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Leo:You think I’m pretty?
Andy:I think you’re beautiful.
Andy:Now it’s my turn to ask if I said too much.
Leo:Do you mean that, Andy? Because I don’t want to get my hopes up. All my life I’ve fought with myself about how I wanted to be. That I was a racecar driver, not a boy who could dress up in skirts and wear makeup. But maybe I could have both. If I wanted.
Andy:I think you could be anything you want.
Leo:What time did you want to go out next weekend? I want to go check with Noel and Ezra.
Andy:Saturday at seven work for you?
Leo:That’s perfect.
Andy:Then it’s a date.
Chapter Nine
Andy
I was surprised when Leo didn’t let go of my hand when we sat down for lunch. He occasionallysqueezed my fingers or dragged his thumb over my pulse, but he didn’t stop touching me. I would have wept if my father wasn’t watching me like a hawk.This just felt so surreal. Like we never broke up and were still together. The way it should have been. I never should have let Leo go. He was the piece that held me together.
“Andrew, you’re quiet,” Dad commented, his green eyesglued to me. “You’re not eating. Are you feeling okay?”
Pop touched his arm. “Sweetheart, let the boy breathe. He just got home.”
He winked at me, and I hoped I smiled. My lips twitched, but for all I knew, I was glaring at the men who helped raise me. I hated to think of disappointing them.
“I’m not that hungry.”
But I reached for a piece of pizza to make Dad happy. He made the best pizza. Way better than any restaurantaround here. Who was I kidding? Dad made the best everything. He was a fantastic cook, and I missed his cooking. Guilt twisted in my stomach, and I fought back tears.
Leo tightened his grip on my hand as he ate his food with the other. “This is the best, Dad. Food at the track is not even close to tasting this good.”
“Thanks, kiddo.” Dad beamed before he sat on Pop’s lap.
I used to get embarrassed by the affection they showed one another, but now I was envious. I had that, and I ruined it. I pulled Leo’s hand into my lap, nearly yanking him from his seat. He turned to stare at me, surprise in his blue eyes. I wanted Leo in my lap. I wanted to feel the warmth of his skin and inhalethe scent of his body lotion. That familiar cinnamon scent that haunted all my dreams.
The sound of the front door opening had me turning my attention elsewhere. My youngest foster brother, Lucas, grinned widely at me as he strode into the kitchen.
“Holy shit! Look who remembered where he lived?” He nearly launched himself at me. “Missed you, big bro.”
“Missed you, too.” I reluctantly let go of Leo to hug Lucas. I squeezed him tight until he pulled away. “How’s school?” I ruffled his hair.
He batted my hand away. “Boring.” Lucas jutted his chin at Leo. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” He flopped into the chair next to him. “You look funny. What’s going on with your face?” Good to know he hadn’t changed.
“My face? Is there something on my face?” Leo scrubbed his cheeks with the palm of his hands.
“Nah, man, you’re not wearing makeup. You’re pretty either way, but you used to, you know”—Lucas made a motion near his eyes—“do those wings or whatever.”
“Lucas Connor Olson,” Dad hissed through clench teeth. “Behave yourself. Your father and I taught you manners.”
He only laughed. “Oh no. Dad three-named me. I’m in big trouble now.”
The little shit. Dad and Pop had brought him into our home right before I graduated high school. Lucas had been shy in the beginning. Waiting to speak until he was spoken to, but that quickly changed when we encouraged him open up. To be himself. Now there wasn’t a shy bone in his body.
“Leo looks perfect just the way he is.” I glared at Lucas, and he rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t need makeup. He could be wearing a paper bag and not shower for six months, and he would still be the most attractive man in the world to me.”
