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Sam beamed the way only he would. I swear sometimes it felt like the man was made of sunshine.
“Stop looking at my husband,” Emerson grumbled, but there was a small smile on his lips.
“Now why you gotta go and say a thing like that?” Sam asked. “I like bein’ told I’m pretty to look at.” He turned to me. “You can say it all you want.”
I laughed. He was great. I was so happy Emerson had him.
My friend immediately wrapped his husband in his sweaty arms, playfully saying, “I’ll tell you how sexy you are.”
“There’s no harm in hearin’ it from more than one person.”
Sam pumped his brows, and Emerson laughed before swatting Sam on the ass. “I’m gonna get cleaned up.”
“Well, now you got me smellin’ like your sweat.”
“You like it,” Emerson countered.
“I do,” Sam replied.
“The two of you are disgustingly sweet,” I said.
“Just the way I like us.” Sam grinned.
I liked them that way as well.
Emerson went into the other room, and Sam asked, “Want a drink?” going for the fridge.
“Some lemonade, if you have it.” They didn’t keep alcohol in their house because Sam’s mom was an alcoholic. She was sober now and had been for a while, but it had turned him off from drinking.
He poured me a glass. “So…you been spendin’ a lot of time with Sutton’s uncle still?”
His question made my gut twist, and I almost asked if he’d heard something. That it had been a few days and I had conflicting emotions about that. “Are you going to warn me not to hurt him, like Emerson did?”
“Nope. I figure you know better than that. You’re a good man. You wouldn’t do that on purpose.”
Well, shit. That was sweet and definitely Sam. It was that compassion that made me open my mouth and ask, “But what if I do? Not maliciously, but what if I hurt him by accident?”
When his pupils flared wide, I realized my mistake. Putting it out there like that meant there was an actual possibility that Brian and I shared more than friendship. Brian was supposed to be straight, and maybe he was, but maybe he wasn’t. “Shit,” I cursed.
“I’m not gonna push you to say anything. Whatever’s goin’ on is between you and Brian, but you were real with me one time, when it came to Emerson, so I’m gonna be real with you. If you don’t wanna hurt him, don’t. It might sound simple, and maybe I still don’t know how the world works, but the best means of being careful with someone is to be real and honest with them. If there’s any misunderstandings or trouble, then you deal with it together. That’s all you can do.”
I nodded, knowing he was right. Someone would sure as shit get hurt if Brian and I continued to avoid each other. I’d kissed him the other night. I’d held him and touched him. He’d opened up, sharing something incredibly personal. I could be open with him on how I felt. “I think you’re better at this than you give yourself credit for.”
“Probably. I must be to have scored Emerson.”
“You had your work cut out for you with that one.”
Sam smiled. “And I wouldn’t change a thing. He gave me something I didn’t think I’d ever have, and somehow, I do the same for him. Our stories might be different, but we connected because of them anyhow. Maybe you and Brian are the same.”
Maybe we were. We were both affected by the loss of our brothers. Our stories were different, just like Sam’s and Emerson’s, but they bonded us all the same. Brian had spent his whole life in love with one woman, a woman he could never have. And when she died, he raised that woman’s son. Maybe he would always love her, maybe it would always be her for him, but something about me made him feel emotions he never had for anyone but her. Something about me made Brian sexually attracted to someone other than her, and I wasn’t going to walk away from that because of fear.
“You’re good people, Sam.”
“Thanks. Handsome, funny, and a good man. I’m the whole package,” he replied, making me chuckle. “Did you hear the rumor about butter?”
“No…it must not have spread.”
“Damn it! He don’t let me tell jokes the way you do, Em,” he said just as my friend came back into the room.
“That’s because I’m better than him.” Emerson winked at me. “You gonna help us with dinner or what?”
“Yeah, I am.” And then…then I was going to find Brian.
I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake when I knocked on Brian’s door that evening. It wasn’t late, just a little after seven. With the schedule he’d been working, I wasn’t sure if he was off tomorrow.
It didn’t take long before he opened the door. His black hair was messy, like he’d spent days running his hands through it, maybe tugging on the ends in frustration. Like always, he was dressed in faded jeans and a T-shirt. This one was light blue and looked newer.
