Chapter 110
The words broke the dam holding back his tears. Stacy wiped at his eyes roughly, determined not to cry. Because… “Fuck,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut, and more tears escaped. I love you.“Why—” His breath hitched and he had to try again. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
With a short, bitter laugh, Ange asked, “You didn’t know?”
Stacy rubbed his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt, scrubbing hard to keep from crying. “If you’d said something sooner…”
But Ange shook his head. He half-turned and gave Stacy a piercing look over his shoulder. “I bet Darian hasn’t said the l word yet, has he? But you left Lamar for him, not me. That’s okay. He’s the better man for you, Stace. He’s got so much more to offer you than I do. A house, right? And a nice car, I’m sure, a good job, a real bed with big, fluffy pillows. You deserve it, all of it, and you’d be cheating yourself if you settle for me. So go, already. Go back to him. I want you to have the best, Stacy, and that’s him, not me.” Ange turned away. “Not me.”
Stacy didn’t know what to say to that. It was true, all of it. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Stacy started, “I wish—”
“Just go.” The hurt was palpable in Ange’s voice, and it made Stacy’s eyes tear up again. “Please.”
Leaving the condoms and his cap where they sat on the hood of Ange’s car, Stacy stepped up to his friend. He touched Ange’s shoulders and felt them tense beneath his fingers. “Ange,” he sighed against the back of his friend’s neck. Ange didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him. Stacy pressed his lips to the bare skin beneath Ange’s ponytail and breathed in his heady scent, the musk of the man he had wished for and ached over for yearsbut to whom he had never fully committed. For fear of Lamar, partly, but that wasn’t the sole reason and they both knew it. Into Ange’s caramel skin, Stacy whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Ange whispered back.
Stacy hurried from the garage, his lips burning from that last kiss.
* * * *
The ride to Druck’s passed in a blur. Stacy wished he hadn’t left his cap behind—he would’ve liked to pull it down low to hide his face. As it was, he kept his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window and tried not to see the red eyes of his own reflection staring back at him. Ange was right, of course. If they’d done anything, and Darian found out? So much for trust. Ange was alwaysright.
Then why did it hurt so much?
Stacy sighed and his breath fogged the window. He’d never see Ange again, he knew that now. Things were over between them. Even if Stacy didn’t want them to be, Ange would keep him at bay. Because I love you.How many nights had Stacy dreamed of those words in that voice? He would’ve left Lamar yearsago if he had only known. He punched the seat in front of him but found no satisfaction, no release. Why hadn’t Ange said something, anything, before Darian came along?
Darian.
The sign for Druck’s approached as the bus neared Stacy’s stop. Darian’s red truck was already in front of the building. Even though Stacy didn’t technically have to be at work until later in the week, Darian had suggested he hang out on the days he was off, just to keep him company. Stacy didn’t know if he was up to seeing his boss at the moment. He didn’t want to face whatever questions Darian might ask, but since he didn’t have anywhere else to go, he got off at the corner and trudged to the shop.
The alarm dinged as he entered, announcing his presence. From the work area out of sight came the buzz of a handsaw, a whirr of noise over which Darian called out, “Be right there.” Without answering, Stacy ducked under the counter and stepped through the swinging doors.
Darian glanced up at him and cut off the saw. “Stacy,” he said, trying to hide his surprise. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
Stacy shrugged. With a critical eye, he studied Darian—the broad shoulders, the large hands, the sheen of sweat across his friend’s face that made his dark skin look like freshly polished wood. Those eyes that watched him carefully, judging his mood. Those lips that Stacy knew felt like velvet against his own. That faint smile that never faded when Darian looked at him. This was the man he wanted, Stacy knew it. The one he chose, the one he needed, the one for whom he gave up everything—his old friends, old life, old ways. “Well?” Darian asked, his tone cautious. “How’d it go?”
Something in the set of Darian’s jaw said he thought this had been a booty call. Unsure of what to say or do to convince him otherwise, Stacy crossed the room until he stood just inches from Darian. His boss didn’t step back, didn’t move as Stacy touched his chest, fingering the pockets on the front of his denim shirt, then worked his way up to the collar. There Stacy grabbed fists full of the material and pulled Darian to him. As his arms snaked around Darian’s neck, Stacy pressed his mouth hard against Darian’s, their lips mashed together in a violent, demanding kiss.