“I’m sorry,” Evan said, and he added, sotto voce, to Hunter’s father while his eyes never left Hunter, “I’m quite taken by your son’s dimples.”
Hunter laughed out loud at that, purposely making his dimples look even more pronounced. His mind went back to the previous night when they were entangled with each other in his bed. Evan had cupped his face, his former badside, and Hunter had suddenly been attacked by insecurity, something that would not have happened to the old Hunter Donahue before the accident.
“Would you still be here with me if my face was all mangled like it was before?” he’d asked.
Evan had kissed him softly and thumbed his lower lip.