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stared into his mixing bowl as if it held all the answers. Fuck. I
forgot to separate the yolks.
Jeremy handed him a slotted spoon from the jar on the
counter.
Kit looked up, his gaze at first angry, then surprised, at the
peace offering. Thanks.
Their fingers brushed when Kit took the spoon.
I do want you to be happy, Jeremy said, almost a
whisper.
And he did. The scared, abandoned kid in him, however,
didn t want to let go of the past. Or of everything they d shared.
Jeremy wanted more golden moments with happy, confident
actor-Kit. Quiet moments too, with Kit the kindhearted if
bumbling friend. And a lifetime of exploration and mutual
pleasure with Kit, his lover. To have any chance at all at those
things, Jeremy realized as he took in Kit s hesitant, mistrustful
face, he had to let go and let him find his way back. On his own.
I m doing it again, aren t I? He searched Kit s gaze.
Doing what?
Trying to make you do something you don t want to do.
He ran his thumbnail back and forth along the counter s beveled
edge. Like when I wanted you to& He shrugged, unable to
think about that awful night how he d almost lost Kit in the
worst possible way. All because Jeremy d put him on the spot
about coming out.
about coming out.
Catching on, Kit snorted and dumped the eggs down the
disposal rather than separate them. He flicked the switch, letting
the grinding cacophony say everything neither of them could. Or
would.
I m sorry. Do what you want. Be happy. Leaning in,
Jeremy kissed Kit on the lips, a soft gesture that wasn t returned.
As he went upstairs to bed, the whir of the stand mixer drifted
from below, his only reminder that he wasn t completely alone.
AT SIX A.M. Kit padded upstairs to find his cell phone. It
rested on the nightstand near Jeremy s head. Standing over the
bed, he watched his lover sleep. The soft rise and fall of his
chest, the shadow of his dark lashes against pale cheeks. So
innocent in repose. So much less hardened than the Jeremy he d
come to know of late. All the grit and gumption Jeremy faked to
make a wall between himself and the world. And for what? So
he could sign some autographs and live in a big, empty house?
Unable to buy so much as a pair of boxers without the public
scrutinizing his choice of brand and style?
And you don t think people are going to judge your
baking?
Kit gripped his cell harder and shook his head. Of course
they would. They d judge him for leaving acting. Say he d failed.
Or, like Jeremy, they d think he d turned into an eccentric. Well,
fuck them. If Hollywood didn t want him, then he didn t want
Hollywood. And if Jeremy didn t want him&
The argument that had precipitated his most recent baking
frenzy still stinging, he clutched his phone and wondered exactly
when Jeremy had stopped needing him. He d gotten a new
agent, and even Kit had to admit the guy was better than the one
he d dropped several weeks back. The clothes he wore needed
no comment or critique. He had his own self-assured if slightly
quirky style, honed from the original look Kit had helped him
cultivate. He missed knowing stuff Jeremy didn t know.
Kit dropped the phone. The rubber case bounced against
the carpet, and Jeremy rolled away, obscuring his face. Scars,
round and puckered, drew Kit s attention to Jeremy s back. Kit
traced his fingers over each mark, cataloging the pits and ridges.
Jeremy hated when Kit touched his scars. With Jeremy asleep
and unaware, however, Kit let himself get to know parts of him
that had been progressively walled off ever since they d filmed
No Apologies.
What re you doing? Jeremy mumbled.
Kit lifted his fingers. Hand hovering over Jeremy s skin, he
answered with reflexive honesty. Knowing you.
Jeremy rolled over and eyed Kit sleepily. The scars aren t
me. Not anymore.
Kit swallowed hard. At one time he could ve comforted
this man. Made hurts better and smoothed a path for him through
Hollywood. Now, Jeremy always seemed to insist on doing
things himself. On not making work or trouble for Kit. Well,
damn it, what if Kit wanted to be troubled?
damn it, what if Kit wanted to be troubled?
Sorry. Kit leaned over and pressed a kiss to Jeremy s
cool brow in implicit apology for their earlier argument& and for
what he was about to do. See you later. I made you chocolate-
chip muffins.
Mm. Jeremy s eyes fluttered closed. Getting fat.
Expecting the reply, knowing Jeremy wasn t applying the
worry to himself, Kit scooped up his phone and tiptoed out of
the room. At the bottom of the stairs, he dialed his cell and
waited for the call to connect. By the time the kitchen door
closed behind him, he knew what he d say.
Hi, Andy? Kit took the muffins and threw them in the
trash, plate and all.
Yeah? The sounds of a busy kitchen clattering pans and
the thud of oven doors closing emanated from the other end of
the call.
It s me. Kit cupped the phone with his opposite hand so
he wouldn t have to speak up. Kit Harris.
Hang on, Kit, Andy said into the phone and then to
someone else, I ll be back in ten. You. Take over.
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