Looking for Trouble(55)
He had, hadn’t he? He was proud of Dylan. And maybe, just maybe, he had given Dylan and Clay his blessing too.
“I want to put it back.” This was his dad’s fish, and Dylan wanted it to live.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Clay offered to help him, but Dylan wanted to do it himself. It was difficult…and slimy and gross, but he unhooked the lure from the fish’s mouth and let it free in the water again.
When he turned around, Clay was watching him, an intensity in his brown eyes that somehow looked to Dylan like he was seeing his heart beating there. “What?” Dylan asked.
“I love you, you know that?”
His heart went crazy. Damn near jumped out of his chest. His vision swam, and blood pumped in his ears. Clay loved him? He fucking loved him! “I love you too.”
“I understand if you can’t say yes. You’re young, and Bailey Springs doesn’t have much to offer, but if you want…I’d like you to stay. With me. I want you to be mine.”
Dylan ran to him, jumped, and Clay laughed as he caught him. His legs went around Clay’s waist, his arms around his shoulders. “Yes,” he replied between kisses. “Yes, yes, yes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Clay
They’d been home from Asheville for a few weeks, and Clay couldn’t remember when he’d been happier. He’d spent a lot of his life feeling unlucky, feeling as though he just wasn’t supposed to be happy, that maybe he was better off alone. But then Dylan had come into his life and lit it up so bright, some days it felt like he lived on the surface of the sun.
He felt Dylan’s laugh in his bones, felt his smile soul-deep. He didn’t know how it happened or when exactly it had, but what mattered was that it had happened, and he was lucky. It was a shock to the system to acknowledge that he was, but how else could you explain it?
He’d been lucky enough to love and be loved by two incredible men in his life, both of whom brought something different to it. He had the love and friendship of Renée…and he’d had that of Mike…of April. So yeah, Clay now realized he was pretty fucking lucky, and he sure as shit planned to enjoy it.
It was at Dylan’s insistence that the photo of Gordon was put back out. Not in their bedroom, but in the living room. It was nice to see it there, to feel like he wasn’t hiding his life from the photo of someone he’d loved.
Dylan was sewing in his time off. He would sit at his machine in the living room while Clay watched television or when he was in his shop welding. He felt comforted by the sound of Dylan’s sewing machine, like it lulled him because it was a part of Dylan.
And, Dylan had paid to get his car fixed and was now able to drive himself around town. Clay could tell how much it meant to him. Before Dylan had saved the money, Clay had considered offering again to lend it to him, but he knew it was something Dylan wanted to do on his own, and Clay respected him for it.
They’d also both made an appointment with the doctor to get tested. They were monogamous, so why not? Once they’d gotten their test results back, the condoms had gone in the trash. Fuck, the feel of Dylan’s tight hole, squeezing him bare, was the best kind of pleasure.
Their one argument was about the house. Dylan wanted to pay part of the bills, but Clay didn’t see the reason why he should. It wasn’t as if his mortgage had changed, and the utilities had only seen a slight increase with a second person in the house. He wanted Dylan to be able to save money, to feel as if he didn’t need Clay if he decided Bailey Springs wasn’t where he wanted to be. Or hell, even that he wanted to live on his own. But Dylan wanted to pay his own way and didn’t like Clay’s plan of only buying the food. They were still trying to come to a conclusion on that.
But his job had become permanent, and they were making a life together, the two of them.
Clay hadn’t ever expected to share his life with anyone again.
Speaking of which, he couldn’t wait to get home to Dylan as soon as he was done with his last appointment of the day at Custom Ink.
His customer came in, and they chatted while Clay finished up preparing. A few minutes later he was sitting in his chair, needle to skin, working on the small piece they’d been discussing.
The woman was getting Chinese characters. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, and he understood the meaning behind them, but he enjoyed custom ink more. There was nothing like creating new art on someone’s skin, a design no one had seen before.
He was just finishing up when the door to his shop opened. A groan sat on his tongue, thinking it would be one more thing he had to do before getting home to Dylan, when he looked up and saw his boyfriend standing there.
“Hey, you.” Clay felt greedy at just the sight of him. It was ridiculous and made him feel like an immature kid, but he got all gooey inside every time he laid eyes on him.
See? Ridiculous.
“Hey to you too. I thought you’d be done. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can wait in the back.”
“You’re fine.”
Still, Dylan smiled at him and went toward Clay’s office.
“Is he your son?” the client asked, and Clay damn near fumbled the tattoo machine. His son? Forget that he was old enough to be just that; hearing someone ask it was still like taking a stun gun to the brain.