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Quinn stirred the spoon in his coffee, ignoring the crispy-chicken salad in front of him. “How is Lake?”
“He’s fine, he wasn’t hurt.” Despite knowing that fact, he’d stayed a little closer to Lake all night, and when Lake had curled into him on the couch while they watched a movie, he hadn’t said anything about it, just took the opportunity to have him close. The idea that the phone call could have been a different kind coming from Gideon… he didn’t want to think about it.
The kiss that Lake had laid on him was… something Grady was trying not to think too hard about. Lake was straight. Grady had no idea what Lake had been thinking when he’d made that move. Grady couldn’t work out why he’d done it, and Lake hadn’t really explained.
I just wanted to see.
Grady shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“That’s good.”
“You’re still looking at me like that,” Grady pointed out, wanting to know how to make it stop.
“I’m not looking at you like anything; you’re being paranoid.”
Grady drained his coffee and slammed the mug down. “Quinn.”
Quinn just gave him a small smile. “Did you spend the night with him?”
“We’re just friends,” Grady said defensively, refusing to answer the question. Quinn already knew the answer anyway; it was why he was being such a smug asshole.
“Are you sure?”
“I think I would know if we were more than friends,” Grady said irritably. Maybe Grady had run away like a thief in the night when he’d woken up that morning before Lake, but Lake was the one being confusing, not him.
“Okay.”
“I would,” Grady insisted.
“I said okay,” Quinn said.
“And yet you’re still looking at me like that.” With that tiny smirk and the twinkle in his eye like he had a secret that no one else did. It made Grady want to punch something.
“You’re protesting a lot for someone who’s sure about it. You either know you’re lying, or you have a guilty conscience.”
“Partners don’t interrogate each other,” Grady grumbled.
“Something you need to get off your chest, Grady?”
Grady sighed and tipped his head back. “He kissed me,” he admitted. It didn’t feel much like a weight had lifted, which is supposedly what confessions were supposed to do.
“Lake?”
“Why are you acting like you’re surprised?” Grady asked, glowering at his partner. “You’re the one that was convinced something was going on.”
“I was convinced you were repressing something, not that something had happened, or that Lake had been the one to make the first move.”
“He didn’t. It’s complicated.” Grady had no idea what it meant, or what he evenwantedit to mean. Of course he found Lake attractive, and maybe there had been a dream or two where Lake had a starring role, but that’s all it was. Fantasy in his subconscious that he couldn’t control.
I just wanted to see.
What the fuck did Lake want with him?
“You don’t think it’s too soon after the whole Mal debacle?” Quinn asked curiously.
Debacle. A tame word for the clusterfuck his relationship had turned into. Though he wasn’t sure it could be called that either. Grady hadn’t heard a word from Mal since he’d taped his key to their door. Grady hadn’t bothered messaging him about it, because nothing he had to say was fit for polite conversation. Mal was on the lease, but Grady was already in the process of getting him removed, and they were near the end of it anyway. He would have to make a decision on whether to keep the place himself—which he wasn’t sure was a valid option since rent was expensive as fuck—or find somewhere more appropriate. A problem for another time.
“Too soon for what?” Grady asked, wishing this conversation was over. “I literally just said we’re only friends. Besides, I think you’re forgetting one important detail.”
