That was only a tiny sliver of the truth. Ollie hadn’t signed up to get shot at just to avoid his parents controlling his life. He hadn’t been that naïve.
He’d been a different kind of naïve. Sure, you could change the world by shooting people. Maybe someone could even change the world for the better that way. Lord knew there were people who needed shooting.
But Ollie didn’t want to be the one pulling the trigger.
“Yeah,” he admitted.
And then, thank God, there was the sound of the side door busting open and a sudden gust of smoky-barbecue-scented air. “I’m home,” Ty announced.
With wide eyes, Theo looked at Ollie and said, “Oh my God. I amso hungry.”
“See,” Ollie said, “he’s making the world a better place already.”
Ty entered the kitchen in time for this remark, arms laden with so much food Ollie had to wonder how he managed it all. He stepped forward and grabbed a tray before anything could fall.
“You were talking about me?” Ty asked, fluttering his eyelashes as Ollie set the food down and removed the foil to reveal mac and cheese for seventy-five. But there was a real question underneath. Ollie shook his head. They hadn’t hadthattalk yet.
“About how that man who doesn’t like you is a bully,” Theo said, sliding off the barstool. “Did you get cornbread?”
Gasping, Ty clutched his chest. “Oh my God. I forgot.” But he only lasted a fraction of a second looking at Theo’s heartbroken face before he caved. “Just kidding, I obviously got cornbread. What do you take me for?”
Ollie still felt a little like a walking bruise, but sitting with Ty and Theo and eating his body weight in smoked meat and cheesy pasta soothed the ache. Afterward Theo conned them into a game of catch.
Ollie didn’t get to grill Ty on his long day with Eliza until everyone was showered and Theo was in bed, having insisted he wanted to read for ten minutes. He was passed out with the light on when Ollie went to check on him two minutes later.
Ollie flicked the light off, pulled the door mostly shut behind him, and joined Ty in the living room.
“So.” He flopped down next to Ty on the couch. He looked… unfairly good. His shirt was clinging to him with the moisture from his shower, and his skin was pink and fresh. Ollie wanted to bite the scar on his jawline, or maybe just rub his stubble against Ty’s. “How was your day, honey?”
Ty shook his head. “Better than yours, by the look of things. Everything okay?”
“Couple deep conversations with the kid.” Nothing Ollie wanted to think about right now. “I feel old. Distract me. Are you going to sue Alan Chiu’s pants off?”
“Nah. There’s nothing in there I’m interested in.” He gave Ollie a quick once-over, not exactly blatant but not subtle either, like he was testing the waters. “Yourpants, on the other hand….”
For some reason the back of Ollie’s neck went hot. “What about them?”
Ty put a hand on the bend of his knee. That was hot too. “Well, I don’t know. I’m hoping they don’t need legal action, but you did say it’s been a long day….”
Grinning, Ollie kicked his feet up on the ottoman. The motion dislodged Ty’s palm, moving it higher up the inside of Ollie’s thigh. “I gotta be honest”—he let himself look over at Ty; two could play the once-over game, but he let himself linger a little longer—“if you’re trying to get into my pants, I don’t think they’re gonna fit you.”
Ty grinned back. “What if I let you into mine, then?”
Ollie laughed out loud. What a fucking day he’d had—what a week—and here he was with his boyfriend on their couch, laughing at stupid pickup lines and suddenly desperately horny.
“Hey.” Ty pouted theatrically. “Was that a yes?”
Instead of answering, Ollie rolled over on the couch until he had Ty pinned between his thighs. He caged him in with his arms on the back of the sofa and leaned down to brush the side of his nose over Ty’s, their mouths a whisper apart.
Ty’s eyes went dark and his breath went heavy.
Ollie said, “Maybe.”
Ty surged up and wrangled him into a kiss that was half passion, half laughter, and 100 percent mutual enthusiasm. The difficult parts of the day fell away under the onslaught of something almost giddy, until only the press of their bodies and the mounting urge to act on the fire simmering in his blood remained.
He was in the process of discovering whether Ty liked his lip gently bitten—conclusive yes, if the desperate moan and the arch of his hips were any indication—when Ty gasped, “Bed?”
And—okay, right, yes. The last time Ollie did this, he wasn’t the primary caregiver of a third grader. Bed, or more specifically a room with a door that closed, sounded like a great idea.
