Looking for Trouble(64)

“Hey. That’s not fair. You’re putting words in my mouth. That’s not what I said.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you said,” Dylan countered.

“Can you cut me some slack here? I’m trying to adjust to the fact that my best friends from the time I shared with my partner are suddenly coming over for the first time in years. That they’ll be in the house where we shared laughs together and have memories together, and now we’ll be doing it with you—oh, and I had no damn say in it whatsoever.”

“With your boyfriend, Clay! I’m not just some guy, or at least I shouldn’t be. We can play house together all we like, but if we’re not building a life together—having friends, and spending time with people, and doing all those things you used to do with Gordon, we’re not much of anything, are we?”

“You don’t get to make that decision for me. I’m sorry if what I have to offer isn’t good enough. If the fact that I enjoy my privacy isn’t exciting enough for you.”

“Fuck you! That’s not what I’m saying! I love our life, and I love spending time with just you, but…” Dylan shook his head. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll cancel.”

“No. Don’t. It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think? Christ, what will it look like if you canceled for me?”

“Like you were being a coward, Clay, which isn’t far from the truth. I didn’t take you for a coward.”

And with that, Dylan turned and walked into the spare room, closing the door behind him.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE




Dylan


They hardly spoke on Saturday.

Part of Dylan knew he shouldn’t have asked Scott and William over without speaking to Clay first. He also knew he hadn’t reacted the best way to their argument either, but didn’t Clay understand he was trying to help? That he wanted them to have a real life together and a real relationship, something they couldn’t do if they kept themselves trapped in their own world. If they couldn’t go out together and laugh together and meet up with other people together.

Dylan couldn’t live that way, and he wanted something better for Clay as well.

But had it been his place to approach the friends Clay had shared with the love of his life? Probably not. And with each minute that went by, he worried more and more about it. What had he been thinking? These guys were friends with Gordon. Dylan was nothing like him. Would they even want to become friends with him? Would they see him as a replacement for Gordon…know that Dylan could never fill his shoes?

Yeah, he’d fucked up big-time, and not just for Clay, but for himself.

He checked himself in the mirror once more. He had a roast and potatoes in the oven, beer in the fridge. Clay was outside with Dakota, where he’d spent most of the day—either that or in his shop, welding.

Dylan wore a pair of blue jeans, his black chucks, and a polo shirt. Deciding he looked too…hell, he didn’t know what, he jerked the shirt over his head and rummaged around for a plain black T-shirt.

He knew Clay would be dressed in something similar or a flannel, because Clay was always dressed in something similar, wanting to fit in.

When he heard the door open and close, his heart thudded against his chest and nausea set in.

Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. What had he been thinking?

He went toward the hallway, knowing that either Clay had come back inside alone or that his friends were a few minutes early and they were all out there without him.

“Hey,” he said when he saw Clay standing by the window, looking out front.

“Hey.”

“Listen, I—”

“They’re here,” Clay cut him off, and the nausea made his gut twist even tighter.

Clay walked over, past Dylan…but then he stopped, turned around, and kissed his forehead, and Dylan finally let escape the air that had sat in his lungs since their argument started last night. God, he’d needed that more than he’d realized.

Clay opened the front door, heading out to the porch. Dylan wasn’t sure what to do, so he followed. They watched as Scott and his husband got out of the car. Clay went down the stairs, so Dylan did the same, until the four of them stood in front of each other.

William was a tall African American man, and he wore a collared shirt that said: William’s Construction.

Before Dylan could figure out how to break the ice, William said, “Christ, you dumb sonofabitch. I missed you,” and pulled Clay into a hug.

“I missed you too,” Clay replied, his voice gruff with emotion.

Bailey Springs wasn’t that big. Dylan figured they had to have run into each other here and there over the years, but it was obvious those encounters had been strained, that Clay had kept his distance as best he could.

When they pulled back, Clay and Scott embraced, though not as intensely as he and William had. He could tell there had definitely been a bond between Clay and William, and it made Dylan sadder that Clay had denied it to himself.

“This is Dylan… Dylan, this is William, and I guess you met Scott already.”

Don’t throw up, don’t throw up, don’t throw up.

Who the hell knew it would be so hard to meet his first real boyfriend’s friends? He guessed when that boyfriend shared these people with the ex he loved so dearly. “Hey! It’s so great to meet you!” he said a little too enthusiastically. Not sure what to do, he reached out and shook William’s hand, followed by Scott’s.