On a Roll Read online

  “Sure thing,” Gabe said. “See you in a few.” He turned away and walked off, slowly retreating from the circle of light into the darkness.

  Sean took a deep breath, and as he headed over to his own truck, hoped against all better judgment that he wasn’t making a mistake.

  If they did kiss again, if they did more, he was going to have to make sure he was clear. This was just sex. They were, what did they call it again? Friends with benefits. And it would have to absolutely stay separate from whatever discussions they had over the truck names.

  He was going to have to make sure Gabriel understood exactly and precisely what he wasn’t going to be giving: maybe his body, but never his heart.

  When he got to the Funky Cup, he stopped by the bar, but before he could order, Jackson glanced over at him. “Oh, Sean, it’s you,” he said. “Gabe said he’d meet you outside and that he already grabbed some drinks.”

  Sean was a little afraid that Gabriel had gotten him another manhattan. It might be easier to tell him about Milo if he had one of those in his hand, but tonight, he knew he wanted his edges sharp. When he walked outside, he saw that Gabriel had claimed a bench next to the smaller fire pit. It was a Wednesday, and a slower night at the bar, so other than a small trio laughing over by the other, much larger fire pit, they were alone.

  “Hey,” Gabriel said as he sat down. “I got you a beer.”

  Sean accepted it gratefully. As much as they’d argued over the last two years, they still knew each other pretty well. And maybe Gabriel had been paying better attention than he’d given him credit for.

  “Thanks,” Sean said. Noticed that Gabriel had another manhattan in his hand. He raised an eyebrow. “Need something stronger for yourself?”

  Gabriel shrugged. “You gonna be telling me about a he, so yeah, probably.”

  “He was a lot more than just a he,” Sean said, fingers tightening on the bottle. “He was my husband.”

  The shock written on Gabriel’s features was obvious; he’d clearly had no idea. “He was your . . . wait, he . . . was your husband?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Sean nodded. “His name was Milo and he died four and a half years ago, now.”

  “Oh god, I am so sorry,” Gabriel said, and he sounded absolutely wretched. As sympathetic as anyone had ever sounded. If Sean had needed any additional evidence to prove that Gabriel wasn’t a bad guy, this was it right here. But Sean discovered that he hadn’t really needed it. He’d already known that Gabe was decent. He’d never have kissed him otherwise. No matter how much he wanted him.

  “That was why I left Portland,” Sean said. “We’d always talked about starting a food truck—I worked at this little cafe, I’d started there when I was getting my MBA, and I enjoyed it. A lot more than my business classes, actually. Milo hated his job, and we’d fantasize sometimes, about buying some run-down food truck and renovating it and building a business from the ground up.” Sean sipped his beer, more to wet his suddenly dry throat than a need to drink. This was the hard part to talk about, even still. “A drunk driver plowed into him when he was on his bicycle heading home to me. I got a big settlement. Life insurance. Money from the man who’d killed Milo. I didn’t touch it for awhile. Couldn’t even imagine doing anything without him. Kept thinking that I wanted my guy back more than I wanted the money. But then . . . I guess, time happens, right? I started to live again, but I still felt so stuck in Portland. My therapist, he suggested I try somewhere new. That I use the money to fulfill the dream we’d always shared. So I did. I came to Los Angeles. I bought the food truck. And then I met you.”

  “Oh, god,” Gabriel repeated, staring at him with wide eyes.

  Sean’s fingers picked at the edge of the label on his beer. “On a Roll was always what Milo wanted to call the truck. He thought it was funny. He loved stupid puns. And,” he added with a wry smile, “it is pretty lame, if you think about it.”

  “That’s why you didn’t want to change the name,” Gabriel said on a groan. He threw back the whole drink, and Sean watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “And I was such a fucking asshole about it. Especially that . . . that first day. Well, and later, too.” Clearly he’d been thinking about the meatball missile too—but then how could he not, when Sean had gone out of his way to remind him about it?

  “It’s alright,” Sean said, and discovered that . . . yes, it really was okay. He wasn’t just saying the words; he meant them. “I just thought, you said you wanted to know, and I realized that you should know why. Not because it gives me any stronger right to the name, but because it was unfair of me to believe that you should just change your name because I thought you should.”

  “And because you have a dead husband,” Gabriel said. His eyes widened and he slapped a hand over his mouth. “God, just . . . kill me now,” he added. Then his eyes grew impossibly bigger.

  Sean laughed. “No. And seriously, don’t worry about it. Why do you think I don’t tell people? Because of shit just like that. I don’t want to be treated like I’m fragile, like I’m about to break at any moment.”

  “So . . . nobody knows?” Gabriel sounded like he couldn’t quite believe it. “You didn’t tell anyone?”

  “No and that was probably also kind of selfish, too, now that I think about it,” Sean said with a sigh. “But you get it, right?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Gabriel said, firmly. “For the record, I can’t say I get it, because how could I?” He hesitated. “I’ve never been through something like that, and I’m certainly not going to judge you for what you had to do to get through it and stay strong. And for the record, you are. So goddamned strong.”

  Sean hadn’t asked him for the praise, but he couldn’t deny that the words felt sweet. “Thank you,” he said. He reached out and put a hand on Gabriel’s knee. He hadn’t swallowed more than a few sips of beer, was as sober as a judge, but just touching Gabriel made his blood race and his head swim.

  It had definitely been too long since he’d had sex.

  “Thank you for telling me,” Gabriel said. “You have to know that if you’d told me this story at any point in the last two years, I’d have caved like a terrible hand of cards.” He breathed out, hard and fast. “Goddamn it, I’m halfway to doing it right now.”

  “No,” Sean said, suddenly gripping Gabriel’s knee. “No, that’s not why I told you. I don’t want you to give it to me just because I care about it for that reason. I told you because you wanted to know.”

  “I did want to know,” Gabriel said wryly. “I honestly had no idea it was like that.”

  “You wouldn’t. But that’s okay. I want . . . I want this to be fair.”

  Gabriel shot him a look of sheer disbelief. “You want this to be fair now, after you’ve told me your dead husband named your truck?”

  Sean had wondered if that was going to be a problem. He supposed if he’d ever really wanted their arguments to end permanently, all he’d had to do was tell Gabe the truth.

  But he hadn’t, hadn’t ever even considered it, and told himself the entire time that it was because he wanted to keep Milo to himself. That he didn’t want Gabriel’s goddamned pity. But maybe it had been more than that.

  “Yes,” Sean said firmly. “I want it to be fair.”

  “I’m not sure that’s even possible,” Gabriel said. “We can’t share it.”

  Sean sighed. “No, we can’t. But maybe we can figure something else out.”

  “What?” Gabriel’s gaze slid away, and Sean wanted to chase it. “I should have given in two years ago, and I should just do it now.”

  It was everything that Sean had wanted to hear, but he knew as soon as Gabriel said the words that he couldn’t just let him do that.

  It would ruin everything, tear them apart before Sean ever got to find out anything he really wanted to know. Like if his sex voice was gruff around the edges. If his naked shoulders were as broad as his t-shirts promised. If all that frustration and anger would boil over into something even ho
tter.

  Sean had heard Ren tease his cousin on more than one occasion about his prowess, and yet, as long as Sean had known him, he’d never heard even a hint of Gabriel hooking up with anyone. Definitely not any relationships. Maybe he was picky? Maybe he . . .

  No, Sean told himself firmly. It has nothing to do with you.

  But, he added thoughtfully, maybe it could.

  “I didn’t tell you the truth to get you to give in,” Sean said. “I told you the truth because it was the right thing to do, and also because you’ve asked about a thousand times.”

  “Alright.” Gabriel set his empty glass on the brick edge of the fire pit. “So what do you want to do?”

  Sean laughed nervously. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious, right?”

  Gabriel glanced over at him, and his eyes were dark and intense, pinning him to the spot. “Is it? I think I must’ve missed something.”

  “I . . . I . . .” Sean didn’t remember if he’d ever just suggested to someone that they have sex. Not someone he didn’t have strong feelings for, who returned them. He took a deep breath. He could do this. He’d kissed Gabriel last night, hadn’t he? He’d always thought that would be the hard thing—kissing someone for the first time after Milo—but it had been so goddamn easy. Easier than breathing. He should be able to do this part of it, right?

  “Well, if that’s it,” Gabriel said, “maybe I should go. I’m glad you told me, really. I’m . . .” He sighed. “I just wish this was easier. For both of us."

  “What?” Sean found himself scrambling, reaching for Gabriel, but he shucked Sean’s hand away. “No, you can’t . . .”

  Gabriel shot him a small smile. “I can’t?”

  “You were right,” Sean said. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Not about our stupid argument. Not about what Tony asked us to do. But you.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me.” Gabriel’s expression morphed into something guarded. The wall had gone up, and Sean hadn’t even realized it was rising.

  “Neither do I,” Sean lied. Why was this not easier? He felt like tearing his hair out. It had been so easy yesterday, to just lean in and kiss Gabriel. Why was it so hard to talk about it? Maybe he should just . . .

  But before he could, Gabriel was standing up.

  “No,” Sean said with conviction, and when he reached for Gabriel, he didn’t let go that easily. “No, you can’t go. Not like this.”

  “Not like what?” Gabriel wondered. “I still haven’t figured out what we’re fucking talking about. You said you wanted to talk, and you did. You told me about your husband. Maybe you didn’t intend to make me feel like an asshole, but I do anyway, and I just . . .”

  “I want to kiss you again,” Sean said it in a rush. Like he couldn’t stop the words once he’d started.

  “I thought that was something that happened that wasn’t going to happen again?” Gabriel wondered. “I thought you weren’t trying to lead me around by my dick.”

  “That’s not what any of this is about,” Sean said. “You said they could be separate and I didn’t believe you, but maybe you were right.”

  Gabriel gazed down at him, at the hand that was still wrapped around his forearm. “You didn’t believe that last night.”

  Yeah, last night, Sean had gone home and stared at the dark shadowed ceiling for hours, want pulsing through his blood, and he’d realized that maybe it could be separate. If he wanted Gabriel enough—and not only did he, but he was almost certain it was mutual—surely they could figure out how to make it work.

  “I needed to think about it,” Sean said. “And . . . it’s time. A long time coming, I guess.”

  “Two years,” Gabriel said, his gaze growing warmer, and suddenly he was crowding into Sean’s space, making him breathless just by his nearness.

  In some ways that was true. Maybe they had been building towards this during the two years they’d been bickering over the name. But he’d meant something else.

  “Well,” Sean hedged. “More than that, actually.” He hadn’t had an orgasm with another person since Milo. And that, along with the understanding that this was just sex, was something that he needed Gabriel to know.

  “Oh?” Gabriel was leaning in, their lips were nearly brushing, and Sean knew he would be insane to stop him now, because he almost could taste him. Last night had been so good, unexpected but good, but now expectation was simmering inside him, and he knew it would be even better.

  “Yeah,” Sean said, hesitating. Surely, one kiss before he told Gabe everything would be okay? He didn’t technically owe Gabriel anything, especially that kind of explanation, but he wasn’t sure if he could live with himself otherwise.

  He brushed a single kiss across Gabriel’s mouth, and almost didn’t pull back because even though they’d kissed only twenty-four hours ago, his body had forgotten how well they fit together. Like two halves of a puzzle.

  “Wait,” Sean said breathlessly, taking a step backwards, away from Gabriel. Before he got too carried away. “I need to tell you something first.”

  “Okay.” Gabriel’s expression was so warm. So pleased. Like he hadn’t expected this, and the surprise of it was making him glow. “What is it?” His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You can tell me anything. Well, at least about this,” he added.

  Everyone said that Ren was the charming one. The one that nobody could resist. But Sean was having difficulty remembering when it was that he’d found Gabriel an annoying, clumsy oaf.

  “I told you about Milo. When I said it’d been a long time . . .” Sean hesitated. “There’s been nobody since him. Nobody that I really wanted like that. But I want you.”

  Gabriel stared at him. “Are you saying the last guy you had sex with was your dead husband?”

  It was difficult to keep his wince inside, but Sean managed it. “Yes.”

  “Wow.” Gabe scrubbed a hand over his face. “Wow.”

  “I thought you should know, and also . . .” Sean wanted to stop right there, because even that part of the confession seemed to have killed Gabriel’s mood, but he owed it to both of them to keep going. “Also, I think I should be upfront about what I want out of this. Sex. That’s what I want.”

  Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, I kinda assumed that was the endgame,” he said. “I can’t say I’m disappointed to hear it.”

  “No,” Sean said, hating himself a little but knowing he needed to be honest. It was hard to believe that Gabriel could develop those kinds of feelings for him, but from seeing friends hook up, he knew honesty was the best policy. “No, I just want sex. No romance. No dating. Just . . . you, whenever you’re willing.”

  If Gabriel had looked stunned before, when Sean had told him that he hadn’t had sex in almost five years, he looked floored now. “You just want to hook up? No strings?”

  “No strings. Just sex.”

  “Oh.” Gabriel’s expression had gone very, very flat. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “I mean it makes sense, right? I don’t want to give you any unfair expectation,” Sean said, trying to still salvage this, but the look on Gabriel’s face was freaking him the fuck out.

  “Because of your husband.”

  Sean didn’t think he’d ever heard Gabe’s voice so flat. So emotionless. Yes, he had definitely fucked this up.

  “Well, yeah, kind of.” Sean didn’t know if it would help or hurt the situation to tell Gabriel that when he thought of him, it was totally different from how he’d ever thought of Milo, even at the beginning. He had frustrated thoughts about Gabriel. And annoyed thoughts. And plenty of hot ones. But love and affection and caring? Yeah, that was not in the cards.

  “You don’t have to explain anymore,” Gabriel said. “I get it.”

  “You do?” Sean felt hope begin to grow again. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything, after all.

  “Yeah,” Gabriel said. “You want to be my fuck buddy. Well, if you’re interested in that, you should talk to Ren.”
<
br />   Sean’s mouth dropped open. “Ren? But I don’t . . .”

  “I’m not going to be some kind of bizarre way for you to fuck your husband out of your system,” Gabriel said. “Sorry.” Except, Sean thought, as he watched Gabriel walk away, that he didn’t sound very sorry about it at all.

  Chapter Four

  Three days later, Sean was still trying not to sulk about Gabriel’s rejection.

  In some ways, he understood why Gabe had walked away. But that didn’t mean he was very happy about it, and he didn’t think that Gabriel was being very reasonable about it, either. He hadn’t asked Gabe to fuck away Milo’s memory. He’d just wanted to make sure that Gabriel knew that he wasn’t going to fall in love. If he was going to, he knew he would be feeling differently about Gabriel right now.

  And what he felt for Gabe? Yeah, not even remotely similar.

  Gabriel made him want to throw something at his head. Or punch a wall. Or push him up against a wall. He didn’t make him feel warm or gooey or sentimental.

  Sean didn’t think he should apologize for that.

  He also didn’t think that Gabriel felt much differently than he did. But somehow, by trying to be honest, he’d insulted Gabriel’s pride.

  And Gabriel’s pride, as they both knew, was a considerable thing.

  “You’re frowning again,” Tate said, as they walked around the lot, making sure they’d picked up all the trash the night before.

  “I’m just thinking,” Sean said, leaning over and plucking a red plastic beer cup from the ground and tossing it into the trash bag he was carrying.

  “Yeah, except you don’t have resting bitch face normally,” Tate said. “So what’s going on? You and Gabriel still having some kind of deathmatch over who’s going to keep the name?”

  “Yes, and no,” Sean said. He really didn’t want to tell Tate about the rejection, even though he knew Tate wouldn’t blab about it to everyone, like Tony might.

  “Oh?” Tate asked. “What else is going on?”

  “Ugh,” Sean said as he uncovered a crushed plastic cup, holding the remnants of some of Gabe’s meatballs and a bit of moldy sauce. “Gross.” He picked it up with his glove-covered hand and shoved it in the bag. “I hate being on trash duty.”