We were in my truck, driving to Lucy's cabin. Amanda sat sideways, her long tanned legs covering the entire bench seat. She chewed her lip with a smirk on her face as she felt my dick get harder and harder. "Stop it," I warned, running my hand up the inside of her thigh. "This can quickly turn into a two-player game."

She squeezed her thighs tight, trapping my hand between them. Giggling, she removed it and sat up straighter. She moved to the middle of the seat, pressed her body against me and maneuvered my arm around her shoulders. "I love you," she said.

You couldn't wipe the grin off my face.

"What?" she asked, watching me.

"Those words—leaving your lips—I don't think I could ever get enough of it."

She kissed my cheek, and then moved to my ear. "I love you," she whispered, and nibbled gently there, at the same time running her hand over my dick.

I pushed her away. "Quit it," I warned again.

She laughed, that all-consuming, stomach-holding, head thrown back laugh. I pulled over, just so I could watch it. Remember it. Savor it. When she finally settled down, she wiped at her eyes.

"Are you done?" I asked. Honestly, I didn't care if she was, I could watch her like that for the rest of my life and it still wouldn't be enough.

She nodded, but then, seriousness took over her features. "Are you nervous, babe?"

I pulled back onto the road. "What do you mean?"

"Seeing your friends again? I mean Jake—he's your best friend. You only called him once. You didn't even tell him you were back. You think he'll be pissed?"

I hadn't even thought about it. "If he is, I'll talk to him. I need to talk to him anyway, tell him all of it, you know?"

She nodded, and placed my hand on her leg. "If I were him, I'd just be glad you're here. Back home. Where you belong."

Home, I thought to myself. I looked down at her hand, now covering mine. "You're my home," I told her. Truth.

***

"No. Fucking. Way!" Was Jake's reaction. He basically threw Micky off his lap and stomped towards me. His eyes were huge, almost as big as his grin. He kissed Amanda on the cheek first, and then stood in front of me. "Wait," he said, looking around the bonfire. He eyed Cam. "You knew he was back?" He sounded pissed.

Cam grimaced as his shoulders lifted in a shrug. Then Jake's gaze came back to me. "I don't even fucking care, I'm just so glad you’re home." We did that one-arm bro hug-handshake thing. When we pulled apart, he faced Amanda. "Mind if I borrow him for a while?" he asked her.

Amanda shrugged. "He's all yours. I'm kinda sick of him, anyway."

That got laughs.

Jake and I walked near the private dock, closer to Lucy's main house. I couldn't even remember the amount of times we’d come here during summers once her and Cameron had started dating. "Remember that time Cameron did that back flip, and smacked his head on the edge?" Jake asked.

"Yeah." I laughed. "Remember how Lucy panicked because we'd all been drinking, and she didn't want to tell her dad?"

Jake laughed too, and then mimicked Lucy's voice. "If papa comes out and sees y'all been drinkin' he's gon' whoop your be-hunds, that's if he dun get the shotgun first."

I laughed harder. Jake continued, "Luce always turns into a hick when she's anxious."

"I know, right?"

"You should hear her new thing." He picked up a few stones from the ground and started skipping them on the water. I did the same. "She's made friends with this black girl in one of her classes, so now, when she's been drinking, she says things like . . . Hold up, ho, you ain't be talking shit about my man."

"No way." I said through a laugh.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "She even does that neck snap thing. It's so fucking funny."

We waited until our laughter died down before choosing to speak.

"Sorry," we said at the same time.

"What? Why?" Again, both of us at the same time.

He motioned for me to go first, and so I did. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving."

"I get it," he responded. "I mean—no, actually, I don't really get it. But I'm sure you have your reasons."

"Jake," I paused, waiting for the right words to come. I wanted him to know that it wasn't personal—me keeping things from him.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling me from my thoughts. "I'm sorry that I was a shitty friend to you all those years."

His words surprised me. "What?"

"Yeah. I should've been around enough to know what was going on with you. We were boys, best friends—well, at least you were to me. I should have paid more attention. Not made shit about me all the time."

"Stop," I said quietly. He didn't need to apologize. He'd done nothing wrong.

"I mean it, man. Seriously, fuck my life. I have a great family, an amazing girlfriend, the major leagues knocking on my door. I have nothing at all in my life to worry about. I've never had to deal with anything. Ever.

"I always just thought you were this cocky asshole, gifted with brains. You never let it show, you know? How hard you worked, or the fact that your birth parents used to beat the shit—" He cut himself off with a grimace. Maybe he didn't mean to go that far.