“No. But I think you’re ready to accept your faults and Noah isn’t there yet.”

Larkin said, “Maybe he loves what I represented. Not who I really am. At least, not anymore.”

“Maybe.”

“Have you been in love.”

“Sure.”

“How’d it end.”

There was a pause before Doyle answered, “It hasn’t started.”

Larkin looked at the door. He didn’t think, didn’t calculate, merely moved on impulse, on instinct—shifting onto his knees, leaning forward to twist the thumb lock, and pulling the door open a crack.

Doyle sat sideways in the threshold, his back against the bookshelf. He raised his head, smiled softly, and said, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Are you coming out?”

“Have you ever had an epiphany.”

Doyle raised an eyebrow but nodded and said, “Twice.”

“How did they make you feel.”

“At peace.”

Larkin opened the door farther. “Mine made me feel happy.” He knee-walked closer until he was right up against Doyle, taking his face into both hands. “And that made me realize the only happiness I’ve felt in a long time hasn’t been in the moment, but through associations.”

“Evie?”

“Yes.” And Larkin kissed Doyle, every emotion, every fear, every insecurity, ugly and raw and unrefined, all of it right there, in a single brush of lips on lips.

Take it or leave it.

Doyle took it. He wrapped his arms around Larkin and pressed their bodies together, holding like he’d been chasing night upon endless night and now, now he’d finally caught up to Larkin and only needed a moment to collect his breath. Doyle kissed Larkin fervently, but somehow it didn’t lessen the moment, didn’t reduce this profound comprehension they had of each other to something as mundane as the pursuit of physical pleasure, not after Larkin’s admission of how numb he’d become toward sexual acts of any kind.

No.

Doyle kissed like they’d both been tumbling through the sky, careening toward Earth at breakneck speed, and finally, the gales—whipping them like ragdolls—threw Larkin and Doyle together. They both held on tight, and with that came a sudden and ethereal calm. The kiss was fear, relief, joy, uncertainty, beauty. It was day and night, the sun and moon, a promise to carry on just one more time, and the emotions you dared only feel when left in the safety of your own company.

The kiss… was love.

Larkin broke, leaned back, and opened his eyes, meeting Doyle’s steady gaze. “Professionals or friends or something…. Is this the something?”

Doyle put a hand on Larkin’s nape and drew them together again. “Yeah, it is.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN