Page 16 of Ben

“Sort of,” I say. Gotta keep it vague. I don’t want to be the reason my dad stops talking to Cash or Ford. I don’t want to ruin things more than I already have.

“Alright, well, I just want you to know I’m here… if you want to talk.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I say, and he shifts on his feet, looking awkward, so I pull him into a hug and we pat backs like men do before pulling apart.

“I’m going to take Avery on a ride, if you want to join us.”

I don’t know how he thinks I can join, I don’t ride motorcycles. So, I just shake my head.

“I’m good. I’m going to go hang out with some friends.”

My dad bobs his head and then pats the doorframe, the rings on his fingers knocking roughly onto the wood.

“Have fun.”

And then he’s turning and ambling off, his large frame carried down the stairs. And I watch him disappear, feeling like a shit son and an even worse person.

CHAPTERTHREE

CASH

I shouldn’t have cornered Ben and smeared that makeup off his neck, but once I saw the discoloration on his skin, I couldn’t help myself. I had to know.

And now I do. He always told me this wasn’t exclusive, but for some stupid reason, I figured it was anyways. Seems I’m a dumb fuck. Of course a young guy wouldn’t want to be exclusive with an older man like me.

Fuck.

I scrub a hand down my face and grab a beer from my fridge, popping the top off and taking a long chug. I feel like I’m seventy fucking years old, not the forty-two-year-old guy I really am.

Maybe that’s why Ben isn’t interested in me. He’s too fucking young. Should have never started anything with him in the first place. I don’t even know if I’m gay.

But fuck, that mouth. The first time he wrapped it around me, I lost my mind. I soared to places I hadn’t been in years. He awoke something inside of me… and now I have to squash it.

Unless I can learn to share.

And I’ve never been one to do that.

“Goddamnit,” I murmur, setting my half-empty drink down on the counter and grabbing my keys. I need to go for a fucking ride and clear my head. Gonna figure this shit out.

The ride doesn’t help, but when I arrive back home, Ben is waiting outside my house, looking sheepish. My motorcycle shuts off and I sit on it, my hands on the handlebars, feeling like I need to hold on to something. That bruise is still visible on his neck and my fingers tighten their grip. Jealousy surges through me, and I wonder who did it. Who the fuck is he playing with?

He lifts his hand in an awkward wave, and I see his dad in him in this moment.

Not an image I want right now.

Throwing my leg over the motorcycle, I shove the keys into my jeans pocket and stride over to him, my jaw clenching and unclenching the closer I get to him. I don’t know what he’s done to me, but I’m enamored with him. He’s just so fucking pretty.

“Hi,” Ben says as I approach, and I shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t reach out for him. I really want to fucking touch him, even after all of this.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice a little too rough from underuse.

“I… I… You don’t get to ask me that, Cash,” he says, peeking up at me through those long lashes, the freckles on his nose standing out under the lamplight. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“I’m fine,” I grumble and then shift on my feet, my boots squeaking under my weight.

“Are you?” he asks softly and then runs a nervous hand across his neck, skimming over the bruise on his skin. My eyes are drawn to it for a second, and I look away.

“I’m fine… this was never exclusive.”

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