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Derek shifted backward, pressing his back into Dylan’s chest. Dylan’s face leaned between Derek’s shoulder blades.
“Little spoon?” Dylan said, the words barely audible so that if Derek were sleeping, he wouldn’t wake him.
After the loudest yawn yet, Derek pulled Dylan’s arms around him. “Goddamn right.”
Dylan’s grin spread so wide his cheeks cramped up before he fell asleep.
Chapter 23
The strangest part about the next morning was that nothing about it was strange. As usual, Derek woke just before dawn, but unlike the other times he’d woken in this apartment, there was no moment of confusion. Derek knew where he was. He knew who was lying beside him.
Derek rolled into the crook of Dylan’s arm. Dylan’s rhythmic exhales whispered against his neck as the violet light grew rosy.
A little while later, full-strength summer sunshine flooded the room. The air-conditioning had kicked on, making the sheer curtains sway. Derek must have fallen back into a much deeper sleep than he meant to. Dylan was stretched out, definitely taking up more than his share of the bed. And that shameless bed hog had stolen the comforter and tucked most of it uselessly beneath him.
Derek suppressed a snicker. Dylan’s hair was wilder than ever. He had one fist tucked under his chin.
Waiting to touch him just made Derek want it more. Want him more.
As the room brightened, Derek could make out the logo on Dylan’s worn green T-shirt. It had the name of a local climbing gym. Dylan had a little scar notched into the outside edge of his right eyebrow. Where had he gotten that? From climbing? Nah. If Derek had to guess, it was probably a childhood gift from a brother. All Derek’s friends with older brothers sported a few scars from getting pummeled at some point during childhood. Did the other three always rag on him like they had the day they came over? Derek couldn’t imagine ragging on a sibling. But of course, in his case, he was a lot older than his sisters.
He brushed a swath of Dylan’s hair away from his sleeping eyes. His hair was a mix of dark brown and a subtle bronze color more prominent in sunlight. The color was nothing like his sister Felicity’s bright red, but they shared the same texture. Partially—and slightly selfishly—Derek wanted to cut it to make sure some random barber didn’t cut it too short. The memory of fisting Dylan’s hair while he came apart inside Dylan’s mouth was enough to make him need to adjust his boxer-briefs against an aggressive morning erection.
Dylan sighed in his sleep.
Despite the impulses of a particular part of Derek’s body, he wanted to let Dylan sleep. The guy had to be zonked with all the work he and his sister had done on the floor this week.
When his full bladder and caffeine addiction became impossible to ignore, Derek eased himself out of bed. When his feet found the floor, reality dosed Derek with an unwanted and disturbing realization. He just spent nearly half an hour watching someone sleep.
What the actual fuck?
He’d never done this with anyone. It wasn’t that he never spent the night with a partner after a hookup, but it was safe to say it had never felt like this. Morning had always been an ending. It had never felt like the beginning of something.
Feeling a chill he blamed on the air vent, Derek rubbed his bare arms. A few minutes ago, he hadn’t been scared at all. A few minutes ago, Derek hadn’t ever wanted to leave that bed.
He needed to think. Well, what he really needed was to take a piss. Derek eased open the door. Dylan’s breathing stayed steady as Derek shut it behind him.
Later, as Derek drank his coffee surrounded by the chaos of tools, furniture, and the general mayhem of renovations, he realized why the morning felt so different. He hadn’t checked his phone. He hadn’t worried about Michelle. Or Olive. Or anything.
He’d been completely in the moment. Peaceful.
Gus stirred and stretched like a cat in the morning sunlight, the jingle of his collar making a small ache tug in Derek’s gut. A roiling unease he associated with guilt… and something else.
Jake.
The tug turned into a yank. He hated himself for thinking about Jake when Dylan was so close. Gus lumbered over to sniff Derek’s hand and beg for neck scratches. He adjusted Gus’s collar to straighten his two tags. Behind the tag listing Olive’s and Derek’s names and numbers, there was the oversized, bone-shaped piece of blue metal she’d left there. IF FOUND, CALL JAKE MURPHY BECAUSE HE’S PROBABLY FREAKING OUT THAT HIS BEST FRIEND IS MISSING. On the other side it said IF ANYONE ASKS, THAT SQUIRREL HAD IT COMING above the phone number.
Derek sat on the floor. Gus laid his head in his lap.
Jake was gone.
A spot between Derek’s eyes ached just like it had with Joni last night. As if the tears were stuck there. Telling her everything had taken away some fraction of the sting.
The AC rumbled on, and Gus shook out his head in confusion, jangling the collar and whipping his big floppy ears around. It might have been that sound or the prickling shiver from the overchilled air on bare skin, but the triggered memory’s impact nearly knocked Derek over.
That Halloween was frigid. The old furnace at Jake’s house couldn’t keep up. The flow of trick-or-treaters had slowed, but Derek and Jake still wore the silly Power Ranger costumes Olive had picked out for all of them before she got the flu and couldn’t come.
Derek touched Jake’s shoulder. “Don’t take that off yet. We need to get a photo for Olive or she won’t believe we actually wore them.”