Page 109 of Everything's Better With You
“Yeah,” Joe continued. “That’s who she chose to care for her in her last days. She left our house to him and I got a letter from her attorney with a check for ten grand, all that was left of her estate. She didn’t think I was worthy of caring for her.” He wiped at his eyes. “For you to think I’m not worthy of caring for you is even worse than that.”
Leslie sat up and took Joe in his arms.
“God, no. It was never ever a lack of faith in you. Never. But Joe,” he said, pulling back to make sure Joe was looking at him when he said this. “If I ever hurt you, if I got like my father was…He hurt my mom, Joe. The woman he loved more than anything in the world, more than his kids, more than football. He hurt her. I couldn’t live with myself if I even…I am terrified to take that chance, Joe. Can you understand?”
“I would if I thought it was possible.”
Leslie sighed. He wished Joe wasn’t so stubborn. He was going to have to hear more. He took Joe’s hands in his. “If we’re going to do this, you’re going to hear everything, okay? And I fully accept your decision to walk away after you know what happened. Did my brothers tell you what I’m doing here?”
Joe barked out a laugh. “You mean, you’re not 007?”
“You are too much. God, I love you, Joe. I’ve missed you so.” He cleared his throat. “I am here with Malcolm Darling, the reporter fromTime?”
“Oh shit, really? I love him! He did that great article on Pete Buttigieg’s campaign.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. We’ve been working on an article about my move to Greenvale, but he wants more.” Leslie still couldn’t believe this was all happening. Malcolm’s agent was preparing to take their project to auction and was confident there would be a bidding war. “He’s writing my biography, Joe. Well, we’re doing it together. I brought you here so you could hear the tough parts, and to help me tell him ourstory, if you agree. I know it’s personal, and you’d have full say in how much is included. What do you think?”
This was it, Joe would squeeze his hands, say thanks for the memories, and he’d be gone.
Joe tackle-hugged him and Leslie nearly fell off the chair. “Careful,” he laughed, but he wrapped Joe up tight in his arms. “Doc says no contact sports.”
“I’m sorry, but I intend to have all the contact with you. Let’s do it. I love that you’re telling your story. That you’re sharing your beautiful self with the world.”
“Stop it,” Leslie said, his cheeks heating.
Joe sat up and grabbed Leslie’s chin, holding it tight. “No,youstop it. You are beautiful, Leslie, inside and out, and I want the world to see you as I do. Just think of all the people who need your story. Think of kids like Terrell. Kids like I was.”
“No matter what happens between us, Joe, I will always be grateful to you for our time together, for everything. If it’s too much, though, I will understand—”
“Oh, fuck that, Leslie. I know you’re afraid, but you need to get with the program. What’s going to happen between us is that we are going to figure this shit out. We’re going to go in there, give Malcolm a helluva story, then we’re going to swim naked in that goddamned ocean and then go home to Iowa and freeze our balls off. You got it? And live happily ever after. That’s the only thing that’s going to happen between us.”
Leslie ran his fingers through Joe’s beard, letting his nails scratch through the coarse hairs. It was thick, as if he hadn’t shaved for several days, maybe a week, which was unusual for him. It looked so dramatic against his golden skin, his dark red lips and his white teeth. Felt so good, too. Leslie’s fair complexion and pale hair had always meant he couldn’t grow a full beard, but God, he loved it on Joe.
“Does it have to be that order?”
Joe frowned. “Excuse me?”
Leslie’s emotions were so close to the surface, had been the whole time he and Malcolm had been talking, that he just needed a release, and the kind he wanted was with Joe. He wantedto fly toward the sun and feel warm, feel loved as he let it all go, and when he came down, he would be cradled in loving arms and cared for. He wanted Joe.
“I mean can we get to the skinny-dipping part first? Or just sneak inside right now and crawl in bed together and make each other feel good until we can’t walk, but in the best way possible?”
Joe licked his lips and went to work unfastening the rest of the buttons on Les’s shirt.
“Can’t we do both?”
Joe stood and slid out of his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, yanked his pants and underwear off at once… “Hurry up,” he said with an inviting smile and then he turned and ran naked into the ocean.
“Man, he wasn’t kidding about no tan lines.” Leslie admired Joe’s athleticism as he ran down the path, over the sand, and dove into the ocean. He made quick work of the rest of his clothes, eager to touch all of Joe’s golden skin…everywhere. Joe had waxed, apparently, which he’d explained he did when he was going to be performing for most shows. Said it helped with costuming, whatever that meant. Leslie didn’t care, he’d eat Joe alive under any circumstances.
He hoped his family was otherwise occupied this morning and not thinking of coming down to the beach for a while. They were all supposed to take turns talking to Malcolm today. They’d scheduled it that way to give Leslie time to talk to Joe. And thank God for that.
Leslie didn’t run for the water. He walked slowly, his chest feeling lighter as he drew closer and closer to Joe’s smile. Joe reached for him like he did from a reclined position in bed.
“Come on in. It feels so fucking good.”
Yeah, this really does feel so fucking good.
Thirty-One
