Chapter 3
Gabriel hadn’t known this when they’d first met, two years ago, but Sean was undeniably one of the most particular, meticulous people he’d ever known. His truck, now over two years old, was practically as shiny and perfect as it had been the day he’d opened.
So when he spotted Sean, approaching the group of them gathering near the central circle of picnic tables, wearing an apron with a telltale red blotch across the chest, Gabriel knew something was up.
“You have an accident today?” Lucas asked Sean, as he lounged between his boyfriend’s legs.
Tony was halfheartedly sifting Lucas’ hair between his fingers, and Gabriel felt that all-too-familiar sting of jealousy.
Tony and Lucas were so casually, so flawlessly yet imperfectly happy.
They didn’t always see eye to eye, but that didn’t matter, because they always had each other’s backs.
And the love? You’d have to be blind to miss it.
What did Gabriel have?
A frenemy who refused to confess his secrets, wouldn’t tell him the truth, and now had pulled out evidence of his worst behavior and was displaying it for all their friends to see.
It hurt, even though by now Gabriel should have been used to it.
“This?” Sean asked, pointing to the telltale stain on the center of his white apron. “Oh, this is old. Just an old stain.”
“An old stain from where Gabe beaned him with a meatball,” Tony said with a chuckle.
“Ah,” Lucas said, shooting Gabriel a sympathetic look. “Makes sense.”
If he left now, went back to the truck and grabbed his stuff and went home, everyone would know that he was bothered by Sean wearing it.
Sean would know that he was bothered.
“Really?” The voice was low and incredulous.
Gabriel glanced back and saw Ren approaching, holding two bottles of beer by their long necks.
He passed one to Gabe. “What?” Gabriel said, gulping his beer.
It didn’t really help. Last night had proved that booze was not the solution to the problems he had with Sean—but at least he’d take those solutions over these.
“He’s really going to pull that out now?” Ren shook his head. “He kind of sucks, doesn’t he?”
Gabriel sighed. “If only that was actually the case.”
Ren’s gaze turned calculating. “Oh, so you finally acknowledged that you want him to suck?”
“You’re the worst,” Gabriel said.
“Unfair, considering we’ve already established who actually is the worst,” Ren said lightly. He tipped his beer bottle in Sean’s direction. He’d gotten drawn into a conversation with Lucas and Tony and was thankfully ignoring Gabe.
Gabriel wasn’t under any stupid assumption that would continue, but for right now, he’d take it.
“I just wish . . . I wish he’d tell me why,” Gabriel said under his breath.
Ren shrugged. “If he hasn’t by now, he probably won’t. You should just change the name and get it over with. He’s never going to give that up.”
“How do you know?” Gabriel had always believed that over time he could wear Sean down. That belief had wavered over the last few days, but he still wanted to think it was true.
“That boy is holding on to something more important than just ornery stubbornness,” Ren said. “You know it, too, and that’s what drives you crazy. That he won’t tell you.” Ren took a drink of his beer. “Just change it. I know you have the name. I know you have the stuff all ready to go.”
“Is anything a secret from you?” Gabriel complained.
“Not really,” Ren admitted. “You know you’re going to do it, eventually. It’d be easier to just change it now, before you take each other and this whole lot out in a war of attrition over who’s going to give in first.”
“I . . . I can’t, okay,” Gabriel said. “I just can’t.”
Ren’s gaze turned pitying. “Oh, boy, you do have it bad.”
He’d probably had it bad before, but last night? That had been the last nail in his coffin.
“I guess,” Gabriel said.
“Hey,” Tony said, raising his voice, pulling their—and Ren’s attention, thank God—away from their conversation. “Anyone see that new guy who’s been hanging around the last few months?”
“Dark hair? Intense gaze? Jumpy? Looks like he’s used to carrying?” Ren spoke up. Gabriel wasn’t surprised. Ren knew most of the regulars, if not by name, then by sight.
It also felt like he’d slept with most of them. The single ones, anyway.
“Yeah,” Lucas said. “I tried to strike up a conversation with him today, but he’s . . .”
“Jumpy,” Ren repeated. “Yeah, I know. I actually asked him out . . .”
Gabriel groaned. “Of course you did.”
Ren shot him a glare. “He’s hot, in case you didn’t notice, or you were maybe too preoccupied with . . .”
“That’s enough,” Gabriel said, glaring back.
“Anyway, he turned me down,” Ren said. “But he said his name was Lennox. Just Lennox.”
“First or last?” Tony wondered.
“Does it matter?” Ren retorted.
“If you’re gonna be screaming it, you might want to know,” Gabriel said sulkily.
“I told you, he turned me down,” Ren said.
“For now,” Tate piped in, chuckling as he walked up with a bottle of his own in his hand. “We all know it’s inevitable that you’ll end up popping his food truck cherry.”
Ren actually looked proud of this particular fact.
Gabriel didn’t know whether he was disgusted or kind of pathetically envious.
At least Ren had never been stupid enough to turn his attention to Sean.
They’d never talked about it, but Ren had flirted with everyone—from Ash to Shaw, the bartender at the Funky Cup, to Lucas, at least before he’d realized that Tony wasn’t exactly the sharing type—but he’d never once even tried to get into Sean’s pants.
Gabriel was afraid that if he asked, he knew exactly what his cousin would say. He’s yours, he’s always been yours.
If that was true though, then why did it feel so goddamn shitty? Why hadn’t Sean ever told him even one of his many secrets?
It hurt. It had hurt for so long that Gabriel was almost used to the throb of it, by now.
“We’ll see,” Ren said. “But yeah, no idea if Lennox is first or last.”
“First,” Tony said at the same time his boyfriend said, “Last.” They both burst into laughter.
Gabriel couldn’t help himself. He looked over at Sean. And to his surprise, Sean was looking back. Like they’d both thought the same thing at the same time, look, they disagree all the time and they still share the same bed at night.
Gabriel might have asked again. Might have tried to make his case again. Except that apron was yelling at him, telling him Sean’s answer before he’d even asked.
He turned away, draining the rest of his beer, not looking back at the warm circle of friendly laughter as he melted into the shadows.
Sean would have to be blind to not notice when Gabriel left.
Especially after that look they’d shared.
Gabriel, as annoying as he was, was painfully transparent sometimes.
It didn’t help that Sean was pretty sure he’d had the same exact thought.
Look at Tony and Lucas. They argue all the time, and they love each other so goddamn much.
Sean knew that he and Gabriel were fundamentally different from their very loved-up friends, but that didn’t matter.
He couldn’t help but wonder. Surely if it was just sex .
. . that could work, right? He already knew that was all he wanted, because he’d been madly, completely, totally in love, and whatever he felt for Gabriel couldn’t be more different.
“Hey.” Sean glanced up, and Tate was standing there, a bottle of water in his hands, and a sympathetic smile on his face. “How’re you hanging in there?”
Tate was a good friend, and someone who watched out for everyone in their group. But there was an added layer of concern in his expression tonight.
“Tony told you about the ultimatum,” Sean stated rather than asked.
Tate nodded. “I don’t want you to think he was gossiping or anything . . .”
But Sean already knew that his and Gabriel’s bickering was a source of gossip. Which was why Gabriel hadn’t wanted to share that they’d done a lot more than just argue last night; they didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire.
“I know, I know he wouldn’t,” Sean said. Even though Tony definitely would. Still, it meant something that Tate cared—but then Sean realized that made sense. Dating one of the most famous football players in the world would make someone more aware of who was saying what and to whom.
They’d all agreed in an unspoken vow to keep Tate’s shit—and as an extension, Chase’s—locked down tight. Nobody was getting anything out of any of them, no matter how many times they showed up at the lot, looking for dirt about Tate and Chase’s relationship.
But he and Gabriel were a whole different kettle of fish, and Sean knew it. First of all, they’d brought the notoriety on themselves, by arguing so frequently and with such vehemence. And, besides, they weren’t a couple.
Tate shot Sean a crooked smile. “Yeah, of course not. Never. Gossip is totally not Tony’s style.”
Sean laughed. “Maybe a little bit Tony’s style.”
“I still wanted to make sure you were okay. I know that two years ago, you really didn’t want to change your name, and I’m assuming that nothing’s changed.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Sean confirmed.
“So what are you guys going to do?” Tate wondered.
“Gabe’s just gonna have to figure out how to live with the name change, I guess,” Sean said.
Tate looked surprised. “You’re just assuming he’s going to give in?”
“I’ve still got my reasons, right?” Sean said. “They didn’t just go away. Gabriel’s just being an ass.”
“Is he?”
“Well, yeah,” Sean said. “It’s Gabriel. Of course he’s being an ass about it.”
Maybe Tate’s worried expression shouldn’t have reminded Sean of how guilty he’d felt when Gabriel had left, but that guilt was now back in spades.
“I’m sure you’ve got great reasons,” Tate said carefully, “but that doesn’t mean that Gabe should just automatically do whatever you want him to. He’s got rights here, too. Maybe you could figure out how to compromise?”