Page 29 of Beck

“This okay?” Kole asked, rubbing his soft cheek against Beck’s chest.

Beck barely glanced at the TV. “Yep.”

Kole threw the remote to the side and snuggled in further, resting his hand on Beck’s stomach with a sigh.

Beck waited for the questions, the delving into what happened, the inquisition. Because it would come. How the hell was he going to explain away his reaction without telling the truth? There was no way he was doing that. He’d buried the secret for twenty-seven years, and he wasn’t planning on breaking that streak.

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Chapter 10

Kole

Kole didn’t say a word. He had questions, of course he did, but he knew from experience that whatever Beck had been through, he wouldn’t want to discuss it until he was ready to. When neither of them spoke, he felt Beck’s body release the tension. It had taken everything in him not to respond to anything that had happened when all he wanted to do was take Beck into his arms and take away all the pain. And when he broke in the shower… Kole had felt his own tears building, but he refused to let them go. No one had the right to push someone to explain their actions, especially when they weren’t ready. But it killed something inside him that Beck had been through anything that had caused that reaction.

As the episode progressed, though he had no idea what was going on because he was focused on Beck, his mind whirled, needing answers but not wanting to ask. His brain supplied so many versions of what could’ve happened to him, and he didn’t like any of them.

When the episode finally ended, Kole let it run onto the next one, but he moved around to rest his hands on Beck’s chest and his chin on his hands, looking up at the gorgeous man who deemed him worthy of sharing a bed with.

The corners of Beck’s mouth twitched. “What? Have I got drool on my chin or something?”

Kole chuckled. “No. I was just reminding myself you were real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Beck brushed his finger across Kole’s cheek. “I’m real.”

They spent more time in bed, watching TV and switching between shows and movies depending on their mood, and mid-afternoon, Kole made what he called a “picky” lunch, which was basically a picnic-style lunch but on individual plates instead of a spread across a blanket. They took that straight back to bed, and once the plates were cleaner than they probably had been after being in the dishwasher, Beck dragged him into a searing kiss, and he promptly lost his mind.

Mutual handjobs followed, and Kole fell into a dreamless sleep.

He woke, smiled and stretched like a cat rising from a nap in the sunshine. Glancing over to the other side of the bed, his smile dropped when Beck wasn’t there to greet him. He checked the clock, seeing it was just after five o’clock—he’d only slept for around an hour—and strained his ears for any sound from the apartment.

Nothing.

He inhaled and let it out slowly, vacillating between getting out of bed to check and see if he’d left or staying where he was to hide from what he knew was the truth.

Beck had left.

Being the big boy he was supposed to be, he climbed from the bed and dragged on the joggers he’d thrown to the floor after making lunch. Inhaling once more, he left the room and scanned the place, but no one was there. Not sure how to feel—though he understood their arrangement had been one night and nothing more—he swallowed hard and went to make himself a cup of tea, and that’s where he found it. Beside the kettle was a note:

Thank you. B

Kole couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. It didn’t change the outcome—Beck had left, and they didn’t have any plans for a do-over—but it settled something inside Kole to know that Beck had thought enough of him to leave him a note before he’d gone home. With that in mind, he filled the kettle, flicked it on and headed to put some more clothes on. It wasn’t particularly warm in his apartment when he didn’t have someone’s arms to warm him, but he didn’t dwell on that fact.

When he was better dressed, he made his tea, flicked a lamp on to fill the space with a soft but warm light and settled onto the sofa with a drawing pad and pencil. His mind was awash with images, and he needed to get some down. His hand moved across the empty page, filling it with swirls and dots and lines until there wasn’t an inch of space left. And then he flipped to the next page and continued. He’d never had so much energy and so many ideas needing to be extricated.

He only stopped when his hand cramped and he had to shake and stretch it out, and he spat his tea back into the cup when he received a mouthful of cold liquid. Checking the clock again, he’d been sitting there for three hours. No wonder his tea was cold. He put the drawing pad on the coffee table and made himself another cup of tea before returning to his warmed seat. He didn’t pick up the pad again until he’d drunk the tea, not wanting a repeat of the cold version, but once he was done, he swapped the cup for the pad and went back to the beginning.

Eyes widening, he stared at the designs. He’d never designed such intricate—and large—designs before. There were designs within designs on the page, and he could see a little of Beck in each one. Nothing that could be identified as relating to him, but Kole could see it as the artist. His emotions laid bare on the page. Kole swallowed hard and closed the book, unsure if those designs would ever see the light of day again, especially at Life in Ink.

His phone rang, jarring him from his staring match with the darkened sky through the window. He reached for it, smiling when he saw Christi’s name.

“Hey, you,” he said.

“Hey, yourself. How are you doing?” Christi asked, the noise of subdued music in the background.

“I’m good.” And he was. “Where are you?”

“Where do you think on a Sunday evening?”

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