“You got divorced.” He knew Trevor was single, so that was easy enough to figure out. “And I’m thinking it wasn’t a congenial breakup.”
“A thousand times no. It was a nightmare.”
“What happened?”
“Things seemed fine for a while. I was working at Stark International doing security. He had a job doing film restoration. We had a yard, a garden, and a dog. I thought we were happy. We were sure as hell domestic. Two years later, he left me for someone else.”
“Oh, man. I’m sorry. How did it happen? How did he meet him?”
“Him?” Trevor asked.
“They guy your husband left you for.”
“They met online. And the pronoun would be her, actually. Turns out he started trolling dating apps about two months after we moved into the house. I found out because he left the app open on his computer the same day he called from work and asked me to forward something in one of his files.”
“Oh, Trev. I’m so sorry.” Ollie’d had his share of heartbreak, but nothing like that. Nothing both out of the blue and perplexing. “You had no idea he was interested in women?”
“I knew he was bi. We’d actually spent a lot of time talking about it. Or, in retrospect, he was just paying lip service. Told me he loved me, and that was all that mattered. I believed him. I never thought—”
He broke off with a shake of his head. “Anyway, that night, I confronted him when he got home. He told me he didn’t want to be gay anymore.” Trevor said the last part with finger-quotes. “How was I supposed to argue with that?”
“Sounds like you’re better off without him.”
“Damn right.”
“But it still hurts.” Ollie knew how that was. Courtney was better off without him for sure, but Ollie knew the on-again/off-again relationship he’d put her through had hurt her, and deeply. It had taken a long time for her to finally say that they were over. Thank god she’d had the guts to. He sure hadn’t.
“Yeah, it hurt. I’d lost my mom about a month before, too. Single mom—I barely remember my dad. All I remember is him walking away from my fifth birthday party and never coming back. So, yeah, Mom was my whole world growing up. And then one day she was gone. I went into the garage to get the last of the groceries I’d picked up for her. When I left, she was telling me the plot of some soap she liked and making corn muffins to go with the chili she’d planned for dinner.” He swallowed. “When I came back, she was dead on the kitchen floor. Aneurism. The EMTs said she wouldn’t have felt a thing. I’m not sure I believe them.”
“Trevor.” Ollie put his hand on Trevor’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was hard. It still is. But it was different. She was older—she had me at forty-five—and we’d had some scares before, including a heart attack. So I’d faced it, you know? But then with Greg walking away…” He trailed off with a shake of his head. “That gutted me. I mean, shit, I even got sideswiped by panic attacks. Never expected that. Left me feeling like I wasn’t the man I thought I was, you know?”
“Yeah,” Ollie said. “I think I do. That must have been horrible.”
Trevor nodded. “It was. But the worst was that it was Greg doing this. Hurting me. We’d meant everything to each other—or at least I believed that. Isn’t that what marriage is? A statement of fidelity and togetherness?”
“I always thought so.”
“Greg didn’t. Either that or he missed the you don’t walk out on your husband day of class.” He waved the words away. “It shouldn’t still matter. I’ve been over him a long time. And yet every time I think about it, I get worked up again. It’s like the son-of-a-bitch cursed me.”
“You still have the panic attacks?”
Trevor shook his head. “Managed to work through that. A bit of counseling. A lot of talking to myself. Greg’s in the past. All of that is.”
“Relationships are hard,” Ollie said. “Especially when they’re complicated.”
Trevor turned, his eyes meeting Ollie’s. “When they’re complicated? Come on, Ollie, when aren’t they?”
Ollie looked away, trying to ignore the uncomfortable zing of awareness that had shot all the way down to his cock. “You make a good point.”
He reached to grab another piece of pizza, then jerked back when Trevor reached for his whiskey at the same time and their hands brushed. That yank back was embarrassing enough, but what was worse was the pizza landing cheese-and-pineapple side down on his crotch.
“Oh, hell,” Trevor said, his fingers brushing Ollie’s sauce and denim-covered package as he grabbed the errant slice. And in the process making Ollie practically leap out of his skin.
Immediately, Trevor drew his hand back, leaving the pizza where it fell as he leaned back, hands up as if in surrender. “Sorry, man. You know I wasn’t trying—”
“No, I—”
“Just hang on,” Trevor said, standing. “I’ll get some paper towels.”
Ollie opened his mouth to tell Trevor to wait—that he was the ass, not the other way around. But Trevor was already gone, and Ollie was left to peel the pizza off his pants while mentally kicking himself firmly in the ass for being such a, well, ass.
All too soon, Trevor was back with the paper towels, which he held out for Ollie to take while he remained standing, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot as Ollie started to mop up the cheese, tomato sauce, and pineapple bits.
“Right. Yeah, so, I should probably go,” Trevor said.
“No, stay,” Ollie said, the words tumbling out. “It’s still early, and if you go, I’m stuck with not only pizza but cookies. I mean, how can you go without having at least one cookie with the whiskey?”
Trevor hesitated, his face a study of indecision. “It’s a nice offer, but I think we both know I should get out of here. Maybe tomorrow we can talk. But—oh, hell. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out, and I wasn’t—”
“Dammit, Trev, do you think I’m an idiot?” The words tumbled out without Ollie thinking about them, and he wasn’t sure he could stop them even if he tried. “I didn’t freak because I thought you were making a move. I freaked because I wanted you to.”
Chapter Three
“Oh.” The word hung in the air as Trevor tried to decide what to make of that very bold—very unexpected—statement. “I’m not sure what to do with that,” he admitted. Any other guy and he’d have him naked by now, but he’d never fallen for a straight guy before. Or mostly straight. Or a guy who thought of himself as straight.
“Do we have to do anything with it?”
“No,” Trevor said, hoping he didn’t sound disappointed. For months, he’d wanted exactly this—for Ollie to admit that there was an attraction between them. For him to acknowledge—to both himself and Trevor—that he wanted to do something about that.
“Right,” Ollie continued. “It’s just, you know, my mind is spinning.” He waved his hand in the general vicinity of his head. “I mean, I’m not gay, so why would we?”