His thumb still played the tune on Mason’s chest. Gavin concentrated on the beat, tried to follow it, tried to make it sink into Mason. “Both of them here. This is the battle, where they both are going for it.”

Mason’s hard body leaned backward into him. They molded together, people all around them, touching them, but they were somehow alone, too.

“Hear it?” He asked.

He felt Mason’s words more than he heard them, felt the vibration through his hands that lay on Mason’s chest. “Yeah, I hear it.”

And then the song was over. Gavin dropped his arms but didn’t move away. Mason turned his head, tilted it up. Gavin dropped his head so his ear would be closer to Mason’s mouth. “Christ, that was sexy. I don’t think I’ve ever really heard music like that before.”

“That’s because you’ve never really listened to it before. You’re never alone if you have music.”

Hell, that sounded much more needy than he meant it to sound. “It’s not—”

“Let’s go, music man.” Mason grabbed his hand and pulled Gavin through the crowd. They kept going until they were on the outskirts of the open field. They could still hear the music but could actually speak without yelling, and there wasn’t a throng of people against them.

“Sit down,” Mason told him, and Gavin found himself doing what he said. He went down on the ground and then Mason sat between his legs. “Do that again. Make me feel the music.”

So he did. Gavin wrapped his arms around Mason. He kept his mouth close to the man’s ear, humming or whispering the beat of the songs. He tapped on Mason’s chest, playing the music on him. It was erotic as hell. It was something more than that, too.

He really liked this man, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Mason had been putting off going to lunch with his family. When he first made what they all considered his temporary move to Blackcreek, he’d gone weekly. Whether it should or not, that all changed when he found out the truth of his adoption. Being busy with work was true, but it was also a good excuse.

It was strange to suddenly feel out of place in the environment that had always been his home. With the people who were his family. Yes, there were parts of him that never totally felt like he fit. Not unwelcome, or as though he didn’t belong—just different. But in other ways, home was the place he always felt welcome as well.

He was still welcome there. They wanted him there. The hang-up belonged strictly with Mason. He got that, but there was something holding him back. Something that made it near impossible for him to get over the fact that they’d looked him in the eyes and lied to him his entire life.

Considering it was Monday, his day off, and Gavin planned to make the trip home to see his family, Mason figured now was as good a time as any.

They’d talked about it in the car on the way home from the concert last night, and so he hadn’t stayed at Gavin’s, either. The second he’d gone home to his empty place, he’d second-guessed that decision. Why the hell would he want to stay home alone when he could spend the night with Gavin’s body wrapped around his?

But it’s exactly what they’d done, and now he pulled into the driveway of his parent’s oversized house with a knot in his gut.

For a minute, he sat in his SUV looking at the home he’d been raised in. He’d lived here as long as he could remember—since he was a child. Every memory he had in this home had been a happy one. They played games here and had dinner together every night.

He’d come out to his parents in this home, and they’d hugged him and said he’d always be their son, that they would always love him no matter what.

Did it make him a prick that he couldn’t help but wonder why they also didn’t love him enough to tell him the truth?

Before he spent the whole day out here feeling sorry for himself, Mason got out of the SUV and headed for the house. It had six bedrooms and three-and-a-half baths, when the most people who had ever lived it in at a time was Mason and his parents.

Before Mason had the chance to go in, his father opened the door. “Hey, son. Glad to see you could make it.” He reached out his hand and they shook. Shook fucking hands. It had been like that since he found out, when his dad had always been a hugger before.

“Hey, Dad. How’s everything going?”

“Good, good. The doctor has me exercising every day. I have to run on that damned treadmill for at least thirty minutes a night.”

“That damned treadmill is good for him.” Mason’s mom came into the foyer. Unlike his dad, she pulled him into a hug.