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“I gavehima week, but you two haven’t said a word.”
Raphael grabbed the wheel of his chair and spun to face the other man. “This wasn’t about you,” he told him, trying not to sound angry or defensive. “This week was more than just…”
“You going after someone half your age?” Jayden snapped.
Raphael froze, blinking at his friend—and the words felt like a physical blow, hitting hard in spite of knowing that they were coming. But he’d already worked through his own hesitation, and he trusted Dmitri to know what he wanted. He trusted Dmitri to wield the power he had over Raphael when he needed it.
“I’m going to go.” He turned back around, reaching for his bag, but Jayden’s hand clamped down on his arm.
“You don’t get to run away from me because I made you uncomfortable,” he growled.
Raphael wrenched his arm away and fixed his friend with narrow eyes. “You don’t get to use your body to intimidate me like that,” he shot back. “I’m not leaving because I’m uncomfortable, I’m leaving because nothing I say will matter.”
Jayden looked uncertain, and he took a step back that Raphael appreciated. “Was it always him? All this time?”
Raphael had to laugh, because the question was absurd, and it was painful. Jayden knew him better. Jayden knew him more than most people, and the fact that he’d ask only showed Raphael where he stood. “No. It wasn’t all this time. It was last year when I got to know him, when he showed me what a strong, beautiful person he was in spite of the way the people in this town have treated him. I fell in love with the man he is in spite of the way he was shuffled aside. No one ever stood up for him,” Raphael said, and he felt something in him twist with pride when Jayden flinched. “He shouldered everything on his own. He was judged for things he didn’t do, and he got through that on his own. If you have a problem with him, take it up with him.”
“Raph,” Jayden started, but Raphael had already headed out the door.
He wasn’t sure he was quitting, but he was done for the day. Maybe he was done for the week. He could burn bridges with Jayden and find another job easily. He had savings to get him by a few months. He was fine.
He only worried now what Dmitri might have to go through when he was still struggling with the night of the party. He wanted to believe that Jayden wouldn’t add to Dmitri’s stress, but his accusations had been the truth—as indirect as they were.
The town had shoved Dmitri into a box, and his family might have loved him, but they hadn’t shown up for him. Not once. Raphael watched the way it wore Dmitri down, how he had fought to stay the person that he was today—but he was more tired than a twenty-year-old should have been, and Raphael quietly raged about it.
He didn’t quite know where he was going until he heard the sharp sounds of clanging metal, and he wasn’t sure if he should feel guilty as he stared at Diego’s front door. He hadn’t even known if his ex-hook up would be home or at the station, but he felt a small measure of comfort as he wheeled to the door and rang the bell.
He knew it would take a while. Diego had wired the doorbell to his shed outside, and Raphael had to push it three times before the noise faded off. It took another two minutes to hear his footsteps on the wood floors, and then he was met with a surprised lift of two heavy brows.
“Hey, cariño. Did I know you were coming over?”
Raphael shook his head, opened his mouth, then closed it when no words came out. Diego’s frown deepened, and he stepped back, holding the door for Raphael, who worked his wheels over the hump in the doorway, then rolled a few feet into the room. Diego’s house was warm and smelled like the fire burning in his kiln, and hot glass, and as he stepped closer to Raphael, he could smell the tang of metal and sweat.
“I’m interrupting your work,” Raphael said.
Diego laughed and shook his head. “You are never an interruption. Go sit on the sofa, and I’ll get something to drink.”
Raphael moved to obey, and he let out a sigh of relief when Diego came back with coffee. One of Diego’s few indulgences was his coffee—rich Italian brew that Raphael missed since living in the States. He breathed it in, then took a long drink and sat back with his eyes half-lidded.
“Do you want to tell me why you’re here?” Diego said after a bit. He was sitting in the chair near the edge of the coffee table, leaning over his blackened jeans. His arms still had a thin sheen of sweat in spite of the impending snow, and Raphael could see a smattering of fresh burn blisters on his bicep. “Did you want to bang shit out in the bedroom?”
Raphael choked a little on his sip, then leaned forward and set the coffee down. “No. I didn’t even know I was coming here until I showed up.”
“I missed the party, but I did get some of the gossip. Long term boyfriend now?”
Raphael looked at him curiously, but there was no jealousy or judgment in his eyes—not that he expected it. Raphael had gone months without showing up at Diego’s for a hook up in the past, and nothing had ever really changed between them. “I missed you,” he said quietly. “I think I thought I had to shut you out when we stopped sleeping together.”
“Querido,” Diego breathed out. He stood up and moved to the sofa, letting their knees knock together. “I love the hell out of you. It’s not going to hurt my feelings if you find someone who can give you what you need.”
“It wasn’t him,” Raphael admitted. He shifted a little so he could turn his body to look at Diego properly. “The boyfriend. His name was Rian—he was a professor at the community college down the hill. I liked him, but not enough.”
Diego bit his lip, then reached out and brushed some of Raphael’s hair away from his forehead. “He left you?”
“He realized I was in love with someone else,” Raphael said, closing his eyes again. “Dmitri.”
There was silence a moment, and when Raphael was brave enough to look, he saw Diego holding back a laugh. “I can’t say I’m surprised. That boy has been head over heels for you since…God, I don’t even know when.”
Raphael felt himself blush a little. “Apparently I was the only one who didn’t get the notice. Ich bin ein Arsch mit Ohren.”
