I nodded. It was all starting to make sense, even if hearing it made my heart hurt.
“I didn’t trust my own judgment, and I guess other people could sense that, too. It’s how Max and Brewster knew I was an easy target for the convenience store job. They knew I wouldn’t ask any questions.” He sighed again. “I did a lot of work in San Quentin, though, like I told you. Was lucky enough to have a good therapist.
“It took a while, but I finally figured out that just because my feelings for you weren’t reciprocated didn’t mean they were wrong. I learned to trust myself. And I also started to accept that I could move on with my life. I could feel the way I felt for you and still be happy, even if you never felt the same way.”
“But I do,” I said, throwing an arm over his middle and tugging him close.
“That’s not the point,” Jazz said with a grin. “I’m trying to explain myself.”
“I get it,” I said. “You’ve seemed different since you got back. More settled in yourself.”
“Yeah, that’s a good way of putting it,” Jazz said. “More settled.”
I kissed his shoulder.
“You do, though?” Jazz asked very quietly. “Feel the same way?”
“I always thought there was something wrong with me, too,” I said. “I wondered if something was broken inside me, you know, that I couldn’t fall in love. Never felt anything real for any of the women I was with. I know it’s not the same as what you went through”—Jazz hummed thoughtfully—“but I’ve never felt the way I feel now.”
Jazz bit his lower lip like he wanted to say something, but was stopping himself. Somehow, I knew what he wanted to ask.
“I trust you,” I said. I tugged at his waist until he rolled over so he was halfway on top of me. It was easier to say it with my face tucked into the crook of his neck as I inhaled his familiar, warm scent. “I love you.”
Jazz tensed against me, and then swallowed. He tipped his head down and brushed his mouth against the crown of my head. “You don’t have to say it just because I did,” he said. “We don’t need to rush.”
“Come here,” I said.
Jazz made a confused noise, but went along with me as I tugged at him until he was fully on top of me, sitting up and straddling my hips. He was still dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and I suddenly wanted him to be wearing a lot fewer clothes. He smiled down at me with a little confused furrow in his brow, his amber eyes gleaming.
I wasn’t just saying it because he had.
There wasn’t anything wrong with me, either. I didn’t love anyone else because my heart had always belonged to Jazz, even if I didn’t realize it. We’d always had a bond that was deeper than friendship, deeper even than brotherhood, and loving him like this was easy. It felt like fate—like this was always going to happen, and life had just been waiting for us to catch up. For me to catch up.
I tangled my fingers in his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. He settled against me happily, sighing into the kiss. I quickly deepened it, sliding my hands over his shoulders and back and dipping my fingertips into the waistband of his jeans.
“Why are you still dressed?” I asked.
“I worked today,” Jazz said in between kisses. “Unlike some people.”
“I’m recovering,” I said. “I’m supposed to get pistol-whipped and then go immediately back to work?”
“How’s your mouth?” Jazz dropped a kiss on the bruise on my cheek, and then leaned back just far enough to pull his shirt off.
“Well enough to kiss you,” I said as I slid my hands up his bare chest. “And maybe some other things.”
Jazz gave me an interested look. “Other things?”
I’d never been with a guy other than Jazz, but being with him was making me curious about a lot of things. I shrugged and offered him a coy little smirk. “Maybe.”
“Jesus,” Jazz groaned. He palmed himself through his jeans. “You can’t just say shit like that.”
I knocked his hand aside and gripped his cock through his jeans. Jazz groaned again and tossed his head back. I didn’t think I’d ever get sick of hearing that sound.
I popped the button on his jeans, and then slid the zipper down slowly. The hard line of his cock