36. Ford

CHAPTER 36

FORD

Boston handled being outed far better than I would have, were I in his shoes. It probably had something to do with the fact he wasn't in shoes at all, but instead a pair of my shorts from college that had no right holding his thighs so well. After Kale left, Boston shuffled into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. He appeared at home there, the way he didn't even have to look as he reached into the cabinet because he already knew what height the mugs were at, the way he pressed the button as he turned his back to the counter, focusing on me instead with his arms folded loosely in front of his chest.

"That could have been worse?" I said, voice lilting up into a question at the end.

Boston pursed his lips, reaching down and swiping his hand against the inside of his thigh. "He has impeccable timing."

I realized he was wiping my spit from his leg. Realized less than ten minutes before I'd had my face buried so far into his ass I could have lived there, that I'd been closer than ever to knowing what it would feel like to be inside of the man I loved… and his overbearing, asshole of a brother had ruined it.

"He's just upset that we kept him in the dark."

"His behavior is exactly why we put him there," Boston said.

"You're not wrong."

He turned away from me, filling the two mugs he'd taken out of the cabinet and handing one to me. I was exhausted from the night before and weary from the adrenaline crash after Kale's departure.

"Come sit on the couch," I said, tilting my head toward the living room.

Boston padded behind me, ever the obedient one. We sat down shoulder to shoulder, the outsides of our thighs brushing together as we settled into the cushions.

"He'll get over it." Boston dropped his head back and stared up at the ceiling.

I wanted to kiss him. "I know he will."

"He's been on a power trip since he came out of the womb," he continued. "He can consider this a life lesson."

Boston sighed and curled up against me. I extended my arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, kissing the top of his head. "I think he's really hurt," I murmured.

"He brought it on himself. If he wasn't so much himself , we would have told him sooner. We wouldn't have felt the need to hide it in the first place."

He wasn't wrong, but I still felt a sharp stab of guilt over betraying one of my closest friends. I knew from the start it was risky to get involved with Boston, but Kale had been the least of my concerns back then. It was exhilarating to sneak behind his back, to know his little brother wanted me. But as our feelings developed, there was so much more on the line than just Kale knowing about us.

The one thing I did know was that all of it would keep. Kale was too angry for either of us to talk to him, and sitting around worrying about Kale wasn't good for either of us. I also knew that getting Boston back into bed was off the table. Another time, that might have worried me, with the fleetingness of life and all that, but Boston loved me and I loved him back and Kale hadn't killed us yet.

There would be time.

"Let's get dressed," I said, taking a big swallow of coffee and doing my best to dislodge us both from the couch.

"I'd rather not," he groaned, falling into the corner of the couch with his arm outstretched to save the coffee.

"I want to hear about your trip, and there are some things I want you to see."

I still had a whole list of properties on my phone that I wanted to get Boston's opinion on. He might think I was moving too fast, but he would have been wrong. For what might have been the first time since I got involved with him, I felt comfortable enough to be myself around him, and this…this was myself. The obsession over Boston had never been manageable and I was finally able to lean into the way my body craved his, the way I wanted to own him and take care of him.

He wouldn't let me buy him a plane—I was going to buy him a farm.

"I'm sure my clothes are soaked through my suitcase," he said, reluctantly unfolding himself from the couch and taking a drink of coffee .

"You can wear mine or we can go to your house first," I said.

He plucked at the tight and worn fabric around his thigh. "Yours aren't going to cut it."

"We can just throw yours in the dryer," I suggested, setting my coffee on the table before heading toward the front door. "And we can shower off while they're getting nice and dry."

Boston trailed behind me, leaving his mug on the floor as he bent over to undo the zipper on his soft-sided suitcase to dig out some clothes.

"And you say there's something you want to show me?"

"More than one something."

He pulled a pair of jeans from the middle of his bag, the knees still dusted with dirt. Then he dug out a clean pair of underwear and a plaid button up.

"They're not wet," he said, tucking them under his arm.

I reached toward him, sliding my arm around his waist and pulling our bodies flush.

"Put them in the dryer anyway," I murmured, kissing the shell of his ear. "I still want to get you into the shower before we go."

Two hours later, after flattening Boston against the wall of the shower so I could eat his ass one more time, we were dressed and ready to head upstate. While Boston dug his wallet out of the wet clothes in the entry, I texted my real estate agent—Lisa—the list of properties I wanted to go see. I hadn't told Boston where we were going, and beyond the initial query in the entryway, he didn't ask for more information. It spoke volumes that there was somehow enough trust between us—in and out of the bedroom—that he was content to let me drive…literally.

Having a car in New York was a frustrating and expensive luxury most times. Before Boston, it was rare I bothered to escape the city, but with the heater on and his fingers tangled through mine and resting on top of the center console, I wanted to use it more. There was something so gloriously easy about being with Boston, and I'd never been happier.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Always," he said, giving me a soft smile along with the words.

"Are you going to be happy with me?"

He squeezed my hand, eyebrows tilting together above his nose. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just…because I'm your first and?—"

He cut me off with a derisive snort. "I'm not like you, Ford. I don't need to sample the buffet to know I picked something I like."

"I think I should be wounded." It would be a lie to say the barb didn't sting, but I knew Boston didn't mean for it to. Neither of us would ever pretend my past had been anything different than it was.

"It's who you are," he said with a shrug. "Who you were. I don't fault you for that. I probably wouldn't have even solicited you in the first place if you weren't that way, so…"

"Are you saying my lack of sexual decency is a blessing?" I chuckled.

"Not exactly, but close enough. And you're not like that now. "

I sighed. "I'm the same man I've always been, Boston," I assured him. "But I'm happy with you. I'm more than happy. I'm satisfied. This…this relationship with you, it's been missing my whole life, and I'm grateful for you. For it."

"Okay, Ford. Thank you." Boston squinted, cheeks flushing. He glanced at me quickly like he was embarrassed, then looked out through the windshield. "Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

I'd said everything I needed to say. If he didn't want to acknowledge my truth yet, that was fine. The fenced gravel drive was half a mile ahead on the right anyway, so I answered Boston with a knowing smile, content to let the rest of the conversation slide away.

"We're here."

My tires kicked up loud clouds of dust as I turned up the drive, the wooden entry gate looking like it had come straight out of an old TV show.

"Where is here?" Boston asked, nose scrunched.

We drove about a mile down the road, over a small hill that crested with the most gorgeous flat land view I'd ever seen. Right smack in the center was a white farmhouse with a huge wraparound porch and the sun shone through the windows from behind making the whole house look like it was glowing gold.

"Where is here?" he asked again, eyes darting back and forth between the house and my face.

I rolled to a stop at the end of the driveway, coming alongside Lisa's car. The fact she'd made it upstate faster than us only demonstrated how much money talked. She knew when I wanted to buy something, I moved quickly, and she wanted that commission almost as much as I wanted to see Boston smile.

"It's currently called Rolling Acres," I said, putting the car in park, "but if it was yours, you could rename it whatever you want."

"What do you mean if it was mine?"

Boston scrambled out of the car after me, face flushed pink by the time I introduced him to Lisa. We shook hands, and she walked us onto the porch, unlocking the door with the key box and then taking a seat on one of the white rocking chairs in front of the big bay window.

"I know your parents' farm means a lot to you." I followed him into the house, marveling at the boyish expressions on his face as he looked around the sprawling living room of the farmhouse. "And, honestly, the thought of you moving back to California terrifies me. I told you I'd buy you a plane, I'd buy you a house, a farm…anything within my power to make you happy, Boston, it's yours."

His nostrils flared and he licked his lips, staying silent.

"You don't even have to say the word, you know," I said, taking a step toward him. "You've already said it. You already gave me that control. Remember?"

"I do remember, "and I'm not moving back to California." He said it simply, then disappeared into the kitchen.

I liked the house because it wasn't open floor plan. I appreciated the sanctity of each room being contained by itself, even if that wasn't what was considered popular anymore. It was also one of the things I enjoyed about New York. With houses going up instead of out, the rooms were far more segregated than homes that weren't limited by the constraints of the city .

I joined him in the kitchen, coming to stand beside him as he stared out the window over the sink. It offered a gorgeous view of a large back yard, and beyond that, fenced-in fields and a barn in the distance.

"Tell me about your trip," I said softly.

"It was good to be back," he answered, leaning against me. "Nice to see my parents, but I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"I've never really felt like I belonged in New York, not the way Kale does." He sucked in a breath, letting it out in a long and slow exhale. "When we moved here as kids, I just wanted to impress him, you know?"

"He really leverages those four minutes over you, doesn't he?"

Boston chuckled. "I have a great life because of my grandparents, but I've always missed the comforts of home."

Something twisted in my stomach, and I slid my arm around his waist to pull our bodies closer together. Even before Boston and I got involved, Kale had always told me the ways he and his brother were different, how Boston was more at home on a farm in the dirt than in a suit in the city. I found he looked perfect either way, but listening to the quiet yearning in his voice drove home the truth of what Kale had always said.

"I know," I agreed, even though it killed me.

"And you know, for the longest time, I thought home was a place. Thought it was the farm with my parents." He paused, swallowing and shifting a quarter turn, knocking his shoulder into my chest. "But I know better now."

"What do you mean?"

Boston gave me a cockeyed grin, the casual intimacy of it enough to set off an explosion of feeling behind my ribs. I grabbed him and pulled him closer to me, hip pressed against the quartz kitchen countertop, his gaze turned upward toward my face. Golden rays of sunshine burst through the window, reflecting off his glasses and making the gorgeous hazel of his eyes turn impossibly more vibrant.

I slid my hand around his neck, fingers tangling into the short ends of his hair, a growl rumbling out of me at the perfectly submissive way his lashes fluttered when he leaned back into my grip.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" I asked again, the taste of hope on the tip of my tongue, better than any whiskey I'd ever had in my life.

"It's you," he said quietly, smiling and closing his eyes. "I love you, Ford Carlisle. My home is with you."