Chapter Two
After the munch, Maddox sat in the restaurant’s parking lot and studied his phone. He had the Facebook app open again and scrolled through Hank’s profile.
Damn, you’ve aged well, buddy.
Hank hadn’t only been his best friend—he’d been Maddox’s secret crush. Maddox’s biggest regret was never telling the man how he felt.
Then again, Hank was straight, had dated girls. Maddox had never come out as bi in high school, never dated any guys back then. That hadn’t happened until he was in college and felt more comfortable in his own skin.
He hadn’t seen Hank since the man’s family moved out of state not long after he and Hank graduated from high school. He was nearly two years older than Hank, but they’d been in the same grade in school.
As the start of a reallybaaadidea blossomed in Maddox’s brain, he struggled not to go through with it.
I could just send him a message, right? What harm is there in that?
Except the man was obviously a father now. Probably married or involved or something.
Right?
Wasn’t that thebadkind of emotional masochism to engage in? Not only bad, but fruitless and prodigiouslystupid. Not that he was a masochist in the first place—he was definitely a sadist.
Except he’d been an emotional masochist throughout junior high and high school without even realizing it had a name.
Ironic, yes, considering he was definitely a Dom and a Topnowand had a full grasp of all the dynamics and labels.
Back then, he’d secretly pined for the guy who was his best friend, a guy he didn’t dare tell how he really felt.
Not that he thought Hank would be an asshole about it, because back then Hank didn’t give a crap if someone was gay.
But Maddox had been worried Hank would freak out a little over himspecificallyhad he admitted to him at the time what a huge crush he had on Hank, and it could have driven a wedge between them. So Maddox’s high school days had been consumed by him gorging on old ’80s and ’90s power ballads while he masturbated late at night or in the shower and thought about holding Hank in his arms.
Closest they’d ever coming to making Maddox’s fantasies come true was the occasional shared masturbation session when they were alone at one house or the other and had unsupervised access to a computer they could view porn on.
Because they’d also shared a bed countless times when they’d stayed over at each other’s houses. His parents didn’t have a guest room back then, and they’d had a crappy couch. Hank’s parents didn’t have a guest room, either, and their couch was one of those sectionals with recliners built in that you couldn’t easily stretch out on.
It’d secretly broken Maddox’s heart when they moved but he knew Hank wasn’t ever coming back. It wasn’t like he could follow the guy. So he’d thrown himself into his college classes and trying to date.
He’d attempted to build a bridge in his heart and get the fuck over it, drowning his sorrows in Air Supply and power rock ballads and trying to move on. He still couldn’t hear that music without at least a memory of Hank popping into his head.
Before he could chicken out, he liked the picture of Hank and his daughter and then sent him a private message.
Missed your face, dude. Call me.
And before he could stop himself, he added his cell number and sent it.
Thenhe set his phone facedown on the passenger seat and started his car to head home. Because otherwise he’d sit there in the parking lot all night, waiting for the little notification dot to show Hank had seen the message.
Because it might break his heart if Hank saw it and then didn’t respond right away.
* * * *
It was almost eleven by the time Hank had a squeaky clean pumpkin put to bed and sound asleep, he’d grabbed his own shower, poured himself two fingers of Jack over ice, unpacked the bare-bones basics of what they’d need in the kitchen for tomorrow, and he stretched out on his bed—on the floor, because he’d sold the frame before they moved—in nothing but a pair of boxers and with his phone. Right now, they had boxes of stuff stacked in the back side of the house, in the great room area, which was supposed to be the dining room area. Pictures, keepsakes, books, and things like that.
They could wait to be unpacked. He’d wanted his clothes, his bed, and JJ’s stuff in their rooms, so he could get her as settled as quickly as possible.
He’d be living out of boxes and suitcases for a while, because he’d also sold his dresser.
The pile of boxes in the great room could also wait because in one box was three urns—their parents and Lois. He didn’t even have a place to put them, because he sold their bookshelves before they moved. Wasn’t like he wanted to set them on the dining room table.
