and more, it seemed like. I used to be able to see every change of mood in those eyes. Now there were a lot more moods I had to learn.
And I wanted to learn them. The change wasn’t scary any more, finally—it was enticing. We both had new depths, apparently.
I closed the door behind me and sat on the edge of his bed. I took my hat off, set it on his nightstand, and then scrubbed my hand over my hair. There were things I should say. Things we needed to talk about. But sitting so close to him, so close I could feel the strong muscle of his leg under the blanket, the words slipped my mind.
I couldn’t stop looking at him. His lips parted and his tongue appeared and traced his lower lip, like he was nervous.
There was so much I could say, and suddenly I could only think of one way to say it.
So I leaned forward and kissed him again.
Our third kiss. This one wasn’t a shock, or a half-crazed act of fear and desperation on a sidewalk. It was intentional, slow, more like a first kiss than our other two. Jazz’s lips parted against mine, just enough for me to slip my tongue into his mouth, and he made a soft sound like he was hurt.
It was electric. And at the same time, familiar. Because it was still Jazz. My Jazz.
Then Jazz’s pressed both hands into my chest, breaking the kiss, pushing me away. I was lightheaded, like I’d just spent an hour going ninety on the highway. I wanted to kiss him until we were both dizzy with it.
The scowl on Jazz’s face indicated he did not feel the same. “Tex, what the fuck is going on?”
I blinked. “I—I’m kissing you?”
Jazz swallowed and cut his gaze away. “You said it wouldn’t happen. Ever. Just this morning you said you were straight, that you didn’t think of me that way. And I was okay with that, because I’ve known that forever. But now—why now?”
Having to talk about it was a lot harder than just doing it, but I knew I had to make the effort. “When I saw you lying on the sidewalk like that, something just… Snapped.” I scrubbed my hand over my hair. “I didn’t even think about it. I was just so relieved you were okay. It was instinct.”
“Instinct,” Jazz repeated in disbelief. “Come on.”
I shrugged. “I mean. I don’t—I’ve never been interested in guys.”
“Yeah, I know, you made that pretty clear.”
I winced, but I couldn’t deny he was right. “I’m still not.”
Jazz blinked at me, eyebrows raised like he was moments away from calling me the stupidest person he’d ever met.
“I mean”—I had the crazy urge to take his hand, so I did, and he didn’t pull away— “It’s only you. I mean. I’ve never wanted to be with another man before. But I’ve also never had what we have with a woman.”
“What do you mean, ‘what we have’?” Jazz asked carefully.
What did I mean?
I meant our closeness. The way we knew each other, rotten histories and all. The texture of our shared lives. The way we bickered, but always came through for each other. The loyalty. The love.
“I don’t fit with anyone else,” I said, “because I already fit with you.”
Jazz withdrew his hand. His face was dynamic, changing from hope to pain and back to hope again, endlessly, like he couldn’t figure out how to feel.
“Why now?” he asked with an edge of desperation in his voice. “What changed?”
“Losing you to San Quentin was hard,” I said. “But I always had someone to blame, you know? I was blaming the guys who roped you into that job, the feds for locking you up—hell, I blamed you.”
“Damn right you did,” Jazz muttered.
“And then when I accused you of working with Crave—”
“So you found out that’s not what happened?”
I grimaced. “Yeah. I talked to Blade.”
Jazz swatted my shoulder, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know,” I said. “I know. It’s just—I was so fucking scared of losing you again. And I lashed out, like I was a kid again. I wanted us to be together, together always, and if we weren’t, I had to have someone to blame. Somewhere to direct my anger until I got you back.”
Jazz was listening closely, his amber eyes wide.
“And then, when I showed up on campus, I saw you lying there, and there was so much blood.”