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Cross My Heart

Page 32

by Darcy Archer

“But you are a champion, several times over. Anybody who gives you crap was full of crap to start with.”

Tyler laughed at that. “Fair enough.”

“You’ve got nothing left to prove. Anyone who matters knows how great you are.” Josh squeezed his shoulder.

“That means a lot coming from you.” Tyler finally turned to look at him fully.

Josh let himself get lost in those warm eyes. “You don’t have to make any big decisions right now,” he said gently. “One day at a time. Do what feels right, deep down. Trust your heart. And no matter what, I’ll be right here supporting you.”

Tyler gave a tiny, grateful smile. “Thanks, Josh. That really means a lot.” By now, he was silhouetted by the blazing horizon, his white teeth a gleam in the shadows of his face. “Jeez. Look at that sunset.”

Josh turned to look. “Yeah.”

“I see why you love it up here.”

Josh stared into his eyes a moment. “Mmmh.” For that endless second, he fought the urge to take Tyler’s hand, to confess his feelings, to say something sappy and irrevocable.

Instead he just sat thigh to thigh with America’s Tightest End, hand pressed alongside his hand, and watched the sun put itself to bed. His heart swelled to bursting, and he savored every second they sat there together in his favorite place.

They stayed sitting in the quiet until the last rays disappeared below the horizon.

As the early darkness settled around them, Josh nodded slowly, taking in the beauty of the vista one last time before turning to Tyler. “We should probably start heading back before it gets too dark to find our way back down.”

“Okay.” Tyler nodded.

From the way he moved, Josh could tell his body was starting to ache after the wandering and the long hike. Keeping one steadying hand on Tyler’s flexing back, Josh carefully maneuvered them down the trail back to his truck, hating that he couldn’t protect Tyler from his pain.

“It’s good.” Once they were back on the road home, Tyler leaned his head against the window, eyes closed. “Thanks for wasting your whole day off with me,” he murmured.

Josh’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Wasn’t a waste at all,” he countered.

He drove extra slowly over the bumpy back roads, not wanting to jostle Tyler and exacerbate his discomfort. By the time they pulled up to Tyler’s sister’s house, he was barely keeping his eyes open.

Josh walked him to the front door, neither of them in a hurry to say goodbye. They lingered on the porch, Tyler swaying slightly as if tipsy with exhaustion, clutching an armful of his collected farm stand booty. “Bummed.”

“Why bummed?”

“This was… an amazing day.”

Again, Josh’s heart jumped as he looked up into Tyler’s intense hazel gaze. Tyler’s face seemed to hold a question or an expectation, but for what? Was Josh just projecting his own fantasies onto someone who deserved better? He wanted so badly to say something, to pull Tyler into his arms, but the risk felt too real.

“Well… good night,” Josh finally rasped, his voice strained.

Tyler bobbed his head and rocked back on his heels. “Night, Josh. And thanks again, for everything.”

Josh managed a tight nod before forcing himself to walk away. He could feel Tyler’s eyes following him until he climbed into his truck. As he turned the key and pulled away from the curb, his heart overflowed with hope, happiness, and no small amount of anxiety about what exactly he was supposed to do now.

Chapter Seven

TYLER LAUGHED out loud so abruptly he startled himself. Three Musketeers was way more fun than he’d expected. Classics are classics for a reason.

He leaned back against the sycamore in his sister’s backyard and lowered the book to rest on his lap. He was still wearing his shorts from the run this morning.

The sun was almost overhead. Was it noon already? Wow. He’d come outside, ostensibly to fetch Mr. Poops and stretch a little, but then he’d just plopped down to read and plunged back into Musketeers, not even bothering to shower.

He sniffed his pit. Yikes. Ripe.

A movement across the yard caught his eye. Up on Nadia’s back fence, Mr. Poops was patrolling the top of the overgrown passionflower vines, nose brushing the tendrils.