Gavin schooled his features as he shook his head and stood up. “Nothing. I don’t have a problem.”
Now, as always, Gavin planned to walk away. It was a standard Gavin Hawke move. Hit and run. His foster brother didn’t do fights, didn’t lose his temper. Instead, he’d take a quick jab and walk away. Considering Gavin had spent the first decade and a half of his life as a punching bag for his mother and her insane rages, Oliver could understand that.
Sort of.
And sometimes, Oliver let him get away with it, if he thought the fight wasn’t worth it or if it felt like something that would blow over.
Other times—like now—he dug in.
He followed Gavin upstairs, dogging his heels. “What the fuck, Gavin? What kind of game are you playing?”
Gavin turned when he reached the door to his bedroom. And while Oliver’s temper was tweaked, Gavin was cool as a cucumber.
Which, of course, pissed Oliver off more.
“I’m not playing a game, Ollie. I’m saying you’re not bi.”
“And you think you can judge who I am, what I feel, better than me? Fuck you.”
“Have you ever kissed a guy? Given a blowjob? Fucked one?” Gavin’s tone was almost weary.
Oliver narrowed his eyes. “Seriously? You know I haven’t.”
Gavin snorted, acting as if that somehow proved what he was saying.
Oliver couldn’t let it stand. He wouldn’t. “You want to know why I haven’t?”
Gavin frowned. “Because you’re straight.”
Oliver lifted his eyes toward the sky. “Jesus Christ, you’re thick. I haven’t fucked a guy, or kissed one, or blown one because I don’t want anyone but you.”
It wasn’t often that he and Gavin weren’t on the same page—after so many years of close friendship, sometimes it felt like they shared a hive mind—but it was obvious they were on opposite poles right now.
Had Gavin really never sensed Oliver’s attraction to him? There had been times—brief moments—when he’d truly thought he’d given his feelings for his best friend away. Obviously he’d been wrong, a better poker player than he’d thought.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Gavin asked, his tone rife with shock.
“I’ve always known you were gay. Knew it five minutes after you moved in here.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Oliver shrugged. “I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.”
“You expect me to believe you’ve been saving yourself for me? All these years?” Gavin asked.
“I wasn’t saving myself. At least not on purpose. The truth is, I wasn’t sure about my own sexual preferences until…”
“Until?” Gavin prompted.
Oliver debated whether or not he should come clean about this particular little secret, and then decided it was time to put his cards on the table. “I saw you with Billy Newcome. That night we all went camping right after graduation. I woke up in the middle of the night, needed to take a piss. Saw the two of you in the woods. He was bent over and you were fucking him.”
“That was almost two years ago.”
“I know. Jesus. I knew I should leave, but I couldn’t walk away, Gavin. Couldn’t stop looking at…”
“At what?”
“You. I’d have given a million dollars to switch places with Billy that night.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
Oliver had wrestled with that same question ever since that night, but there wasn’t a simple answer. “We’re best friends, Gavin. Brothers. Besides, you were doing a lot of,” he finger-quoted, “‘nights out’ with Billy, and I was dating Lori Matthews.”
“Both of those relationships ended a year ago.”
“So you admit it was a relationship,” Oliver joked.
“Ollie,” Gavin pressed.
“Fine,” Oliver said with a rueful grin. “I don’t know why, okay? Come on, man. It’s not like it would have been easy to cross that line. We still live at home with our folks.”
He expected Gavin to laugh, but he didn’t. Instead, he shook his head, not in denial, but as if he was trying to puzzle out something he’d missed. “You want me?”
Oliver took a deep breath. There was a time for words and there was a time for action.
This happened to be the latter.
He and Gavin were about the same height, both of them well over six feet, so it was the simplest thing in the world to reach out, grab his best friend’s face, and kiss him. He ran his fingers through Gavin’s dark brown hair, gripping it in his fist. Gavin had started wearing it a bit longer since they’d graduated from high school, something Oliver teased him about, calling him a hippie.
Gavin’s shock was brief, and the second he opened his mouth and started kissing Oliver back, it confirmed everything Oliver had always known.
He and Gavin were meant to be. The two of them would find a woman, marry her, have kids, raise them together, and his dreams for the future wouldn’t seem so wild. They’d be perfect…just like what his parents shared.
He pressed Gavin against the closed door to his bedroom, grinding his hips closer, needing him to feel his hard-on, to understand exactly how much he wanted him.
They parted briefly, trying to draw in enough air so they could go back in. They were both breathing rapidly, but Oliver couldn’t resist this. Not a second longer. He resumed the kiss, tasting the beer on his best friend’s breath.
Gavin reached for the knob and opened the door to his bedroom. The two of them backed inside, Oliver kicking it closed behind them. Neither of them was willing to break this kiss, as too many pent-up desires exploded free.
Gavin reached behind his neck and tugged his T-shirt off one-handed as Oliver stepped back to watch. They’d seen each other naked at least a thousand times. They were brothers. They shared a bathroom and clothes.
Oliver also knew he was the only person who’d ever seen Gavin shirtless. Not even their parents had, and though Gavin had told them he had some scars, he’d seriously downplayed them.
Oliver couldn’t begin to imagine what their dads would do if they saw how bad the damage truly was. And their mom would definitely fall apart. Gavin had said as much to Oliver, begging him to keep quiet. Oliver had reluctantly gone along with it, so Gavin had successfully hidden his chest—wearing T-shirts even when they went swimming, claiming he sunburned easily—to protect their parents from pain that he’d suffered. It was so typically Gavin, and one of the reasons Oliver loved him so much.
Now—as always—Oliver’s heart lurched painfully as he looked at the evidence of too many fucking years of abuse. He felt as if he could map the scars on Gavin’s chest, his back, his upper arms, all left there by a cruel woman who knew how to wound where no one would see.
He recalled the first time he’d seen Gavin without a shirt. His foster brother had been living with them for just over a year.
Gavin had seen the inside of too many foster homes, too many group homes, and he’d shown up here at fifteen with a chip the size of Texas on his shoulder, certain this house would be like all the others—temporary.
That first year had been the longest of Oliver’s life, and he was ashamed now to think of the number of times he’d begged his parents to send Gavin away. His parents had refused time after time, insisting that Gavin needed to be with them.