know him, then why did you—you make no damned sense, Dawson.” Ichi ran his fingers through his hair, working out some of the knots Bobby’d put there. “Why go down there if he didn’t know you?”
“Because even if he was shot to shit, Cole lived his damned life out in the open. No apologies. He was either the bravest fucking cop around or the stupidest. And, well, maybe a little of both. Your brother doesn’t stop and think about right or wrong—there’s no question for him. Not a single damned hesitation about what path he needs to take. He’s full bore while the rest of us dance around the edges of our lives waiting for something good to happen.” Bobby exhaled the breath he’d been holding in—probably since before he’d walked into Cole’s hospital room. “You know what I thought? I thought, fuck, here’s this kid who just fucking lost everything, and he’s fighting for a life he doesn’t even fucking have any more. But here I am, whining to nobody about how rough my life is because I’m gay, and I’m too much of a chickenshit to tell anyone.”
“You respected him?” Ichiro regarded him carefully, his dark eyes nearly lost in the shadows. “That’s why you went down there?”
“Because I needed him to teach me how to be… fuck, I don’t know, a man? At least an honest one. I’d lived my fucking life in so many damned closets I couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag.” Bobby grinned, remembering the first time Cole gave him a hard time for sampling more than one twink a night at a bar they’d gone to. “He’s a good guy. I—wasn’t a good guy. I’m still not, but hell, at least I don’t want to snuff out the one that’s here now. Before—can’t say I was someone I’d want my own mother to meet. Well, if she were alive to meet me.”
“Something else in common, then? Dead mothers?”
“Yeah, guess so.”
It was his turn to rub at his face, and Bobby realized Ichi was right. Somehow he hadn’t gotten all of the concrete dust out of his hair. Disgusted, he quirked a regretful grin at Ichiro. He’d hate to let him go. It was better for things. All around. Ichiro was more like his brother than Bobby realized—a serial monogamist, and that was something Bobby wanted no part of—no matter how much his dick and other parts of his body really wanted the other man. Dusting his hands off, he said, “This thing we’ve got—it’s a really bad idea, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” The shadows were gone from Ichiro’s eyes, and they shone bright and dark, reflecting the lights of a city brewing its own chaos beyond the loft’s open windows. “A really bad idea.”
“I’ll nuke some burritos. You should head out.” He took a step toward the door, but Ichiro grabbed his wrist, holding him back.
“Cole doesn’t have to know—about this. About us,” Ichi murmured, his breath hot and slithery over Bobby’s neck. “It’s not like we’re going to—get married or anything. It can be whatever it is until it burns out. No harm in it. We both know what we’re getting into. No one needs to get their nose in it but us.”
For a second, Bobby debated telling the man to let him get on with it, then. To get naked on the bed before he changed his mind and delivered what he’d promised Ichiro during their impromptu romp on the couch.
Because, God, he wanted to be so deep inside of Ichiro, the man would have trouble walking until he was ninety.
“No, Sunshine, I don’t think so.” He paused, taking one last look at Ichiro’s slightly swollen mouth, knowing he’d brought that flush of sexual awareness to Ichiro’s beautiful face. “Because I’m a really bad idea, and you deserve better. You need someone like… hell, you need what Cole has. A guy you can sit around with and have dinner. Or go walking around a fucking farmer’s market and talk about different kinds of rice like it matters. You need that forever thing Cole’s got. You really deserve
“Because even if he was shot to shit, Cole lived his damned life out in the open. No apologies. He was either the bravest fucking cop around or the stupidest. And, well, maybe a little of both. Your brother doesn’t stop and think about right or wrong—there’s no question for him. Not a single damned hesitation about what path he needs to take. He’s full bore while the rest of us dance around the edges of our lives waiting for something good to happen.” Bobby exhaled the breath he’d been holding in—probably since before he’d walked into Cole’s hospital room. “You know what I thought? I thought, fuck, here’s this kid who just fucking lost everything, and he’s fighting for a life he doesn’t even fucking have any more. But here I am, whining to nobody about how rough my life is because I’m gay, and I’m too much of a chickenshit to tell anyone.”
“You respected him?” Ichiro regarded him carefully, his dark eyes nearly lost in the shadows. “That’s why you went down there?”
“Because I needed him to teach me how to be… fuck, I don’t know, a man? At least an honest one. I’d lived my fucking life in so many damned closets I couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag.” Bobby grinned, remembering the first time Cole gave him a hard time for sampling more than one twink a night at a bar they’d gone to. “He’s a good guy. I—wasn’t a good guy. I’m still not, but hell, at least I don’t want to snuff out the one that’s here now. Before—can’t say I was someone I’d want my own mother to meet. Well, if she were alive to meet me.”
“Something else in common, then? Dead mothers?”
“Yeah, guess so.”
It was his turn to rub at his face, and Bobby realized Ichi was right. Somehow he hadn’t gotten all of the concrete dust out of his hair. Disgusted, he quirked a regretful grin at Ichiro. He’d hate to let him go. It was better for things. All around. Ichiro was more like his brother than Bobby realized—a serial monogamist, and that was something Bobby wanted no part of—no matter how much his dick and other parts of his body really wanted the other man. Dusting his hands off, he said, “This thing we’ve got—it’s a really bad idea, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” The shadows were gone from Ichiro’s eyes, and they shone bright and dark, reflecting the lights of a city brewing its own chaos beyond the loft’s open windows. “A really bad idea.”
“I’ll nuke some burritos. You should head out.” He took a step toward the door, but Ichiro grabbed his wrist, holding him back.
“Cole doesn’t have to know—about this. About us,” Ichi murmured, his breath hot and slithery over Bobby’s neck. “It’s not like we’re going to—get married or anything. It can be whatever it is until it burns out. No harm in it. We both know what we’re getting into. No one needs to get their nose in it but us.”
For a second, Bobby debated telling the man to let him get on with it, then. To get naked on the bed before he changed his mind and delivered what he’d promised Ichiro during their impromptu romp on the couch.
Because, God, he wanted to be so deep inside of Ichiro, the man would have trouble walking until he was ninety.
“No, Sunshine, I don’t think so.” He paused, taking one last look at Ichiro’s slightly swollen mouth, knowing he’d brought that flush of sexual awareness to Ichiro’s beautiful face. “Because I’m a really bad idea, and you deserve better. You need someone like… hell, you need what Cole has. A guy you can sit around with and have dinner. Or go walking around a fucking farmer’s market and talk about different kinds of rice like it matters. You need that forever thing Cole’s got. You really deserve
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