Benito was a heartbeat behind him. Somewhere along the way he’d abandoned his Yeezys and the dark jacket he’d arrived with. He stepped up to Mickey with socked feet, forearms bare. “I don’t care what you did. It smells amazing.”
“You wanna eat now?”
“Whatever. I’m easy.”
Mickey snorted. Nothing about Benito—even this—was easy. He turned the oven off, leaving the fancy pizza inside, and opened the fridge. He hadn’t drunk much since the night he’d made a twitchy, emotional arse of himself at the club, but drinking with Benito felt safe.He knows you. He’ll catch you if you fall.
Maybe. But the feeling was tangible enough that Mickey latched onto it.
He handed Benito a beer.
Benito opened his mouth, but his phone cut him off. “Shit. Sorry.”
He fished a black iPhone Mickey had seen before from his pocket and answered it. “What’s up, G?”
Gianna. Mickey relaxed and stepped away to give Benito space, all the while taking the time to soak him up while his attention was diverted by his spiky little sister. Benito was wearing dark grey track pants and a plain white T-shirt. His hair was longer than when they’d met and had started to curl like Gianna’s. His jaw remained unshaven, but there was a neatness to it that was deliberate and about as groomed as either one of them ever got.
Benito seemed to sense Mickey’s gaze taking him apart. He smirked as he listened to whatever Gianna had to say and licked his lips, dark eyes smouldering.
Casually edible, and yet...
Mickey blinked first, suppressing a shiver. He was used to wanting Benito by now, but there was something about him tonight—a current that simmered below the surface of his dirty gaze and contradictory sweet smile. Some of the tension he usually carried had faded too, giving way to a wildness that lit Mickey on fire.
Benito ended his call and set his phone on the kitchen counter. “Gianna keeps locking herself out of her iPad. She gets herself in a mess with words and numbers, then loses her shit and chucks it across the room.”
“Valid. If she’s anything like me, her brain gets overloaded and makes everything seem worse than it is.”
“Do you think— Never mind.” Benito clamped his lips shut.
Mickey hoisted himself onto the counter and drank his beer, giving Benito a chance to change his mind.
He didn’t.
Curiosity won out. “What were you going to say?”
“I was going to ask you if you could talk to Gianna about shit like that next time you happen to see her, but that’s weird, right? You’re not a social worker.”
“No,” Mickey agreed. “But I’d do it if the opportunity ever came up. I don’t think it will, though. I’m handing Barnfield to another HO soon.”
“When?”
Mickey shrugged. “When the fire safety updates are done. It doesn’t feel right to abandon ship before then.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Abandoning the residents there?”
Mickey widened his legs, waiting until Benito took the hint and stepped between them. “Not exactly. It’s just... I don’t know, fucked up, I guess, that fate made everything so complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be complicated.” Benito knocked his head on Mickey’s shoulder. “We could stop seeing each other. Then you wouldn’t have to change your job.”
“I’d still be going to see your mum knowing I’d fucked her son in a sex club, though. It’s been inappropriate since we met, so don’t put it on yourself, okay? Even if we’d never seen each other again after that night, I’d have done this as soon as I found out you were connected to one of my residents.”
“What if you’d never found out, though? Then you’d still be helping all those people.”
“Yeah, well, now they’ll get someone else who can advocate for them without needing seventy-five grammar and punctuation apps to check up on them.”
Benito leaned back and shot Mickey a dry glare. “Don’t talk shit about yourself.”
“Make me stop.”