake. “Now who’s being dramatic?” he grumbled.
“Joe. He calls you his house husband. He made you adopt four animals in two days. It is possible you are not the only U-Haul lesbian in the house. Do you get me? And you deserve to be happy. It has been so long since you were happy. I want that for you. If Austin can do that for you, I will help you mail save-the-date cards, okay?”
Joe’s stomach tried to exit through his mouth. “What if I’m not ready?”
“Then don’t sleep with him. Babe. I love you. But you are so bad at communicating in a relationship, it is, like, pathological. Be honest. If he’s coming on too strong, tell him to back off.”
“But what if I don’t actually want him to back off?”
Oh God, that sounded like a whine. That was a whine.
Starling, at least, thought it was funny, if the laugh in her voice was any indication. “José Giuseppe Joseph Romano, are you telling me you want to be wooed?”
Oh God, was he?
Oh God, he did. “Fuck,” Joe whispered. He liked the way Austin was treating him now—the flirting, the extra consideration. He liked the idea of maybe making him work for it a little. He liked the way it made him feel, like he was worth spending time on, even if they didn’t end up in bed together.
Historically, Joe made moves. That was his thing. He had game, whatever Gavin thought, even if it was currently a little rusty.
He wasn’t used to this end of things. He liked it.
Starling cackled. “The work boot is on the other foot now.”
Joe groaned in frustration.
“Look, you have three options—talk to Austin, move out, or do neither and keep your fingers crossed that everything works out.”
She was probably right, but Joe didn’t have to like it.