Page 72 of Pretty ’n Peak

Gay.

He didn’t need to hear the words directed at him for them to still hurt. They were everywhere he turned, whispered in the air, carried by the wind.

So often, they were jokes, dropped casually to tease. But the past few years it seemed like every time someone used one, he was pierced right through.

And then Austin had… Austin had given him a flower. Perched it behind his ear and called him beautiful and baby boy. Like it wasn’t just alright for him to imagine those things inside, but like Austin already saw him that way and treasured it about him.

“I’ve got you, baby boy,” Austin murmured against him.

Austin’s fingers traced through his hair, touching him so gently. How men touched other men, he supposed, when they already knew they were gay and didn’t care what anyone said.

Or maybe when they were Daddy and boy. When it was alright for one of them to be small and submissive and… maybe even pretty.

Austin brushed against the stem of the flower, accidentally knocking it askew, and Mateo rushed to press it behind his ear again.

He loved that flower.

He knew it was bedraggled—already a bit dried at the edges when Austin had picked it, and one purple petal had been mislaid while he plucked off the leaves. It probably looked silly.

But it was his.

The idea of lingerie was… God, he almost couldn’t think of that yet. It made him breathless and dizzy.

He wasn’t sure when he would wear it, or even if. It was tantalizing, but felt like far too big a step.

But the flower… that was something he could have, out here alone on the porch with Austin.

He could already imagine it in a painting. His glowing brown skin, surrounded by an abundance of vining flowers, with one purple one tucked behind his ear.

Maybe he wouldn’t paint it. It felt so daring. But maybe he would. He could see it so clearly.

His Other. El Otro. The person on the other side of the glass.

Austin pressed a kiss to his forehead. “How are you doing, babe?”

He took stock and realized that somewhere in there, he’d stopped crying.

He still felt hollowed out and fragile, like an eggshell that would break at the slightest touch.

Austin tilted his face up and brushed the tears away, then placed a kiss on each red, scratchy eyelid.

Mateo sucked in a breath.

He’d wanted to kiss Austin—really kiss him, tongues tangling and hands grasping—almost since the moment they met.

This was a thousand times more intimate.

“Shall we go for a walk?” Austin asked softly.

Mateo nodded. That sounded perfect. His feelings were an ocean tossing him in the waves, and he needed a little distance.

To his surprise, Austin pulled him up, and then wrapped one arm around his waist, pulling their hips together as they fell into step.

Austin’s leg bumped gently against his, cane held loosely in front of him but barely beyond his body. Mateo let himself rest his arm on Austin’s shoulders. It was a reminder of how much bigger he was, but he still felt small and secure the way that Austin held him.

Mateo took in the towering trees and crisp air around him, everything brimming with life. Birds called to each other overhead, cawing and twittering to their babies and mates.

Austin’s thumb rubbed gently against his side, comforting without intruding.