Chapter 14

Gavin's my best friend, but he's a bald-faced liar. He knows what this is. He knows and he won't tell me. That wasn't some random kiss. It meant something to him, something that feels profound.

"You do know." I brace his face with both hands and force him to look me in the eyes. "What haven't you been telling me, G?"

To my horror, tears gather on his lashes and spill down his cheeks. I wipe them away with my thumbs as my insides twist into a knot. Why is he crying? Is he crying because of me? No, I can't stand it if he cries.

"Gavin?"

He wraps a hand around my wrist and tugs me over to the couch. He curls up on one end, and even though there's plenty of room for me to sit so we're not touching, I crowd him into the corner. My hand goes to his thigh. My arm goes around his shoulders. I can't not touch him. In fact, I kind of want to haul him into my lap.

"You're not gay, Beau," Gavin says, voice thick with emotion.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Am I supposed to agree with him or object to his statement? I don't actually know. How can I not know?

I'm a twenty-eight-year-old man who's been married to a woman. I've never looked at a guy like that before, never touched a guy like that. I've never even fantasized about a guy in any kind of sexual way. So why are the words, "Of course I'm not gay," stuck in my throat? Why do they feel like a lie?

Gavin reads every one of my unspoken thoughts. "You're not. I would know. You ping negative on my gay-dar."

I snap my mouth shut.

"And even if you're suddenly bi-curious or whatever, that doesn't mean we can do anything about it. I am not embarking on some sexual exploration with you."

"Why not?" The words burst out of me before I can stop them, and I immediately regret it. Obviously, I can't fool around with Gavin, not if I want to keep him as my best friend.

"Why not?!" Gavin jumps to his feet and scowls down at me. "Because!"

"Sorry! Sorry! I know. Ugh." I drop my head into my hands and let all this pent-up frustration out in a deep growl. "What is wrong with me?"

Gavin doesn't answer and frankly, I don't expect him to. I've been so turned around since splitting with Lucy that I don't think a trained therapist could even figure out what was wrong with me.

But I'm not the only one caught up in this. I lift my gaze to Gavin who's stepped away and crossed his arms over his chest. His lips are pressed together and there's a furrow between his brows. That look confirms what I've been suspecting all day.

"You're not getting off the hook that easily. There's something you're not telling me."

Gavin's throat works and he drops his gaze to the floor. "No, there isn't."

I want to shake him. "Don't lie to me, G."

"I don't want things to change between us." His eyes flash with defiance. "And don't tell me things won't change. Things always change."

He's not going to say it and there's nothing I can do to make him. Which leaves only one option: I have to say it for him. "You like me."

Gavin squeezes his eyes shut and covers his face with a hand. We both know I'm right. I'm just surprised that I hadn't figured it out sooner. I felt his erection while we kissed in the kitchen. Then there was that day on the couch.

And now that I think about it, there have been signs all along that I ignored, or maybe I hadn't known to look for. He and Lucy were civil to each other, but I wouldn't have called them friends. He stopped coming home as often after I got married. He never had much to say when I called to complain to him about my failing marriage. He was trying to keep his distance, trying not to interfere.

At what cost?

"Since when?" I suddenly have a burning need to know. We've known each other since we were kids. At what point did our friendship become something more for him?

Gavin doesn't speak and for a moment I think he's going to avoid answering again. But then he whispers, barely audible, "Since high school."