Dawson pressed his lips together. It didn’t help. Justin cracked up, and Dawson shook his head and went back to the injector, still grinning.
They worked until the light outside went gray-blue. Dawson fitted the new tip, reassembled the injector, and set it on the bench for Justin to drop off at the Andersons’ in the morning.
“I’m heading out,” Dawson said.
“See you next week?”
“Yeah.”
Justin raised his coffee cup in a salute. Dawson grabbed his keys off the hook by the door and walked into the cold.
He pickedLeo up at the apartment at four-thirty. The sun was already low, turning the trees orange along the county road. They had an hour of light, maybe less.
Leo climbed into the truck in a jacket that wasn’t warm enough and boots that weren’t broken in. He looked good. He always looked good, even when he was dressed incorrectly for the weather, which was most of the time.
“Where are we going?” Leo pulled the door shut and rubbed his hands together.
“The lake.”
“I can see the lake from my apartment.”
“Not that lake.”
Dawson drove north on County Road K and turned onto a gravel track that wasn’t on any map. Leo had one boot on the dashboard and was scrolling his phone, and every few seconds, he’d glance over at Dawson with the corner of his mouth up. The truck bounced through ruts and Leo grabbed the door handle and laughed, and the sound filled the cab.
The track ended at a clearing. A small lake sat in a bowl of pines and bare hardwoods, the far shore visible through the trees. The water was flat and still and copper in the low light. No houses. No docks.
Leo got out and stood there, hands in his jacket pockets, looking at the water. The wind off the lake hit him, and he zipped the jacket higher but didn’t complain. Dawson watched him take itin and felt something kick in his chest that he didn’t have a name for. He’d never brought anyone here.
He grabbed the wool blanket from behind the toolbox in the truck bed and spread it on the flat rock where he always sat. Leo dropped next to him, close enough that their shoulders touched, and Dawson’s hand went to Leo’s thigh without thinking about it. Just rested there. Leo covered it with his own and laced their fingers together, and neither of them said anything for a while.
“How’d you find this place?”
“Justin’s property runs up to the ridge.” Dawson nodded toward the tree line behind them. “We used to ride dirt bikes out here in high school. I kept coming back.”
“Does anyone else come out here?”
“Not really. Just me and Justin, but he doesn’t get out this way much anymore.”
Leo looked at him. Dawson kept his eyes on the water. He’d wanted Leo to see the sunset from this spot, that was all. But sitting here with Leo’s hand in his, he knew that wasn’t the only thing he wanted. The garage was Wyatt’s. The house was Ethan’s. This was the one place that had only ever felt like his, and he’d brought Leo to it without thinking twice. He wanted to share this piece of himself with the man he couldn’t help but admit to himself he was falling for.
“It’s beautiful,” Leo said. He wasn’t looking at the water. He was looking at Dawson. The fading sun caught his face and lit up his eyes, and Dawson forgot what he’d been about to say.
They were quiet for a while as the water went still in front of them, the cold settling in around the edges.
Leo was looking at the far shore. "The guys are good. The team's good." He picked at a thread on the blanket. "Better than I expected, honestly. Jonesy's decided I'm his project. Ford had me over for dinner one night last week.” He stopped. Kept picking at the thread. "It's just—I don't quite belong yet. They've all got history together. Routines I'm still learning the rhythm of. Jokes I'm half a beat behind on. I'm in the room. I'm just not in it the way they are. Not yet."
He didn't look over. Dawson watched him stare at the water and thought about what it cost Leo to say that, a man who filled every room he entered admitting the rooms didn't feel like his yet.
"You're getting there," Dawson said. He squeezed Leo's hand. "Port Haven doesn't move fast on anything. People here take a while to decide on you. But they already have. You're not the new guy anymore. You're just not one of the old guys yet." A beat. “I know you weren’t happy about being traded here originally, but I’m glad you were.”
Dawson felt vulnerable. He’d never been this open about his feelings, and doing so now scared the crap out of him. Leo turned to look at him, and whatever he saw on Dawson’s face made his expression soften into something unguarded. Dawson’s hand went to the back of Leo’s neck. His breath hitched, and Dawson pulled him in and kissed him.
Here it was just them and the water, and Dawson kissed him the way he’d wanted to every time he’d held back. Leo made a low sound against his mouth, gripped Dawson’s knee hard enough to bruise, and kissed him back like he’d been waiting for exactly this.
Leo shifted closer. His hand slid from Dawson’s knee up his thigh, and Dawson’s breath caught. Leo drew back just enoughto look at him, checking, and Dawson answered by dragging him back in.
The kiss went deeper. Leo’s fingers slipped under the hem of Dawson’s flannel, working beneath it until they hit skin. Dawson flinched at the cold of Leo’s hand on his stomach, and Leo started to draw back. Dawson grabbed his wrist and held it there. Leo’s palm flattened against his ribs. Cold fingers. Warm palm. The contrast made Dawson’s whole body tighten.
