“I’m going to need a fence,” Ilan mused as he threaded his fingers between Fredric’s and headed for the kitchen.
“Hmm?” Fredric let him go and leaned up against the counter, crossing his arms, his ear tipped toward the door where they could both hear Bas sniffing around the living room.
“I don’t really have a back yard or anything. No fence. I could put up a lanai or something.” He leaned toward the window that looked out over his sliding door. He liked the place for the unobstructed view—the way the ground was flat, then tumbled toward the dock. But it felt like nothing at all to think about changing so Fredric could be around more.
“You don’t need to.” Fredric followed the line of the counter until he reached Ilan, then put his arms around his waist. “Bas won’t run off.”
“Yeah, but,” Ilan said, turning to kiss him. “Gators.”
Fredric chuckled against his lips, then deepened the kiss. “He’s survived this far. I think we’ll be alright.”
Ilan frowned, wondering if maybe it was because Fredric didn’t want to spend time here. The place didn’t entirely feel like home—yet. But it was his. Then the thought struck him suddenly, because this place was new, and Fredric’s place was new. They had each bought them in an attempt to settle into a life that was just theirs—separate from all the things that had been holding them down and holding them back.
So, what happened in the future? Did he sell and move? Did Fredric? Did Fredric want to just make this a sometimes thing? If it had been even just a week ago, a sometimes thing would have brought him comfort, but now the idea threatened to choke him. He didn’t want to ask about the future—it was still too damn new. He hadn’t told his best friend. He hadn’t told anyone.
He was just barely getting started at a new job—a whole new start to the rest of his life. Adding in relationship stress was something he hadn’t wanted. Because no matter what Fredric said, Ilan knew he couldn’t have a taste of this and then give it up forever.
“Do you want to jump in the kayak with me?” he asked abruptly.
Fredric’s brows dipped, and he let Ilan step out his grasp. “Sure. Is everything alright?”
“Of course,” he said, though he knew Fredric would see past his attempt at breezy. “It’s…been a lot. This. And I’m not unhappy,” he added when Fredric’s mouth dropped open. “I think I need to make sure I’m taking time to process.”
After a beat, Fredric nodded. “Then of course. It’s a gorgeous day out. There’s no sense in wasting it.”
Fredric took Bas out to use the bathroom while Ilan dug up something for him to wear on the kayak. The mood between them was tense, and he knew it was entirely his fault, but he appreciated that Fredric was willing to let him wallow as he dressed, then headed down for the dock. It was still a mess of wood rot, and the winter rains didn’t make it easier to traverse, but Fredric followed Ilan’s guide without a problem, and he slipped in behind him and took the paddle.
“I haven’t done this in years,” Fredric admitted. “Can you count the rhythm for me for a bit?”
It was easier than awkward silence or being forced to deal with his thoughts, so Ilan happily dove in and the pair of them made it a couple miles down the water before turning around. The flow of the intracoastal was almost entirely still, just a few waves from far off boats, and Ilan turned his face up toward the sun as it beat down on them.
“I love it here,” he said on a breath. “When I was a kid, I used to lie in bed at night and dream about moving here. I was kind of heart-broken when Julian didn’t want to move to the coast.”
“You could have gone,” Fredric reminded him. He dragged the tips of his fingers along the slope of Ilan’s shoulder. “He wouldn’t have blamed you—or resented you.”
“I know.” Ilan bowed his head and stared at a few ripples in the water, and he wished it was less murky. Winter was the season where the wildlife flourished, after all the tourists had gone and most of the boats docked. It felt quiet suddenly—and lonely—with his parents dead and a quarter of his found family far away.
“Talk to me,” Fredric urged, and Ilan felt himself soften, even though he really didn’t want to.
“None of this is how I imagined it,” he said. “Not…not the thing with us—though that’s also true. But I never thought in a million years…” He trailed off with a small laugh as the pressure of Fredric’s fingers increased against the back of his neck. “I kind of expected to get this house and go back to my usual routine. Now, I have all this time to myself just…waiting. And it’s lonely. I miss Julian. I hate that he’s content over there. I hate that we had to compromise being near each other to be with the man he loves. I hate that I’m scared to tell him about this.”
Fredric shifted forward and pressed a kiss to the center of his back, winding an arm around his waist. “For what it’s worth—even though I can’t predict how he’ll feel—I think he’ll be happy for us.”
Logically, Ilan knew he was right. Julian wanted nothing more than to know his best friend and his father had something good in their lives. But there was no way to know how he’d feel about them being together. There was no real precedent for it. It was some porn fantasy, not reality.
But here he was, stumbling head-first into loving a man who, in all reality, should have never loved him back. But he did. Or, at least, Ilan thought he could. And maybe even would, if he was careful enough, and brave enough, and patient with himself enough.
“Dear heart,” Fredric murmured, and Ilan’s pulse thumped, “we should head back. You’re exhausted.”
Ilan hummed, then shifted forward and put his paddle back in the water, counting off the rhythm until Fredric got it on his own. They didn’t talk, but they didn’t need to. His arms burned with strain in the best way, and he felt a little bit more alive as they reached the dock and climbed out.
Ilan left the kayak in the water, hanging the anchor off the side, and hand in hand, they made their way back. Fredric got Bas settled in for his lunch and bathroom as Ilan went into the back room. He started the shower and waited, because right then, the only thing he wanted in the world was to get his hands on Fredric.
The older man appeared in the doorway a few moments later, and Ilan moved to stand in front of him. “How does a shower sound?”
Fredric’s mouth softened into a smile. “With you?”
“Mm.” Ilan dragged a hand up his side. “Yes.”
Fredric’s breathing went a little bit ragged, but he let Ilan lead him into the bathroom and began to strip as the door shut. Ilan gathered up the clothes and shoved them into the hamper, then let Fredric trace his arm to the shower door before he stepped in.
“Big,” he said, reaching to touch the textured wall.
“It is. I also have a tub. With jets,” Ilan said as he stepped close and shuffled them both under the rainfall stream. It was cascading warm and starting to steam up, and Ilan breathed it in. “I like this better though.” He traced the path of a small stream over Fredric’s shoulder, then leaned in and kissed a few drops of water from his nose. “You look good like this.”