The house was at the furthest point west in this small town of Black Creek. Their red-roofed white wooden house with the wraparound porch backed onto the edge of the forest, and there couldn’t be much to see. Shorter than Connor by two inches, Josh couldn’t see past him to the point Connor was staring at. He had been waiting for Connor to say something ever since they’d set foot in the town. I was just thinking, Connor’s voice rumbled. Josh hated it when his husband went quiet-it often meant something was wrong. They’d only been in their new house for four days, and the tension in Connor had grown to the deadly silence phase. He hugged Connor from behind, relieved when the big man, after initially stiffening in protest, finally relaxed back against him.
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