“No. What I need is my husband to stop giving me shit all the time,” God snapped.
“Nobody wants to be all work and no play, Cash. You’re acting like you don’t want to compromise. All he’s asking for is one date night a week.” Hart frowned, leaning with God against the side of the building. “Why is that so hard?”
“It’s not hard! Did I say it was hard?” God glared at him.
“Cash.” Hart sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What’s this really about?”
God dropped his chin to his chest, his long hair falling messily around his rugged face. “I’m tired, Ivan. This damn task force is draining me, dude. And all I wanna do when I get home is eat, fuck my husband and get in my damn bed. Is that too much for a man to ask?”
Hart understood now. The last couple of weeks had been rough on his buddy. The mayor was leaning on the chief of police to get the Cornelia gang out of commission, and the chief was riding God hard to give him those results. Now Hart had grounded them, so that didn’t help the situation either—no matter how necessary it was. His team was angry at him and not speaking to him. And with everything going on, God’s husband had kicked him out of his bed.
“I feel you. And no. It’s not too much to ask. But Leo has always supported you and had your back. He’s been giving you everything you need for a long time. Let him have something he’s been needing. Maybe you guys can take a few days off while your team is with mine at headquarters the week after next. Let the boys make their amends and you and Day carve some of that time out for yourselves. Dinner and a movie, or bowling. That’s an easy compromise.”
God ran his hand through his hair, raising his face towards the sky, “Yeah, I guess.”
“Cash when your partner’s talking like Day is… you don’t ignore it. Because if anyone knows what feeling like a used piece of meat is, it’s me.” Hart met God’s green eyes. “No one wants to feel like that, man. Ever. I’m telling you. That’s a terrible feeling. And if Day is saying you’re making him feel like, what did he say again, ‘just a hole to fuck’; then you need to stop being stubborn and fix that.”
“He knows he not just that,” God growled.
“Does he?”
“Yes!”
“How?” Hart asked calmly. “How do you show him?”
It was quiet on the dark street in front of the Pub. The weather was humid, but not as bad as it had been, with fall fast approaching. Hart checked his friend, who looked to be deep in thought, his expression becoming more and more pained as he did. He didn’t interrupt God’s reflection.
“Shit,” God finally groaned. “I’ve fucked up again.”
“Yeah, you did. But, Day always forgives you.” Hart walked him to the curb where his Uber driver had pulled into the MARTA lane. “Just plan a nice date for him tomorrow night and he’ll be putty in your hands.”
“You think so?”
“I bet anything. Then the week after that you need to close down the office for a few days.”
“What?!” God barked, sticking his big head out of the window of the SUV.
“You heard me. Your husband says you put work before him. It’s a grand gesture. You’re the boss. Shut it all down and whisk Day away for a while.” Hart said.
“Ugh. Fine.” God sat back in the seat, flipping Hart off. “You get one damn boyfriend and all of sudden you’re fuckin’ Chrisley knows best.”
Hart laughed. “That guy’s not even gay.”
“Yeah okay. If you say so,” God scoffed before he told the driver to take him home.
Hart was pulling into his garage when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
God: Breakfast at the diner. My treat.
Hart: Make it eight. I’m sleeping in.
Hart laughed to himself. That was God’s unique way of saying ‘thank you’. He closed his garage after noting the darkness in Free’s RV. Please be in my bed.
Free
It was almost eleven and Free’s eyes were getting heavy. Hart had texted him after work and told him to eat dinner without him, that he wasn’t coming straight home because God needed him. Free was glad he’d been alone, because he’d damn near did a happy dance. It really did feel like they were living together. Hart gave him a courtesy text to tell him that he’d be home late. That had to mean he wanted Free inside and waiting for him.
The second he heard the garage door open, he reclined farther onto the thick pillows and tried to immerse himself in the book he’d been reading. It was useless, because all he could do was track the sound of Hart’s boots as they made contact with the hardwood floor. His heart beat in an unnatural rhythm. He’d never waited on anyone in their bed before. He’d never been in love before.