Chapter 29 Ivan
It's almost ten when Jay's stomach growls hungrily. We've been lying in bed for hours, holding each other, existing in that perfect space where nothing outside this room matters.
I'm so comfortable, I could stay like this forever with Jay's head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin against mine.
But that growl is impossible to ignore. It's loud and insistent, and I feel it vibrate through his body into mine.
"When did you last eat?" I ask, running my fingers through his hair.
Jay lifts his head, frowning like he's trying to remember something from years ago instead of hours. "I don't remember. Breakfast, I think? Maybe? I had coffee this morning. Does coffee count as eating?"
"That was like fourteen hours ago. Fifteen if you're not counting coffee, which I'm not." I sit up slightly, dislodging him. "You need to eat. We both do, but especially you. I need to fatten you up."
"I forget sometimes." Jay says it like it's nothing, like forgetting to feed yourself is just a normal thing that happens to everyone.
"When I'm working on something at the shop, I get focused and time disappears.
Mick has to remind me to take lunch breaks.
And when I'm here alone, I'm not really good at the whole taking-care-of-myself thing. Never have been."
"Yeah, I noticed." I sit up, pulling him with me. "We need to eat. Both of us. I haven't had anything since lunch either. I'm not much better than you."
"Shit." Jay runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in every direction, and he looks guilty. "I should have thought about this. I should have fed you when you got here. I didn't even think about dinner. I'm sorry."
"Hey, it's fine." I reach out and catch his hand, squeeze it. "We were busy, remember. We had more important priorities. But now we're both starving and if we don't eat soon, I'm going to pass out."
"Pizza again? Or are you sick of it?"
"Never. I could eat an entire pizza by myself right now."
Jay grabs his phone from the nightstand and scrolls through, looking for the number.
While he's doing that, I climb out of bed and dig through my overnight bag for a clean pair of sweatpants.
We both pull on pants and when I straighten up, Jay is looking at me standing there shirtless, his eyes traveling over my chest and stomach in a way that makes heat pool in my cock.
"We're a mess," he says, but he's smiling.
"We're decent enough for the delivery guy. That's all that matters. Besides—" I gesture at him, equally shirtless, his hair wild, his lips still slightly swollen from earlier. "You're not exactly ready for a photo shoot either."
"Fair point."
The pizza arrives twenty minutes later. Jay answers the door, pays the delivery guy in cash, and brings the boxes back to the bed. We settle against the headboard, the pizza between us, and dig in like we haven't eaten in days. Which, in Jay's case, might not be far from the truth.
"I used to imagine a scene like this. Finding you, I mean.
" I pick at the crust in my hands, not quite meeting his eyes because this feels vulnerable.
"I used to lie awake at night in my room at the Reyes house and imagine all the different ways it could go.
All the different versions of you I might find. "
Jay shifts closer, his leg pressing against mine. "What did you imagine? Tell me."
"Everything. Every possible scenario I could think of.
" I take a breath. "Sometimes I imagined you'd be doing great.
You'd have a good job, a nice apartment, stability.
Maybe you'd have a girlfriend or even a wife who made you happy.
Maybe you'd be in college, or working your way up in some company, or running your own business.
I'd imagine walking up to your door and you'd open it and you'd be happy and you wouldn't need me at all. "
"A girlfriend or a wife? Really?"
"It never crossed my mind you might be into men or me." I finally look at him. "Not until last weekend. So yeah, sometimes I imagined you with a girl. Sometimes I imagined you'd gotten married to some amazing woman who took care of you the way you deserved. Sometimes I imagined you'd have kids."
"You imagined me with a whole life? A family? What would you have done if that was true? If you'd found me and I had all that?"
"Anything." The word comes out without hesitation.
"I would have done anything to be part of your life, in whatever capacity you'd let me.
Even if you were married. Even if you had kids and a wife who didn't understand why this random guy from your past kept showing up.
I would have been—I don't know, the world's best uncle or something.
The guy who shows up for every birthday with the most ridiculous presents.
The one who takes your kids to the park and teaches them how to ride bikes and catches them when they fall.
The one who babysits whenever you needed a night out with your wife. Whatever."
I stop, embarrassed by how much I've revealed, by how pathetic it sounds.
"You would have done all that?" he asks. "Even if I was with someone else? Even if there was no place for you in my life except the edges?"
"Hell yes, I would've. I spent years looking for you.
" I shake my head. "I wasn't going to find you and then just walk away because your life didn't look the way I imagined.
No matter what your life looked like, no matter who you were with or where you were living or what you were doing—I just wanted to be near you.
However, that worked. Whatever scraps of time you could give me. "
Jay reaches over and takes my hand, his fingers threading through mine and holding tight. "I'm so glad I'm not married with a bunch of kids. I'm glad there's no one else. I'm glad it's just us."
"Me too." I squeeze his fingers, feel the calluses on his palm from years of working with tools. "Really, really glad. I'm not sure how well I could've handled seeing you with someone else. Even though I would've tried."
"This—us—the physical stuff we've been doing." He's not looking at me now, staring at our joined hands instead, his thumb rubbing circles on my knuckles. "Are you doing this because you want to, or because you think I want to? Because you feel like you should? Like it's what I expect from you?"
"What?" The question catches me off guard. "Why would you think—"
"I need to know that you're not just going along with this because you think it's what I expect. Or because you feel obligated somehow. Or because—" He stops, shakes his head. "I need to know this is real for you. That you actually want me."
I set down my pizza and turn to face him fully, pulling my hand free from his so I can cup his face with both hands. "Look at me."
He does, reluctantly, and I can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the fear that I'm going to confirm his worst suspicions.
"I want this that we have," I say firmly, clearly, making sure every word lands.
"I want you. More than I've ever wanted anything in my life.
More than I've wanted my next breath. Do you understand me?
I'm not molding myself to something I think you want.
Pretending to be gay would be a little much, don't you think? "
"But how do you know? You said you've never felt this way about anyone before. How do you know this is real and not just—I don't know, nostalgia or—"
"Jay, listen to me." I lean in closer, making sure he can see my eyes, see that I'm telling the truth.
"I spent a week taking cold showers twice a day because I couldn't stop thinking about you.
I spent every night lying in my bed touching myself and thinking about your hands on me, your mouth on me, all the things I wanted to do with you.
I've been losing my mind wanting you since the moment you stepped out of that bathroom in a towel last weekend. "
His breath catches and I see relief flood his eyes.
"Trust me, this is not me going along with anything.
This is not me being polite or obligated or confused.
" I stroke my thumbs across his cheekbones.
"This is me finally getting something I didn't even know I was allowed to want.
This is me being selfish and desperate and completely obsessed with you in a way I've never been with anyone else. "
"Okay. I needed to hear that. I needed to know I wasn't pushing you into something you weren't ready for."
I let out a laugh. "Trust me, you're not pushing me into anything. If anything, I'm the one who's been desperate this whole week, counting down the hours until I could see you again." I lean in and kiss him. "I want you. In every way possible."
"Good, because I feel the same way," he says.
"You're probably going to think this is crazy or weird. I've been saving up money," I say, surprising myself with the confession. It wasn't what I planned to say, but suddenly I need him to know.
Jay looks at me, confused. "For what? Something in particular?"
"Maybe. I've been trying to save as much as I can.
Since I started working, since I got my first real paycheck.
" I set down my pizza, turning to face him more fully.
"I pay Rosalyn rent every month. She didn't want to take it at first, said I was part of the family and family doesn't pay rent.
But I insisted. I wanted to help with the other kids, with groceries and bills and all the stuff that comes with having a house full of people.
But after that, after rent and my basic expenses, I save as much as I can. Almost everything else."
"That's smart. That's good financial planning," Jay says, but he's clearly confused about why I'm telling him this.
"It wasn't about being smart or planning for the future." I pick at a thread on the comforter, finding it easier to look at my hands than at him. "It was about you. It was always about you."
"Me?"
"I always knew—or I always hoped, at least—that I'd find you eventually.
Someday, somehow, I'd get a hit on one of those searches and I'd find you.
" I take a breath. "And I wanted to be ready when I did.
I wanted to have something to offer. Money saved up, a good job, stability.
I wanted to be able to help you if you needed help.
I wanted to be—I don't know, useful. Worth having around. "
"Ivan—"
"I know it doesn't make logical sense, right?
Saving money for years for someone I might never find?
Someone who might not even want my help?
But I kept doing it anyway because the alternative was—what?
Spending it on things I didn't need? I'd rather save it for the possibility that you or we might need it someday. "
"Ivan, that's—" He stops, shakes his head. "I don't even know what to say to that."
"You don't have to say anything right now.
I know that's a lot. I know we've only been—whatever this is—for a week.
I know it's crazy." I rush on before I lose my nerve.
"But I've been planning for this for years, even when I didn't know what it would look like.
Even when I had no idea if you'd even remember me.
I just knew I wanted to be ready for anything. "
"You saved money for someone you couldn't even find. Someone who might have been dead for all you knew."
"Yes. I know how it sounds."
"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard." He shakes his head slowly. "That's—Ivan, that's—"
"I know it's a lot. I sound like a psycho.
" I'm babbling now, nervous. "I'm not asking for anything right now.
I'm not trying to pressure you or make you feel like you owe me something.
I'm just telling you because I want you to know.
This isn't—" I gesture between us. "This isn't casual for me.
This isn't me figuring things out or experimenting with me.
I've been waiting for you my whole life. "
Jay sets aside the pizza box, pushing it to the foot of the bed, and pulls me into his arms without warning.
He doesn't say anything, just holds me, tight and fierce, his arms wrapping around me like he's trying to absorb me into his skin.
His face presses against my hair and I feel him shaking slightly.
"I don't deserve you," he whispers.
"Yes, you do. You deserve everything good."
"I really don't. You have no idea—"
"You do. And I'm going to keep telling you until you believe it." I wrap my arms around him just as tight, holding on. "Every day. Multiple times a day if I have to. You deserve good things. You deserve to be cared for and—"
He laughs, a watery sound that might be half a sob. "That could take a while. I've spent years believing the opposite."
"I've got time. I've got all the time in the world."
We stay like that for a long moment, holding each other in the dim light of the motel room. The pizza is getting cold on the bed. Neither of us cares. This is more important. This moment, this connection, this feeling of being held and wanted and not alone.
"So," Jay says eventually, pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes red-rimmed. "What does building a life together look like? Practically, I mean. Not the fantasy version. The real version."
"I don't know yet. We figure it out as we go.
" I brush a strand of hair off his forehead, let my fingers linger on his skin.
"Maybe I come here every weekend for a while, just like this.
Maybe you come meet Rosalyn and Mitchell and see if you can stand my crazy family.
Maybe we start looking at apartments together, see what we can afford, what we want. "
"That's a lot of maybes."
"It is. But that's okay. We don't have to have all the answers right now." I kiss his forehead, soft and gentle. "We've got time to figure it out. We've got all the time in the world. There's no rush."
Jay closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. "All the time in the world," he repeats. "I like the sound of that. I like thinking about a future. I haven't let myself do that in years."
"Well, start getting used to it," I tell him, pulling him back down onto the bed, tucking him against my side. "Because I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."
"There's no place I'd rather be stuck than with you."