CHAPTER 4. Thomas
The afterglow hits different when you're half-naked in the backseat of a Honda Civic during a snowstorm.
Carter’s still curled against me, our breathing finally slowing, my arms wrapped tight around him like if I let go, I’ll blink and realize it was all a dream.
Sixteen years of wanting, and now that I’ve had him—touched him, kissed him, held him like I’ve imagined a thousand times—we’re stranded in a dead car with the temperature dropping by the second.
Not exactly the romantic setting I pictured for our first time. But somehow, it still feels perfect.
Messy and freezing and a little unhinged—but perfect.
“We should probably, um…” Carter mumbles, voice muffled against my neck.
“Clean up?” I finish, running my hand gently down his back. His skin’s cooling fast now that we’ve stopped moving, and goosebumps are blooming under my fingers.
“Yeah,” he says, laughing softly—awkward, not quite meeting my eyes. “That.”
I smile at the sudden shyness that’s taken over him.
This is the same guy who was riding me like he had something to prove five minutes ago. Now he can’t even look at me, shifting slightly—the embarrassment’s starting to catch up with him.
“I think I have wet wipes in the glove compartment,” he mumbles.
“Is that where you keep all your emergency supplies?” I ask, grinning. “Condoms, lube, wet wipes?”
“Shut up,” he mutters, zero heat behind it. “I’m a responsible adult who likes to be prepared.”
I can’t see the blush in the dark, but I can hear it in his voice. And God, it’s adorable.
I’ve seen Carter in every possible state over the years—drunk, exhausted, furious, wrecked—but post-sex and sheepish is a brand-new favorite.
“Very Boy Scout of you,” I say with a chuckle.
He rolls his eyes and carefully peels himself off my lap, wincing a little as he moves. The sight knocks the smile off my face.
“Hey. You okay? Did I hurt you?”
He gives me a look—equal parts fond and exasperated. “I’m fine. Just…normal aftermath stuff.”
“Right. Sorry.”
I’ve never done this before—not with a guy—and suddenly I’m hyperaware of every way I might’ve fucked it up.
Carter stretches awkwardly into the front seat, reaching to open the glove compartment. The movement gives me a perfect view of his bare ass, and, yeah—no chance I’m not touching that.
I run a hand over it.
“Thomas!” he yelps, nearly smacking his head on the dashboard.
“Sorry,” I say, not even pretending to mean it.
He glances back at me, trying to look stern—and failing completely.
I grin. “You can’t expect me to keep my hands to myself after waiting sixteen years.”
Something shifts in his expression—softens. For a second, we just look at each other. Then he shakes his head, smiling, and turns back to his search.
“Got them,” he says triumphantly, pulling out a travel pack of wet wipes.
He hands me a few, and we set about cleaning ourselves up.
It’s awkward—cramped in the backseat, our skin sticking to the leather with every movement—but there’s something oddly intimate about it too.
This quiet, unglamorous aftermath. The part they never show in movies. The part that makes it real.
I deal with the condom, tie it off, wrap it in a wipe, then glance around for somewhere to put it. Carter catches the hesitation and reaches into the pocket behind the driver’s seat, pulling out a small plastic bag.
“It’s concerning how prepared you are for this,” I say, dropping the bundle in.
He laughs, and it feels good—this easy rhythm between us. Not strained or awkward. Just…like it used to be, before I fucked everything up.
We start getting dressed, which turns into a full-on comedy of elbows and knees in the cramped backseat.
Carter smacks his head on the roof and curses loudly.
I almost knee him in the groin trying to wrestle my pants back on.
It’s ridiculous and perfect, and we both end up laughing like idiots the whole way through.
Once we’re finally dressed, I pull him back against me. His hands are still cool to the touch, so I take them in mine and rub them, trying to coax some warmth back into him.
“Better?” I ask.
He nods, leaning in. “Much.”
He settles against my side like it’s second nature—head on my shoulder, body fitting against mine like it belongs there.
The car’s freezing now that we’re no longer generating heat, our breath fogging in soft clouds in the air between us.
“Let me check my phone,” I say, reaching for where I tossed it on the front seat. “See if the tow company called.”
My screen lights up with a flood of notifications—all from Jason.
Twenty-three messages. Four missed calls.
“Shit,” I mutter, scrolling through the increasingly panicked texts.
“What?” Carter asks, peering over.
“Your brother’s having a meltdown,” I say, holding out the phone. “He sent all these while we were…busy.”
Carter’s eyes widen as he takes in the timestamps. The most recent message, sent just three minutes ago, reads: I’m coming to get you guys if you don’t answer in the next 5 minutes.
Carter winces. “Shit. I forgot to check my phone. He’s probably texted me too.”
As if on cue, his phone lights up somewhere on the floor. He scrambles to find it, finally fishing it out from under the seat.
“It’s Jason,” he says, flashing me the screen before accepting the call and putting it on speaker. “Hey, birthday boy.”
Jason’s voice blasts through the speaker—loud, frantic, and very much alive with older brother panic. “Carter! Jesus Christ, where have you been? I thought you were dead!”
“Sorry,” Carter says, wincing. “We, uh…both had our phones on silent.” He shoots me a quick look—half panic, half amusement. “The car died completely, and we were just trying to stay warm.”
Not technically a lie.
I bite back a smile.
“Are you guys okay?” Jason demands. “It’s like negative ten out there with the wind chill.”
“We’re fine,” Carter says quickly. “Cold, but fine. Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry we couldn’t be there.”
There’s a pause, and then Jason’s voice softens. “Thanks, man. I was just worried about you two. The storm’s getting worse.”
“Do you like the decorations?” I ask, leaning closer to the phone.
“They’re amazing,” Jason says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “The Yzma pinata is genius. And the ‘Pull the Lever, Kronk’ banner over the bar is iconic.”
Carter and I exchange a look and can’t help grinning.
“We’re glad you like it,” Carter says.
“Listen,” Jason goes on, his voice sliding back into concerned-big-brother mode, “Mike and I can come get you. Just send your location.”
“That’s not necessary,” I say quickly, already picturing Jason getting stuck in traffic—or worse, stranded somewhere else in this storm on his birthday. “The tow truck should be here soon.”
“The roads are getting worse,” Jason argues. “They might not come. I don’t want you guys freezing to death out there.”
“We’ll give the tow company another thirty minutes,” Carter says, catching my gaze over the phone. “If they’re not here by then, we’ll call you.”
There’s a pause, and I can practically hear Jason’s internal debate.
“Fine,” he says eventually. “But I’m setting a timer. Thirty minutes, and then I’m coming—whether you like it or not.”
“Fair enough,” I say.
“Thanks, Jase,” Carter adds.
“Yeah, yeah. Love you guys. Stay warm.”
“Love you too,” Carter says.
The call ends, and he turns to look at me with a grimace.
“Shit,” he says. “I just realized—we’re going to have to tell Jason at some point.”
He pauses, then adds, “About us.”
I blink.
Oh. Right.
The idea of telling Jason makes my face heat up, which is honestly stupid considering I’ve already told Carter I’m in love with him. Multiple times. Including—yes—while he was riding my cock in the backseat of his car.
But telling Jason? That’s a whole different kind of vulnerable.
Still, I know I’ll do it. Even if it’s awkward. Even if he throws something at me.
Carter must see the panic creeping in, because he blurts, “It’s fine. We don’t have to tell him.”
I know what he’s thinking. He thinks I’m getting cold feet. Probably expects me to back off—because that’s what I would’ve done before.
But I’m not. I’m ready. For him, for this, for everything that comes next—including the awkward bits.
“Let’s tell him tomorrow,” I say, catching his hand. “Even if we make it to his birthday dinner tonight, I don’t want to steal the spotlight.”
Carter raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Tomorrow?”
I snort, brushing my fingers lightly over his skin. “What, too soon?”
He smiles, suddenly all shy. “Yes. I mean—no. It’s good. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” I smirk. “He might beat the crap out of me when he finds out I’ve been in love with his little brother for sixteen years and just now got around to mentioning it, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine in the end.”
Carter laughs, the sound bright in the cold car. “He’s not going to beat you.”
I chuckle. “You don’t know that. He’s very protective of you.”
“Yeah, but you’re his best friend. He’ll be fine.” Carter pauses, then adds with a dramatic wiggle of his eyebrows, “Eventually.”
We both laugh, and then the car goes quiet again.
There’s a beat of silence where we’re probably both imagining how that inevitable conversation with Jason’s going to go. Then Carter shifts, glancing down at our hands.
“So, um,” he starts, then stops—like he’s not sure how to say whatever he’s trying to say.
“Um?” I prompt, teasing.
He looks up at me, then back down. “Are we… I mean, is this…”
He gestures vaguely between us, then goes quiet, clearly flustered.
My heart squeezes at the vulnerability in his voice.
He’s still scared—scared I’ll run again, scared this was just a one-off, scared of putting a name to whatever this is, even though I just told him I love him. Even though I said I’m ready to tell his brother about us.
I can’t help smiling.
I pull his hand into my lap, threading our fingers together.
“Carter,” I say, waiting until his eyes meet mine. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
The word feels both juvenile and wildly insufficient.
Boyfriend. Such a tiny word for something we’ve spent half our lives building. But it’s a start.
Surprise flashes across Carter’s face, but he’s smiling now. “Yes,” he says, then quickly adds, “If you want to be mine?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “More than anything.”
“Cool,” he says, chuckling and squeezing my hand.
I lean in and kiss him—soft, slow—trying to say everything I’m feeling without words. Relief. Joy. The absolute disbelief that this is finally happening. He kisses me back just as gently, his free hand coming up to cup my face.
When we part, he rests his forehead against mine. “I hope we don’t die here,” he murmurs. “It would be so stupid to die after years of waiting for this.”
I laugh, pulling him closer. “We’re not going to die.”
Carter huffs out a breath.
“You don’t know that. It’s really cold, and that tow truck might never come, and Jason might get stuck in a ditch trying to rescue us, and then we’ll all freeze to death, and they’ll find our bodies in the spring thaw.”
“You’re so dramatic,” I say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “We’re going to be fine.”
He sighs, leaning into me. “I hope Logan’s okay,” he says after a moment. “If he’s still at the café, he probably won’t be able to get a taxi either.”
“He’s closing up today?” I ask.
Carter nods against my shoulder. “Yeah. At least he’ll have the café—there’s heat and food and that couch in the backroom.”
I smirk. “Unlike us, who are about to freeze to death in your Honda Civic?”
“Exactly,” he says, then pokes me in the ribs. “Wait, I thought you said we weren’t going to die.”
“We’re not,” I assure him, bringing his hand to my lips. “The tow truck will come, or Jason will rescue us, or the storm will let up and we’ll walk to safety. One way or another, we’re getting out of here.”
Carter looks at me with such raw hope and trust it knocks the breath out of me. “Promise?”
“Promise,” I say. After years of missed chances and wasted time, there’s no way I’m letting a snowstorm take this from us. We’ve got too much to live for now.
He smiles—that same soft, crooked smile from earlier—and leans into me more comfortably.
We sit in silence for a while, watching the snow blur the windshield, listening to the wind howl outside.
It’s cold, getting colder by the minute, but with Carter pressed against me, starting to doze, I can’t bring myself to care.
Then I spot them—headlights smearing through the fogged windshield, faint beyond the snow. I sit up straighter, careful not to jostle him. His breath is still warm on my neck. Could be another stranded car. Or—
The lights creep closer, high beams sweeping across the frosted windshield. Then I see it: the boom behind the cab.
Definitely a tow truck.
Relief crashes through me like a wave.
“Carter,” I whisper, giving his shoulder a gentle shake.
He stirs, blinking up at me, voice rough with sleep. “What?”
“Hey,” I murmur, grinning. “Looks like we’re not going to die after all.”