Oliver nodded. “Yeah. Got up with Erin.”
“She gone already?” Gavin asked, looking around.
“Yep. Won’t be back until five, so I told her we’d fix dinner.”
“Um. Yeah. That’s cool.”
Oliver wasn’t sure what to make of the look on his friend’s face, trying to decide if Gavin was uncomfortable about Erin seeing the scars or if he was bothered by what he’d seen them doing on the couch.
“Breakfast?” Gavin asked.
“Sure.” The two of them ventured to the kitchen. Oliver grabbed a frying pan while Gavin pulled some bacon and eggs from the refrigerator. After so many years of living together, they worked together quietly and efficiently, whipping up a big breakfast.
“So, I’ve been thinking…” Gavin started, his gaze looking everywhere but at him.
They never had a problem looking each other in the eye, which meant Oliver knew whatever his foster brother said next was going to piss him off. “Oh yeah?”
“I’m not sure this living situation is working out. Thought it might be a good idea if I head back home, stay with Sean, Chad, and Lauren until the pub and apartment are rebuilt. Give you and Erin a chance to shack up together properly. Good practice for your future marriage.”
“No.”
Gavin frowned, confused by his short, one-word response. “What?”
“You’re not leaving.”
Gavin’s confusion quickly turned to annoyance. “Don’t remember asking for permission, your highness.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not about to let you revert to type.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Things get tough, someone gets too close, you look for the closest escape. Took years before you stopped trying to run from me. Now you’re doing the same to Erin.”
Gavin wanted to argue the point—Oliver could see it in the way his best friend’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t. That was when he knew his foster brother couldn’t argue—because Oliver was right.
“How many people have you let in, Gavin? In your entire life, who do you feel safe enough to truly be yourself with?”
Gavin looked away, and it was obvious he didn’t want to answer.
“Me,” Oliver said, giving him the easy answer first.
Gavin nodded, still refusing to look in his direction, looking instead out the window. “You.”
“And our folks…to some extent. Though I think you still hold back with them too. Never calling them mom or dad, still using their real names, refusing to let them see your scars.”
Gavin shrugged but didn’t deny Oliver’s assertions.
“Maybe Paddy,” Oliver said after a minute more. “Not completely, but you’ve cracked the door, right?”
Gavin nodded, finally facing Oliver again. “A little. Yeah.”
“Who else?” Oliver asked, perfectly aware that there was just one more name on the list, and it was a big one.
Gavin picked up a slice of toast, tearing the crust off of it.
“Say it,” Oliver prodded.
When Gavin continued to stare at him in silence, shredding his toast to crumbs, Oliver decided it was time to put all his cards on the table. “Erin told me you showed her your scars last night.”
Gavin nodded. “Yeah. I did.”
“Why?”
Gavin closed his eyes, and that was when Oliver noticed the dark circles under them. Even though he’d just woken up, Gavin was the poster child for exhaustion. Obviously, he hadn’t slept any better than Oliver.
“What do you mean, why?” Gavin asked.
Oliver held his gaze. “You’ve never shown anyone but me. You always wear a shirt with your lovers, and you haven’t even let our parents see them. Why her?”
Gavin blew out a long breath. “I don’t know why.”
Oliver made a buzzer sound. “Errrrr. Nope. Not accepting the cop-out answer. If you really don’t know why, then sit there a minute and think about it.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.” Gavin’s words were deadpan, completely lacking any emotion.
Oliver laughed. “I’m the product of not one but two psychologist parents. You know as well as I do, we were raised on introspection and self-analysis. Mom and Dad never let either of us get away with nonresponses.”
Gavin chuckled. “Jesus. You’re not kidding.”
“And you do know why you showed Erin, so just say it,” Oliver said, putting their conversation back on track.
“I showed her because I wanted her to know…” Gavin paused, considering each word. “To know me better. She thought my mom was dead.”
Oliver nodded. “I know. You never corrected that.”
“Neither did you,” Gavin pointed out.
“Wasn’t my story to share. Isn’t that sort of the point of trust? Respecting the other person’s privacy?”
Gavin took a bite of bacon. “It is.”
“Why do you want Erin to know you better? The two of you are already good friends.”
Gavin fell silent. Oliver could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t going to answer. So he let him off the hook. Again. It was either that, or the two of them would sit in silence for hours on end and they’d never accomplish a damn thing.
“I saw you last night.”
Gavin glanced up, frowning. “Last night?”
“I know you watched me and Erin.”
He had to hand it to Gavin. The guy’s poker face was rock solid. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I should have walked away.”
“Why didn’t you?” Oliver asked.
Once again, Gavin clammed up.
“Gavin,” he pressed.
“Leave it alone, Ollie.”
“No. I’m not backing down. Not letting you walk away from this. From us.”
“Us?” Gavin scoffed. “There is no us. Just you and Erin, with me hiding in the hallway, skulking in the shadows.”
“Why were you hiding?” Oliver prodded, tired of always backing down, always giving Gavin a bye. He wanted answers. He fucking needed them.
“Goddammit.” Gavin raked his hand through his dark brown hair, messing the thick mass up. “Just stop already.”
Oliver shook his head, even as Gavin’s face grew red with anger.
“No. Tell me why you watched us.”
Gavin tossed his fork down and it clanged loudly on the plate. Neither of them had eaten more than a few bites. “I couldn’t leave!” Gavin shouted, rising and stomping over to the counter, his back turned to Oliver.
“Why not?”
“Because of her. Fuck!” Gavin ran his hand through his hair.
“Her?”
“I couldn’t stop looking at her. I…I wanted her.”
Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it, words defeating him.
The silence
