“We have a usual?” Linc teased. God, Jacob utterly loved him like this, all light and warmth, warmer even than the quilts and sweeter than the chocolate cake. “Remind me to change it up more often. Can’t have you getting bored.”
“I’m not.” He tried to keep his tone as casual as Linc but wasn’t entirely sure he managed. Because they did have a usual, a past now, a pattern of encounters, little things he was going to miss so damn much when this was done. And even memorizing this moment—taste of the waxy chocolate icing, crisp scent of Linc’s fabric softener on the quilts, soft night sounds—wasn’t going to be enough. He wanted more, wanted every damn thing Linc had to give and then some.
“Summer’s going fast,” Linc mused, almost like he could sense the direction of Jacob’s thoughts.
“Says you. It’s not even the twenty-first yet—not even technically summer.” The cake turned to clay in his mouth. Slow down, time. Slow down. He needed this to last, needed all of this so damn bad. But maybe... Taking a deep breath, he gave voice to the thought that had plagued him for weeks now. “And it doesn’t have to end.”
“What do you mean?” Linc’s tone was cautious, but not outright dismissive, which Jacob would take as a win.
“You don’t have to leave. Don’t have to find something new. You could just stay. Nothing has to change.”
“Jacob...” Linc groaned, and his shoulder moved against Jacob, undoubtedly from a vigorous head shaking. “Things always change. They just do.”
“But they don’t have to.” Jacob was prepared to be stubborn about this. “Come on, Linc. Your house will miss you. You don’t really want the hassle of packing everything up, moving, just to outrun...what? This? Some memories? The dogs love it here. You don’t have to start over away from here all by yourself.”
It was as close as he could get to saying that he would miss Linc desperately, that he loved him here in town and on the job both, that he needed him, and that they could start over together if that was what Linc truly needed.
“Fuck.” All the lightness left Linc as he scooted away. But Jacob wasn’t letting him get too far. Not yet. Instead, he pinned Linc to the side of the truck, straddling his thighs.
“I miss Wyatt too. Every day. But you leaving town...it’s not going to cure a damn thing.”
“Maybe not.” Linc sounded defeated. He also didn’t move to remove Jacob, instead resting a hand lightly on Jacob’s hip.
“Then why do it?” Emboldened, Jacob placed a hand on Linc’s shoulder. “Stay. Do you really want to leave?”
“It’s not just about Wyatt. Not now. We can’t keep going indefinitely.” Linc ignored the meat of Jacob’s question, exactly as Jacob had expected him to. But even expecting it, Jacob’s muscles still slumped, disappointment weighing him down, a heavy pack without the promise of a parachute ride down.
“Says who? I’m not suggesting we march into brunch at my mom’s on Sunday holding hands or anything. I’m just saying there’s no need to hang up a good thing, not when we’re both enjoying ourselves.”
“Guess the whole burn-itself-out plan was fucked from the start.” Linc’s laugh was a bitter thing, knocking over Jacob’s stockpile of private hopes.
“Yeah. But I’m not regretting a damn thing.”
“Not saying you should.” Linc’s hand tightened on Jacob’s skin. “And I don’t either.”
Hope flared anew. “Then why stop? Why put an expiration date on something so good?”
Linc groaned like he had another round of objections in him, but Jacob cut him off with a swift kiss, trying to reinforce that this truly was the best thing he’d ever found and that he wasn’t giving it up without a fight.
“Damn it. Can’t think straight when you kiss me like that.” Linc rested his forehead against Jacob’s.
“Then don’t think right now. I’m not asking for a decision or a commitment or anything like that.” Jacob was proud of how level he kept his voice. No way was he throwing everything they had away by being too demanding when Linc was hell-bent on being stubborn. “We’ve got the rest of the summer here. All I’m saying is consider staying as an option.”
“Maybe this isn’t fair to you.” Linc ghosted his lips along Jacob’s neck. “You deserve—”
“You. I deserve you.” Jacob actually wasn’t sure he was worthy of Linc, but he’d go to the mat for the chance to try to prove himself.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Pulling Jacob close, Linc’s grip was firm, resolute, a stark contrast to the tenderness of his lips against Jacob’s mouth.
“You won’t,” Jacob lied, knowing full well that come fall he was likely to be in a cold, barren world of hurt, a life without Linc in it. But he wasn’t giving it up even a second before he absolutely had to.