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If Gabriel’s actions had shredded his heart, Chris was doing wonders to stitch it back together. “Thanks, Chris.”
“No problem. I love you, brother.” And before Nick could say anything to that, Chris hung up.
Nick stared at the phone, touched and bemused. Then he walked out to join Adam in the kitchen.
He hesitated at the juncture between carpet and linoleum.
This felt like the first night they’d come here, when he wasn’t sure what Adam expected. They’d apologized, and Adam had invited him here, but did that mean everything was fine?
Adam glanced back over his shoulder, but he didn’t stop stirring whatever was in the saucepan on the stove. “Everything okay?”
Nick wanted to touch him, to feel some contact that wasn’t full of violence and anger. “Yeah. What are you making?”
“Hot chocolate with Nutella.”
“It smells amazing.”
“It’s my guilty pleasure. My mom used to make it when I had a bad day.” He tossed another glance over his shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone at the studio. I’m supposed to live on lettuce and carrot sticks.”
“You’re worse than Quinn.” But now his eyes were on Adam’s body, the breadth of his shoulders, the slow movement of his arms as he stirred the pot. The way dark hair curled at the nape of his neck. The softness of his skin, the hardness of the muscles underneath.
Touch him. Touch him. Touch him.
“I doubt that,” said Adam. “Hey, can you pull down some mugs?”
Nick couldn’t even remember what they were talking about.
But Adam’s request broke the spell and spurred him into motion. He found the mugs on the second guess, reaching to pull them down from the highest shelf.
frowned. “Only on the outside.” Then he remembered the whole reason for the apology, and he looked away, ashamed.
“Usually.”
“No, what you did was nothing like what he did.” Adam caught his eye and held it. “Don’t get me wrong. What you did was not okay.”
“I know.”
“I know you know. That’s why I’m sitting here.”
“How did you know I’d be here?”
Adam picked up Nick’s hand and held the ice against his knuckles. He looked sheepish. “I didn’t. I came here to avoid you. I figured you usually go to the Starbucks down the road.”
He paused, then rubbed at the back of his neck. “I needed to grab a cup of coffee on the way to my parents’, because I told them I’d stop by tonight. Then I saw you—well, your brother—
sitting there, and I . . . ah, well, I couldn’t go another minute without talking to you.”
Nick studied him. The lighting was dim, but . . . “You’re blushing!”
Adam looked away. “Yeah, yeah.”
“But you wouldn’t respond to my texts!”
“Well, I couldn’t let you think you got off that easy.”
“Oh, I get it. So you’ve been torturing me.” But Nick smiled.
“Absolutely. And torturing myself at the same time.” Adam slid his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture.
