Hungry Love

Chapter 35

If You Love Somebody but Nobody Knows, is it Still Love?

My body knows where I am before my brain does, because the sunlight lands differently in this room. The bed is warm, and I’m bare, tangled in sheets that smell like salt, cedar, and him. I shift, and Gavin shifts with me. His leg slides between mine, his hand resting on the curve of my hip like it forgot how to let go.

“This isn’t my room,” I murmur, voice still sleep-rough.

“It is after last night.” His mouth is just beneath my ear, his breath warm against my skin, his hand gliding from my hip to my breast.

“You always wake up like this?” I ask, voice rougher now for an entirely different reason.

“Like what?” he murmurs, kissing the spot just below my jaw.

“Like you’ve got nowhere else to be.”

He lifts his head just enough to meet my eyes. “I don’t.”

There’s something devastating in how he looks at me. Like I’m the secret he’s finally allowed to share, and this morning, this bed, this mess of limbs and affection, is everything he’s ever wanted.

I curl closer, tracing the Sanskrit tattoos twisting around his rib cage with my fingers.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Gavin Jones.”

He hums, kissing my temple. “I’ve been holding back for years.”

I let my hand rest over his heart, and for a moment, we just stay like that—quiet, close, breath syncing.

Then his lips find mine again, slow and unhurried. Just his mouth on mine, his body pressed against me, the faint scratch of stubble against my cheek, and the ache in my thighs reminding me of every spontaneous, perfect decision we made last night.

When he finally pulls back, he groans, resting his forehead against mine. “We should probably get going.”

I grin, eyes still closed. “Didn’t we already do it twice?”

He laughs, the sound low and delicious. “I’m not talking about sex.” A beat as his mouth finds mine again. “Though I could be persuaded into a round three.”

Eventually, he slips out of bed and pads across the room. I miss the weight of him immediately. He’s standing by the window in nothing but boxers, sunlight kissing the curve of his back, catching in the mess of his hair. The sight of him—barefoot, golden, unguarded—does something dangerous to me.

There’s a wild, undone beauty about him in the morning, as if the night didn’t quite finish with him. And I feel him everywhere, the memory of him, still humming beneath my skin. His gaze finds me in the reflection of the glass. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. It’s as if he’s still trying to memorize me, even now.

“What time is it?” I ask, stretching on instinct. His gaze traces the path of my arm, then drops to just above where the sheet dips, barely covering me.

I watch his throat move like he’s just swallowed a thought.

Two identical dings break the spell. My phone, his phone, both lighting up on the table behind me.

I ignore it. He doesn’t.

“It’s Jared,” he murmurs. “He says he can’t wait to share his big news.”

I groan. “The only big news I want right now is whether you’re coming back to bed.”

“Trust me. If we didn’t have to get going,” he says, as if it pains him to say it.

I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest like it might help me think. “Get going where?”

“Jared and John. Brunch.”

“Oh. Crap.”

Gavin crosses the room and presses a kiss to my bare shoulder, like it’s habit. Like we’ve always done this. “We could save time if we shower together,” he says, brushing my hair off my neck.

I glance at him sideways. “And water. Think of the planet.”

He grins. “Exactly. Responsible and efficient.”

“I like a man who’s practical,” I murmur, already reaching for him again.

Half an hour later, we have been anything but practical. As I step out of the shower, I somehow feel both clean and dirty.

The sun is high by the time we’re on the road, windows down, our fingers laced on the console between us. Gavin drives like the world isn’t going anywhere without him, slow and unbothered, while I sneak glances at his profile. He looks content, as if he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

“You know those giant road signs with the numbers on them?” I ask.

“Yes?”

“They suggest a driving speed, Grandpa. You can actually get a ticket for going too slow.”

“What’s the hurry?” he says, grinning. “The slower I drive, the longer I get to be alone with you.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling too hard.

He’s right. If I could bottle this exact feeling and sip it through fall, I would. We ride the rest of the way grinning, our fingers still laced.

Maybe seeing Jared and John is a blessing in disguise. Otherwise, my mind might fixate on post-coital questions about commitment and the meaning of what we did and when we can do it again.

Soon, I hope.

The Orcas Hotel perches on a hill as if it knows it’s the prettiest thing around—classic white clapboard siding, red gables, wraparound porch, and just enough faded paint to feel historic instead of haunted. It’s been overlooking the ferry landing since 1904, watching strangers come and go with the tide.

We pull into the gravel lot just as the latest ferry unloads, a stream of cars rolling off while foot passengers blink into the bright morning like they can’t quite believe how lucky they are to be here.

Inside, the café is all creaky wood floors, lace-curtained windows, and that cozy hush you only get in places with that much history—or really good muffins.

We see Jared sitting at a table for four, standing to greet us, a huge smile on his face. He looks good. Not Gavin good, but good.

He pulls me into a big bear hug, and I’m pleased that it doesn’t make me miss what we had. It just makes me happy to see him.

I glance sideways and see Gavin watching. Not with jealousy, but maybe curiosity. After a few seconds, he clears his throat, and Jared releases me to hug his brother.

“Good to see you, too, Gavin. John’s just parking the car. He’ll be here in a sec.”

We sit, order coffees, and turn to each other.

“You look great, Jared. It’s really good to see you,” I tell him.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it. I have something I really want to tell you.” He can barely contain his excitement.

“The last time I heard those words, my world turned upside down,” I tease, sipping water.

“I’m getting married,” he says.

I spit my water, spraying the table.

Gavin wipes it up with a napkin as I choke out, “Very funny.”

“Seriously. I’m getting married.”

“To John?” I ask.

“Yes. Of course, to John.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s ridiculous’?” His voice rises.

“Jared, you just came out. He’s the first guy you’ve even dated. You’re probably just afraid to date anyone else.”

“Don’t reduce it to that.”

“I’m not reducing it,” I say. “I’m saying maybe you don’t have to make the biggest decision of your life in the same year you blew up ours.”

“Okay, kids, let’s take it down a notch.” Gavin puts his hand on my arm to calm me as some of the diners glance our way.

Jared eyes Gavin’s hand on my arm, waiting to see if I pull away. He looks from me to Gavin and practically winces.

“Are you kidding?” He turns to me. “You and Gavin? You hate him.”

“You hate me?” Gavin says, mock-wounded.

“I don’t hate you.”

“But he said you hated me.”

“Gavin. This isn’t about you. It’s about Jared.”

“Exactly,” adds Jared. “I thought my best friend and my brother might be supportive or even happy for me.”

Gavin raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“Exactly. Not saying anything is just as bad. Just answer me. Are you two sleeping together?”

“Well,” Gavin says, leaning back with a slow smile, “I wouldn’t say we’re getting a lot of sleep.”

I slap Gavin on the shoulder.

Jared grits his teeth. “Great. You’re judging me for falling in love, while you’re hooking up with someone you didn’t even like three months ago.”

“Hey!” Gavin protests. “Still here.”

Then, turning to me, “You really hated me?”

“Gavin, we can talk about it later. Of course, I never actually hated you.”

I turn back to Jared, but he stands abruptly, bumping into a good-looking guy with wavy blonde hair approaching the table.

“Hi!” he says, smiling, then glances around at our strained faces. “Bad time?”

“Yes,” Jared says. “We’re leaving.”

Back home, I throw open cabinets, yank ingredients out, and bang pots with theatrical fury.

“What are you doing?” Gavin asks.

“I’m baking.”

“Want help?”

“No, but you can watch.” I pour a pile of pecans on a chopping board and grab a cleaver. Gavin looks like he’s worried this could be dangerous.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“No,” I say, letting the cleaver drop with a CHOP!

“Are you sure?”

“No. Yes! Ugh!” CHOP! “How could Jared find someone so quickly?” CHOP!

“I... it’s... just...” I start crying and set the knife down.

“Thank God,” Gavin mutters, sliding the knife away.

He looks helpless, and it hits me—maybe he’s never done this. Olivia probably didn’t sob while baking.

“What did Olivia do when she got upset?”

“She got distant. Cold. You’re... not that.”

I sniffle. “So, I’m irrational and emotional?”

“You’re passionate. Real.”

His kindness breaks something open.

“We were supposed to be the ones planning a future. I don’t want him that way anymore, but I still worry about him. What if John isn’t good enough for him?”

I reach for the cleaver again.

“Are you sure you should be around sharp objects?” Gavin asks. “What are you even making?”

“The most addictive chocolate, pecan, coconut bar on the planet. With Gavin cracker crust.”

“That’s not a real ingredient,” he says.

“Is now.”

I melt chocolate. Dip a finger. Suck it clean.

Peace.

“Did you know chocolate triggers the same chemicals in the brain as falling in love?” I dip again and extend it to him.

“Want to taste?”

“I want to do more than that.”

He pulls me close and sucks the chocolate off my finger while holding my gaze.

A jolt of heat sparks low in my belly. “Do you really have to leave tonight?”

“Yes, I do. Sorry, but this trip has been planned for months. It’s only for three days.” He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his hips. “But we’ve got four whole hours before I leave.”

Everything else fades away as he kisses me. We’re only hands, breath, heat. It takes a moment before I realize the doorbell has rung. Not once. Twice.

He kisses me again, more passionately. The doorbell rings again.

“You know we have to get that,” I say.

“I beg to differ.”

He pulls my hair back to blow on my neck.

“Oh, god … maybe you’re right,” I gasp.

My cell phone rings. I look at the caller ID as Gavin nibbles at my earlobe. “It’s your brother.”

“The petulant one who just ditched us at the café? Not interested.”

There is banging on the door. “Ava, I know you’re in there,” Jared yells from outside.

“It’s a bluff,” Gavin says. “We could go back to bed.”

“Tempting. But not the right thing to do.”

“Doing the right thing is overrated.”

My phone dings with a text from Jared.

“He says he knows where your hideaway key is.”

“Damn that key.”

“Gavin. He’s coming in.”

Gavin laughs as I fix my hair.

“How do I look?”

“Ravishing.”

“Seriously.”

“Lipstick’s a little smeared.”

Before I can reach for my mouth, Gavin swipes his thumb across my lower lip, slow like he’s got all the time in the world.

His eyes flick to mine. Dark. Amused. Possessive.

“There,” he murmurs. “I prefer it smeared. But I’ll be civilized.”

The doorknob turns. We hear Jared letting himself in.

Gavin snatches a pen and a Post-it and writes on it.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He holds up the Post-it so that I can see what he has scribbled: Note to self: Change the locks.

He sticks it to the wall, front and center, and impossible to miss.

I plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Thank you for being patient.”

“Just make sure he’s out in less than an hour.”

I’m relieved to see Jared and a little bit satisfied that he looks embarrassed. Not that I was an angel, but still.

Jared opens with, “Can we talk?” The question is directed at me more than Gavin.

I nod. We’ve never stewed over anything when we were in a relationship, and I’d love to keep that up in our friendship.

We sit down in the living room, each of us on one side of Gavin’s L-shaped sofa. I pull a pillow onto my lap for comfort. Gavin, I notice, is keeping his distance, sitting in an armchair off to the side.

“You tell me everything, Ava. How could you keep this from me?”

“You kept things from me, too. The fact is, the rules have changed fast. Maybe faster than we were ready for—because we both know this is not about John.”

Jared nods, softening.

“When I told you about John, I felt judged. And part of me—the selfish part—was jealous that your bond with Gavin might be stronger than ours was. I hadn’t fully let you go.”

“It doesn’t mean anything that I didn’t tell you about Gavin. We’ve only been together for a day. And, it’s all your fault anyway. I thought he was a stuck-up jerk.”

“Hey! Still here.” We both laugh, but Gavin doesn’t.

“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “I don’t think that anymore.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

I turn back to Jared. “You know what Leonard Cohen does to me.”

He laughs. Then, together, we both say, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Jared adds. “I was defensive, and I was judgmental.”

“No, I was those things, and—”

Jared puts his hand up to stop me. “Wait. You don’t have to apologize. I know you were looking out for me. Both of you have always been the most important people in my world. The two people I could count on when times were tough. Gavin, you showed me how to ride a bike and be a man. Ava, you showed me how to be a friend and a romantic partner. It would be a stroke of good fortune if you two found each other.

Have Gavin and I “found each other”?

“But I didn’t come out just to be out,” Jared says. “It’s always been about love. You were the only woman I could love. John’s the only man. Why waste time looking for someone else when I already know I’ve found the person I want to be with for the rest of my life? I want both of you to be at our sides when we marry. Ava, will you be my maid of honor? Gavin, my best man? It would mean everything.”

I drop Gavin at the ferry terminal for the night’s last boat to the mainland, both of us still buzzed on good wine and the relief of having made peace with Jared.

“Dinner was great, wasn’t it?” I ask, knowing he was as relieved as I was to mend things with Jared.

“Yes, dinner was good, but it was missing a much-needed side of sex.”

Gavin tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, then tilts my chin up for one last kiss—slow, greedy, like he’s memorizing the shape of my mouth.

When he pulls back, he’s still close enough to whisper: “Until further notice, you’re my only one-night stand.”

I smile. “And I fully intend to ruin that stat.”

As he boards the ferry, I stay behind, pulse thrumming, lips tingling, heart cracked open in the best possible way.