Love Him Free: Book One of On The Market

by Lindsey, E. M.

  The Rebel Rugelach was the mark of Simon’s generosity—and maybe his self-sacrifice. Rocco knew he had never loved his brothers with the same intensity that Simon loved his—and he wasn’t sure if that made him a bad person or not. But he did take comfort in knowing that they felt the same way about him.

  Pietro had been worried, and Lorenzo had stepped in when Rocco needed him, but neither had bothered to text and check in. The rest of his siblings had scattered after college, and being the baby, he hardly remembered any of them.

  As he drew closer, he saw James—the human version, and Levi’s boyfriend—lean out of the truck and hand something down to a little girl who grinned and moved back to her table. Rocco softened. James had a hardness to him which Rocco noticed first, but that wasn’t the only thing. It couldn’t be. No one as angry as James seemed would have upended his life to take over running a Lodge with his brothers like that.

  Rocco only knew the bare bones of the story—the bits and pieces Simon shared with him during long nights of talking about everything and nothing—but it was enough. Rocco certainly wouldn’t have done it. So maybe it really was him that was the problem in his life.

  A hand tapped Rocco on the shoulder, and he startled, turning to find Charlie there holding onto his dog’s leash. Rocco couldn’t help his grin as he dropped to his knees, giving the dog a thorough scratch before smiling up at Charlie.

  “Taking a walk?” he asked.

  Charlie shrugged. “Needed to think,” he said. Or something like that, but Rocco had only caught part of it. ‘This is Pumpkin,’ he spelled.

  Rocco grinned and gave the dog another scratch before he stood up. “Do you think your bother has water for James?” Rocco signed water, and Charlie copied him, then nodded and gestured for Rocco to follow him. James trotted right alongside Pumpkin, obviously excited to make a new best friend, and Rocco kept his gaze mostly fixed on the truck.

  James noticed them first, his eyes widening, then going narrow. He elbowed Levi and leaned in to say something which had Levi spinning in place, gaze fixed on Rocco as they came to a stop at the window.

  Levi dragged his tongue over his bottom lip, then with shaking hands and signed English said, ‘How are you?’

  Rocco snorted and repeated the signs in ASL. “I’m fine,” he added, and signed along with his voice. “Just need some water for the dogs.”

  Levi smiled a little, then said something Rocco missed entirely, but it caused James to blanch and Charlie to throw his head back in laughter. When Levi saw the look of confusion on Rocco’s face, he pointed at the dog and spelled in slow, painstaking letters, ‘Pocket James.’

  Rocco blinked, then laughed and shook his head while human James continued to look on, horrified. Levi took the lead though, and came out of the truck and around with two bowls of water for Pumpkin and James, and set them up in the shade.

  His eyes were on Rocco the entire time. Rocco saw all the similarities and all the differences between the brothers. Levi was classically good looking—sharper cheekbones, well dressed, his hair just as curly but left wild and long. His eyes were a richer brown than Simon’s who were more like honey, and his lips were held in a half-sneer when at rest which Rocco knew many people enjoyed. His own was much the same.

  But he lacked the subtlety that Rocco had become obsessed with in Simon. The curved jawline and the soft belly and the sprinkle of freckles. Rocco knew he’d probably grow to be friends with Levi, if Simon wanted to keep him, and he also knew he’d never regret his choice to pursue Simon—even if it started on a whim.

  Rocco was vaguely aware that there was a conversation going on around him, but before he could try to participate, his phone buzzed. His heart leapt a little in his chest when he saw his lover’s name on the screen.

  Simon: I hate to ask, but I need a favor. There’s a bar near Central Ave called the Cherry Creek Tavern, and I need a six pack of OU Blue Moon. I already called Rose and she said she has it ready for me. No worries if you’re too busy.

  Rocco: nvr 2 busy. OU?

  Simon: means Kosher. It’ll have an O with a U in the center of it. Just double check for me and if you don’t mind, could you bring it here?

  Rocco: drunk on job. Lol. B there soon.

  He set his phone down and waved his hand at the brothers until they looked at him. “Cherry Creek Tavern?”

  Levi looked surprised. “Um.”

  “Simon needs beer,” Rocco clarified, though he didn’t ask for what, and Levi didn’t seem like he was going to ask.

  After a beat, James tapped him and pointed at Rocco, then at himself, then down the street. Rocco wondered for a moment if he would ever learn enough ASL to converse like two grown adults. He’d done the pantomime thing more than he wanted to think about, and it wasn’t under his skin yet, but he could feel it starting to itch.

  All the same, he knew what James was saying, and he nodded. He turned to Charlie and affected puppy-dog eyes. “Keep James?”

  Charlie rolled his eyes, but he nodded his fist then spelled, ‘O-K.’

  Pocket James seemed more than content to continue biting on Pumpkin’s ear and didn’t seem to notice when Rocco stood up and headed down the sidewalk after human James who had taken up a brisk pace. Rocco knew it was probably awkward for him too—communication barriers often made him want to put his fist through the wall. Hell, he was confused why James wanted to come along in the first place.

  But he had, and he led the way across the street and down another until they were stepping into a bar that looked old and rustic. There was no one inside, and it took a moment for Rocco to realize the place was closed.

  He followed James to the bar, which looked like any one of the trendy bars Eric dragged him to in Malibu—apart from the sort of rustic feel of the wood walls and floors. It was quiet though, no thrumming vibrations of music, and he didn’t see movement anywhere.

  James seemed to know the place well enough though, because he bent over the marble top and came back with a server pad and a pen. ‘Rose’s in the back. She heard us come in and said she’d be out in a second.’

  Rocco smiled and signed, ‘Thank you,’ mouthing it and James caught his meaning, nodding back.

  He bent over the pad again and wrote for a while, then looked hesitant as he pushed the pad over toward Rocco. ‘Levi was on my case the other day about learning sign language. Stuff like that is hard for me. I barely passed Spanish with a C-. But I’ll try if you plan to stick around.’

  Rocco realized the note for what it was—a sort of third-degree. What are your intentions with my boyfriend’s brother? He smiled a little and shrugged. “I like him. We haven’t talked about the future much but if he wants me to stay, I’d like to.”

  James worried his bottom lip between his teeth. ‘We don’t get along. Me and Simon. I’m trying tho.’

  Rocco nodded and gave James’ shoulder a pat in solidarity. He didn’t know the situation well enough, and he also could easily see why Simon would conflict with others. His body was soft at the edges, but his wit and temper weren’t. Rocco loved that about him though, and hoped it wouldn’t change.

  ‘We heard what happened with your ex. That’s shitty. Were you together long?’

  Rocco had a feeling that note was a bit of espionage on Levi’s part, but he didn’t mind. His entire business with Eric had been fully public, even if most of the world only had Eric’s side of things. “We were together since I was in college. We split up a few times, but I think it was fifteen years total.”

  James’ eyes went wide, and Rocco felt the breath he released. ‘So is Simon like a rebound thing?’

  Rocco felt his eyes narrow, his hands itching to sign instead of having to voice this all. It was an unfair question for how he felt about Simon, but he reminded himself no one here knew him—and a lot of these people didn’t seem to know Simon, either. “Eric and I fell out of love a long time ago. Years. But he was my interpreter and being together was easier than being apart.”


  ‘Is it true he’s engaged to your former agent?’

  Rocco’s eyes went blurry as they stared at the note. He’d been deliberately avoiding all social media—but maybe to a fault. He blinked again, and James had written more.

  ‘Shit. Did you not know? He posted it on Twitter.’

  Rocco curled his fingers into tight fists to avoid them shaking, and he licked his lips before he tried to speak again. “I didn’t know.” The words felt heavy and mis-spoken on his tongue, but he didn’t care. He was saved for the moment when the kitchen doors swung open and a short, slight woman walked out.

  She had a round face and wide eyes, her dark hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head. There were strands of silver glinting in the overhead light—but she looked young for greys. Her smile was friendly, and her full mouth moved a mile a minute as she spoke.

  She stopped abruptly though, glancing over at James, then Rocco watched her eyes zero in on his hearing aids and she blushed high on her cheekbones as she set the beer down in front of him. “Sorry,” he saw her lips shape.

  Rocco waved her off. He was grateful for the distraction, but he’d have to face this, and soon. “Kosher?” he asked.

  She blinked then turned the case to the side and pointed at the little OU symbol Rocco had seen plenty of times, but had never wondered about. He gathered the beer to him, then tipped a nod at James and Rose before hurrying out. It was rude—probably unforgivably rude to run out like that. Hell, she might have even needed payment. He might have just stolen product.

  But James’ reveal had shaken something in him, and he didn’t know why. He didn’t want Eric back—that wasn’t it. It felt like something deeper, more profound. Like maybe he’d wasted fifteen years on a man who had just been waiting for someone better to come along.

  It was probably normal, wondering what Xander could give Eric that he couldn’t. Rocco was more attractive, and he was better in bed—he didn’t even have to fuck Xander to know that. But then he thought about Simon—about how simple things like kissing and touching felt more passionate than any sort of bondage or kink or role play or romantic set-up he’d ever been in—filming or not.

  Just Simon’s fingers on him alone got him more worked up than Eric’s acrobatic tricks ever could.

  And maybe that was it. Rocco could offer Eric money, and popularity, and an easy lifestyle. He offered him permanent work and someone to come home to at night. A warm body to fill their bed. But nothing else.

  Certainly not love. At least, not real love.

  He was shaken, but maybe it wasn’t from pain. Maybe it was from the realization that he’d been holding himself back from something like this—something so good, and so fulfilling, he was ready to give up anything if Simon asked him to.

  Then there was the calming, warm, quiet knowing that Simon would never ask him to give up anything. And that alone told him it was right.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Simon had sent Kyle off, flipped the open sign to closed, then propped open the side door before he got to the sufganiyot dough. It felt…different, and a little wrong, but sort of decadent to veer from Bubbe’s recipes. He had a list of fillings scribbled out to his right, and he’d finished all of them except the Belgian ale which—with any luck—was on its way along with his boyfriend.

  Or…lover. Whatever they were.

  Simon didn’t really want to think about things with Rocco beyond the present moment. He was wrung out and exhausted from his long cry with his brother. Levi had pulled every bit of Simon’s energy from him—in the best way. It was cathartic to finally be unburdened and to know that Levi didn’t hate him.

  But Levi knowing changed nothing. It meant that Levi had more time to prep, to go through the apartment and take the things he wanted, and the things he needed. He’d be around to help Simon strip the place down to bare bones when it was time.

  That was months away, but it felt like he could blink, and it would all be over.

  More than anything, he wanted to finish up this night and get back to Rocco’s. He wanted to lose all sense of self, all sense of awareness except the places where Rocco dragged pleasure from him. He just wanted to not think.

  Simon startled when the door opened, and he looked up at Rocco and his hands froze where they were kneading the dough. Rocco looked shaken. His face was a little pallid, his eyes half-lidded, mouth in a deeper frown than usual.

  His gaze locked on Simon, then he set the beer down hard and crossed the room, sweeping Simon into his arms—floured apron and all.

  “Hey,” Simon soothed, pulling back.

  Rocco’s palm cupped Simon’s cheek, and his thumb trailed a path under Simon’s left eye. ‘Crying?’

  Simon let out a small sigh and he knew there was no point in lying. ‘Yes. This morning. Levi was here.’

  Rocco scowled. ‘He hurt you?’

  Simon took a step back and tried for a smile he hoped was soothing. ‘No. I told him the truth about my grandmother leaving me the bakery, and about it going under. I told him I was selling the building and the apartment.’

  ‘He was angry?’

  Simon shook his head. ‘Sad. He was frustrated that I didn’t tell him before. We don’t communicate well.’

  Rocco snorted in amusement and he gathered Simon close again, kissing him—though it lacked the passion of the last few days. When he pulled back, he didn’t step far, just enough so he could drop his head down to rest against Simon’s.

  They stayed that way for what felt like forever, then Rocco stepped back and let Simon get to the dough. ‘How can I help?’

  Simon raised a brow at him. ‘You can tell me what’s wrong.’

  Rocco looked a little put-out then glanced back at the door he’d shut when he’d come in. ‘Personal stuff.’ Simon winced, and Rocco looked immediately apologetic. ‘My ex is getting married.’

  Simon’s eyes went wide and he pushed the dough aside to let it rest for a minute. ‘Eric?’

  Rocco’s eyes darkened. ‘Yes. To Xander.’

  ‘Your agent?’ Simon clarified.

  ‘E X agent,’ Rocco spelled, his fingers sharp. He pulled out his phone and opened his Twitter app. It was already loaded to Eric’s Twitter. Simon had followed it once. Eric was a funny guy—witty and sharp. Rocco had more followers, but Eric had enough for a verification check, and he was always responsive.

  Simon had been jealous, but he’d also liked the guy—before he knew what he was capable of doing to someone Simon cared about.

  @DaddicusRex: sometimes when life closes one door, three more open. Can’t wait to make @XanderBlessingame an honest man, though neither of us are innocent enough for that. I wish I could invite you all to the wedding, but you’ll be there in spirit.

  Simon read it, then re-read it, then looked up at Rocco and searched his face. He was angry—that much was obvious, and maybe a little hurt. Simon didn’t blame him for that. He felt some measure of relief, though, when he didn’t find heartbreak, but he wondered if that was cruelly selfish considering how long Eric and Rocco had been together.

  ‘What can I do?’ Simon asked.

  Rocco made a soft noise and brushed his thumb over Simon’s lips, then leaned in to kiss him before stepping back. ‘Teach me how to bake something. Give me something I can beat up.’

  Simon laughed, then gestured to the mixing bowl which was full of dough for his second batch of sufganiyot. ‘Flour and knead that. Do you know how to knead dough?’

  ‘I’ve done it before,’ Rocco said. He washed up, dried his hands, then gathered the dough onto the floured table and began to work it.

  Simon watched him for a moment, briefly worried that Rocco’s mood was going to ruin the dough. But Simon had probably thrown out a mortgage payment’s worth of ingredients in his lifetime, taking his aggression out on what would have been sweets and breads so he couldn’t judge.

  Only, Rocco didn’t ruin it. He was careful and methodical with precise hands—strong but delicate. Simon felt his
cock harden and his mouth water, and he wondered if the door had locked when Rocco closed it.

  Breathing out, he turned toward his own task again, and began to roll everything out into a neat square. The sufganiyot stamp slipped through, sharp edges making perfect rounds, and he carefully placed each circle onto the tray for the second prove. By the time he was done, Rocco was leaning against the counter, staring with dark eyes.

  ‘I like watching you work,’ Rocco told him.

  Simon was already flushed, and he felt himself grow hotter and harder between his legs. ‘It’s more practice than skill.’

  Rocco hummed softly as he came around the side of the counter. ‘What do I do now?’

  ‘It needs to rise,’ Simon told him. He was aware his hand had a faint tremble of want, and the way Rocco’s eyes flickered from his face to his fingers, it was clear he noticed too.

  Rocco brushed past him, a deliberate motion, and took the already greased bowl. He didn’t break eye-contact as he set the dough inside, then draped the discarded towel over it and set it aside. Simon swallowed so loudly, it clicked in his throat, and he couldn’t stop the faint whimper when Rocco moved in close again.

  ‘Simon.’ He didn’t spell it this time. He mouthed Simon’s name with something totally new. His name sign–fingers curling down from his chin into an S.

  It meant precious.

  Simon’s breath rushed out of his lungs, and he barely had time to suck it back in before Rocco was on him, pressing him to the baking counter, one thigh roughly parting Simon’s legs and lifting him up onto his toes. Simon ground himself against his lover, his head tipped back as Rocco devoured his neck, and Simon was so, so close.

  And not just because he had no restraint or control, but because it was Rocco. Rocco wanted him. Only him.