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He couldn’t look up, couldn’t look at Ambrose. It was too much. If he did, the walls would drop and everything he held in place by duct tape and purpose would fracture, then give completely. He’d be exposed, a raw nerve throbbing in time with the hard beating of his heart.
“Barrett.”
Ambrose was closer now, leaning against him and the stove full of pots and pans. It was a lot. Too much. Too close, too soon, too personal.
He didn’t know if he wanted this. If he was ready for it. It was foolish to ignore his attraction to Ambrose, but they were barely friends. Everything was as fragile as a glass placed too close to a table’s edge. One bump, one push, one careless move and everything would shatter.
He didn’t have time for romance. But he could make time for a friend.
“Thanks.” With another, final nudge to Ambrose’s shoulder, the moment released. Ambrose stepped back and Dandi was right there to take his place, pushing her big, wet nose against Barrett’s thigh. “Kid, come on.”
Ambrose laughed. If he was put out by whatever had sparked, and then fizzled, between them, he didn’t show it. So it must have just been in his head. “I can let her out, or…”
“Good, because we’re about ten minutes from dinner and she fusses over every mud hole and pile of snow.”
“I got her. Come on, Dandi.”
His whistle was sharp and clear, leaving Barrett’s ears ringing as he stirred their dinner.
That happened.
Somethingpoppedbetween them. He felt it, and from the quick intake of breath when he’d placed his arm on Barrett’s shoulder, the other man had, too. The thing with Preston was still too raw to think about any other entanglements. Except when it was late at night and he couldn’t sleep and Barrett’s face and big, bushy beard and kind voice came to him through the dark.
Maybe he’d imagined, once or twice, that warm body lying beside his. A heavy arm draped over his middle, or his chest. He wasn’t picky. The comfort of having the other person so close, soalive, next to him was the dream; the little furl of hope he kept stored away when his world darkened.
Standing out in the damp cold, watching Barrett’s truly massive dog romp through the backyard, Ambrose felt at home. He turned and looked at their porch lights glowing in the twilight, the slight flicker of his own in the distance drawing him in. As if with every beat of his heart, and every flicker of the light, he knew that one solid truth.
Home. Finally.
Whatever spark of desire had kindled in him for Barrett, he had to squash it down. Preston’s cutting words, his oh-so-helpful suggestions, his cheating. Maybe Ambrose would never be fully over it, but if he couldn’t trust, he couldn’t head into somethingmore. Not yet. And maybe the ugly truth that sometimes came to him in the dark was more than the visitation of his own fears and fallacies.
Maybe he just wasn’t built for romantic companionship. It had been a bloody miracle that he and Preston had pulled four years out of each other and their hopelessly tangled knot of idiosyncrasies and flaws. All the fighting, the cold silences, the incredible makeup sex….none of it was worth losing the tenuous, fragile friendship he had with his neighbor.
If he wanted companionship, this was the way forward.
Ambrose squared his shoulders and headed back inside, Dandi at his heels. Barrett was just setting down the last bowl when they entered. “Hey. Dinner’s ready.”
“More like a feast. I’m…” He paused, taking in the scene. Barrett in his soft, slightly worn clothes, his hairline damp from the heat of the kitchen. The table spread out with food enough for a family holiday gathering. The shining glasses of port and water. Dandi curling up on her massive bed by the roaring fire.
This could be home, too. He could share his time and effort and care with Barrett.
Maybe this was what it took to heal. Finally.
When the night ended and he was nearly falling asleep in one of the plushest wingback chairs in which he’d ever had the honor to sit, Ambrose remembered. “Hold on!”
When he came back, Barrett was rinsing a pan and glancing curiously at him. He knew he was being odd but this felt right. “I’m afraid to ask what’s behind your back.” But Barrett was joking and grinning and warmth flooded his chest in a way that felt so good.
“I owed you a pie.” Ambrose thrust the frozen dessert out. “I probably owe you about a dozen but I’ll start with this one.”
But Barrett just laughed and took the pie with a smile. He set it aside and, leaning now against the counter and wiping his hands on a dish towel, his face turned pensive. “I know you’re not big on touching.”
“Casual touching,” he corrected. It was still so hard to explain. But he’d welcome Barrett’s touch. He knew he would. “It’s different when I know the person.”
“Do we know each other enough for a hug?” Barrett looked down, cheeks going pink. Ambrose found it utterly endearing. “I uh…yeah. Sorry.”
Ambrose stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Barrett. After a quick breath in and a moment’s hesitation, his hug was returned. “Thanks.”
“Thanks for asking.”
