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Oliver raked his hands through his hair again. “I don’t know. He seemed a bit keen on having me move in with him, going on about how you should be fine to be on your own. And you are, you’re doing well. ButI’mnot ready for it yet.”
“It’s okay if you don’t trust me, you know,” Leo said quietly. “It hasn’t been that long, and I’m only clean a year. There’s plenty for us both to worry about. And if he turns you down, then he wasn’t as invested as he said.”
Oliver blew out a heavy breath. “Yeah, you’re right. Anyway, I made him a key, so if you’re okay with it, I’m going to ask him on holiday. And who knows, maybe this is exactly what I need to move on.”
“Maybe,” Leo said, but he didn’t sound convinced. After a pause, he got up and yanked Oliver to his feet, wrapping him in a hug. “You’ll be fine though, whatever happens. We both will.”
Oliver laughed as he ruffled Leo’s hair, then gave him a shove toward the door. He didn’t agree with Leo out loud, not quite ready to do that, but for the first time in possibly ever, he actually felt like maybe they would be.
* * *
Although Oliver didn’t like travelingthrough England in a car, he gave in to Sam’s request that they drive instead of taking the train. It would allow them the freedom to travel around the area more if they wanted to get outside of Helford Passage.
It was a fairly long trip, and although they stopped a few times along the way, by the time they reached the cottage, Oliver was desperate to be out of the car. He shot out of his seat the moment the engine was off, stretching his back in a long arch with his arms above his head, and took a breath of the sea air.
It wasn’t like California—though nothing on this side of the world was. It lacked the sharp, heady, salt smell behind warm air currents. But it was nice, the air fresh and far enough from the city to feel like they were somewhere very different. He smiled when Sam came up behind him, wrapping arms around Oliver’s waist and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.
“I’m so happy you’re here with me.” His deep voice rumbled against the back of Oliver’s ear.
Oliver smiled and realized he was happy too. Or, at least, something like it. Reaching up, he palmed Sam’s cheek and leaned his head back against the taller man’s shoulder. “Yeah. I think it’ll be good.”
Taking Oliver’s hand, the pair went inside. The cottage had been recently used, so it was aired out and lacked the dust of disuse. The front door opened immediately to the lounge, where there were two squashy sofas with a hideous floral print which looked like they’d seen better days, and a small coffee table littered with travel magazines detailing what there was to do in the area. A handful of cheap prints hung on the wall in a failed attempt to give the place a homey feel, and there was a fireplace against the far wall which looked very well used.
The kitchen was large enough, a fridge and two-hob cooker tucked caddy-corner from a small sink. There were still dishes in a drying rack near the window, and a small, two-person, scrubbed wooden table near the back door.
The back door led to a small path, which then led to the beach. The cottage was sitting right on the coastline of a fishing cove, meaning the waves were small, and the beach traffic was mostly old men in funny hats with long poles and folding chairs.
Oliver had a sudden vision of himself as one of those old men. Of retiring somewhere like this. A little cottage, a tackle box, and a stupid hobby. He tried to picture Sam with him there, sitting in his own little chair, maybe a small dog on his lap.
But it didn’t feel right.
He knew he could conjure the image of Gabriel easily, that it would feel like coming home, but he couldn’t allow it. Not now. He was trying to move forward, and he owed this to Sam. He owed this to himself.
A warm hand on his hip broke him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Sam smiling at him. “Well, cariad, what do you think?”
“Fairly brilliant,” he said with a tiny smirk. “Very…homey.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Such a city boy, eh. Well, come see what else this place has.” He dragged Oliver down a small hallway first to the bedroom to throw their suitcases inside, then to a door across the hall. It opened up suddenly, to a surprisingly large bathroom which was very, very posh.
The place had marbled countertops, tiled floors, and a huge bathtub that could easily fit three fully grown people. There were small, silver jets on the sides, and the shelves along the walls held what looked like bottles of pearly soaps and frilly hand towels.
“Wow,” Oliver breathed.
“I know. I thought we could end our night in here. Take some time to…soak.” Sam dragged the tip of his finger around the shell of Oliver’s ear, eliciting a small moan from the shorter man. “Does that sound alright to you?”
“Mm, it might,” Oliver hummed.
“Maybe a little more thanfairly brilliant?”
With a laugh, Oliver turned in Sam’s arms and grabbed him by the back of the neck. “Maybe a little more than that.” Then he kissed him, slow and careful, bringing one hand to Sam’s cheek. “Thank you. This is really lovely.”
Sam grinned. “Of course. Only the best for the man I’m in love with.”
Oliver felt a wash of guilt, but the smile on Sam’s face was genuine enough that Oliver could let it go. They headed back into the bedroom to freshen up, and then decided a nice dinner would take the edge off their long day of travel.
“And after,” Sam said as they started toward a small pub, “a nice, long bath.”
* * *
