The Lights on Knockbridge Lane (Garnet Run 3)

Part of Wes itched to get back home where it was safe and private.

But he also felt a competing pull to stay. Suddenly, he dearly wanted to eat macaroni and cheese with Adam and Gus.

“Okay,” he heard himself say to Adam for the second time that day.

“Yay!” Gus shouted and threw her arms around his waist.

Over gloppy orange macaroni and cheese, Gus regaled Adam in greater detail about their science projects and Adam told the harrowing tale of his car breaking down outside Matheson’s Hardware. (“Charlie wanted to try and fix it himself and then when he couldn’t, insisted on calling his friend to tow it.”)

It mostly sounded nice to Wes, but Adam seemed embarrassed to have needed his boss’ help.

Gus launched into a monologue about leeches and Adam turned a suspicious eye at Wes. Wes innocently ate another spoonful of macaroni and cheese, impressed that Gus remembered most of what he’d told her, and Adam’s face fizzed into a smile.

Wes didn’t notice he was staring into Adam’s blue eyes until Gus said, “Hello?!”

Wes blinked. Adam cleared his throat, flustered, and said, “That’s rude, sweetheart.”

After dinner, Adam went to tuck Gus into bed and Wes looked around the kitchen at the mess they’d made. He could go home. Adam would understand. His critters were there, and his work. And the darkness, and the solitude.

Instead, Wes cleared the table and began to make order out of the chaos he’d created.

Chapter Nine

Adam

Adam was exhausted by the time Gus fell asleep. She’d been abuzz with excitement about her evening with Wes and had wanted to tell him everything she’d learned. It was sweet and wonderful and he’d wanted to press a mute button on her after about six minutes.

Finally, he trudged back to the kitchen to clean up, and pulled out his phone to send Wes a thank-you text.

But when he got to the kitchen, Wes was still there, and it was the mess that was gone.

The floor and countertops sparkled, and the dishwasher was humming.

Relief and gratitude consumed him. They never told you about this: the part where sometimes after a day of work and car trouble and kid wrangling, not having to do the dishes could bring you to tears.

Wes looked startled and held out a large hand quellingly.

“Hey. Oh. Hey,” he stumbled.

“You cleaned up,” Adam said, voice shaking.

“Well, yeah. I made the mess.”

Adam nodded, because that was logical and also miraculous.

“Listen, I did something,” Wes said, shoving a hand in his pocket and looking guilty.

Please don’t be anything creepy, Adam begged the universe. He’s so great; please don’t make me have to hate him.

“I organized your dry goods,” Wes said.

“My...dry goods.”

Wes opened three cabinets, revealing perfectly ordered foodstuffs where once there had been a riot.

“I was cleaning up and it just kind of leaked into the cabinets,” he went on. “I guess I lost track of time. I can put them back to the way they were if you want...”

Heat bloomed in Adam’s chest. Wes was so damned adorable. This large, strong, recluse of a science genius had organized his pantry storage by... He stared at the cabinets, trying to parse the logic.

“Um. How did you arrange it?”

Wes blinked at him as if it were obvious.

“Alphabetically.”

Adam didn’t let himself laugh.

“Of course,” he murmured.

And so it was, almonds to ziti.

“I’m gonna make a wild guess that you don’t cook,” Adam said.

“I cook. Quite a bit, actually.”

They stared at each other. Adam pictured Wes in his own kitchen, reaching for ingredients filed alphabetically as he cooked a meal for himself and his coterie of critters.

“Thank you for cleaning up. And for, er, rearranging my dry goods.”

They stood in awkward silence for a moment. Wes was gorgeous and kind and smart and incredibly weird, but in great ways. Once, Adam would have kissed him. He would have said, Thanks for cleaning up. I want to kiss you. Whattaya say?

But Adam’s days of risking his heart were behind him. These days, he didn’t go around falling for gorgeous, kind, smart, weird-in-great-ways men—especially ones who lived right across the street.

Did he?

Wes reached out a hand and his fingers hovered near Adam’s shoulder.

“Your hair looks so soft,” he murmured.

“You can touch it,” Adam said, breath catching. “If you want.”

He expected tentative fingertips, or the gentle hush of his hair being swept back.

But at his invitation, Wes slid his large hands into Adam’s hair, massaging his scalp with strong fingers. An involuntary groan escaped Adam’s lips and he let his head fall forward and rest against Wes’ firm chest.

He could hear the steady thump of Wes’ heart and closed his eyes. Wes rubbed at his scalp and combed through his hair, stopping here and there to untangle.

“Adam.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

But he didn’t say anything else. Adam tipped his head up to look at Wes. His eyes were burning hot and he was looking down at Adam like he held something precious in his hands.