“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.
“I mean, I want you to choose me for me. Not because I’m good with the girls. Not because I fit in your spare room or your spare time. Not because there’s a hole in your life and I help you forget that for a few hours, but for me. I want you to see me and choose me, and I’m going to hold out for that.”
“Don’t.” Apollo had to force the word out, force himself to speak the necessary words. Just like on a mission. Do the thing. Don’t think about the thing. Do it because it’s required and the world doesn’t give a fuck how badly it hurts you to do it. “Don’t wait. I’m not going to be able to give you that. Not now, not—”
Dylan held up a hand. “You don’t get to decide how long I wait. Sorry, but you really don’t. And I never said I was waiting forever. Just that I’m going to be the friend I should have been to you all along and give you space to figure stuff out. And I’m still going to be around, still going to be here for the girls and for you, but after your mom is settled back in, I’m going to go stay with Allie. We both need space.”
Apollo nodded because he couldn’t argue with how damn reasonable Dylan was being, not when part of him wanted Dylan to be unreasonable, wanted Dylan to beg and plead with him to...what? What good would that serve anyone? Apollo going through the motions? A secret affair they already knew was doomed? No, no good could come of anything other than being reasonable and nodding along with Dylan. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to accidentally—”
“Accidentally fall into bed naked one night?” Dylan laughed. “Absolutely not. And maybe...”
“Maybe what?”
“We are friends, right? And I can tell you things, as a friend right now, not as the guy who wants to bone you or the guy waiting for you, but as a friend?”
“You need help. Like a grief counselor. Something like that. Someone to talk to, because God knows you’re not doing it with me or any of your other friends. You need to find a way forward or else you’re going to keep bottling it up until it spews out in ugly ways like it did on Sunday. If not for you, do it for the girls.”
“I know I acted badly. I did. And yeah, I’m overprotective, but I don’t need counseling.”
“It’s not a dirty word.” Dylan shook his head sadly. “And I knew you’d shoot the idea down, but you’ve got to get beyond this...this shrine you’ve built for what you used to have.”
“That’s not fair.” Apollo’s back stiffened, hands clenching against the counter. “You don’t understand, and honestly, I hope to God you never do. I don’t want anyone to understand.”
“No, you don’t want to let anyone understand. There’s a difference.” Dylan, seemingly uncowed by Apollo’s anger, patted his arm. “And I’m not saying you have to let him go now. Or next week. Or anytime before you’re truly ready, but at some point, Apollo, you have to live.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Apollo growled at him. “I breathe in and out, even when I don’t want to, even when it seems so damn unfair that I get to. I take care of the girls—”
“That’s not living. That’s existing. And I want you to know the difference.” Dylan ghosted a kiss across Apollo’s cheek before retreating.
I do know. I live when I’m with you. Apollo couldn’t say that, couldn’t even bear to think it because it felt so profoundly disloyal. Felt wrong to have let Dylan pierce the veil of his misery, even for a little while. And because he couldn’t speak, he had no reply when Dylan said, “I’ve probably said enough. I’m going to go check on the girls.”
He left Apollo alone with his churning thoughts. I’m going to wait for you. Jesus. Who in the hell had asked Dylan for that? And what was Apollo supposed to do with the part of him that thrilled at the knowledge that Dylan wasn’t giving up on him completely, the part of him that wanted Dylan to wait, the selfish bastard part of himself that wanted to follow Dylan upstairs, beg for exactly what Dylan didn’t want—tonight and only tonight.
But Apollo had no answers for any of that and stayed firmly rooted to his spot in the kitchen, wrapping his grief and his anger around himself like a shroud, one that could protect him from how awful it felt, listening to Dylan’s footsteps on the stairs, knowing Dylan was hoping for something he wasn’t capable of.
Even if maybe, for an instant, he wished he was. Wished he was the guy Dylan believed him to be. Wished he could be the one for Dylan—because someday, sometime, Dylan was going to get tired of waiting, and he’d meet someone nice, someone his own age, and that would be that, and all Apollo would have left would be this empty feeling.
* * *
“Hey, stranger!” Dustin’s voice boomed across the sidewalk as Apollo walked from his morning meeting to get lunch on base. “I’ve texted you, but you’re a hard guy to get a hold of these days. And we need to talk.”
Apollo stepped to the side near a tree and bench. He’d been dreading this encounter even as much as he deserved it. “If you’re going to punch me, you might want to wait until we’re off base—you don’t want us both written up for fighting just because I was stupid.”
“Hold up. Why would I...” Dustin’s eyes went wide. Hell. He hadn’t known. Apollo had been so sure that at some point in the last week that Dylan would have spilled everything to Dustin that he’d been avoiding his best friend’s calls, sure a royal ass-chewing was on the way. But as usual, Dylan had been far more trustworthy than Apollo gave him credit for, and certainly more trustworthy than Apollo’s own foolish mouth. “Why would I want to punch you? Unless, of course, you’re the reason my brother’s been moping around, in which case, yes, we are going to have words.”
Apollo squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against one of the well-manicured trees lining the path. Might as well get this over with. “Pretty sure I’m the reason, yeah. We had an argument. Of sorts.”
“Of sorts.” Dustin was a hair taller than Apollo, and he used that to his full advantage now, looking down at him with disdain. “Are you going to explain?”
“I’d rather not.” Apollo went for honest.
“How about you try before I call Dylan at work and shake the story out of him?” The hardness in Dustin’s blue eyes said he’d do just that if Apollo didn’t cooperate.
“It’s complicated.” Apollo tried for the need-to-know voice he used with subordinates all the time.
Dustin rolled his eyes, two decades of friendship saying that he wasn’t going to be intimidated by Apollo, before he let out a long groan. “You slept with him. I knew this would happen.”
Apollo blinked. “You did?”
“I saw the way you were looking at him at the barbecue, yeah.” Dustin shrugged.
“And you still let him stay with me?”
“No one lets Dylan do anything. He’s a pretty determined kid, and honestly I thought it might be good for both of you if it happened. I mean, I sure as hell wasn’t setting you up, but the thought did occur to me.”
“Well not to me,” Apollo grumbled.
“Clearly,” Dustin drawled.
“And you didn’t care?” Apollo thought of all the hours he’d wasted worrying about Dustin’s reaction.
“I didn’t say that. But you’re both consenting adults, and it’s not like you went and broke his heart.” Dustin shrugged, expression as placid as the sunny blue sky.
“Right,” Apollo said weakly, but something in his voice must have given him away.
“You bastard.” Dustin got up in Apollo’s face. “I should have known that you of all people couldn’t keep it to just sex. It’s not that hard—”
“For you, maybe.” Once upon a time, he’d been good at the same kind of casual sex that Dustin specialized in, but those days felt long past.
Dustin waved this criticism off. “This is why he’s been in a funk? You tossed him out?”
“God, no. Actually...it was kind of the opposite,” he admitted.
“He tossed you out? How’d he end up the one with the broken heart?”
“It’s complicated,” Apollo repeated.
“Try me.” Dustin moved away from him to sit on the bench under the tree. “Remember I can’t hit you here. Might as well get it all out now so I can prepare the proper beating for later.”
Apollo wasn’t entirely sure how much Dustin was joking, but he took a seat next to him. He could take it on the chin like a man if it came to that. “He wants a relationship. A future together. And I can’t give him that. It wouldn’t be fair—”
“To whom? I mean, true, you’re older than the sun and grouchy as hell, but if he’s willing to put up with your sorry ass—”
“It’s not fair to either of us. I don’t want to lead him on, but I’m never having another relationship. That part of my life is done.”
“At not even thirty-five? And just adding a point to when I deck you, it seems you did a pretty good job of leading him on if things got this far and he’s got feelings and you don’t.”
“I didn’t say that I don’t. Just that it’s—”
“Complicated. Yeah, I’m starting to get the picture. You broke my brother’s heart because you’re scared.” Dustin sounded utterly disgusted by Apollo.
“I’m not scared.” Apollo started to fiddle with his ring, then stopped before Dustin could notice and give him shit about still wearing it. Why the hell did the world seem to want to put a timetable on his grief?
“You know they have counselors here on base—”
“Why is your whole family obsessed with my mental health?” Apollo barked, maybe a little louder than he needed to.
“Because we love you.” Dustin punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Even when we want to kill you.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m not kidding about the killing part. I’m mad as fuck at you for having the chance to have something good here and denying yourself and making my brother unhappy to boot.”
“It’s okay. I think I was kind of hoping you’d forbid me from seeing him,” Apollo admitted.
“Why? Because that would be easier?” Dustin shook his head. “No, buddy, you’re on your own here. I’m not going to make it easy on you and tell you to keep away from my brother. I’m going to make it hard on you and tell you to fix things with him. Make it right.”
“Fuck. I was afraid you’d say that too.” Now he was going to disappoint his best friend right along with Dylan when he wouldn’t—couldn’t—give Dylan what he wanted.
“I mean it, Floros. Fix this. I don’t want him moping around all fall because you’re a jackass.”
“All fall?” Apollo echoed weakly. “He’s taking that job?”
“Thinking about it, yeah. He’s got a line on a great roommate situation thanks to Ben. Some kid named Isaiah who Dylan’s been hanging with. Seems nice.”
Unlike you, was the implied part. “Ben has friends? Besides us, I mean?”
“I’m not exactly clear on that myself. But this Isaiah kid is cute as fuck.”
“Hey, stay in your lane.” Apollo bumped his shoulder.
“What? I can appreciate good-looking people of all genders. And this kid is totally Dylan’s old type, which is also what’s telling me he’s got it bad for you, because he doesn’t seem to... Wait. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Apollo tried to relax his face, but his clenched jaw refused to budge.
“Like you’d like to eat your boots more than listen to me talk about Isaiah. You’re not jealous, right? You just got done insisting that you don’t feel like that for Dylan—”
“I don’t,” Apollo ground out.
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