Something Borrowed (Brennan and Val’s Story): A Tracking Wolfe Bonus Scene

I recommend reading this short after finishing Tracking Wolfe. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Val

I stared down at the two-part epoxy on the shelf above the wheel well, untouched and unopened, even though I’d told Brennan my van smelled like epoxy. It didn’t. Because I was a damned liar.

The action cam mount had been sitting scuffed and ready since Tuesday—both surfaces already abraded, wiped clean, nothing left to do but mix the resin and set the clamp.

I hadn’t done it. Because every time I started to tackle the never-ending fix-it list in the van, Brennan showed his face in my general vicinity and my brain just went free and weightless, like a helium balloon being released into the sky on a sunny summer day.

When we’d first met, three years ago at a vanlife meetup in Santa Fe, I’d thought he was a nice dude. Fit, active, and into the same shit I was. Our conversations were fire and I quickly picked up on the fact he was smart. Like for-real smart. He had an adorable, semi-famous cat named Pup who’d immediately taken a shine to me. The two of them made a charming duo, and I found myself wanting to spend a little more time with them. 

It was fun. Easy. Joyful, even. I laughed more with Brennan Voto than I had with anyone else in years.

It was like I blinked and suddenly I’d been hanging around the guy for a month. Then two. Then we joined a group of vanlifers and moved between national parks, swapping influencer tips and co-creating content while we watched our follower counts soar.

Brennan was good for business. Bottom line. At least, that’s what I’d thought at first. I was only traveling with him because it was in both of our best interests. For business. 

But then three months turned into six turned into fourteen turned into whatever the fuck we were doing when my asshole brother finally made a joke last Christmas about my “little gay boyfriend.”

And I’d seen red.

“Fuck you, you homophobic piece of shit!” I’d shouted before punching the smirk off his fucking face.

My entire family had stared at me before my mother had set down the kitchen towel she’d been using to dry the turkey platter and clasped her hands together. “Val… do you have something you’d like to tell us?”

I’d blinked at her. “Tell you? Me? Why are you asking me that instead of calling Nic out on his bullshit?”

She’d pressed her lips together. “Well, first of all, I’m used to Nic saying inappropriate things which is why he’s just lost the use of the truck for the next month.”

My brother had squawked through the blood dripping from his nose, but my father had snapped at him to shut it and take his lumps like a man.

My mother had continued patiently. As the mother of six, the woman had the patience of a saint. “Second of all, I think we all just assumed there was something going on between you and Brennan since you’ve been traveling together non-stop for two and a half years now.”

I’d stared at her. “Except… I’m straight?” 

My sister Giorgi had scrunched her face up. “Ew.”

My mother had simply shrugged. “Whatever you are, I hope you know we love you.”

I stopped myself from sharing details about the amount of women I’d hooked up with on the road. Women Brennan had befriended right alongside me, even though he never got naked with them. Not to mention the men Brennan had hooked up with. Which… to be honest, I preferred not to think about anyway. So it was probably for the best.

My father had nodded and added helpfully, “Ray Hinton—you remember him from the bank?—his daughter is a lesbian.”

Giorgi had sighed and shaken her head. Nic’s eyes had widened in interest. And my mother had just made a small noise of agreement in her throat.

I’d buried my face in my hands and groaned. My family would never understand.

Some people could just be best friends. That was a thing. That was a thing two people could be.

Brennan Voto was my best friend. End of story.

But then I’d started noticing shit.

Like the way I caught myself staring at his shoulders and biceps when we were paddle boarding in Baja. Or his quads and calves when we shredded some killer trails on our mountain bikes in Noble Canyon. The way I preferred his company over absolutely anyone else’s and felt a hot flush of annoyance when he left a perfectly good campfire to wander into the woods with a random dude.

I’d finally forced myself to take a break from our always-togetherness and reset. When we’d hit LA in late February, the lies began. I’d told him I’d met a modder in Vegas who was going to help me swap out my diesel heater controller. That part was true. The lie was that I was also going to meet up with an old girlfriend and hit the strip. It had been enough to discourage him from coming along, so he’d gone on to Joshua Tree without me.

I’d spent a week at the Sam’s Town campground drowning my gay panic with Door-Dashed Sonic burgers until I finally decided that I was overreacting. Just because I couldn’t sleep without Brennan in the van next to mine—and I’d spent an unexpected amount of time imagining what it would be like to kiss him—that didn’t mean I was gay. Or bi. Or whatever.

But then I’d caught up with Brennan again at the Grand Canyon and found a big problem. I’d expected to go right back to my regular life with our camping group. Things would be normal again.

 And maybe they would have been. If it hadn’t been for Will fucking Martin. Beautiful, emo, guitar-playing Will. Will, who—according to Armand—had been the lucky recipient of Brennan’s most-recent flirtation. Will, whose easy familiarity with Brennan was inappropriate, if you asked me. Will, who smiled affectionately whenever Brennan called him “babe” even though I thought I was Brennan’s “babe.”

Yes. Will was definitely the problem.

But I was my father’s son. So I took my lumps like a man. I wasn’t Brennan’s keeper, after all. Which meant whatever was going on between him and Will was none of my business.

Until some old geezer had made Brennan uncomfortable the other night at Jake’s Place and Will had done fuckall to stop it.

What if that guy had come around Brennan’s van, huh? What then? Will hadn’t even had the decency to make sure Brennan got back to the campground okay. Which, I mean, of course he did because he was with me, but still.

Being here in Hush, Colorado, was supposed to be just another stop on our endless vanlife adventure. But lately, it had started to feel like the site of some kind of reckoning.

I’d felt it coming on like the distant woo-woooo! of a train barreling down the tracks at full speed. The moment I would finally have to face my newfound attraction for Brennan Voto.

“Knock-knock,” Brennan said, scaring the piss out of me. I jumped and flung the epoxy tube until it skittered dramatically across the van floor to land against the side of his shoe. 

He looked down, leaned over to pick it up, and then clearly noticed it was still brand new in the package. To make doubly-sure, he sniffed the non-epoxy-scented air in my van and frowned in confusion. “I thought you said—”

“Hey, so here!” I said, grabbing the nearest thing and shoving it at him. “I borrowed this a while back and never returned it.”

We both looked down at my headlamp. The unique red-and-black striped elastic straps reminded me of the year my uncle Eric had given it to me for Christmas, and presumably, they only reminded Brennan of the fact the headlamp was definitely not his.

He glanced from the headlamp up to me, an adorable divot now visible between his eyebrows. “Are you having a stroke?”

Chapter 2

Brennan

I’d strode over to Val’s van on a mission. Will’s advice to talk to him about last night had been sound. Maybe Val had only slept over in my van because he thought I was scared about the older man who’d been checking out my shirt. And I felt bad about that. About letting Val believe I was scared, or whatever. But how was I supposed to kick him out of my van last night when all I’d ever wanted was to sleep next to him?

It hadn’t been the first time we’d slept in the same bed. There’d been nights snowed in near Glacier National Park where his van was too low on diesel to run his heater. Afternoons after long hikes when we’d come back exhausted and crashed together mid-conversation. Perfectly reasonable reasons to end up in the same bed together.

But there’d also been a handful of nights when one or the other of us had just needed to not be alone. We’d slip into each other’s vans and beds without saying a word. Climb up onto the bed and collapse as if needing a time out from following unspoken rules about what men could and couldn’t do with each other without it being weird.

And those nights had been my favorite. Because Val had let me reach for his hand and hold it. Or he’d leaned close and rested his head on my shoulder. Or one of us had wound up curled around the other partway through the night.

In the morning, we’d go back to being best bros—comfortable with each other, physically easy around each other, and completely in sync.

Which was why last night had been so strange. Not because he’d found an excuse to sleep over, but because he’d thought he needed one. And because he hadn’t touched me. As if that wasn’t something we did anymore.

It was killing me not understanding why.

“I’m not having a stroke,” he said. “This… this is yours. Take it.”

The headlamp was definitely not mine. And we both knew it.

“Okay…” I said, taking it from him. “Thank you? For, uh… returning it?”

Val nodded as if that was that. “You’re welcome.”

I tried to think of what to say next, when my entire plan had been shot to hell because of whatever the heck was going on with him. “Hey, so…”

“Will has feelings for that guy.”

My hand was still extended between us, holding the headlamp with its distinctive red-striped straps. I carefully pulled it back and held it awkwardly at my side. “Which guy? Trace or Jake?”

He lifted his hands in the air and dropped them again. “Does it matter?”

This encounter was very confusing. “I mean, yeah? Probably? To him at least. And probably both men. To be honest, I think he wishes someth—”

“The point is, he’s not the right guy for you.” He stopped and swallowed, paying close attention to the floor near my feet. “I’m sorry.”

I stared at him. At his tight jaw and fingers tightening into fists at his side. At his wind-ruffled hair and always-sunburnt nose. At the goddamned heart shape of his top lip and the way his bottom lip was the tiniest bit uneven. It was a crime I’d never learn how they felt against my tongue.

Suddenly, I was angry. Angry at him for presuming to tell me who was and wasn’t right for me. Angry at him being so weird with me and refusing to tell me why. Angry at him for lying to me last night about fucking epoxy when all he would have had to say was nothing and I would have been happy to sleep next to him like a virginal fucking log all night anyway. If that’s what he wanted.

“Fuck you,” I snapped. “Fuck you straight to fucking hell.”

And then I turned and stormed off, taking the goddamned headlamp with me. Fuck him if he couldn’t see in the dark tonight. 

It wasn’t like he had anyone’s van to sneak over to anyway.

Chapter 3

Val

I stared after Brennan wondering what the fuck had just happened. What was wrong with me? Maybe I was having a stroke.

After taking a mini wilderness first aid course at an expo last year (with Brennan), I learned the signs. BE FAST. 

Balance. I stood on one foot and didn’t fall over, so… check.

Eye changes. I squinted at my dashboard, clearly making out the small Get Lost sticker Brennan had put on the base of my GPS screen. All good there.

Face drooping. All I saw in the mirror were the stark whites of my eyes, but freak-out mode wasn’t the same as a stroke, so I would give myself a pass.

Arm weakness… I slapped myself hard on my forehead. Yup, fine. 

Speech difficulty…

“Do I want to fuck my best friend?” I whispered into the mountain breeze coming through the open sliding door. The cool air felt even cooler on the sweat prickling my neck. But the words came out clear, even if the answer was startling as fuck.

Time to call 9-1-1? No. Time to talk to my best fucking friend and fix this. 

Brennan Voto was beautiful. That was no secret. His boyish enthusiasm for life radiated from him like the sun’s warmth on a perfect summer day hike. His cheeky smile and laughing eyes made everyone around him want to be in on the joke. And his impossibly-generous kindness made me want to be a better human.

I wasn’t the only one. Everywhere we went, people gravitated to him. They wanted to be his friend, sit next to him at cookouts and pick his brain on hikes. Men wanted to be him (or fuck him) and women wanted to date him (and fuck him).

And Brennan had no idea.

In fact, he refused to see it even when Imani and I pointed it out and howled with laughter at his innocent confusion in response.

But now, it was all I could see. He was beautiful. And kind. And generous. He was fun as fuck, always up for an adventure, whether it was paddle-boarding in Antelope Canyon or roller-blading in Venice Beach. Hell, one time fans of ours convinced us to go to a “Fear Factor” dining experience, and I’d ended up rubbing his back for two hours later that night when he learned the hard way that his stomach didn’t appreciate fermented shark, or whatever the fuck he’d tried that had tipped him over the edge.

Throughout all of it, he’d been a good sport. A kick-ass ride-or-die. And the person I most wanted with me for just about any experience I could imagine.

I didn’t want to screw that up. But also…

Also, I wanted to maybe kiss him. And learn what his shoulders and biceps felt like under my fingers. And see what his face did when he came.

Movement through my open van door caught my attention. Armand called out a warning and then popped his head around. “You here?”

“Hey,” I said, trying my best to smile as if I hadn’t just been thinking about my best friend naked. “Is my face drooping?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No. Should it be?”

I took a breath and tried to shake off all thoughts of Brennan. “What’s up?”

“I’m setting up the Blackstone tonight and grilling. Wanted to make sure you knew we’re going to make a party out of it. Get a fire going, the whole bit. Weather should be good for it. Claudia has stuff for s’mores for the kids. You want me to pick up a steak for you and Brennan? Or I can do chicken or a pork chop…?”

Me and Brennan. It was always me and Brennan, and something about that soothed me.

“Actually, he’s been craving salmon. I was thinking I’d go into Montrose if they don’t have any at the local market.”

Armand nodded. “Okay, if they have any good-looking tomatoes, will you grab one? But only if it’s good. I’m making a burger for Thierry and he’d love a juicy tomato slice on it.”

The man loved his husband. Was always looking out for him, even though it looked quieter in Armand than it did the more-social Thierry. “Of course. No problem. Will probably have better luck in Montrose.”

He nodded and turned away, but I couldn’t help but call him back. “Hey, wait.”

Armand turned back and lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

I hesitated before speaking. “Do you know any guys who, like…” I stopped and pressed my lips together to decide whether I really wanted to ask this. But then again, Armand wasn’t a gossiper. I knew he wouldn’t repeat it except maybe to Thierry. And that both of them would understand. “Like, do you know anyone who…?”

Armand stepped into the van and slid the door closed before taking a seat on my banquette bench and waiting patiently.

I took a breath. “Anyone who maybe didn’t figure out they might be attracted to a guy until they were in their mid-twenties?”

He took the question in stride. Didn’t do that wide-eyed thing or suck in a dramatic breath. Instead, he nodded. “Sure, lots of guys. It’s very normal.”

Before I could ask him to explain, he continued. “It depends on people’s backgrounds, too. Like if there’s a lot of religion or family pressure to be a certain way, then a lot of men push down or deny themselves any feelings and thoughts in that direction and just cut it off as a thing they actually feel. Or, and this one is plenty common, they make excuses for it. Like, they want to be that guy, not touch him. They want to be around that guy because he’s successful and cool, not because he’s hot or bite-able.”

I snorted at this calm older man using the word “bite-able.” But some of what he’d said was relatable. I had often been attracted to men in the way of wanting to be them or spend time with them. Hell, I spent most of my time around men in physical fitness or hobby pursuits, which was how Brennan and I had become close in the first place.

But I hadn’t had religious oppression or a family who would have kicked me out if I’d admitted an attraction to other guys. They were fine. Normal. Whatever the right way of saying it was. 

I thought back to my brother’s teasing comment about Brennan. To the guys I’d gone to high school with using slurs like they were no big deal. To the unspoken feeling at my high school that gay guys were different. They weren’t “one of us.” 

I’d thought that was bullshit. And I hadn’t had any beef with the kids in my class who were gay or whatever. We just seemed to be in different circles.

All that had changed when I’d gone to college and my roommate was bi. He’d slept with anyone and everyone regardless of what body parts they had. The man was an animal.

“My college roommate was into both,” I explained. “He didn’t care who you were, but he did care if you were… bite-able.”

Armand grinned. “You’re bite-able. Were you ever tempted to hook up with him?”

I felt my face heat. “No. Not once. I had a girlfriend that year I was really into. But I remember envying him his openness. After my girlfriend and I called it quits, I started trying stuff, but it was more like… I was open to casual sex and threesomes, not dudes.” I shrugged. “I think part of it was that I was having as much sex as I could want. It wasn’t like there was a reason for me to consider dudes. And I still thought I just admired their bodies for fitness reasons. No one gave me a boner or anything.”

He studied me. “So what changed?”

I wasn’t ready to say it. And I sure as shit couldn’t say it to someone else before saying it to Brennan himself. “I don’t know. I wish I did. Because I just feel like if I’m suddenly interested in sleeping with a guy, I would have figured it out before now.”

“Maybe it took a certain guy to make the risk worth considering,” he suggested.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Talk to him, Val. If he’s someone worth being with, he’ll be patient and try to understand.”

I thanked him for the advice before heading off to the store. Normally, I would have texted Brennan to ask if he wanted anything, but it seemed like we were in a fight right now. I was probably the last person he wanted to hear from.

Fuck it, I texted anyway.

Me: I’m sorry I said Will wasn’t into you.

Brennan: That’s not what I’m upset about.

I stared at the words and tried to figure out what else he could be upset about, but nothing came to mind.

Me: Can we talk about it?

Brennan: Maybe later. Not right now.

My stomach swooped a little. I hated being on the outs with him. It wasn’t often, and every time it had happened it felt a little bit like death.

Me: Going to grocery in Montrose. Want anything?

After a couple of minutes, he shot me an image of his empty toothpaste tube. I hit the thumbs-up emoji and started the van.

As I pulled slowly out of the campground, keeping my eyes out for any kids or pets, I noticed Brennan’s van door was open but there was no sign of him or Pup. Will was sitting out at his picnic table writing notes in his journal. 

Despite my crazy jealousy, I had to admit Will was a nice guy. Kind of quiet, kept to himself. Introspective, maybe. But also kind. Probably the type of guy who’d take off his own coat to keep you warm, the way Brennan was. They were a lot alike, actually. Except Brennan was more outgoing. Social and bubbly like a portable pocket of sunshine.

Will was even a guitar player like Brennan. One more thing they had in common. I tried not to remember one of the nights they’d played together in Moab with the sun setting in brilliant scarlet and orange across the sky as the sounds of Fleetwood Mac swam lazily through the air. The two of them were fire together. Not only were they both hella talented, but they were also easygoing which meant they took as many requests as they could and entertained anyone who would listen until they were too tired to play anymore.

But even when Will was the one playing, it was Brennan I hadn’t been able to look away from. 

For the entire drive to Montrose, with the latest Looper album flooding the speakers, I thought of my best friend and tried to imagine a scenario in which sex with him wouldn’t be amazing. He was hot as fuck. I’d always known that. And, he was generous which meant he’d probably be generous in bed.

The more I thought about it—about Brennan and possibly having sex with him—the more my stomach tightened with need.

I’d never done grocery shopping with a half-hard dick before, and it wasn’t pleasant. By the time I returned back to Hush with a perfectly-ripe tomato, a couple of salmon fillets, Brennan’s requested toothpaste, and my own impulse-bought lube, I was a toxic vat of horniness and confusion. 

There was no way I could tell Brennan how I felt about him until I figured out why he had told me to fuck off.

I needed to talk to him. Now, before the cookout.

But when I pulled into the campground, the first thing I saw was Lena and Imani’s colorful school bus… and Brennan already over there chatting happily with our old friends.

I fucking loved seeing Brennan smile like that. There was no way I’d be the one to make it go away. 

And maybe I was a coward, but for now I would take the easy excuse to avoid possibly detonating the most important relationship in my life. 

Chapter 4

Brennan

Acting like everything was normal with Val when it most definitely was not, wasn’t easy.

Lena leaned over and lowered her voice as I stared at the blazing fire in the bowl. “What are we thinking about right now? I can’t figure out your expression tonight. One minute you’re normal and happy, the next you’re staring at things like you want to incinerate them. And since this is literally a fire, I’m thinking that’s not it.”

I took a slow breath, turned my frown upside down, and lied. “Sorry. Was just thinking about my sister. She’s graduating high school in like six weeks and I’m going to have to head back for it.”

Lena knew I wasn’t a fan of visiting my family. Every time I returned home to Austin, Texas, I had to sit through multiple passive-aggressive comments from various and sundry family members on my mother’s side about how it wasn’t too late to go to law school and how I would make an incredible closing attorney. Didn’t I want to work with my mother’s real estate business?

Or the ones from my father’s side implying that corporate law would be more lucrative and challenging.

“Either way, honey, the law is in your blood. Surely, you see that? Your father, both grandfathers, your brother Eric, and even cousin Kristen! How could you not want to follow in their footsteps?”

Easily. I’d never met an attorney who was happy deep down in their soul. And if they were, it wasn’t from real estate or corporate law. Maybe it was from their family or their hobby, but then again did they have time for either one?

Then there were the comments from family friends. “Oh, you’re still riding around in that van? Are you ever going to settle down?” As if I was fifty and not twenty-six. Or my favorite: “I follow you on Instagram, but I’m confused… how can you make money when you live on the side of the road?”

Lena must have understood because she crinkled her nose in disgust. “Ew. Texas. Don’t get me started.”

I barked out a laugh. “Exactly. Although Austin’s great for the most part. And it’s nice seeing my high school friends. But I’m not looking forward to wearing dress-up clothes in June in Texas, and I’m sure as shit not looking forward to the questions about what I could possibly want with the life of ‘an itinerant’ as they’ve said many times before.”

She tipped her beer bottle to clink with mine. “My family calls the Skoolie the drug bus. If only they knew I take fewer drugs living in that bus than I ever did living at home.”

“They have any idea how much you make by simply posting about living in a colorful school bus?” 

“Nope,” she said, popping the p. “And they never will. Or they’d expect me to share the wealth.”

She tilted her head across the ring of camp chairs to where Will Martin was busy trying not to flirt with Jake from the bar in front of the family friend visiting him. The whole thing looked awkward as hell.

“Whatever happened to you and Will?” Lena asked.

I shrugged. “We hooked up weeks ago. Back when we first met him.”

“No, I know. I thought something might have come of it. He’s super sweet. And talented.”

“He is. But he wasn’t into me, and honestly… I was fine with that. He seems to be working through stuff.”

She nodded as she studied him. “Wonder if the stuff he’s working through has something to do with the hottie two chairs over.”

I glanced idly. “You mean, Jake, the guy from the bar? He’s the one sitting next to Will and talking to him. The guy two chairs over is an old family friend.”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, yeah, Jake’s definitely shooting his shot, but Will’s entire body is tuned into the older guy.”

I didn’t give a shit about Will’s romance drama right now. 

“Val and I are fighting,” I whisper-blurted, unable to hold it in anymore.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You are? He literally made your favorite salad tonight.”

I waved a hand in the air. “Only because he loves me and knows I’ve been craving pumpkin seeds on a salad.”

She snorted. “M’kay. Continue. What are you fighting about?”

I lowered my voice even more, slapping a smile on my face so no one around the circle would know I was frustrated. “I think he’s jealous. Of Will. Can you believe that!”

The edge of her lip turned up. “Yes. Yes, I can.”

“What? Why? He knows he’s my best friend. That nothing will ever change how much he means to me.”

Her smile turned up even more. “Nothing? Not even one of you falling in love?”

I thought of Val falling in love with someone. Someone like Imani who I adored, and who’d already slept with him once. Would that seriously change things between me and Val? It was hard to imagine. Surely he couldn’t be as close to another person as he was to me.

“Oh, honey,” Lena said as my face fell. Before I could ask her what to do, Will came up and asked to borrow my guitar.

I led him over to my van to grab it. “You don’t want to use yours?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I just… I didn’t want anyone to follow me to my van when I went to get it.”

I glanced back at the circle of chairs where Jake was standing by himself, staring after us. “Ah.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “Anyway, never mind about that. Did you talk to Val? Everything okay?”

It was too much to talk about in the minute we had before returning to the campfire, so I smiled and said, “It’s fine. Everything is back to normal. It was a little misunderstanding.”

He smiled and clapped me on the back as I handed him the guitar case. “Good. The two of you have something special, Bren. Reminds me of my cousin Gabe and his bestie.”

Before we could talk about it at any length, he was being called back to the circle to start playing. I followed and joined in with the singing, enjoying having Imani and Lena back in the group after their detour to get some work done on their bus.

After a while, Will handed the guitar to me and I took over playing. With every chord, I felt my body let go of all frustration. Music was a strange kind of sedation, and I let it wash over me, subduing my second-guessing and tension and replacing it with the realization that this was Val. 

Valentino Belfiore. 

Who I’d known for over three years and whose familiar smiling face had been by my side just as long.

We would be okay. I would talk to him, explain that he needed to back off when it came to judging who I should and shouldn’t be with romantically (or sexually, for that matter). He needed to trust me. Because that was the crux of it. 

Him trying to warn me off of Will had sounded like him not trusting me to be able to choose a good person.

And I wasn’t an idiot, even though I could be a little oblivious.

Something I was reminded of two hours later when he snuck into my van and asked to borrow a headlamp.

Chapter 5

Val

As the melody of “Kiss Me Slowly” faded into the dark night, I knew I was going to kiss Brennan Voto before the night was out. At least… if he would let me.

My fingers itched with it. With the need to touch him, explore him in ways I never had before, reassure him that he was adored, worshipped, loved.

I was terrified of rejection—of course I was. So much was riding on this because I was fairly sure now that I would lose my fucking mind if he didn’t want me the same way I wanted him. Living the rest of my life not having all of him, or worse, sharing him, would be next to impossible.

He’d agreed to talk to me “later,” whatever that meant. But later had to be now, or I was going to cry. And it was going to be messy.

But I needed to act cool. Ease into it. Not come in there asking if We Could Talk.

I knocked on the van door. When it slid open, Pup tried darting out. I quickly grabbed her and held the orange tabby to my chest, crooning to her under my breath out of habit. “No, Puppington. It’s late. Adventures tomorrow, maybe. Daddy’s probably ready for bed, hm?”

Brennan reached for her, but I held her closer and nudged my way in. “I’ve got her.”

As soon as the van door slid closed behind me, I let her drop to the floor. She darted under his bed into the garage area where her fluffy bed lived.

Brennan lifted an eyebrow at me.

“Right,” I said, scratching my ear. “So, um… I was wondering if…”

His other eyebrow winged up.

I took a breath but it didn’t go very deep as I scrambled to come up with an excuse for the visit. “If like, I could… uh, borrow… a headlamp? For some reason I couldn’t find mine before walking over here.”

His mouth opened in a little “O” and all I could do was stare at his lips.

My heart pounded and my skin felt too tight. The last line from the last song he’d sung tonight repeated in my mind like a tease. Kiss me slowly. Kiss me slowly. Kiss me slowly.

I swallowed and glanced up at his eyes. They were warm and soft. No longer confused or hesitant or waiting for me to disappoint him.

“A headlamp, huh?” he asked. “As it happens, I do have an extra.”

I looked back down at his lips. At the Adam’s apple prominent on his throat. And I couldn’t wait a moment longer. 

“Bren,” I whispered to his throat. “Brennan, I…”

He stepped closer, reaching out his long, tanned fingers until they were tangled in my T-shirt. “What, Val?”

I leaned forward and tipped my forehead onto his shoulder, reaching with my hands to pull him closer by his hips. “I want to sleep in your bed again.”

“Mm. Like virginal sausages?”

I lifted my head up and squinted at him. “Huh?”

His eyes sparkled with the life and humor that had attracted me to him so much in those early days and that had kept fucking attracting me every day for three years. 

“I don’t want to share a bed with you again,” he explained. My stomach plummeted. But then it swooped back up. “Unless you promise to touch me.”

I felt relief like my strings had been cut. A noise escaped my throat. “Can I touch you?” I breathed.

His hands clasped my face, warm and strong. “Always.”

I met his eyes again. “I think I’m in love with you.”

He was so fucking bright. So beautiful and full of life. The smile that stretched his face was a gift from the fucking gods. “Then maybe you should kiss me.”

Then my lips were on his and my hands were in his hair and he tasted like every sunset we’d shared, like every vast, expansive night sky full of winking stars. Like every crash of waves or cold river spray. Every hike in the sun and run in the rain. 

As we kissed, I suddenly understood that the past three years had only ever been the start of it, the barest hint of a mountain peak whose full wealth still lay hidden under layers not yet explored. One day… one day our life together would be a giant mountain full of experiences, shared moments, adventures, and simple, steady companionship.

But for now, for now it started with this kiss. 

Want the next book in the Made Marian Legacy series? Get HOLDING GABRIEL HERE.

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