Leaning Into Touch (Leaning Into Series Book 4)

by Lane Hayes

  “Me?” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that so I just nodded. “How did they take it?”

  “About as well as expected. My sister was supportive. My da…not so much. There was name calling, yelling, and general ugliness I don’t want to repeat. Maybe it was a pointless and futile exercise. But to me, it was necessary.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t go well.”

  He set his cup down and shrugged. “In a way, it went beautifully. Some people can say a metaphorical good-bye, but I needed to say it in person.”

  Oh fuck. Here it comes.

  “So this is good-bye,” I whispered.

  “No. Not a chance.” Finn narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as though he was trying to figure me out.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to understand you. You’re not normal, you know.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He looked flustered and his voice shook with raw emotion when he continued. “You give and you give and you never stop. You lay yourself bare. You show your scars, you talk about your fears. You share your friends, your family, your joy, your sorrow and you just— give. Do you have any idea how unique you are? How very special?

  “I don’t know how to be like you, Josh. I’m not open enough. I’m not strong enough. I’m not special. I’m a bloody fucking mess of a man and you were right to think I’m scared because I am. I’m petrified. But I want—I want to start over.” He closed the distance between us, slipped the cup from my hands and replaced it with the wrapped canvas. “This is for you. Open it.”

  I swallowed hard but nodded in acquiescence before carefully wedging my finger under the tape at the corner. I pulled the thick paper off and slid the canvas free and turned it over. It was painted a solid shade of sky blue.

  My brow creased in confusion as I glanced up at him. “What is it?”

  He pointed to the lower right-hand corner and cocked his head shyly as though hoping I’d understand the gesture without explanation.

  “This is us.”

  The first letters in our names were entwined and painted in black. They should have stood out on the blue canvas but the writing was small and unobtrusive. The way it would be on any work of art. I ran my fingers over the letters then glanced up at him.

  “What are you telling me?”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Josh.”

  I narrowed my gaze, unsure I’d heard him correctly. “Wh-why not?”

  “Because this is where I belong. Here with you.” Finn slipped the canvas from my hand and set it on the counter. “Remember when I said you were the color blue and the signature in the corner? What I was trying to say is… I can’t live without you. I want to be your repetition and iteration. I want us to be the only details that matter. I want the things I told myself I couldn’t have. I want you, Josh. I want us. I love you,” he said simply.

  I was too overcome to respond. I sniffed then wiped my nose on the back of my hand like a kid. Finn lifted my chin and stared into my eyes. “I love you, Josh. I fell for you at a party full of strangers two years ago. But I wasn’t brave. I let you walk away once but I won’t do it again. You’re my home now.”

  “Then don’t go. Stay with me. Always. I love you too and—”

  My breath caught in my lungs when he crashed his lips over mine and then pulled me hard against his chest, smothering me in a hearty embrace. He covered my face with sweet kisses then released me and reached for my hand.

  “I want to write a new story. Our story. I want to weave our words together so we can’t tell one from the other. I want a life together and everything that comes with it. I want to wake up next to you every morning and talk about art and fight over whose turn it is to make coffee while we get ready to take our kids to the park. But most of all, I want you. All of you.”

  “You do?” I choked around the emotion in my voice and hoped like hell this wasn’t a dream.

  “Yes. You were right, love. The past is done and gone. It’s time to begin again.”

  Finn brushed his thumb over my bottom lip then sealed his mouth over mine in a kiss that truly felt like coming home. There was no room for doubt here. I could feel what I couldn’t see and I knew he felt the same way. This was not an in-between place. This was true and right. There was nothing to fear if we leaned into touch.

  Epilogue

  “You cannot touch love…but you can feel the sweetness it pours into everything.”—Helen Keller

  The cool breeze through the open window was a nice contrast to the stiflingly warm bedroom. It was too small for two grown men to hang out in for hours. Fine. It had only been forty-five minutes, but I was ready to throw in the towel and hire a handyman or call my dad and Lars to put this thing together. An expert would have to make sure it was kid-safe anyway. I loved my man, but he was no Bob the Builder.

  I perched on the edge of the pink-and-white striped cushion of the rocking chair and leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees before taking a look around the fairy-inspired nursery. The walls were decorated with tasteful drawings of woodland sprites and painted a pale shade of pink that offset the light-gray furnishings, including the changing table, built-in bookshelves, and yes…the crib. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung in the alcove, separating the bedroom from the adjoining bathroom. Finn had commissioned some fancy designer to create a whimsical yet tasteful haven for the baby we expected to arrive in roughly two weeks or by the end of April at the latest. Our daughter would live a few blocks away with her moms, but when she stayed with her dads, she’d have a suite worthy of a princess.

  “Finn, let’s take a break and grab something to eat,” I suggested in a light tone I hoped hid my frustration.

  “I’ve almost got it. I just need to fasten this piece to the bottom of the bassinette and—hand me the screwdriver, love.” He wiggled his fingers expectantly but kept his gaze glued to the fine print on the instruction sheet.

  I sighed heavily as I reached for the tool then flopped onto the floor beside him to inspect his progress. It looked okay but I wasn’t sure it was safe. Then again, I knew as much as he did about assembling shit. Zero.

  “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe we should call Lars. He builds things for a living, and he already said he’d be happy to help.”

  Finn glanced up from his project with a scowl. “You’re givin’ up on me then?”

  His melodic lilt made me smile though I did my best to school my features when I replied. “Never. But the thing is…sometimes you gotta know when to delegate. This is one of those times. The baby will never know her daddy didn’t put her bassinette together ’cause her other daddy is never going to tell. I promise.” I held out my pinky finger and gave him an over-the-top serious look to make him laugh.

  “You’re using your teacher voice on me,” he observed with an amused huff.

  “I have to practice.” I chuckled then pushed him backward and climbed over him, straddling his stomach.

  “On me?”

  “Of course! Everything starts at home.”

  It had been a busy few months. I’d moved into Finn’s place before the holidays and gone back to school part-time in January to get my master’s. I decided to get my teaching credential at the same time to be sure I wasn’t making a huge mistake. My first few substitute teaching gigs were relatively painless. They were more or less glorified “babysitting” jobs for kids ranging from ages six to thirteen. Some days were better than others, but I liked being around young minds. I loved the potential I saw there. And the challenge. If I could survive a day with a posse of junior high students, something told me I could take on a class of serious college-age art history aficionados with no problem.

  Plus, I figured teaching would help ease me into my role of ‘new dad.’ Finn made it clear to Scarlet, Keisha, and anyone who asked, that we were a family now and that we’d both be part of the baby’s life. We were in this together. Every part of us touched. Nothing was divided. We shared a home and a life togeth
er. My family was his family now, and our friends accepted us and constantly asked when we were finally going to make this thing legal.

  Soon, I mused as he flipped me over, clutching my hands above my head to keep me still.

  “What are you making for lunch, Joshy?”

  “Pizza?” I offered, licking his stubbled jaw. “I’ll order it and invite Dad and Lars to come—” I broke into hysterical laughter when he tickled me mercilessly. “Stop! I won’t call them. I’ll get the number for Handymen ’R Us instead.”

  Finn snickered. “Where’s the fun in that? At least you get a laugh out of watching me hack my way through something that should have taken ten minutes.”

  I threw my arms over his shoulders and kissed his lips. “I wouldn’t laugh at you. I love you and I love that you want to do this, but you can always teach her how to ride a bike.”

  “Ha-ha. I want extra pepperoni, please, and tell your da to bring a screwdriver. There must be something wrong with this one.”

  “That must be it,” I agreed with a wink. “Look at us…we’re good at this teamwork stuff, aren’t we?”

  “We’re amazing together. I love you, Joshy.” Finn’s eyes lit with a gorgeous grin I loved knowing was all mine—then they sparked with mischief when he added, “Extra cheese, please.”

  I returned his silly smile and pulled him close. He could have whatever the hell he wanted. I already had more than I ever dreamed possible.

  We were amazing together. We’d come a long way in a short time. This slow dance of sexual attraction to friendship led to a combination of the two that was bigger than both of us. We’d evolved and changed into something I wouldn’t have recognized a year ago, and embarked on a new story of our own. There were no secrets, no doubts, and no in-between places to hide. And we vowed to keep it that way, leaning on each other and leaning into touch.

  Leaning Into the Look- Coming early 2018

  Excerpt from Leaning Into the Look by Lane Hayes

  Miles gave me a dirty look and swatted my hand away from the doorknob.

  “Wait! One more question. Do you know my phone number?”

  Miles looked puzzled. “Of course.”

  “Then give me yours. It's only fair.” I pulled my cell from my pocket and gestured for him to start talking.

  “That's ridiculous.”

  I spread my arms in front of the door to block him. “You can’t go until you give it to me.”

  He narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “I have a black belt.”

  “No you don't.” I mimicked his searching stare, pleased when he cracked a smile. “What's the matter? You don't want me to call you?”

  “On the contrary, I'm afraid I’ll pine away staring at my cell, wondering when you will,” he snarked.

  “So sarcastic. I’ll make you a deal… I’ll never call you so you’ll never have to think twice about it. Sound good?”

  “Promise?”

  I held out my pinkie to give him a time-honored “pinkie promise”. Miles let out a distrustful huff then pushed the bag of goodies at me and pulled out his phone. I watched his fingers fly as he supposed typed a message to me.

  “Okay. We’re done here. We got the awkward “first meeting after you-know-what out of the way so we can act like nothing ever happened when we see each other again and—”

  “It was pretty hot,” I interrupted. On a whim, I reached out and smoothed a rogue piece of hair behind his ear, noting his almost imperceptible shiver of response.

  I didn’t get it. Saturday was an improbable lark, nothing more. But God, I wanted to kiss him then back him against that door, yank his zipper down and sink to my knees to worship his beautiful cock. This connection felt like more than the after-effects of a rebound. And in spite of his Hostess bribe and his plea that we agree to forget and move on, I could tell he wasn’t immune.

  Or maybe he was. Miles smacked my hand away and opened the door. “Thank you for your discretion.”

  I acted fast. I grabbed his coat sleeve before he got anywhere, twirled him around and crashed my mouth over his. It was a feeble attempt at getting the last word and man, it backfired big time. His lips were soft and sweet. I wanted nothing more than to deepen the kiss into something meaningful though I had no idea why. This was madness. But so was standing in a deserted stairwell with a bag of Ding Dongs and Hostess cupcakes with my friend’s secretary.

  I released him, letting my gaze drift to his swollen bottom lip for a moment before throwing the door open and gesturing for him to lead the way. He hesitated for a moment then moved purposely to the elevators. I followed him but kept a few feet in between us, the way I might if he was a client.

  Miles pushed the button with more force than necessary. He stepped inside the car when the door opened and turned to face me.

  I studied him carefully. Miles had a polished and put-together exterior but I knew he was a little messy on the inside. Just like me. Yet, we couldn’t be more different if we tried. Maybe that was why he fascinated me. He was the grown-up version of the freckle-faced kid I used to share comics with in the school library at recess time. Someone I felt a kinship with, though not necessary anything more.

  “Good bye, Grant.”

  “Bye, My.”

  He gave me a lopsided smile in response as the elevator door slid shut and I swore I felt it move through me. What was wrong with me?

  I touched my lips and turned toward my office, mulling the word “kinship”. It didn’t fit here. It didn’t feel like a co-conspirator friendship either. It felt like a ‘butterflies in my stomach, tingling sensation down my spine and chronic sweaty palm’ sort of sickness. Also known as the onset of infatuation.

  Holy crap. Did I actually have a crush on Miles?

  About the Author

  Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in an almost empty nest.

  www.lanehayes.wordpress.com

  Also by Lane Hayes

  Leaning Into Love

  Leaning Into Always

  Leaning Into the Fall

  Leaning Into the Look (Coming early 2018)

  A Kind of Truth

  A Kind of Romance

  A Kind of Honesty

  A Kind of Home

  Better Than Good

  Better Than Chance

  Better Than Friends

  Better Than Safe

  The Right Words

  The Wrong Man

  The Right Time

  A Way with Words