“Chelle said Mom used to go crazy. She’d dress me, and five minutes later I’d come out of my room having stripped everything off. Mom would have to chase me around to put clothes on me again, but I’d take them off again.”

The memory made him smile.

Braden turned another page. There were lake trips and snowmen, and pictures of him or his sisters lying on the couch when they were sick.

When they got to a page with Wes from high school wearing his baseball uniform, Braden said, “Holy fuck, Wesley. You were hot.”

He turned to look at his lover, whose face was only inches from his own. “You sound shocked.”

“Usually when people are hot as an adult, they were funny looking as a kid—braces, long limbs, screwed up hair.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Wes hit his shoulder with Braden’s.

“It’s true. Me? I wasn’t nearly as hot at seventeen as I am now. The hot ones were all assholes, and they grow up to look like shit. The ones who hadn’t grown into themselves yet are sexy as hell as adults.”

The grin pulling Braden’s lips told Wes he was joking. Plus, he had no doubt that Braden was sexy when he was younger, and had probably had all the girls and guys lusting after him. He would have been one of the nice guys, too.

“So I’m different, huh?” Wes teased. “I’m a novelty? The rare person who was hot as a teenager and is good looking as an adult?”

Braden nodded. “Except this.” He brushed his thumb through the hair on Wes’s chin. “Teenage Wes is missing this, and it definitely ups the hotness factor.”

Wes pretended to bite at Braden’s finger but he jerked it back.

“I have no doubt you were good-looking when you were younger. Wait... Did you bring all that up just so I’d give you a compliment?”

Braden clutched his heart. “I’m offended. I can’t believe you think I’d do such a thing.” But then he pointed to the picture album and sobered up. “Keep looking with me. Tell me stories from when you were a kid.”

Braden’s words made Wes’s heart thump louder, made it swell in a way he hadn’t thought possible. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

So they sat there for the next hour and a half going through album after album. Braden asked questions and Wes told him stories. They laughed and talked, and the longer he looked, the more he realized how truly happy he’d been as a kid. How much he’d been loved by his mom, Chelle, and Lydia. And how much he’d at least thought he was loved by his dad, before he left.

And it helped.

Chapter Twenty

When they got through the last photo album, Wes held them on his lap. For once Braden didn’t speak, waiting to see what Wes would have to say—giving him a chance to work through whatever was going around in his head.

He smiled when Wes leaned over and bumped his arm. “Thanks, Roth.”

“No problem, Wesley.”

Wes let out a deep breath. “I should move into this room. It makes more sense for me to be in this room.”

“There’s a lot more space.” There was hardly enough area for the two of them to move around in Wes’s current room. Not that it should matter if he could fit there or not.

“Maybe after Christmas. I’ll finish getting things put away and slowly move in here.” He paused, and Braden instinctively knew to keep his big mouth shut, knew that something important was coming.

“That offer still stand for Christmas?” Wes finally asked.

He drummed his thumb on his leg to keep himself busy, to give the electric currents running through him an outlet. He really fucking wanted to take Wes home. He hadn’t realized how much until this second. “Always.”

“I’m going to talk to Jess. I don’t want her to feel like I’m taking her away from her family for the holiday, but if she wants to go, we’ll go.”

The drumming suddenly wasn’t enough. He needed more. More movement, more touching, more something. When Wes turned to look at him, Braden reached over, holding Wes’s chin between his first finger and thumb. “Don’t ever shave this. I like it.” He rubbed the rough hair beneath his fingers. Then he leaned forward and took Wes’s mouth. It wasn’t a rough, needy kiss, but slow, teasing, and making that urge for more knock into him again.

Braden let his hand drift down to hold the back of Wes’s neck as he deepened the kiss, let his tongue have every part of Wes’s mouth. The man matched him, his tongue demanding entrance as well, a gentle battle of lips, mouths and tongues. “How much time do we have until we have to pick up the Squirt?” he asked.