Page 10 of Bull's Boy

Oh.

More relationship issues.

Ignoring his queasy stomach, Bull stepped back, prepared to leave them to it and go and help Christina himself, but before he could say anything, Dahlia shook her head at him. He paused, not sure what that was supposed to mean. Did she want him to stay and hear all the gory details about the woman who’d hurt Malcolm? Was she contradicting Malcolm’s statement about not bothering him?

Frozen in place as sweat began to build under his arms and along his hairline, he prayed it was the latter and not the first. He wasn’t sure he could stomach hearing about a woman Malcolm had cared about—ohfuck, what if helovedher?—and why he was so upset over her.

Darting over to the couch, Dahlia wrapped her arms around Malcolm. “I love you, but I’ve done all I can while we’re here. We’ll get drunk tonight, if you want, then have Becca make us ramen.”

Malcolm chuckled wetly. “Just because she’s Japanese doesn’t mean she has to be the one to make it.”

“Shut up.” She straightened, swatting at his shoulder with a laugh. “She just makes itbetter. Why fight it?”

Bull glanced down at his shoes, a little uncomfortable about watching them in what was obviously a familiar exchange in a loving friendship. It also made him wonder if he was too hasty at shrugging off his mom’s less-than-gentle pushes toward making more friends. Sure, he could go to Marv if he was upset about something, but was there a single personoutsidehis family he could turn to like Malcolm could Dahlia?

“Come hang out in my section when you’re ready. I’ll sneak you a rib eye.”

Bull jerked his head up and caught her winking at him. Rolling his eyes, he crossed his arms over his chest, trying to appear disapproving and not like he’d give Malcolm all the steak in the walk-in if it made him feel better.

On her way past him, she patted his arm and threw a glance at Malcolm, whispering, “Sit with him a minute, okay?”

He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. All he could do was nod, not sure what kind of comfort he could offer but willing to at least stay with Malcolm so he wasn’t alone. Before walking away, she gave him a knowing look that had him starting to sweat all over again.

He stared at her retreating back, heart beating in his throat. She couldn’tknow, could she? Only his family knew about his inconvenient feelings.

Right?

Shoving aside the horrifying thought, he moved into the office, leaving the door cracked open. The space was so small he didn’t want Malcolm to feel crowded by his bulk. He turned one of the chairs facing the desk toward the couch and slowly lowered himself. He tucked his legs as close to himself as he comfortably could and hunched his shoulders a bit, doing what he could to shrink down into a less intimidating size.

Then he cleared his throat, unsure what he should say.

“Oh god,” Malcolm muttered, wiping the evidence of his tears on his dark jeans. Raising his head, he lowered his feet and avoided Bull’s gaze. “We don’t have to do this. I’m sorry I bothered Lia during her shift. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Stop.” Bull held up a hand, frowning and studying Malcolm’s face. Where had that come from? “Do you… think I’m upset?”

That got Malcolm to glance at him for a second before he darted his eyes away again. “You’re scowling pretty fiercely, but your tone suggested you’re not. It’s kind of confusing, honestly.”

Bull snorted at that clear-cut assessment. Scrubbing at his face, he tried to erase whatever expression he was making and to find the right words inside his brain while it still insisted he should just scoop Malcolm into his arms and hold him. “I’m not upset you came here when you were hurting. I guess I am upset, though, because I don’t like that something…” He swallowed, forcing the words out and ignoring the heat in his cheeks. “That something bad happened to you.” When that didn’t feel likeenough, he ducked, finding Malcolm’s gaze. “This place will always be a safe space for you and everyone else who works here. I’m glad you know that.”

Malcolm’s chin wobbled. “I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at one time.”

He leaned back to give him more space and shrugged. “This is important.”

“Thanks, Bull.” Malcolm gave him a soft smile, sniffing wetly.

Bull’s heart and dick were in conflict about how to feel about a gently smiling Malcolm with big, wet eyes. Fuck, they were so blue, like Lake Michigan on a perfect summer day. Licking at his dry lips, he snagged the tissue box from his mom’s desk and offered it to Malcolm. His voice was a little rougher when he said, “No need to thank me.”

After blowing his nose and cleaning himself up a bit, Malcolm scrunched up his face. “Well, that was embarrassing. I should go.”

“Malcolm…” He should just let him leave, and both of them could pretend it had never happened. But there was something about the quiet intimacy of his mom’s office that was pushing at him, urging him to offer more than a few kind words and tissues.

But what could he even say?

Tell me who hurt you so I can handle it?

Let me show you how well I could take care of you?

Would a blowjob help?

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