Page 211 of Men in Shorts

Duncan finished stripping, then lifted the duvet and climbed into bed. “Oh my God.” He lay back with his head on the pillow, pulling the duvet up over his chest. It was like falling into a cloud. “Oh my God.”

Brodie shifted under the covers. “Ooh, stretch your legs, stretch your legs.”

Duncan did, then moaned as the duvet and 400-thread-count bottom sheet caressed his skin and the aching muscles beneath. Every cell danced with relief and pleasure.

“Is this what it’s like after playing football?” Brodie asked. “If it is, then I will definitely start.”

“Maybe the legs, a bit. But this is everywhere. Down to my fingertips.” He closed his eyes. “I swear even my hair is singing with joy.”

“It’s like getting into that one bath in a hundred where the water temperature’s perfect.”

“It’s like eating a really good cheesecake, but if your entire body was your mouth.”

“It’s like being born but without the painful part.”

“It’s like dying but without the painful part.”

“It’s like—wait, what?”

“You know.” Duncan opened his eyes. “It feels like heaven.”

He turned his head to look at Brodie, at the same time Brodie was turning his head to look at him. And there, on a chain around Brodie’s neck, was the silver pendant that paired with his own gold one, from the set they’d bought on their last, all-too-short night together in June.

Now, the nights were long, but they’d be as warm as ever.

Duncan touched his sun pendant, running his thumb over the words etched upon it, words he’d recited for 198 lonely nights: “We walk under the same sun,” he whispered.

Brodie touched his moon pendant. “We sleep under the same moon.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Brodie gave a gentle smile. “That sounds so much better in person.”

“I never stopped loving you, even when I was being a complete shit. Maybe especially then.” Duncan’s eyes burned, and he blinked back tears before they could be born. “But I would’ve let you go, if that’s what you needed.” He dug deep for the courage to say the scariest truth of all. “I would still let you go.”

Chapter4

SeeingDuncan’s face on the other pillow was everything Brodie had dreamed of—night and day—for six months. He wanted nothing more than to pull Duncan closer and revel in those lips and hands.

First he needed to make one thing clear.

“I can’t promise I’ll never go away again, if I’m needed somewhere. But I can promise not to shut you out of the conversation. We’ll decide together.”

Duncan’s eyes softened. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry I got so caught up in work that I made you feel like you didn’t matter. Nobody matters more to me than you.”

“Same.”

Brodie rolled onto his side, the mattress cradling his frame. Sleep should have been pulling him down into its comforting quicksand. But he felt more awake, morealivethan he’d felt in months.

A wicked idea entered his head. “Now hold still.” He pressed a palm to Duncan’s chest.

Duncan yelped. “Your hand’s fucking Baltic.”

“I said, hold still.” He put his other palm against Duncan’s belly, making him whoop again. “It’ll get better soon.”

Duncan kept squirming, his face twisted into a grimace—but he didn’t pull away, much to his credit. “Brodie Campbell, you are the Devil.”

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