Page 65 of Hollywood

Surprise hit me. “Do you really have to wonder after everything we did tonight? This is what I wanted to talk about. You and me.”

“So, what is this, then?” Hollywood asked tentatively. “You and me?”

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t quite come.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We don’t have to rush into anything. Just promise that if anything is too much, we can talk about it. If all you want is friendship, I’ll take that over you disappearing from my life again.”

“Hey.” I cupped his cheek and met his eyes. “I’m not running. Not ever again.”

“No matter what goes wrong?”

“I promise.” I kissed him gently. Earlier, I was fueled by pent-up lust, but now I could enjoy the feel of his lips, the sweetness of his taste. He was comfort, pure and simple. “Come on. Let’s go back to the living room. We can talk.”

“What about the shower?”

“In a minute.”

I pushed him down on the sofa, fetched one of his froufrou IPA beers for him and a Budweiser for me. Then I took a seat beside him and looked him in the eye.

“I’m here to stay. I’m going to take that job, okay? I’ll make the program work this time. I don’t want to let you down again.”

“You’ll never let me down if you stay,” Hollywood said. “Even if you decide you don’t want all this”—he waved a finger between us—“we can still be friends.”

“Oh, fuck that,” I growled, pressing a hard kiss on him. “I want it all.”

He smiled shyly. “So do I.”

“Then we’ll make it work. All of it.”

“You don’t have to take that job, though. I trust you.”

I wasn’t sure he did. Not yet. And I didn’t blame him. But he was trying damn hard, and I was lucky he was giving me this second chance.

“It’s a good job. I was just…afraid to face it. It’s at a greenhouse. I don’t know if you remember, but I ran one with my dad before I went to prison.”

Hollywood nodded. “You didn’t like it?”

“No, I loved it. That was half the problem. I did stupid things to keep it going. Illegal things.”

“Like selling weed,” he supplied, having heard the story before.

I nodded. “I was afraid this job would only remind me of my mistakes. But I’ve been afraid to face too many things in my life.” I held his gaze. “That stops now.”

Hollywood’s eyes softened. He cupped my jaw, but instead of kissing me, he pulled my forehead onto his shoulder in a loose embrace.

“I’m so proud of you.”

It was the first time I’d heard those words since my mother died. I breathed him in, this man who held me like I was fragile, breakable. No one had treated me with so much care in so long.

Part of me wanted to pull away and assert that I didn’t need to be coddled. The part of me that had been raised to never show weakness, to never admit to any vulnerability.

Prison had only reinforced the need to show my strength, to prove I shouldn’t be fucked with.

But in Hollywood’s arms, I didn’t have to prove anything. I could just be Tex, a man who’d make mistakes and wanted to do better.

A guy who was flawed and imperfect and, yes, sometimes a little weak.

So I stayed where I was, buried my face in his neck, and let him hold me.