Winter Wonderland, page 14
This news sent her back to the start of her lecture and Paul to his fridge to get a second beer, but before he could get one, a tentative knock sounded on his door. He answered it silently, his mother still scolding in his ear.
Kyle stood on Paul’s stoop. Naughty puppies appeared less remorseful than Kyle, though not half as cute. The sight of his boyfriend was balm enough to Paul’s shitty mood, but when his nose told him the tall, round plastic container Kyle bore was full of cake, his heart swelled. When he saw, perched atop the cake container, the homemade gift bag with delicately handwritten I’m sorry surrounded by swirls and glitter, Paul’s heart cracked and melted.
“Mom, I have to go,” he said, interrupting her mid-rant and hanging up on her as she sputtered in shock.
Kyle looked miserable. “I’m so, so sorry.”
That had almost been the only thing Kyle had said to him all day, ever since they woke up in the morning and saw Paul’s hickey was worse than the night before. Seeing Kyle standing there, so cute and hot and carrying cake and a present, Paul thought he’d take a hickey on his nose. “I keep telling you. Don’t worry about it.” Snuffing out the urge to be shy, he pressed a kiss on Kyle’s cheek. “Come on in. It’s warmer than it’s been, but it’s still cold outside.”
Once inside the door, Kyle took off his boots, but not his coat. His green scrubs scraped the floor. “I can’t stay long. I want to get to work early because they’re bringing Edna.”
Paul felt like an ass for forgetting about his neighbor. “Is she there short term, or for good?”
“Short term for now, but everyone’s hoping she agrees to move in permanently.” He pressed the cake and present into Paul’s hands. “Here. I baked you a red velvet cake.” His cheeks stained. “Also, I knit something for you. It’s in the bag.”
Paul flushed too, though more with pleasure than embarrassment. “You didn’t need to do any of this.”
Kyle gestured impatiently. “Go on. Open the present. I want to make sure it fits.”
Paul set the cake on his coffee table and pulled tissue paper out of the gift bag with an odd flutter in his chest. It was nothing, though, to what he felt when he withdrew a beautiful orange and green knit hat from the bag.
“It has the felt lining, so it’s extra warm.” Kyle bit his lip and regarded the cap with scrutiny. “I hesitated over what style. I wanted to make you one with earflaps, but you don’t normally wear deerstalkers unless you’re hunting or it’s extra cold. I hope you don’t mind the bobble on top. It didn’t look right without it.”
“It’s perfect. Beautiful. When did you do this? Did you even sleep today?”
“I started once I got home the other day, after the blizzard. They really don’t take me long, but also I wanted you to have it as soon as possible.”
Paul hadn’t ever had anyone make anything for him, and it made him melt. “It’s so nice. I’ll have to save it for special occasions.”
Kyle swatted his arm. “You will not. I made this for you to wear.”
“But what if I catch it on a nail at work or something?”
“Then you tell me, and I fix it. Or make you another one.” Kyle sighed, took the hat from Paul’s hands and put it on his head.
It fit like a glove, but Kyle still tugged on it, fussing and regarding his creation with a critical eye. Paul held his breath, terrified Kyle would find something wrong with it and take it away. But eventually Kyle nodded curtly and stood back.
“It’ll do. I think I might make it slightly bigger next time, so you can tug it lower if it’s cold. I brought some yarn with me to work, so I’ll get started on it tonight.” His cheeks stained. “And a scarf, so you don’t have to be embarrassed by my thoughtlessness. I really am sorry, Paul.”
It was funny. All day Paul had been frustrated by the hickey, but now he was almost glad for it. Now everyone knew. Everybody would be talking about how Paul Jansen and Kyle Parks were dating. They knew who’d given him the love mark.
And Paul knew the man who’d done it was by turns aggressive and sensual and thoughtful and sweet.
“Don’t worry about it.” Paul touched his new hat. “If hickeys mean I get cake and knitted things, you can give me one every day.”
Kyle smiled ruefully, then kissed Paul—on the mouth this time, in a lingering way that made Paul wish Kyle truly didn’t have to go to work. “I can’t wait for the weekend. I wish I had the whole day off on Sunday and could be part of all the planning.”
Paul did too. “We’ll get the hard stuff done when you’re gone. I worry you’ll be too tired from our date the night before, though.”
Kyle kissed the bruise on Paul’s neck. “Don’t worry. I’ll wear you out too.”
When Kyle finally left, Paul had a stiffy in his jeans and a warm feeling in his belly. It wasn’t anything, though, to what his stomach felt like once he had a piece of Kyle’s red velvet cake.
As the sugar and cream cheese hummed in his system, his head snug and warm inside his hat, Paul let the gifts from his boyfriend chase away his own doubts and those his mother had sown. He thought about the coming weekend, full of friends and plans and possibilities.
Pulling the hat from his head, Paul shut his eyes and took a deep draught of the smell of wool and Kyle.
Then he had another piece of cake.
Edna arrived at the care center five minutes after Kyle did, but he’d had enough time to set out flowers and balloons in her room. After a phone call with her son, Kyle had added three cans of Pringles to the loot. Edna, low on sodium and weight, had been given clearance to eat all the potato chips she wanted.
He’d brought one of his mother’s quilts from home as well, knowing he couldn’t turn the room into Edna’s home, but he tried to make it as homey as possible nonetheless. When she was wheeled in, he beamed at her, and when she beckoned him closer, eagerly accepted her hug.
“How are you feeling?” He crouched so he was level with her gaze. “Did they treat you well at the hospital?”
Edna huffed. “The food was terrible. But the nurses were wonderful.”
Good, because Kyle had called over and pulled every favor he had to get her rock-star treatment. “I’ll have to work hard to live up to their high standard. I know we can beat them for food, though. And I already stocked your room with contraband.”
Edna patted his hand, then drew it to her lips for a kiss. “Thank you, young man.” Her grip on his hand tightened a little. “I see you’re in your work clothes. How long are you here tonight?”
“I don’t go on shift until seven, so you and I have a full forty-five minutes to gossip. I brought my latest knitting project, and I expect you to pull no punches. I’ll never improve if you don’t give me an honest critique.”
Her son, despite being married with two kids—all of them huddled behind him in the hallway—looked like he wanted to kiss Kyle. “Thank you so much for your help. We couldn’t have done this without you.”
“I’m only doing my job.” Kyle stepped aside so Hans could wheel Edna into the room.
He largely hung to the side as the family settled Edna in, answering their questions and backing up the center director as she gave Edna her orientation. He wasn’t surprised, though, that Edna shooed her family out at quarter to seven and planted Kyle in the seat beside her head.
“It’s going to be fine,” he promised her before she could work up the courage to voice her fears. “No one will keep you here if you don’t want to be here, once you’re well.”
“And what if I don’t get well?”
“Then I’ll do my best to convince you it’s better to let me help you here than come visit and find you’re bleeding out on your kitchen floor.”
It was blunt talk, but he knew it was what Edna needed to hear. She sighed and smoothed her hand over the quilt. “This is nice work. Your mother’s?”
“Yes. She’s been showing me how to quilt, but I’m a slow learner.”
“I never got the hang of it. Hate the sound of the machine. It’s nothing on the click of needles.”
Kyle smiled. “Would you let me take my break tonight in here? I’ll bring my knitting, and I’ll click all you like.”
She pulled a haughty face. “I’m not holding back if I think you’re doing it wrong.”
“Good.”
He hated to leave her when his shift started, but he also knew she needed some time to come to terms with her new situation. He also had plenty of work to do, so much that he had to cut a deal with Trina to arrange his break at a time when Edna would still be awake.
“You’re so sweet to the little old ladies.” Trina waved him off. “Go on. But I want to hear all about this hickey you planted on Paul Jansen once everybody’s in for the night.”
Edna, thankfully, hadn’t heard the gossip about the hickey, or she’d decided it was too scandalous to bring up. She only ate potato chips and ruthlessly critiqued his stitches. She insisted she wasn’t tired, but after he helped her through her evening routine, it was clear how exhausted she was.
When he left her room and headed to the nurses’ station, Corrina Anderson waited for him.
Unable to help it, Kyle broke out in a deep blush.
She rolled her eyes and waved his embarrassment away. “None of that. No, it’s not what I would have advised, but it seems to have worked out okay. Even the hickey. Maybe not quite such a big one, but it certainly has everyone talking.”
Didn’t Kyle know it. “Can I stop watching the movies now? I think I figured it out. He loves happy endings and soft, gooey stories. Right?”
She cinched her scarf tighter around her neck. “I’ll have Gabriel pull some more. Though it sounds as if you’ll be short on time to watch them, what with work, the Winter Wonderland preparation Sunday, and your big date on Saturday.”
And yet she clearly still expected him to do his homework. Kyle sighed.
Corrina patted his shoulder. “It’s important, dear. Paul’s a complicated man.”
“I don’t understand why I have to watch bad movies to understand him.”
She hesitated, as if weighing her options, then nodded. “Very well. I’ll give you one hint. Part of the reason he watches them is because of his family.”
“His family? What, the movies are some kind of tradition?”
Corrina’s lips flattened. “Oh, no. More of a replacement. The Jansens aren’t kind to him in general, and his mother and sister are the worst. Mary’s especially always been a stick-in-the-mud. Never gave up hope Paul dating my son was him going through a phase. But no matter who he dates of any gender, she won’t be happy until the boy is back under her thumb.”
Kyle’d had no idea Paul’s mother was so unaccepting. He’d never really paid her any mind, and it occurred to him it might be time to fix that. “And the movies are related to this somehow?”
Corrina touched her nose. “One hint, child. It’s all I’m giving you.”
She waved him goodbye, and he went on his evening rounds. On break, he and Trina ended up talking about Winter Wonderland, which Trina was excited about because she and her friends had always wanted to open a coffee shop and here was their chance to try. By the time Kyle got off work at three, she bustled with plans, and Kyle felt pretty good about himself.
He fell into bed once he got home, but he woke before ten in the morning, too wired to stay asleep. He helped his mother make lunch and watched a movie with Linda Kay. When the restless impatience got to him, he bundled into his winter gear and went outside for a walk.
It hadn’t been his plan to go to Mormor and Morfar’s house, but that’s where he ended up. The front door was boarded up and the back door locked, but Kyle knew the trick of shimmying open the window and climbing inside.
He hadn’t been in the house in years, and he remembered why once he stood in the musty, decayed kitchen. In his mind’s eye, the little house looked like Frankie and Marcus’s place, only more compact. It smelled of dinner and coffee and sweetbread and his grandmother’s perfume. The walls were decorated with quilts and painted with stencils his grandfather had drawn in by hand. No, the hardwood floors hadn’t gleamed, and yes, the plaster had cracked in more than a few places. But the life of the house swelled, enveloping Kyle whenever he visited. Mormor and Morfar were full of stories and legends of his family, of their Swedish heritage, of frontier living.
The house smelled of rot and dust now. When he’d first come home from college, he’d lobbied to turn the house into his home, and his parents had been all for the idea, but when they hired a contractor, they found out they might as well raze the house and rebuild it, as expensive as the upgrades would be. The wiring needed to be redone, the insulation pulled out, the plaster lath repaired or replaced with drywall. They’d talked about doing it themselves, but nobody ever had the time, and somehow the upgrade had never happened.
Kyle feared they’d waited too long as he gave himself a tour, noting new damage, including a large water stain on the second-floor ceiling. He pushed a peeling section of wallpaper back in place, stood in the middle of the bedroom and listened to the scratching sound of rodents in the walls. Then he went downstairs and crawled out of the window again.
As he did so his phone buzzed, and when he pulled it from his pocket, he saw the preview of the message, which was a selfie of Paul, wearing his new hat. Smiling shyly. Adorably.
He sat on the steps of the porch, staring out into the field, thinking. In the quiet safety of the old house, the nagging fears crept slowly out from the corners of his mind where he’d stuffed them. Kyle let them come, facing them like the adult he kept insisting he was.
He was falling in love with Paul. He’d have said so cavalierly a month ago, but now he knew it was true. He knew, too, part of him had been chasing Paul because he was handy. Because he fit a script in his head.
As he pulled up the selfie, Kyle’s chest ached with longing. He didn’t want the idea of Paul anymore. He wanted the man. The shy, uncertain, sweet-hearted man. He wanted to make him smile the way he did in that photo every day. Wanted to see the way he lit up when he saw Kyle. Wanted to make dinner with him. Clean up after. Make love.
Maybe with hickeys in less gossip-inducing places.
Kyle wanted all of it. He’d thought he had before, but he understood now what had been missing. Before, the thought of Paul refusing him had been an annoyance. A challenge. Now, fear of Paul shutting a door on him made him freeze inside like one of his snow sculptures.
He had to be more careful. He had to not be clumsy or hurried or selfish. Because the more he was with Paul, the more he acknowledged it wasn’t an option to lose him.
Kyle sat on the steps a long time after, until the cold finally drove him back to the house.
Chapter Twelve
Paul’s hickey faded quickly enough, but he got knowing looks from everyone in town long after he didn’t have any cause to get creative with a scarf. Some people smiled. Some people gawked. A few of them, same as always when someone was caught being gay, glared.
Oh, most people in Logan had decided gay was okay, but there was definitely a Fox News-watching faction who felt gay men and women were harbingers of the end of times. Sadly, Paul’s family led the pack of that group. His father never gave him the talking-to his mother kept threatening, but she continued to give him earfuls every time he went over to the house. Which led him to go over there less and less. He ran into his sister plenty, however, and each encounter was more unpleasant than usual. She gave him tight-lipped smiles in the grocery store aisles, and when they turned up at the library at the same time, they both developed habits of staring a little too hard at the DVDs.
Sandy, Paul could handle, but it bummed him out to find his niece and nephew gaping at him too. Charity was eleven, David nine—Paul was their godfather, and usually they at least waved. Now they only stared.
Kyle was always touchy-feely, laying his hand on Paul’s arm, kissing his cheek. Perfectly normal stuff—if they were a heterosexual couple. But despite Frankie and Marcus and Arthur and Gabriel paving the way, it made a good chunk of Logan uncomfortable, and it made Paul’s family turn rigid.
One night Kyle and Paul were enjoying an early dinner at the café before Kyle had to go to work. They held hands over the top of the table, and Paul smiled, listening to Kyle tell a story about something his sister had done. Behind Kyle’s carefully styled head, Paul caught a glimpse of his niece, staring at him, unsmiling. Before Paul could read her expression, Sandy turned her daughter away with a glare in Paul’s direction and another firmly placed on the back of Kyle’s head.
Kyle stopped his story and glanced over his shoulder. “Ah.” He turned back to Paul, letting their hands fall apart, his bright expression fading.
Hating the loss of his light, Paul recaptured Kyle’s hand. “Ignore them.”
Kyle’s grip was less sure now, however. “Are they always like that with you?”
“It’s new for them to see me out with a guy.” His mother’s exact words in their last phone conversation had been throwing it in their faces.
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “You dated Arthur a long time.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “No. Arthur and I slept and lived together. That was part of what I didn’t enjoy about our relationship, our lack of dating. That and how he often wanted to bring a third person to bed with us.”
He didn’t know what to make of the way this statement made Kyle’s eyes bug out. “You did threesomes?” He poked his fry into his ketchup, looking boyish and wicked. “I did one, once. It was exciting, but also very tense. I always worried I was doing the wrong thing.”
“Arthur bossed everybody around, so that part was easy. Sometimes the ménages were sexy, but mostly I got jealous.”
Kyle kept dunking his fry, but he glanced coyly at Paul. “So does this mean you’re over threesomes?”
