Page 37 of Zero Confusion

“I like that your aftercare method is the same as making friends with a cat.”

Miles barked out a laugh. “Hush. This is new to me.”

“Could have fooled me.” Zach yawned. “I’m good. That wasn’t so overwhelming that I need aftercare.”

The pressure eased, but Miles’s fingers remained buried in Zach’s hair, as if hesitant to let go.

“Miles, I promise I’m fine. That was pretty intense, and I’m a little hazy, but I’m not gonna subdrop. You can go take a shower.”

In the dying candlelight, Miles pulled him closer and placed a lingering kiss on his temple. “What if I need it?”

Shit. He didn’t think about that. As shocking as this experience had been for Zach, it had to be a million times more overwhelming for Miles. He’d lost his virginity, participated in his first scene, and had his first gay experience all at once.

No wonder he needed aftercare. Zach felt like a giant asshole for blowing it off.

“Come here,” he cooed in Miles’s ear, gathering him against his chest. “You’re okay.”

As he murmured soft reassurances, his hand traced slow paths up and down Miles’s spine until his breathing steadied. He was either asleep or completely relaxed, and Zach was satisfied with either option. Both prolonged his limbo.

He was scared of the conversation that was sure to follow. Miles seemed fine now, with the gay thing and the BDSM thing, but he could change his mind after thinking about it. It wouldn’t be the first time. A lot of his hookups thought that a bit of a Dom/sub dynamic would be hot, but most of them treated him differently afterward. Some tried to build up his confidence because, in their minds, his desire to lose control somehow equaled a lack of respect for himself. Others were total assholes, going on a power trip and bossing him around.

Maybe that wouldn’t happen if he’d gone to a kink club and met some real Doms—but Zach had zero interest in that scene. All he wanted was to be tied up and used every once in a while before reverting to his perfectly vanilla self. It was weird that most people he’d fucked saw this as some kind of character flaw.

Would the same thing happen again? Would Miles lose respect for him or try to fix him?

Worries swirled in his mind without taking root. Somewhere deep inside, in a place he couldn’t quite access, Zach knew that Miles wouldn’t think anything was wrong with him. Miles would never do anything to upset him. Not directly. He couldn’t be blamed for Zach’s own secret desires, his aching heart, or the fact that after having a taste of Miles, Zach was ruined for all other men. If all this turned out to be a one-off experiment, Zach would be absolutely crushed.

But he wouldn’t blame Miles.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the soft vibration of Miles’s heartbeat. Before the night slipped away, he needed to replay the highlights in his mind. He needed to remember every second, every detail, every sly smile and teasing touch.

In case it never happened again.

* * *

The next time Zach opened his eyes, he was tucked under the comforter, and the room was pitch-black. He sensed movement and rolled over to see Miles’s vague shadow pace around the kitchen, dim light emanating from the phone pressed to his ear.

“And what, you’re just waiting?” Miles spoke in a low, tense voice. He was agitated, but there was a hint of vulnerability to his words, like his voice was about to break. “Yes, of course. Yes. First thing in the morning. Okay. See you soon.”

The pacing stopped. Zach sat on the edge of the mattress and squinted into the darkness, barely making out Miles’s silhouette. He was leaning on the kitchen counter, his face buried in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Zach’s voice was rough and scratchy from sleep, and he had to clear his throat. “Miles?”

Miles hadn’t acknowledged him, remaining completely still. This was bad. Late-night calls could only mean one thing—an emergency.

Zach’s heart raced. He loved Miles’s family like his own, dysfunctional and overbearing as they were at times. He was almost afraid to ask who it was.

“Is it your dad?” Mr. Carter was healthy, as far as Zach knew. The minor heart attack from a few years back was supposed to be an odd one-off, a statistical anomaly.

But doctors could be wrong.

Miles straightened and walked to the bed, grabbing Zach’s hand and threading their fingers together as soon as he sat down. His silence spoke volumes. Zach let him gather his thoughts without interrupting, anxious to find out what had happened yet terrified of knowing.

Finally, Miles made a sound low in his throat. “Max fell off the ladder going up to the barn roof and hit his head. It’s not good.” His voice was robotic, as if reciting a script. “They had to rush him to a bigger hospital. Ours isn’t equipped for brain injuries, apparently.”

Zach drew in a sharp breath. Only two years older than they were, Max was close enough in age to share a lot of their interests, often letting them tag along whenever he went fishing or hiking. Max was as much Zach’s brother as Jerry and Abe.

“Is he…is he gonna be okay?” Zach asked cautiously.