“Are you sure about this?” Grady asked, his smile wide, excitement racing. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” The distant roar of the rapids thundered up the walls of the canyon, a foreshadowing of what they’d find around the bend.
Micah stared down the river, long breaths expanding his chest. He gave a quick nod, grin splitting his face, eyes bright when he turned to Grady. “I want to.”
He searched for any falseness in his statement and found none. Amazing. And this was the guy who claimed he had too much baggage?
“Okay,” Grady said, doubts lingering but buried. “I’ll be right next to you the whole way.” At least he wasn’t guiding this trip. “But do me a favor and stay in the raft.”
“Not a problem,” Micah agreed around a chuckle. “As long as you do the same.”
“Count on it.” He inhaled, the damp rock and muddy wetness speaking to the part of him he’d shut down for almost three months. This whole trip was crazy but so fucking right too. “You have your cards?”
Micah unzipped the top of his wet suit and pulled out the sealed plastic bag filled with his little laminated cards. “I already showed you this.” That smirk of his would be irritating if it wasn’t so damn cute on him.
Yeah, he was a sucker for it. Whatever. “You did.”
He ran through the list of other items for the trip, Micah patiently nodding after each one. His nerves were a jumbled mess between the stress of getting back on the river and watching out for Micah.
“I’m not coddling,” he mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair.
“I know.” Micah’s calm regard was so opposite of what it probably should be. “I appreciate your attention to safety and detail.”
They’d planned every portion of this adventure together, arranging the flights, rental car, hotel room, and rafting trip to a degree that gave Micah as much security as possible. There was no way to project when his brain blips would occur, but they were ready for them. Or hoped they were.
Shit. Maybe this was a horrible idea.
No. We’re both okay. This is good.
He placed a kiss on Micah’s lips, gripping the back of his neck, not caring who saw. This simple touch still rocked him, the connection easing in to fill his heart and calm his mind. Resting his forehead on Micah’s, he absorbed the comfort of being here with him. In his environment and so far out of Micah’s.
“You’re pretty damn amazing,” he murmured.
“I wouldn’t be here without you,” Micah said. “That makes you pretty damn amazing too.”
He chuckled and backed away. “Let’s go before I haul you behind a boulder and remind you of how amazing my sucking skills are.”
“Seriously, dude?” Sawyer Stevens strolled up, face scrunched in feigned disgust. “I thought you’d be done with river fucks now that you have him.” He motioned to Micah.
Grady shot Sawyer a lascivious smirk. “He can fuck me wherever he wants.” He wiggled his brows, only slightly uncomfortable with the blatancy.
He’d never been ashamed of the gay part of himself, but he was finally coming to terms with the part that reveled in being fucked through the damn mattress or wall or swing by Micah. Screw what anyone else thought. What they had was too damn right to let anyone’s opinion ruin it.
Yeah, he’d been slow on getting to that point, but he wasn’t going backward now that he was there.
“So that’s how it is.” Sawyer bobbed his head, gaze speculative. “And you say he doesn’t work for Kick?”
“I’m right here,” Micah interjected. “And no. I don’t work for Kick.” He leveled one of his intimidating glares on Sawyer before his Cheshire Cat grin came out. “I bartend at a leather club.”
Sawyer’s laughter rolled out in a rare burst of real enjoyment. Years came off his face, his sun-bleached hair brushing over his cheeks. “I won’t even ask how the two of you met.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Micah said, concern lowering his brow when he looked to Grady.
And there was Finn. Thoughts of him hovered in Grady’s mind, but it was okay now. The entire accident still sucked dog, like Rig had said. But he accepted that it was just that, an accident. A river was unpredictable and whitewater even more so. And why was he taking Micah on this trip?
Because it was good for both of them, right.
“You know,” Sawyer drawled, grin cocked, “you didn’t have to come all the way to Utah just to get me to work with you for the season. You would’ve had me at gay Doms.” The usually closed-off guide arched a brow, the implication hanging free.
“Well, damn.” Grady shook his head, but he wasn’t that surprised to learn the rumors about Sawyer were true. “Maybe I should tell Ash you’re not available.”
“Ash?” His brow lifted even higher. “I’ll remember that. So”—he glanced between the two of them—“is that why you joined them? You’re a partner now, right?”
No. He’d gone for Finn and ended up finding Micah. Not a bad deal, really.
“Yup.” As of two weeks ago. The papers were signed, his investment in Kick, Micah, and whatever the future held locked in tight. And it’d all transpired with only one minor freakout. “So does that mean I can tell Ash and Rig you’re in?” The company was in serious need of another top-notch whitewater guy now that they were down two guides.
He winced at the small shot of pain. He was pretty certain he’d always feel some level of remorse when he thought of the accident.
Finn had emerged from his coma about three weeks back—thankfully. But the head injury and prolonged comatose state had taken a huge toll. He was facing months of both physical and occupational therapy just to regain his verbal and motor skills. It wasn’t necessarily good, yet Finn was alive and awake and that was positive.
Sawyer shrugged, gaze panning down the muddy, brown currents of the river. “I’ll let you know after the trip.”
“And what’s going to change between now and then?”
“Nothing but my mind.” Sawyer slid his sunglasses on, a cocky grin holding firm as he walked away. “We leave in ten,” he called, not looking back.
Micah leaned into Grady’s side, both of them watching Sawyer as he made his last checks over the raft.
“What’s his deal?” Micah asked.
“I have no clue.” He shrugged. “But the company could really use him.” Anything else was Sawyer’s to reveal—if he wished to.
He brushed his fingers over the leather of Micah’s wristband. What anyone desired or needed was completely up to them. To each their own. It’d taken Grady a while to apply that statement to himself. And he still had a way to go before he was comfortable with everything he was discovering about his needs.
He had Micah though, right here with him the whole way.
“I was right,” he said, fingers closing around the wristband, pulse steady.
“About what?”
“It was so easy to fall in love with you.”
Micah turned his head, expression impossibly soft. “You were right.” He twisted his wrist free to thread their fingers together. “It was easy.” His lips were soft, the impact staggering when he kissed him. “I love you, Grady. I have for a while.”
He still wasn’t certain how that’d happened, but he’d finally stopped doubting it. “Does that mean you’re going to go easy on my ass from now on?”
“Not a chance.”
And that was the perfect fucking response. “I’ll make sure you don’t.”
He didn’t want less and Micah didn’t want Grady to give in. It worked for them and he had no desire to change it. To change anything. For the first time in his life, he was completely happy with where and who he was.
That meant everything to him, and so did Micah.