“How often do you have them? The headaches?”
“Three or four times a month,” he admitted. “When it first happened, they were every couple of days.”
“My mom used to have migraines. Figured some of those techniques would work.”
Not sure what techniques he was referring to, Brantley decided he didn’t need to know the details. The fact that the man had come over in the middle of the damn night and tended to him… He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but damn it, he couldn’t help it.
Maybe that was the aftereffects of the drugs talking. It wasn’t like Brantley was looking for someone to take care of him. He was content with what he had going with Cyrus. Several nights a week they would get together, Brantley would fuck Cyrus senseless, they would go their own ways and meet up when the need arose again.
Or rather, he’d been content. Right up until Reese Tavoularis had come into his world and seemingly found a permanent place there. Now Brantley didn’t know what the hell he wanted.
Reese shifted, his head turning as his eyes opened, peering right into Brantley’s face. “You’re still touchin’ me.”
Brantley glanced down at the hand he still had on Reese’s arm, then back to meet Reese’s stare. “You haven’t pushed me away yet.”
“I know.”
There was a wealth of concern in those two words. As though Reese was aware things were … progressing.
“Have you ever been with a man?” Brantley dared to ask, keeping his tone inquisitive as he slowly pulled his hand away.
“No.”
Surprised by the immediate response and the easy way he answered, Brantley continued to stare.
“Ever had the desire to?”
“No.”
Brantley broke the eye contact, letting his gaze trail down to Reese’s shoulder as the answer he’d expected but had hoped not to hear penetrated his brain.
“Until you,” Reese whispered.
His attention shot right back to Reese’s face. The man was still staring at him, his face frozen in a grimace as though the admission hurt him.
Those golden eyes left his as Reese turned to stare up at the ceiling. “It makes no fuckin’ sense, Brantley. I don’t understand it.”
“But you want to?”
“Not really, no. I want it to go away. I prefer my uncomplicated existence.”
“And being with a man would be complicated?”
“For me? Yeah.”
“Why?”
“It’s not that I find it taboo or anything. It’s just … it goes against everything I’ve ever believed about myself.”
Brantley remained where he was, wanting Reese to elaborate because he wanted to know more about the man.
“That mornin’ you came to the diner,” Reese continued, “when I was havin’ breakfast with JJ, I was plannin’ to ask her out. She’s more my type, Brantley.”
“She’s a lot of men’s type,” he acknowledged.
“And I can honestly say, we would’ve had a damn good time. I’d looked forward to it, the anticipation building as we shared breakfast. Talking was easy, her laughter more so. I was locked in.”
Brantley watched Reese as he worked through it; all the while he held his breath, wondering what the fuck was coming next.
“Then you walked up to that fucking table.”
The anger he heard was muted but it was there, simmering beneath the surface.
“That night we all went to IHOP, the first night I met you … I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Figured it was a fluke. Then I saw you leavin’ the range with JJ … somethin’ seemed different. Inside me.” The words came out softly, on a huff of frustration. “Whatever it is, it’s growing … stronger. It confuses the fuck out of me.” Reese closed his eyes. “But it was the day we spent at the range that clinched it. Since then, I’ve spent too much fuckin’ time wonderin’ when the hell I’ll get to see you again.” He huffed again. “Fucked up, I know.”
“And here you are,” Brantley said, keeping his tone light. “In my bed.”
Reese chuckled, turning his head and opening his eyes again. “And not making any move to leave it.”
Brantley stared, wondering what the hell Reese was getting at. If anything.
“Last night, when you said what you said about, you know, you fantasizing … I was pissed. More so at myself because I didn’t put you in your place. I’m not supposed to give a shit who you’re fucking, or who you’re thinkin’ about when you do.”
“But you do.” It wasn’t a question. Brantley already knew the answer.
Reese barked a laugh. “I’m fightin’ it, trust me. Then you called last night, and I heard the pain in your voice, knew something was wrong. I didn’t even think about it. Just got in my truck, drove my ass over here, and took care of you. I could’ve left—should’ve. But here I am.”
They were both silent for a few minutes, but there was no awkwardness.
“I’m not gonna make a move on you, Reese,” Brantley finally informed him. “I’m not that guy. What I told you yesterday … about my fantasies … that was all true. Doesn’t mean I’ll act on them. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a damn good friend and I don’t intend to fuck that up.”
