CJ’s touch wasn’t rushed or uncertain, just steady like he was relearning Evan and not afraid of what he’d find. It waslike no time had passed at all. Evan remembered every curve and plane of CJ’s body, and it felt so familiar that it was almost unfair. His thoughts tried to keep up at first, tried to analyze and make sense of what this meant, but he gave up quickly as they fragmented and slipped away under the sensation of CJ’s touch.
They broke apart when the need for air became nonnegotiable. Neither of them wanted to, and Evan stayed close, his forehead pressed to CJ’s, their noses brushing as they both tried to pull in air. Everything felt too loud and too big—his pulse, his breathing, the way his chest heaved like he’d just run several miles.
“Well,” Evan said hoarsely, his voice rough around the edges. “I guess that answers that.”
17
CJ
CJ pulled back abruptly,putting space between them before he could stop himself. He felt the loss of contact immediately, and he shuddered slightly before turning on his heel and moving through the open space to the living room.
“That—” He dragged a hand through his hair as he paced from one side of the room to the other. “That actually didn’t answer anything. If anything, that made it worse.”
He stopped short of the wall of windows and stared out at the bay for a moment, waiting to see if Evan would say anything. When he stayed silent, CJ focused his gaze on the reflection in the glass so he could see the kitchen. Evan hadn’t moved much, just turned so he could watch CJ unravel, and CJ pretended he wasn’t disappointed that Evan hadn’t followed him.
He paced again, faster this time. “Because now—now we know it’s still there, right?” CJ gestured vaguely between them, still not looking directly at Evan. His words started to trip over each other as his brain tried to catch up to his racing thoughts. “Which, okay. That’s great. Fantastic. Love that for us. But that just—” He snapped his mouth shut and exhaled heavily through his nose. “That just complicates everything.”
They’d spent seven years pretending they were strangers, and now it was…gone. Wiped out in the span of a single kiss.
“That shouldn’t have felt like that,” he muttered.
There was silence behind him, but it wasn’t the charged kind from just a few minutes ago. That quiet had hummed with anticipation and heat. This was quieter and cautious. CJ frowned, and he glanced up, turning just enough to see Evan’s reflection in the glass. He was still in the kitchen, but there’d been a subtle shift in his posture, small enough that most people wouldn’t notice, but CJ did. Evan stood motionless, jaw set tighter than it had been before, like he was bracing for a hit.
“Shit,” he whispered.
CJ’s chest tightened, and he turned to look at Evan so he could really see him, and the look on his face made his stomach drop.
He knew that look. He had seen it years ago, when he’d made a decision for both of them and walked away, leaving Evan to figure out how to put himself back together. Of course he wasn’t moving. CJ had pulled away again, and now he was pacing and muttering like he needed to talk himself out of something. CJ swallowed hard as he realized Evan hadn’t followed him to the living room because he didn’t know if he was welcome to. Because last time, he hadn’t been.
“Hey,” CJ said, his voice louder than he intended.
Evan’s gaze flicked up to meet his, and yeah, there it was. CJ could see the uncertainty Evan was trying to hide behind a mask of indifference. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there in the way he held his shoulders steady and the way his eyes stayed on CJ like he was trying to figure out what was going to happen next. Like he was bracing to be blindsided.
“Okay,” he said to himself. He needed to fix this. Then, a little louder, “Hang on.”
Evan watched him as he made his way back to the kitchen and stopped a few feet away. He was close enough to see the hesitation that had crept onto Evan’s face and the way he was holding himself in place until CJ made it clear where they stood.
“I’m doing that thing again,” he said, dragging a hand down the back of his neck.
Evan’s brow furrowed slightly. “What thing?”
CJ let out a quiet breath, and it would have been a laugh if there’d been any real humor in it. “Letting my thoughts spiral,” he said. “Talking myself in circles until it feels like the only thing I can do is…nothing.”
CJ stepped closer, and Evan stayed still. But he didn’t step back either, so that was something. He just stood there, eyes trained somewhere just over CJ’s shoulder, letting CJ make his decision.
“Hey,” CJ said again, and Evan looked at him. CJ held his stare. “I don’t want to do nothing this time, Ev.”
The words came out steady even though everything else in him felt off balance. Evan didn’t respond, and CJ read the rigid set of his body, saw the hesitation again, and knew Evan was still unsure. CJ took another step forward.
“I know I was the one who ended things,” he said.
Evan’s jaw tightened just slightly. “Yeah.” There was no anger or accusation in his voice.
“I know what that did to you,” he continued, quieter now. “Or…I know enough.”
Evan’s eyes darted away for a second, and CJ knew Evan wouldn’t give him access to that part of him so easily.
“I’m not doing that again.”
