Chapter 9Harland watched Jameson as he slept. He hoped he hadn’t hurt him. Sometimes he forgot how strong he was, and he could see red dots where his fingers had dug into the skin on Jameson’s hips. There would most likely be bruises. He winced and carefully rolled away but was reluctant to leave the room.
He wanted to hold Jameson, touch Jameson, do what they’d done all over again, and again. Maybe this part of him, this neediness, wanting things to mean more than a one-night stand was what drove people away.
Silently, he left the bedroom and went into the kitchen. There he called Frank.
“Frank.” He answered on the first signal.
“Hi. It’s Harland.”
For a moment everything when quiet, then Frank hissed into the phone. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You never say Hi. It’s Harland, you
