“How long are you planning to hang in the doorway?” said Adam. He shrugged out of a fleece pullover and tossed it through the bedroom door. It left him in a loose T-shirt, cords of muscle trailing down his arms. The air carried his scent to Nick, oranges and cloves.

The truth was that he liked watching Adam move, all rhyth-mic and lyrical as if the music never stopped.

He could hardly say that. He leaned back against the front door and took a sip of coffee. He meant it to look casual. It probably looked like he was eager to escape. His heart was already working double time. He lived his life doing what others expected of him. Being here with Adam had no place in that.

And worse, he had no idea what Adam expected.

Except maybe an answer to his question. Nick shrugged a little, feeling the hardness of the door at his back. “I was wondering what you had in mind.”

Then he mentally kicked himself again. He shouldn’t have said that, either.

Adam didn’t tease him this time. He stopped in front of Nick.

“You’re safe here,” he said quietly. “Okay?”

Nick nodded and looked away. His jaw felt tight.

“Seriously. You don’t have to watch your words or your thoughts or whatever has you so wound up.” Adam put his hands on Nick’s shoulders, not letting go even when Nick stiffened. “I only brought you here so we could talk. You just looked like you needed a breather. You can leave any time you want.”

A breather. Nick needed a whole oxygen tank. He swallowed and made himself meet Adam’s eyes. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave.” Adam took Nick’s free hand and tugged. “Come on.”

Nick hadn’t held hands with another guy since it was mandated on field trips in kindergarten. It should have felt foreign, uncomfortable. He should have been pulling away.

But it didn’t feel foreign. Adam’s grip felt warm and secure.

He could have led Nick straight off a cliff and Nick would have followed. At the bedroom door, Nick’s heart staggered and scrambled to maintain a rhythm, but Adam led him past that, to the couch.

Not like it mattered. They were alone.

Comforting and terrifying at the same time.

Adam sat close, curling into the cushions to face Nick. Their fingers were still loosely twined, and Nick knew Adam was giving him space to pull away. He didn’t.

Nick waited, testing the air. He’d always been able to sense changes in air patterns, from a door opening, from someone coming close. But lately he’d also been able to sense emotion in-directly, from the rate and quality of someone’s breathing.

The air always talked to him, and now, it echoed Adam’s promise. You’re safe here.

He looked at their fingers latticed together. Adam’s thumb brushed against his own, very slowly, very gently, a tentative touch as if he knew that too much would send Nick reeling.

But firm enough that Nick knew he could grab on and cling for dear life.

“I never kissed a guy before you,” Nick said, flat out, no pre-amble. “My brothers have no idea.” He winced, remembering Quinn’s comments during the landscaping job. “They probably think I’m a total player. Even my twin brother—”

“Gabriel, right?”

“Yeah.” Nick glanced up, surprised that Adam had remembered. “He says I’m the good twin, and that’s why I get more girls.”

“That would make him the evil twin?”

Nick frowned. “If you ask Quinn, she’d say yes. But he’s not.

He has a good heart. He’s very loyal. We got picked on when we were younger, and he always took a beating so I could get away.

He’s the kind of guy to punch first and ask questions later.

Quinn hates him, and I wish I could fix it. But he can be sharp—

cruel. He speaks without thinking, and it gets him into trouble.”

“You’re close?”

“Yeah.” Nick hesitated. “I think we’re growing apart this year. A little.”

“And he has no clue you’re into guys?”

Despite the fact that he was sitting here holding hands with Adam, the instinct to reject the notion was so strong that Nick almost denied it. He had to clear his throat. “No. No idea.”

“Do you think he’d hurt you if he knew?”

Nick blinked in surprise. “What, you mean physically?”

“Yeah, I mean physically.”

Nick had never worried about his brothers beating the shit out of him over something like this. Anger, isolation—those he expected. Not violence.

His eyes zoomed in on the scar pulling at the edge of Adam’s lip. Years ago, someone had slammed Adam’s face into a locker at school, causing enough damage that he’d needed plastic surgery to put his face back together.

But Nick couldn’t imagine Gabriel hurting him. Not with his fists, anyway. Disappointment and rejection were another story.

Nick shook his head. “I don’t think he would. But he might not take it well. Gabriel is very . . .”

Adam waited.

Nick ran a hand through his hair, feeling it stand up in tufts.

How could he explain Gabriel? “He plays on four varsity teams at school. I think he knows most of the cheerleaders intimately, if you catch my drift. He’s got a girlfriend now, but if anyone’s a player, it’s him. He’s brave—I mean, he’s trying to get into firefighter school. Just very . . . I don’t know.”