Leaning Into Always: Leaning Into Stories, #3

By Lane Hayes

Life is good. Eric is about to marry his best friend, the man of his dreams, and it some ways, it feels too good to be real. Eric is a numbers guy and a geek, and Zane is—well, he's cool, popular, and easygoing. All the things Eric isn't. 

But Zane knows without a doubt Eric is the one. And he knows that carving out a future together may require confronting a piece of the past before they can lean into always.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lane Hayes
• Release date: Mar 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386820741

Lane Hayes

Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in an almost empty nest.

Book preview

1

M y heart is, and always will be, yours.—Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility

Lazy Sunday mornings were the best. Especially in the summer when the days were longer and there was no sense of urgency. I could do what I wanted and go where I pleased. Or I could stay home and curl up in my comfy leather chair reading murder mysteries and gazing out my giant bay window at the amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz. I’d daydream in peace and quiet and⁠—

Hey, drink up, babe. We’ve got things to do!

I groaned on cue and lifted my coffee cup to my mouth. I took a healthy sip before pushing the half-empty cup toward my cheery roommate, holding the carafe on the opposite side of the kitchen island.

Please, I whispered in a desperate tone.

Zane rolled his eyes but thankfully complied before taking the barstool next to mine. He ran his hand down my back then leaned in to kiss my cheek.

You had a good night’s sleep, and you even got some exercise this morning—he paused to waggle his eyebrows lasciviously then reached to cup my balls through my boxer briefs—you should be full of energy and ready to set sail.

I am. Or I will be. I just need a little more caffeine.

Zane cocked his head and studied me thoughtfully. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t feel like it, Er. You’ve been on the water with me every weekend. If you want a break, that’s okay. I understand.

You do?

Of course. I can get Nick, Josh, or Grant to come with me instead, he said matter-of-factly before taking a sip.

No. I’m fine. I want to go. You’re my boyfriend. It’s my job.

Zane yanked my T-shirt when I tried to stand up and scowled. Job? Sailing isn’t your job, it’s mine. And we aren’t keeping score here. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

So if I say I’m tired and I don’t feel like bopping around on a tin can in turbulent water, you won’t be insulted or think I’m the worst boyfriend ever? I attempted to fuse humor into my query, but when he didn’t look particularly amused, I made a funny face too. Nope. Still didn’t work. Okay. I’ll jump in the shower in a sec and⁠—

Hold on. This is one of those weird cross-over moments, isn’t it? A ‘how do you go from being friends to an almost-married couple without fucking up a good thing?’ test. Am I right?

I furrowed my brow and gave him a wry half grin. Hmm. Maybe. It’s not intentional, but yeah…sometimes I don’t know how to balance who I used to be to you and who I am now. Does that make sense?

Zane returned my weak smile with a radiant one I felt deep inside my soul. It was followed by a surge of affection so strong, I almost fell off my barstool. Fuck, I loved him. And suddenly everything was clear again. We were exactly where we were supposed to be.

So, here’s the thing—Zane wasn’t just my roommate. He was my best friend, my lover, and in less than four months, he’d be my husband. The thought alone made me dizzy. I wanted to pinch myself sometimes ’cause I couldn’t believe my insane luck. We’d known each other for years, but nine months ago, everything changed and there was no turning back now. I should have been more freaked out than I was, but truthfully, we felt right together. We fit.

In some ways, it was a mystery. We were complete opposites who had a few major things in common. We hailed from the same Southern California beach town and had both ended up going to Stanford University. After that, our differences were what most people noticed. We might as well have been from different planets.

Zane was tall, dreamy, and naturally athletic. He was a six-foot-one hunk with longish dark-blond hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and a reputation for knowing how to have a good time. He was a cool kid in high school. The stereotypical Southern California surfer dude who hung out with a bunch of miscreants at the beach, checking out the hot chicks in between riding waves and getting stoned. Zane skated by with mediocre grades until he joined the water polo team in our junior year. His talent in the pool ultimately won him a scholarship toward an elite education, while my admittance was based on brainpower.

I was a geek. There was no way to sugarcoat it. I was the last one picked for dodge ball in gym class but the first guy chosen for a spelling bee or math competition. Scholastic achievement mattered to me. I was captain of the debate team in high school and college. I took all honors classes and was constantly prepping for the next big exam. I might have lived less than a mile from the ocean, but I had zero interest in risking sunburn when there were more important things to do, like study. My brain was my asset, which was a good thing because in all other respects, I was ordinary. I was five ten with short brown hair, brown eyes, and pleasant but unremarkable features. I worked out now more than ever with Zane, but I was never going to be super muscular. And that was okay by me. However, the mystery remained. What on earth did he see in me?

I didn’t question my unlikely fortune anymore. We were both thirty-year-old, well-educated adults living in a diverse and vibrant city. We had a great group of friends and jobs we loved. Zane used his business degree and love of the ocean to become a professional sailor who sold luxury vessels to the uberwealthy when he wasn’t competing in prestigious regattas. And me…I founded a successful tech company with our friend, Nick, in the Silicon Valley. Professionally, we were both doing well and personally, I’d never been happier.

But the neurotic part of me insisted there had to be a catch and that somehow, I’d find a way to fuck this up well before we made it to the altar.

Zane held my face between his hands and kissed my lips before resting his forehead against mine. The tender gesture quieted my fears and grounded me. I closed my eyes for a moment and reveled in the joy of just being near him.

Look at me, Er. He waited for me to obey then kissed my nose and backed up slightly with his arms hooked over my shoulders. I love you and I’m not going to love you less if you don’t go sailing with me. Got it?

I bit my lip and nodded. Yes. I can do wedding things while you’re out. I’ll call the wedding planner and⁠—

Or…you can take it easy and do nothing at all. Treat yourself. Read a book or watch one of those documentaries you like about the native plants in Peru.

I barked a quick laugh and punched his bicep playfully. I’ve never watched a documentary about native plants in Peru. I waited a beat before adding, It was Argentina.

My bad. He smirked. The point is…you’ve been going full-steam for months. Give yourself a break. You don’t have to go sailing with me every weekend. I won’t be bummed if you want to do your own thing.

So you don’t want me to go? I narrowed my gaze and fixed him with a mock glare.

Zane pulled me into a headlock and rubbed his knuckles over my skull. I batted him away then hopped to my feet and put my hands on my hips in my best don’t mess with me stance. He chuckled then yanked at my elbow to pull me back into his arms.

Don’t be a weenie, Schuster. You know what I mean.

Weenie? I snuggled against his chest then slipped my fingers under the elastic of his boxer briefs and pinched his ass. And don’t call me Schuster.

He yelped then gave me a badass grimace before capturing both of my hands and holding them against my lower back. Then he walked me backward from the kitchen into the adjoining great room.

What do you want me to call you? Honey, baby, sweetheart?

Mmm. Yes. That’s better. I moaned, nudging his stubbled chin with my nose.

Zane hummed in approval then licked my jaw. Or Mr. Richards or⁠—

What? I pulled my arms free then pushed his chest when he reached the edge of the sofa. He flailed wildly before grasping my hand at the last second to tug me on top of him so we lay chest-to-chest on the oversized light-gray sectional. I chuckled at his antics then lifted his T-shirt to suck on his left tit while I teased the right, tweaking it between my thumb and forefinger roughly. Mr. Who?

"Richards. You’re taking my