brother’s heavy, annoyed ones—which meant Adam lingered. Eventually, though, he joined Van, and Nik forced his attention on the fake emails he absolutely didn’t have. It was much better than trying to figure out what the hell he was actually feeling.
Chapter 7
Crescendo
Adam was the sort of man who let embarrassment get to him. In sixth grade, he’d tripped and fallen during an assembly. Maybe four kids had laughed, but he spent the next six months replaying the incident in bed every night until his brain finally gave up on stress-dreams and let him sleep.
It might have happened again the night he showed up at a goddamn elementary school concert, but somehow, sitting on the stone bench next to Nik and waiting for his jump was the easiest thing he’d ever done. He had a million questions and asked exactly zero of them, but it hadn’t mattered in that moment.
He was still curious about the man, of course. He knew half Nik’s story from the fact that Vincent was a nosy, gossipy bitch, but he wanted to know everything. He wanted to hear the quiet, subtle details only Nik would tell—once he found someone worthy. It was obvious he was awkward with adults, good with kids, and a bit lost when it came to functioning in social situations. But Adam understood that more than he wanted to admit.
Nik’s brother was the quieter type, staring at Adam through coke-bottle lenses with furrowed brows that were an unspoken warning: hurt my brother and I hurt you. He wondered if it was a sibling thing, or if it was the fact that Nik was blind, but only one of those didn’t irritate him beyond all reason.
Van didn’t say anything though—didn’t try to play tough guy. He gave Adam a scrutinizing look before patting the hood of his car and telling him he was all set. Adam wasn’t incompetent, either. He knew how to handle simple shit on his car, but it was easier to smile and nod and watch Van pull around to the bus bay to pick up Nik, who hadn’t moved from the bench.
Adam couldn’t hide his disappointment when Nik refused to join them, but at the same time, he got it. Pieces of him wanted Nik to stay longer, and pieces of him wanted space to figure out what he was feeling. Normally, he’d think crush. He was a red-blooded gay man, and Nik was hot in that older, nerdy librarian kind of way. Definitely Adam’s type—if he had one at all.
But it was more than that, and that was the confusing part, because he didn’t know the guy at all. Maybe he snored, or talked in his sleep, or chewed with his mouth open. Maybe he left towels on the floor until they molded, or maybe he was rude to servers. Too many unknown variables, and yet, Adam was still smitten.
It was confusing, and he appreciated the reprieve at the shop when Evie’s babysitter started showing up again, but he couldn’t deny his disappointment when the piano bench remained empty in the lobby of the mall.
By the fifth day, Adam was starting to wonder if maybe Nik was avoiding him. He wasn’t always there, but he couldn’t remember when nearly a week had gone by and Nik hadn’t shown up to at least tap out a tune or two. He casually strolled by the front of the piano shop on Thursday when he hadn’t seen a soul wander by in hours, and he snagged one of the flyers the owner had set out for the Spring Concerto. He made a note of the date and time printed in sharp font on the front.
“St. Michael’s,” Nik had told him that night, like an invitation.
“You interested in that, son?”
Adam lifted his head to see the plump old owner leaning against a stack of piano benches that had seen better days. He curled his fingers tighter around the flyer, wrecking the sharp edges, and he thought oddly, it’s ruined, so it’s mine now.
“I was thinking about it,” Adam said after a minute. “Are you going?”
“My old bones won’t let me stay up that late,” the man said with a wheezing chuckle. “But you should go. My boy’s playing.”
“Is Nik your son?” Adam asked, wide-eyed and startled, because he felt like Vince should have mentioned that. And hadn’t Nik mentioned something about his dad dying?
The old man looked a bit sad though when he shook his head. “Should’a been. My biological son’s a real