Love Him Free (On the Market #1) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,11

it was becoming obvious he hadn’t loved the other man in years, but he still had a hold over Rocco’s life and that was starting to weigh on him.

He just wanted this over.

James followed close at his heels, and he reached down to pick up the yapping pup before snatching his hearing aids from the dresser and using one had to push them in. It had been a while, and the molds made his ears instantly start to ache, but he gave himself a reprieve by not turning them on.

He buried his face in James’ soft, pampered fur before moving to the living room where Pietro was waiting, pacing in front of the sofa. ‘L will be at Anthony’s office waiting for you.’

Rocco breathed a small sigh of relief and nuzzled his dog once more before setting him down and grabbing his keys off the side table. ‘Thank you,’ he signed with genuine affection.

Pietro wasted no time in pulling Rocco into a hug, and Rocco was profoundly aware he was still the baby. Even nearing forty, he felt young and vulnerable in his big brother’s embrace, and he let himself sink into his own weakness just for a moment.

When he pulled back, he felt better, and gave his brother a nod.

‘Let me know when it’s over,’ Pietro insisted.

For the first time that morning, Rocco felt somewhat comforted, and he nodded. ‘I will. Don’t wait up.’ He didn’t think his brother caught that meaning, but it didn’t matter. He slipped out the door and headed to his car, bracing himself for what was about to come next.

Chapter Three

Simon swiped a mixture of sweat and flour off his brow, then glanced up at the time. The bakery was closed, but morning came too quickly, and it was obvious after hiring an extra set of hands, Kyle wasn’t going to be much good at anything except keeping track of the register and flirting with the customers—and he didn’t think that second part was winning the Chametz any favors.

His eyes strayed to the photo he’d hung on the wall—a copy of the one he’d given to Levi of his younger brother baking with Bubbe. They both looked blissfully happy with dough under their nails and smears of chocolate on their matching aprons. Levi was barely using full sentences, but his passion was already obvious. Simon had never had that—never really felt passion for anyone or anything before.

Even when he was in school, he chose writing because he was good at it. Writing had been a way he could express himself when his own tongue twisted into knots and made him sound like a fool. Writing allowed him no mockery as he tried to put his thoughts together and make sense of his raging emotions.

Not that it helped—in the end.

He was here, at Chametz, alone as he ever was. Levi was living with his boyfriend, James, at the Lodge, and while Simon was happy for him, a small piece of him felt like Levi’s absence was nothing more than a mark of the inevitable ending to the bakery. And Simon had known it, the day he conceded that part of his life and passed a set of keys to a food truck over to his brother—a gift, but also a promise. When this all falls apart, I’ll still have done my best by you.

Levi had insisted he wasn’t going to give up his time at Chametz, but getting his food truck ready proved a bigger monopoly on his time than he’d anticipated. Simon had assured him it was fine, that he’d make do—and he would. He had to. He had a personal loan for the food truck with sharp teeth breathing down the back of his neck. The Chametz was a few missed payments away from folding, and he didn’t see a solution. They had been near, if not in the red for over a year, and he knew as well as any accountant that there was no coming back from that.

Nothing short of a miracle, and he’d stopped believing in those the day he set his first stones on Bubbe’s grave and realized any covenant he made with Hashem would probably be ignored. He was in too deep now to give up his beliefs, of course, and Levi was too important to take the risk. But sometimes he wondered if it was habit, not real faith.

With a sigh, Simon set the dough into the walk-in for the slow rise, then hung his apron up