Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Matt paused in his unpacking to glance at the wall clock.
Ten minutes. He’s only been gone ten minutes.
Matt imagined this was a conversation that might take a little longer than that. Owen wouldn’t be back for a while.
He gazed at the stack of DVDs.
I’ll surprise him. If he could empty another three or four boxes before Owen returned, it’d be one less job for him. I don’t suppose unpacking DVDs will be high on his list of things to do this evening, not after that conversation.
Matt slit the tape on another box, folded the cardboard flat, and leaned it against the growing pile by the window.
Owen liked things organised. Everything had a place. Even surrounded by half a houseful of boxes, he’d been flattening the cardboard as they went instead of leaving it scattered around the room, ready to stash them in the cupboard out in the barn.
Matt understood that. He suspected the clutter was getting to him. Owen struck him as the sort of man who’d breathe easier once every box had been unpacked and every room finally felt like home.
His gaze drifted to the box from earlier, the one that contained those very… interesting titles.
Definitely not Hitchcock.
He deliberately looked away.
Five minutes later, he had another piece of cardboard to add to the pile.
The lounge was finally beginning to resemble an actual lounge. Callum had already mounted the enormous television on the wall, but the unit beneath it was still flat-packed, along with the DVD player and surround-sound speakers waiting to be connected.
Matt grinned. Now that would be a good surprise. He found the screwdriver and set to work.
Twenty minutes later, the cabinet stood assembled. Another ten minutes and he’d connected the DVD player and speakers, threading cables through the back according to the instructions. He hadn’t wall-mounted the mini speakers—Owen could decide where he wanted them.
Matt stood back, hands on hips.
“There,” he murmured. “Another job to cross off his list.”
Yet again, his eyes drifted back to the box. He wondered what Owen intended to do with them. Leave them packed away? Hide them in a cupboard?
Then again, Owen had said he was done hiding.
Matt frowned. Being openly gay was one thing. Having a shelf full of gay movies—and porn—where visitors could see it was something else entirely. For one thing, he couldn’t imagine his mum’s face if she ever saw it.
She’d have kittens.
His eyes found the box again. It was ridiculous how much it was beginning to intrigue him.
“Oh, stop being daft,” he muttered to himself. They were just films, right?
Think of it as research.
He lifted the flaps.
Owen wouldn’t mind. He’d laughed about the collection. Besides, it wasn’t as though Matt was rifling through someone’s diary.
I’m just curious.
He scanned the titles. Some were exactly what he’d expected—bold lettering, bare torsos, and covers that left very little to the imagination. Others surprised him. A few sounded almost… romantic.
One title caught his eye.
Summer Rain.
On the cover, two men sat side by side on a beach, their shoulders touching, against the backdrop of a summer sunset.
Matt tilted his head. “Well now…” He slipped the case from the box, heartbeat quickening a little. He aimed the remote at the DVD player, and the drawer slid open. Matt placed the disc into it, then closed it.
The TV switched from standby to on.
“Five minutes,” he told the empty room.
He’d always been terrible at stopping halfway through a story.
Matt sat on the couch, remote in hand, one ear trained towards the door, listening for any sign of Owen’s return. But before long he forgot all about it, finding himself drawn into the story.
Because there was one.
The film wasn’t what he’d expected at all.
Well, parts of it were, but there was far more talking than he’d imagined. The two men bickered, flirted, cooked dinner together, teased each other over coffee. They looked…
Ordinary, like any couple.
Matt had known gay men at university. A few had become friends.
Nice enough blokes, but most seemed to live for the next night out, the next hookup, the next funny story about someone they’d gone home with after the clubs closed, guys whose reality didn’t match their Grindr profile.
Relationships had always seemed almost incidental.
This was different.
These two were building a life together. They argued over whose turn it was to cook. One left sarcastic notes on the fridge. They finished each other’s sentences. They made each other laugh.
Strip away the fact they were both men, and it could have been any romance.
Somehow, Matt had never seen that before. Then he realised that until this summer, he’d only ever seen one version of being gay.
Owen was showing him another.
Curiosity got the better of him. He skipped forward a few times, not because he was bored, but because he wanted to know what happened next.
The first kiss caught him off guard. It wasn’t hungry or performed, but slow, deliberate, even tender.
Then the love scene began.
Matt stopped touching the remote.
He’d expected something rough, maybe aggressive. Bodies colliding for the camera. Instead, one man rested a hand against the other’s neck and asked in a low, intimate tone, “You okay?”
The other guy smiled and nodded. They kissed again, touching each other with an almost unbearable gentleness, pausing to read one another’s faces as though nothing mattered more than making sure the other felt safe.
Matt couldn’t remember ever seeing anything quite like it. It wasn’t just sex—it was trust, affection…
It was two people making love.
And then he became aware of something else.
His breathing had grown shallow. His pulse was racing. He shifted on the couch, his hips moving slowly as if in synch with the men on the screen, and—
He was hard.
Matt froze.
What the fuck?
He stared at the screen, unable to look away.
Whatever he’d expected to find in Owen’s DVD collection?
It hadn’t been this.
Silence settled over the conservatory.
Owen hadn’t realised how tightly he’d been gripping his mug until his fingers began to ache.
Jeff stared out into the garden, elbows on his knees, saying nothing.
Babs was crying, and the sight made his heart ache. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, laughed weakly, then shook her head. “Oh, Owen.”
His throat tightened. “I’m sorry.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Why are you apologising?”
He huffed. “Because I seem to spend half my life apologising.”
Babs reached across the coffee table, took the mug from him and put it on the table, then grasped both his hands. “You stupid man.”
He blinked.
“Hey, she’s only saying what I’m thinking.” Jeff rubbed a hand over his face. “Do you know what really pisses me off?” Owen gave him an inquiring glance, and Jeff shook his head. “You spent years thinking you had to carry all that on your own. Idiot.”
Owen’s vision blurred, but he laughed through the tears. “Yeah.”
“You really are. You should have told us.”
“I couldn’t.”
Babs frowned. “Why not?”
He looked between her and Jeff. “Because if I’d told anyone…” He swallowed. “Then it would’ve become real.”
Jeff stared at him. “Did you honestly think we’d have turned our backs on you?”
Owen gave a tiny shrug. “I didn’t know.”
Jeff blew out a long breath. “I wish you’d given us the chance.”
The regret in those words hit him with unexpected force.
Babs squeezed Owen’s hands. “Do you know what hurts me most?”
He shook his head.
“Cyn.”
He closed his eyes for a second, until he felt another squeeze of his hand.
Babs swallowed hard. “I’ve been sitting here trying to rewrite every memory I have of the two of you.
” Her sad smile created a knot in his stomach.
“Everyone knew you and Cyn belonged together. You were inseparable. You made each other laugh. You looked after each other.” She shook her head.
“I remember thinking, ‘Well, those two are inevitable.’” A single tear trickled down her cheek.
“Now I’m wondering how much of what I thought I saw was real—and how much was just what I assumed. ”
Owen’s chest constricted. “It was real.” His voice was quiet. “Every bit of it.”
“Did she know how much you loved her?”
Owen nodded. “I hope so.”
“I don’t mean as a wife, but as your best friend.”
“I’ve always loved her, but…”
Babs’s gentle smile only increased the ache in his heart. “It wasn’t the right kind of love.”
He looked at her, grateful she understood without making him say it again.
She sighed. “That poor girl. And that poor boy.”
Owen frowned. “Who?”
“You.” Owen opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head. “No. Don’t you dare tell me you deserved it.”
“I hurt her. I lied.”
“I agree.”
“So you don’t have to forgive me.”
“I’m not forgiving what happened.” She squeezed his hands again. “I’m grieving for the twenty-one-year-old who thought his only choices were to lose the man he loved—or lose everyone else.” She met his gaze. “You made a terrible mistake, Owen.”
For a moment, words deserted him. All he could do was nod.
“But you weren’t a terrible man.”
God, he’d needed to hear those words, the warmth in her voice.
She straightened and released his hands. “Matt said Cyn will be paying you a visit, to see the house.”
“That’s right.” He saw the random remark for what it was, a change of subject. Relief flooded through him. Owen felt wrung out and stretched tight.
Babs bit her lip. “Well, is it too much to ask if I want to see it too? And I don’t mean at some point in the future.”
Owen chuckled. “How about I show you now, so we can give Matt a break?”
Anything to leave this moment behind him.
Her face brightened. “That’s a great idea.” She gave Jeff a look. “There’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge. Go get it. We’ll toast Owen’s new home.”
Jeff arched his eyebrows. “I thought that was to wet the baby’s head when it finally decides to put in an appearance?”
Babs rolled her eyes. “Then we’ll buy another one.”
Owen laughed. “My God, woman, you really haven’t changed a bit, have you?”
She grinned. “Nope.”