“Stay—”
Beep. Beep. The smoke alarm trilled, and Dylan became aware of the smell of burning bread and cheese.
“Fuck. The sandwich.” He raced to the stove, but it was too late for the sandwich. And them. And he’d known that even before the kiss, but the acrid smoke in the air was potent reminder that they couldn’t do this.
“Can’t do that again,” he muttered as he slapped together a fresh sandwich.
“Burn it?” Apollo sounded slightly dazed.
“That too.” Dylan stood guard over the sandwich, grateful for the buffer of the counter between him and Apollo. “But the kiss. Staying. We can’t be doing that.”
“We can’t.” Apollo’s tone was mournful, but Dylan couldn’t tell whether he was agreeing or questioning him.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking this week. A lot. And—”
“Me too. And I need to apologize to you. I was rude and angry and I’m sorry for that.”
But not for what matters. Dylan’s heart sank even as his resolve strengthened. This was what needed to happen, painful as it was. “And that’s why we can’t do the kissing thing again. We can’t slide back into what we had before.” He flipped the sandwich over with a decisive thwunk of the spatula.
“My mom’s back tomorrow. It’s just tonight...” Apollo sighed as if he already knew Dylan’s retort.
“Exactly. It’s just tonight. Trust me, I’d love to come over there and kiss you more, make you feel better after the shit week you’ve had, but one of us has to think about tomorrow. And Dustin’s back—”
“Dustin’s back?” The fear in Apollo’s voice would be laughable if it didn’t hurt so damn much.
“Yes. That’s where I was—introducing him to my friends.”
“Oh man. Now I feel doubly bad for pulling you away.”
“Don’t. He just got in and looked totally bushed. He’s probably headed home to sleep for a week unless he and Allie hit it off.”
“Allie?” Apollo frowned. “She’s way too young for him, and I’m not sure she’s his type—”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Dylan plated the sandwich and shoved it at Apollo. “You’re still hung up on age differences that don’t mean shit and you’re practically trembling at the thought of Dustin finding out about us. You, big bad SEAL, afraid. I thought you normally blew right by obstacles.”
“These are different. There’s morals involved, and besides, I thought you were the one trying to talk me into starting something.”
“Not anymore.” Dylan’s voice was every bit as sad and resigned as Maddox’s had been the other day. Some painful truths were just too evident to be ignored. “Because you are always going to be harping on about morals like the world really gives a fuck that I’m younger than you or that I’m Dustin’s younger brother. And what’s my best-case scenario here? We keep things going, but in secret still?”
Apollo’s heavy sigh was affirmative enough.
“Yeah, no thanks on that,” he continued. “And we both know that the age thing and the Dustin thing are just pretenses covering your real issue.”
“You knew about Neal.” Apollo’s tone had an angry edge to it now. “Before this even started, you knew about Neal, and you said you understood—”
“I did. And that’s where I screwed up.” Dylan paced the length of the kitchen. He’d kept coming back to this point all week in his thoughts. “I told you I’d wait until you got yourself straightened out, until you were ready. But I didn’t. I pushed, way more than I should have, and we ended up here.”
“Is here really so bad?” Apollo asked softly. “I mean, if all you wanted was some hot sex—”
“But it wasn’t. I lied. Not just about the job, but I lied to both of us, acting like this could be some casual fling, when I knew that’s not how I’m wired, knew I’d end up caring too much.”
“And see, this is just what I didn’t want to have happen.” Apollo stood up from the counter and came to stand next to him, reaching for Dylan’s arm. “I didn’t want you hurt.”
“Well, it happened.” Dylan’s voice was vermouth bitter. “And it’s my own damn fault for not listening to myself when I told you we could take things slow. But I’m listening to me now. And I love us both too much to be your guy on the side or the inconvenient second choice.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You think you love me?” Apollo’s voice was hoarse, like he’d been the one singing endless lullabies, not Dylan. And he could no more eat that sandwich on the counter than he could throw Dylan across the room, not that that idea didn’t have some merit. But both were out of the question.
Dylan scoffed. “You don’t have to believe me. And I get that, I really do. I get that you’re not ready for anything right now. Which is why I’m going to wait.”
“You’re going to wait?” Oh, Apollo did not like the sound of this. “Listen. Dylan. The simple truth is that you’re too young, I’m too old, and I’ve been down the relationship and future path once. I’m not going down it again, not ever. And that’s not going to change.”
“Maybe.” Dylan shrugged as if he honestly didn’t care one way or the other. “But regardless, I’m not going to kiss you goodbye, not going to give us one last night so you have that much more ammo to beat yourself up with.”
“Okay.” Apollo really didn’t know what to do with this declaration. Did he hunger for more kisses? Absolutely, but he also knew Dylan was right. It didn’t matter how shitty his week had been, he couldn’t give himself tonight, not when it would only mean hurting Dylan more. “But what about your job situation?”
“Listen. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the job. I had this fantasy where things... Never mind. It was stupid and ridiculous.”
Apollo’s throat burned because part of him loved this unspoken fantasy, loved Dylan for having it, wanted to share that vision, and yet knew that he couldn’t. “So you’re not taking it?” he croaked, trying to reconcile a world where Dylan wouldn’t be right here in this house, wouldn’t be on call for parenting meltdowns like tonight, wouldn’t be in Apollo’s life at all.
“I didn’t say that.” Dylan shoved his hands in his pockets as if he were restraining himself from touching Apollo. “But if I take it, it’s going to be for me. Not you. Not the kids. Me. And that’s what I want from you too.”
“What do you mean?” It was hard to follow Dylan when Apollo’s insides were busy crumbling to ash.