Leaning Into Touch (Leaning Into Series Book 4)

by Lane Hayes

  “Come with me,” I commanded. I thanked the driver and left the door open for Finn.

  I didn’t stop to see if he’d follow. I was buzzing with a sudden burst of energy at the prospect that Finn somehow knew my dad’s lover. I couldn’t begin to guess his connection though my mind was whirling with possibilities. I fished my keys from my pocket and hurried to unlock the door. Finn’s shadow collided with mine when he reached the landing. He stepped behind me, so close I could feel his breath on my ear. I shivered in response before flinging the door open.

  It was dark and cool inside the townhouse. I flipped on the lights in the foyer and living area then unbuttoned Zane’s giant shirt as I moved toward the kitchen, leaving Finn to find his way. I haphazardly grabbed a bottle of wine from the built-in wine refrigerator and pulled out two glasses before working on the cork. I didn’t stop to think about impressing him with my minimal knowledge of fermented grapes. Nor did I care that my bare-chested state might be misconstrued as a come-on. I poured two generous glasses of red wine and pushed one toward him when he took a seat at the island.

  He smiled his thanks then made a sweeping motion to encompass the open living area.

  “This is very nice. Is that a Karinsky?”

  I glanced at the smooth bean-shaped sculpture on a pedestal against the wall between the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Yes.”

  “You have some beautiful pieces.”

  “Everything here is Grant’s. I’ll take the credit for the art, though. I helped him choose a couple of pieces to fit his monochromatic palate.”

  Grant loved modern design. The simpler, the better. His townhouse was decorated almost exclusively in blacks and whites. The hardwood floors were stained ebony; the walls and window treatments were white. The leather sofa and chairs facing the giant flat-screen were black, and the geometric rug anchoring the room was swirled with both. The result was sophisticated and elegant. A far cry from some of the other places we’d shared. Personally, I thought it was a little cold. I liked bright colors and mismatched, quirky design elements. If this was my place, I would have thrown in an oversized beanbag chair or two.

  “You have fantastic taste,” he said in a low sexy tone that went straight to my cock. Not good.

  “Tell me everything.”

  “About what?”

  “How do you know my dad? Geez, this is weird,” I grumbled, lifting my glass to my mouth.

  “I don’t know your dad. I met him once in passing when Lars—”

  “Who is this Lars guy?” The burgundy liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim when I set my glass down.

  “His boyfrie—you didn’t know, did you?” he said softly.

  I bit my lower lip and shook my head. “He just told me.”

  “Ah. How do you feel about it?”

  I gave a humorless half laugh. “I have no idea.”

  “For what it’s worth, Lars is a good man.”

  “Dad wanted me to meet him tonight. I—God, I feel like such an asshole. I’m gay. Why does this feel so fucking strange to me?”

  “Because there’s more to him than you assumed. We always think we know our parents. We forget our perspective is skewed and that our parents aren’t automatons who ceased to be relevant once they procreated.”

  “Are you suggesting they’re human?” I gasped.

  Finn chuckled. “I’m not sure I’d go that far, but I’ve heard it’s true.”

  “Let me just go on the record and say that my parental unit has the worst communication skills known to man. Listen to this…my mom asked me to call my dad and make an effort to visit him this weekend. She made it sound like there were rumors about him on the prowl with a hot babe at Frank’s Steak House and that I’d better do something fast before he started cranking Bee Gees songs in a brand new red convertible he can’t afford. She sounded freaked out and worried…but it turns out she knew all along he wasn’t with a woman at all.”

  “Maybe she was giving him a roundabout kick in the arse to tell you.”

  I skirted the island and pulled out the leather barstool next to Finn.

  “Yeah. I would have appreciated a more direct approach. Then again, I wouldn’t have believed her. I’m having a hard time believing it as it is. It’s so…” I searched for an appropriate word to describe what I was feeling. When nothing seemed to fit, I settled on, “…weird.”

  “It’s not weird. It’s different.”

  “Maybe, but who is this Lars guy? How do you know him?”

  “He owns Green Design Construction.”

  “Really?” I blinked at the news flash.

  GDC was a well-respected firm specializing in energy-efficient design. They were written up regularly for their award-winning buildings. I’d have to ask Eric and Nick, but I was fairly sure they were the contractors who'd built EN Tech’s Silicon Valley headquarters. And before I’d switched my major to Art History in college, they were the type of company I’d hoped to be hired by as an engineer.

  The owner had a reputation for being bright and innovative, but that didn’t explain what the hell he was doing with my dad.

  “Yeah, Lars is a big man. He’s tall and built like a brick house, you know? He’s in his mid-fifties, I think. I don’t know him well but he’s always been pleasant and—”

  “How do you know him at all?” I pushed my wineglass away and got up to grab a couple of water bottles. All this new information made me queasy, and the extra alcohol wasn’t helping.

  “Through the LGBT center. He’s on the board at one of the charities I’m involved with,” Finn replied casually.

  “What? I—which one?” I set the bottles on the island and reclaimed my seat next to him.

  “It’s for homeless youths at risk in the city,” he said as he twisted the cap off one of the waters then took a swig.

  “Oh.” I picked up my water bottle and fumbled to open it, but my brain and my fingers weren’t in sync. My initial burst of adrenaline was fading fast, leaving me feeling deflated and unsure.

  Finn gently slipped the bottle from my fingers, opened it and then handed it back to me. When I gave him a weary smile, he leaned into my space. He was so close I could see the green and gold flecks in his eyes. My gaze traveled over his stubbled jaw and along his Adam’s apple. Damn, he was sexy. I closed my eyes for a moment, disturbed that my thoughts could even go there at a time like this.

  “Wake up, sleepy head,” he chided as he nudged his elbow against mine. That tiny touch felt like a bolt of lightning piercing my skin through his fancy suit coat and—oh shit. I glanced down at my bare chest and then at Finn.

  “I’m going to put a T-shirt on. I’ll be right—” I started to stand, but he grabbed my wrist to stop me.

  “Don’t go.”

  “But it’s cold and—”

  “Here.” He stood suddenly and shrugged off his coat. “Put this on then.”

  My brow creased in confusion. “But my room is—”

  “If you walk away, you’ll start freaking out. You’ll wonder why I’m here, what you’ve said, and if you can trust me. And sadly, that will be the end of me. So, put this on, settle in, and talk to me. What did your dad say exactly?” he prompted as he eased his coat sleeve up my arm.

  He moved behind me, lifting the lux material over my shoulders. He didn’t step away, though. He stayed where he was, effectively surrounding me. I wanted to feel his arms around me. I wanted to lean against his chest as his hands roamed my body and his beard scratched my neck. I wanted a piece of what I’d had a year ago to erase the uncertainty creeping up my spine, making me doubt myself and the people I’d always trusted. I wanted sweet oblivion.

  “Josh?” Finn stepped in front of me and lifted my chin with his forefinger. “Are you all right?”

  “No—I mean, yeah, I’m fine. Maybe I’m just tired.” I licked my lips and took a deep breath before slugging back half of my water bottle. I swiped my slick palms on my jeans and sat down. Pull it together, Sheehan.


  Finn smiled and hooked his arm over the back of the barstool in a leisurely pose. He was one of those guys who looked at home wherever they were. Including someone else’s house. “Or maybe you’ve had a strange day.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. I don’t know what comes next. Jesus, my sisters are going to freak. I know they’ll be fine, but it’s a shock and—I didn’t handle it well. I should have agreed to meet Lars tonight. I don’t want my dad to think I’m not in his corner because I totally am, but—”

  “Give yourself a break, Josh. I’m sure your dad understands. Think of it this way; you’ve been given a unique opportunity to see both sides of the coming out experience. It’s a gift.”

  “A gift?” I snorted. “That sounds kind of…Irish.”

  Finn threw his head back and laughed. “I resemble that comment.”

  “It also sounds like my kind of luck. Who the hell wants to relive that shit? It was hard enough doing it once.”

  Finn abandoned his water and reached for his wineglass, swirling the burgundy liquid so it teased the rim. “What happened when you came out?”

  “My parents got divorced,” I said in a small voice.

  “Oh, so it was your fault,” he said in a mocking tone. “Let me guess…you’re wracked with Catholic guilt and have spent the last ten years doing your best to appease everyone you’re sure was terribly scarred by your news: your sisters, aunts, uncles, grandparents.…Am I right?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Finn quipped. “It’s a common story, you know.”

  “Your parents didn’t get divorced. How would you know?”

  “I’m not talking about divorce. I’m talking about coming out.” He cocked his head thoughtfully. “You see, it goes something like this…either you’re praised for your bravery or shunned for being something they don’t understand. Or you land in the somewhere-in-between place.”

  I noticed that his brogue thickened slightly as his cadence took on a “storyteller” vibe. As a third generation Irish American, I’d been exposed to long-winded tales from older family members who wove pieces of everyday life into lyrical stories. I’d always thought of it as a quaint habit from a dying generation. To hear someone my age talk this way was oddly charming. Even if I was sure I wouldn’t like where he was going with it.

  “Which is where exactly?” I prompted with an eye roll.

  “It’s where you rot your brain worryin’ about whether or not the acceptance is real. It’s the most dangerous place of all because you become your own worst enemy. You feel guilty when you’re happy but it’s no better when you’re miserable because you’ve got just enough righteousness to make you think you deserve better. It’s an endless circle. Self-pity then righteous indignation, a boost of confidence, and a glimpse at joy.” Finn raised his wineglass in a mock toast before continuing. “And then…the unfortunate slide back to the land of doubt.”

  “The somewhere-in-between place and the land of doubt. These sound like places in a Dr. Seuss book.”

  “Aye, and well they could be. Doubt is part of human nature. No one is ever truly satisfied. If we’re happy, we keep one eye open at night, wondering when it will end. When we’re sad, we wallow in misery and dream of better days.”

  “That’s a very pessimistic view of life,” I scoffed.

  “Is it pessimism or truth? Look what you’ve done tonight. You found out your dad is gay and somehow turned it back to yourself.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m a lapsed gay Catholic. The guilt is real.”

  “Believe me, I know guilt. But this is different.”

  “How so?”

  “You didn’t like your reaction. You should have been more supportive. Maybe it’s your fault. See? It’s all about you now.”

  “Hey!” I stood abruptly and moved to the other side of the island to put some space between us. I bristled with annoyance. “You don’t know me well enough to judge my reaction to my dad’s—”

  “And that’s the point!” Finn slapped his palm on the island hard like an impassioned pastor on a pulpit.

  “Excuse me?” I furrowed my brow incredulously. “What is the fucking point? I feel like I’m talking to an overgrown leprechaun. You aren’t making any sense.”

  “A leprechaun, eh? We’ll come back to that,” he chided, narrowing his gaze playfully. “In the meantime, the point is…give yourself a bloody break, man! It’s okay to be surprised. It’s okay to ask for time to process his news. You didn’t tell him you were disgusted or angry, did you?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Well then…no harm done. It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not fine. What do I say to my mother and my sisters? Just because you say this guy is nice doesn’t mean I’ll like him. What if I hate him? My dad said he’s moving in with him. He said we’ll be neighbors. Oh, my God.” I pressed my hand to my forehead dramatically and grimaced. “What if he tells me to call him Pops? Worse! What if I’ve known him all along and I despised him. Holy shit.…What if I dated him?”

  Finn busted up laughing. “Lars is over twenty years older than you. I think you’d remember going out with an older man.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “You pay attention to details.”

  I snorted derisively. “You must be thinking of someone else. Look at me. I’m a fucking mess. I’m wearing your coat, an unbuttoned shirt and my hair is sticking up all over the place. There are no details here. I’m chaos personified! And the fact that you’re here in my kitchen is proof I might be crazy too.”

  Any additional commentary I was tempted to make was immediately forgotten when Finn moved to stand in front of me. His expression went from mischievous to dangerous in seconds flat. He didn’t touch me, but I could feel the heat coming off him in waves. I wanted to pull him close and push him away at the same time. But I had a feeling the decision wasn’t mine now.

  Finn slid his fingers along the lapel of my borrowed coat then set his thumb under my chin and inched closer. “Define crazy,” he said in a raspy voice.

  My nostrils flared as I fought to hold his stare and not throw myself at him. “Doing the same stupid thing twice and hoping for a different outcome.”

  He smiled devilishly and cocked his head. “You’re talking about us now, aren’t you? I see what you’re saying. It was another kitchen in another part of town. We’ve been here before. Do you remember that night, Josh?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Me too. I remember everything about it. You wore a dark shirt and your hair was a little wild. Like it is now.” He pushed a strand of hair from my forehead and traced my brow with his thumb. It took everything I had not to lean into his touch. “When Nick introduced us, I thought we’d say hello and move on, but we spent the whole night together. I liked talking to you. You were funny and charming and you seemed so…real.”

  “I am real.”

  “Yes. It’s a rarer quality than you’d think,” he said sagely. “I was prepared to chat politely and then find a way to talk business with Nick. But he disappeared and honestly, I didn’t mind at all. I wanted you to myself. You made me laugh. And your eyes positively lit up when I mentioned an art exhibit at the de Young. I suppose that was when I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. We critiqued our favorite painters and sculptors for over an hour in a private corner of a crowded kitchen. Minimalists, impressionists, expressionists. You were so passionate. I was taken aback when you talked about finding meaning in an artist’s brush strokes.”

  “I did?”

  Finn nodded. “You said, and I quote, ‘The details are in the repetition and iteration…just like in life.’ You said those details are the only ones that matter. Waves crashing on the beach, vivid sunrises and sunsets. Daily repetition, daily patterns.”

  “Um…yeah, well…” I gulped, not sure how to respond.

  “At first, I thought Nick set me up to distract me somehow, but I couldn’t figure out an ulterior motive that made sens
e.”

  “We were two guys at a mostly male party on a Saturday night. I’m sure it was obvious I was attracted to you.”

  “Likewise. But seduction via an in-depth discussion about mixed media in art was a new one to me,” he teased.

  “Seduction! I wasn’t trying to—”

  “Right. My point is that a man who can compare the change in tide in a brush stroke to real life is as detail-oriented as he needs to be.” He traced the shell of my ear then set his hand on the counter behind me, caging me in on one side.

  I swallowed hard and cautioned myself to stand still. And ideally, not faint. I couldn’t understand what he did to me. I became a gooey mess around him. I should have pushed him away and reminded him I wasn’t interested. But his melodic voice was like a siren’s song, encouraging me to lean in and let him take over.

  Whoa. Bad idea.

  I pulled back slightly and shook my head with a laugh. “I was a little dangerous that night. Give me a few vodka sodas and I turn into an art critic and a know-it-all.”

  “You weren’t drunk in the slightest.”

  “I woke up with a killer hangover the next day that rivaled the one I had a couple of mornings ago. How do you explain that?”

  “You invited me to your place for a drink…or three.”

  “Oh. That’s right.”

  “The bar was crowded at the party and neither of us wanted to brave it. I raided the freezer and presented you with a contraband cup of ice cubes. Do you remember?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. I remembered it well.

  Voices had echoed around the kitchen. I could picture Finn shaking the plastic cup of ice and asking if I wanted water. I’d smiled and made a smartass comment about being perfectly happy sucking ice cubes. And that was when everything changed. He’d closed the distance to stand close to me like he was now. His gaze had darted from my mouth to my eyes hungrily. There was a game at play. I wasn’t sure what my part was, so I winged it. I tipped back the cup and dislodged a small cube, then held it between my teeth. Finn leaned in and licked the corner of my lips then plucked the ice away. He’d crunched it noisily and given me a cocky grin I’d tried to return with something light and jocular, but words hadn’t come. And I couldn’t stop staring at him.