He wanted to take them both in his arms and tell them he understood. Because he did. He saw it from both sides. Felt the feelings of each to be legitimate and fair.
Only . . . what about his feelings?
He swallowed hard and counted down from five before speaking. “Wade mentioned you wanted to flat with him. Did you mean more than that?”
“I promised him I meant it as friends, but—” he cast glistening eyes toward the ocean— “I meant more.” Luc swore. “Robby told me it was a mistake to come here. To pour all this out. But the whole day I couldn’t stop thinking and . . .”
He’d been overcome with emotion, had needed to release it.
It was the sort of thing Zach would do.
Noah channelled that brotherly compassion. He spoke gently. “If you’re asking me to stop seeing Wade, I can’t do that.”
Luc rubbed his nape. “You like him, then?” A laugh. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?”
“Wade should decide what he wants.”
Luc sniffed and nodded. “Yes. I know. If he . . . I’ll be happy for him.” His lips wobbled.
Noah’s heart wobbled too.
After a time, he managed to speak. “Last night, you said you were glad Wade had made a friend. You said you and Wade had plans.”
A glance at him. “He wants to start a family. Wants to live out and proud. I wanted to keep things the way they were. I wasn’t ready to come out. He moved down here to start his life for real, and look. I had to follow him, even if we both lose our families. We’ll make new family.” Luc met his eye. “Friends.”
The stone in Noah’s pocket burned like the heat he blinked down.
“Ah,” Luc swiped his eyes. “Speak of the devil.” He attempted a good-humoured smile that promised Noah he’d get it together.
Boots clomped over the boards. Wade’s pace was brisk as he eyed them waiting for him. Like Luc, Wade looked tired. Like he’d had a gruelling day. It wasn’t over yet.
His breakfast with his mum. Maybe things hadn’t gone smoothly.
His gaze darted from Noah to Luc and back again. He arched a brow as he neared, aiming it at his . . . ex.
Luc sank his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “I met Noah last night. Came out to see where he works.”
“Luc . . .”
So much was said in that one word, in his kind, heavy look. It spoke of a past. Spoke of knowing one another so well, vocabulary wasn’t needed.
Noah’s stomach plunged like the albatrosses toward the ocean.
Wade turned to him and it hurt to meet his eyes. The strike of lightning between them riddled him with shivers and shame.
He shouldn’t still hope.
“Luc told me you and he . . .” Noah waved a hand.
“We’re no longer together.” Wade swung to Luc. “You told him we’re not together, right?”
Luc’s Adam’s apple jutted. “Yes.”
Wade relaxed, and chuckled. “I guess I should have known you’d be curious.” Those blues shifted to Noah solemnly. “I should have told you sooner.”
“Should you have?” Noah waved that away and slipped on a smile.
Wade was suddenly in front of him, taking his hands, thumbs stroking the veins up to his wrists. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?” It came out a whisper.
“It was so soon after things ended, and . . .”
“And?”
“I really liked you.”
“You thought I’d make us wait?” He would have.
“I didn’t think. I felt. I was a fool.”
There’s a saying about fools. Noah grasped that thought like a lifeline, but didn’t utter it in front of Luc. It would only hurt him. Worse, it probably wasn’t true.
Wade’s brow creased as his gaze shot between the two of them. “I’d like you to get to know Luc, Noah. I’d like you to get to know each other. Should we grab a drink together?”
For the second evening in a row, Noah was seated behind a pub table gripping his beer. The condensation made the glass slippery, and he wondered fleetingly if it would break the tension if it dropped.
Luc behaved well. He didn’t hog the conversation or try to insert himself into Wade’s anecdotes of them growing up. He didn’t flaunt the richness of their history.
All that came from Wade.
And then Jenny and John when they crowded over them.
John laughed as Jenny painted a vivid picture of a tight friendship, and Luc and Noah simultaneously lifted their beers and gulped.
The pub began to fill and the wild gossipy presence of the owners moved on to fresh prey.
“And that’s the truncated version of Luc and me,” Wade said, raising his glass.
Truncated. Noah had no chance.
What was he doing here?
He peered at the foamy surface of his beer, willing it to tell him his fortune. He should make up an excuse and go.
He should—
“Noah?”
His head shot up to concerned eyes. “Sorry?”
“How are Matthew and Mark?”
