“Oh?”
Dylan continued to wrestle with the front tire, and his reluctance to meet Alec’s gaze again only made the tension worse. Shit, the man didn’t know how to give an inch. Alec considered walking out. Standing here with his heart pinned to his sleeve approached a form of torture.
But life without Dylan was worse.
“I can’t sleep,” Alec said. “My appetite is nonexistent. And I’m second-guessing every decision I’ve made over the last few weeks.” A bitter scoff escaped. “Actually, I’m second-guessing just about every decision I’ve made since I turned sixteen and came out of the closet.”
Dylan lifted a brow drily. “That’s a hell of a lot of decisions.”
Despite the tension, the corner of Alec’s lip quirked. “Yes, it is.”
“Could take you awhile to work your way through them all.”
“I know, but none of them are as important as the one I already made about you.”
After two heartbeats, Dylan rested his arm on his thigh and met Alec’s gaze as if to say go on. And that small movement, the signal that Dylan was willing to listen, encouraged Alec to continue.
For the first time since Dylan had walked out of Alec’s life, he allowed himself to hope.
“I know I’ve been hung up on labels. But, honestly, I don’t care anymore. I just—” Alec shoved his hair back and sucked in a fortifying breath. “I just want to get back to the way things were. We don’t need to call this a relationship. I don’t need you to define yourself as my boyfriend. Or my partner. Or my significant other. Or whatever new term is applied to the role these days. I’m tired of settling, except…”
From his squatting position, Dylan stared up at him. “Except?”
“Except I just want to be with you. So I’ll settle for whatever you’re willing to give.”
Dylan appeared to stop breathing, and Alec could just make out the emotional battle taking place behind the troubled green gaze.
“You—” With a frustrated look, Dylan frowned and returned his focus to the bike, staring at the tire. “You shouldn’t have to settle.”
The words sounded like the kiss of death to their relationship.
Oh God. Alec’s heart pumped hard, and he fought to keep his expression under control.
“You kept asking how I felt about Rick,” Dylan said. “And I kept saying I wasn’t in love with him. But since the award ceremony, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” He paused. “And remembering.”
Alec forgot to take a breath in. “Remembering what?”
Dylan frowned again, eyes on the offending bolt.
“Rick and I…Well, it was more than just a simple friendship,” Dylan said. “I never had any brothers, but I’m pretty sure we were more than that too.” He gave a defeated shrug and tossed the wrench back into the box with a metallic clink. When he spoke again, his voice came out low. “Fuck, I don’t know.”
Alec waited for him to go on, and Dylan lifted his gaze to Alec.
“But on those nights when I huddled against Rick so we wouldn’t freeze our asses off, the feelings were sometimes all mixed up. I think I might have felt…an urge. You know”
—a sheepish look crossed Dylan’s face, a novel expression for the man—“like a sexual urge. But I was never really sure what was a dream and what was real. It was all so confusing.” Dylan sighed and looked away, sounding exhausted. “I’m still kind of confused.”
He wearily wiped a hand down his face, leaving a small streak off grease on his temple. The smear left him looking vulnerable, and Alec’s heart ached.
“But I was terrified of losing Rick as a friend,” Dylan said. When he went on, his tone was bleak. “And I’d been so turned off by my experience with that asshole.”
Alec had never seen him look so defeated and he fought the rising tide of anger, pain, and despair on Dylan’s behalf. Not only had Dylan lost pieces of himself along the way, Alec suspected he’d buried some vital parts as well. Had he repressed his memories of his attraction to Rick? His real feelings for the friend he’d lost?
And, Christ, did any of this even matter anymore?
Dylan let out a scoff. “Then again, I was just so goddamned worried about surviving the next day. I could hardly think about anything else. We hadn’t been in the apartment long before Rick met Noah. And I felt—”
Dylan hesitated, his mouth working, his expression focused and intense. He seemed to be struggling to articulate something. Something he didn’t have the words to express. And, dear God, watching him wrestle with the process hurt.
Alec stepped closer. “Dylan, you don’t have to do this.”
“It’s okay.” He exhaled and rolled his head, as if to relieve taut muscles. “Shit. Only one way to describe it. There was Rick, and then there was the rest of the world. No one else ever came close.” Dylan finally stood up, looking down at the Honda as he rubbed his finger across a tear in the seat.