Page 49 of Stealing Home

Gavin stepped away and grabbed the pasta bowls on the counter, grateful for something to do with his hands. Dinner came together in a rush of steam and overlapping conversation. Dom drained the pasta, tossed it through the sauce, and added enough Parmesan to warrant a discussion about moderation. Evan carried the bread to the table and CJ followed with a pitcher of ice water. They settled into seats, with Gavin winding up across from Evan and next to Dom.

Forks scraped against bowls and crusty bread tore beneath fingers, and for the first minute, no one spoke. Then CJ broke the silence with a moan after his first bite, and all of them broke into laughter.

“This is incredible,” CJ said when they all stopped laughing.

Conversation moved quickly after that. The stories shifted from baseball to houses and back again, and the wine loosened the edges of the evening without making anything careless. They all ate second helpings and Evan and Dom argued about whether a game from the previous season had been their win or not. CJ listened for a while before quietly pointing out that neither of them was remembering the game or the score correctly. They checked. CJ was right.

He accepted his victory with a small, satisfied smile that made Evan lean over and kiss his temple. It was casual. Unselfconscious. Gavin looked away, not because the affection made him uncomfortable, but because it didn’t. That was the dangerous part. There had been a time when he’d had that kind of ease with someone. The hand at his back while they passed in the kitchen, or the kiss offered without thought. He’d had that shared history that turned a glance into an entire conversation. He’d convinced himself he didn’t miss it.

Sitting at Dom’s table now, he wasn’t so sure.

Dom pushed back from the table and started gathering the empty bowls.

“Let me help,” Gavin said, standing with him.

“You brought wine.”

“And?”

“That was your contribution,” Dom explained.

“My contribution was fermented grapes,” Gavin said flatly. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the large pasta bowl and the bread basket. “I can carry plates.”

Dom looked ready to argue, but Gavin was already moving toward the kitchen. Behind them, CJ said something too quiet to hear, and Evan answered with an equally soft hum. Gavin didn’t turn around.

At the counter, Dom leaned closer. “They’re talking about us.”

“Probably,” Gavin agreed.

“They think they’re subtle.”

“They aren’t.”

Dom set the bowls in the sink. “I’m going to kill them.”

Gavin smiled. “No, you’re not.”

“No,” Dom admitted with a sigh. “I’m not.”

Chairs scraped as Evan and CJ stood from the table, and Dom and Gavin turned to face them.

“We’re gonna head out,” Evan said, hooking his thumb toward the front door. “Thanks for letting us crash your da—dinner.” He corrected himself, but the grin on his face told Gavin that almost saying “date” had been deliberate.

Dom glared at him, the tips of his ears turning pink. “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

Gavin lowered his gaze to hide the smile tugging at his mouth.

“You don’t have to leave,” Dom said. The words came quickly, but there wasn’t much conviction behind them.

“We do, actually,” CJ said. “We’ve interrupted your evening enough.”

Evan turned to Gavin. “It was good seeing you.”

“You too.”

“We should do this again,” CJ said.

The invitation was genuine, as if it were a given that there would be another dinner, another evening around the table, another place made for Gavin.