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A small voice came from the other end and that damnable thing kicked him in the chest again. “Yeah!”
“Do you want to say hi?”
“Sure!”
Torn between heartbroken and amused, Ambrose let Barrett beckon him closer. And then the warm, comforting weight of an arm landed on his shoulder and that touch alone made him shiver. It was just an arm. “Ambrose, my nephew Forrest. Forrest, this is my neighbor and my friend, the one who watches Dandi sometimes.”
The little boy through the video was tiny, pale, and bald. His dark brown eyes were large in his face, but they were clear and bright as he smiled. “Hi!”
“Hi.” Shit, he wasn’t good with kids. Barrett said he was eight but the leukemia and lingering sickness made him look smaller, weaker. But he figured the kid likely had a lot of people looking at him like he was made of glass, so he smiled. “Thanks for letting me hang with Dandi sometimes. She’s really great.”
“Yeah she is!” Forrest’s smile dropped. “Mom says she might have to stay with you longer, Uncle B. Is that okay?”
Barrett cast a quick glance at Ambrose and all he could do was nod encouragingly. “Yeah, yeah. You’re mom and I already talked about that, all good here. Dandi’s gonna be so da -dangspoiled.”
In the background, Dandi boofed and they all laughed.
Ambrose chatted with Forrest for a few more moments, asking him about the book on his bedside table. “Oh, it’sThe Island of Doctor Moreau. I haven’t started it yet but Uncle B gave it to me. Said I’d like it.”
“You will. I read that andTreasure Islandwhen I was about your age and they remain some of my favorites.”
Forrest giggled. “I like books a lot.”
Ambrose leaned in, charmed. “Good. That’ll serve you well as you get older, too.”
There was the barest squeeze of fingers on the ball of his shoulder and Ambrose looked over to see Barrett grinning, wide and happy. “I’ll pick up some more books when I swing into town, okay?”
As Barrett said his goodbyes after Ambrose waved to Forrest, he circled back to the kitchen to pour more wine. Children always seemed so foreign to him, even when he was a teenager. What did youdowith them? As a gay man and a loner, he wasn’t ever on the children train. Preston hadn’t been either. Children never came up in conversation other than to reaffirm they weren’t interested.
While his outlook on relationships might be swung around to the positive, children were a solid no. He wondered how Barrett would feel about that. And then wondered why he was thinking like that to begin with.
Ambrose shook his head and took a healthy sip of wine, letting the flavors burst on his tongue. “Thanks,” Barrett said as he joined Ambrose at the kitchen island. Ambrose pushed the other glass forward and Barrett picked it up with a nod. “Kid’s not so worried about Dandi now but at first he was a mess. It was all he was focused on. That first night after he was awake enough to talk, me and his mom took time with him to explain what was going on. He’s always been too smart for his own good.”
Ambrose studied Barrett for a moment, not liking how tired and worn he looked. Maybe tonight wasn’t for guitar lessons. “I didn’t want to pry.”
“You’re fine, Ambrose, I swear. More than fine now that Forrest knows who you are.” Barrett took a sip. “He’s been asking, wanting to know who thenice manwas helping me take care of Dandi.”
He nearly choked, the wine burning the back of his throat and even up into his nostrils as he coughed. “Shit,” Barrett said, coming around the island to pat him on the back. “Fuck, you okay?”
“Nice man?” Ambrose croaked, torn between laughing and wincing. “He got that from where?”
Barrett got him a glass of water and while Ambrose coughed out the wine and probably part of a lung, his friend stared at him, big smile on his face. “From me, Ambrose,” Barrett eventually said, leaning against the counter.
He laughed, still a little hoarse from coughing. “Well, I’m glad he’s okay with it.” He paused, trying to get back on track. “Still want to learn guitar?”
When they were seated by the fire a few minutes later, Ambrose took the time to ask for a few simple chords from Barrett. Nothing too wild. E and A major and minor, D major. He watched Barret’s fingers move, his brow lower in concentration. “Good, good. I know it’s beginner stuff but I figured the basics are the easiest to shore up and if those are good, we can move on.”
Barrett’s smile was soft. “How’d I do?”
With the heat of the fire at his back, Ambrose leaned forward, tipped his face up. Barrett’s eyes caught on the fall of his hair, the way Ambrose’s arm moved as he put his hand on Barrett’s knee. “You did great.”
That hungry, aching thing inside him shook itself awoke. He wanted, despite everything, to crawl into Barrett’s lap and kiss him. Spread his thighs over Barrett’s thick ones, slide forward, and smooth his palms over that unruly black beard so he could kiss him hard and lick into that soft, warm mouth. Ambrose’s gut tightened and blood roared in his ears.
Hewanted. Desperately.
His face must have borne some expression because Barrett sat up straighter, one hand gripping the guitar’s neck. “Ambrose. You okay?”
Reality doused him and his lust with bitter cold water. “Yeah. I’m good. You just…” He blinked hard a few times and shook his head. “Truth?”
