The Long Game, page 16
Barnaby jumped to his feet, climbed right up and over the coffee table, and yanked Grady into a fierce hug. “You are the loveliest man and I adore you.”
“Uh…thanks?” Grady patted Barnaby’s shoulder and looked to Travis for some explanation of his boyfriend’s behavior.
Travis shrugged, but he looked embarrassingly fond of them both.
“You’re also an utter pillock,” Barnaby added as he stepped back and poked Grady in the chest.
“Pillocks are bad, right?” he asked.
“Yes, but in your case it’s also endearing. I think Canada, or maybe hanging out with hockey players, has broken me,” Barnaby mused before poking Grady again. “You and Jack are the best of friends, Grady. You can talk to him about your feelings.”
Grady shook his head. “I can’t. I tried that four years ago and he said no. He said he couldn’t do a relationship.”
Barnaby’s eyebrows went up, apparently surprised. “And whatever feelings you expressed all those years ago are the same ones you have now?”
“No,” Grady admitted. “Now it’s way worse.”
“Maybe it’s not worse,” Barnaby ventured. “Maybe it’s better.”
“Not from where I’m standing,” Grady groused.
“Consider it,” Barnaby plowed on. “It’s not unreasonable to wonder if Jack’s feelings have changed in those four years. It’s not unreasonable to ask. If he says no, at least you both know from experience that you’ll respect his answer and back away.”
“Right. And this time I haven’t even kissed him.”
Barnaby’s right eye began to twitch. “Right,” he said flatly. “Apparently, there’s that.”
13
To Garrick’s credit, he managed to keep his questions to himself until Jack was done with his spring rolls. It looked like it was killing him, and that was reason enough to let it drag out for as long as possible.
But Jack wouldn’t have sent those damn texts if he didn’t feel the need to talk to someone. And as much as he loved Barnaby, he knew what he’d say because Barnaby was, above all else, a hopeless romantic at heart.
Jack needed a voice of reason. That he was contemplating letting Garrick fill that role probably said something about his overall mental state. Though, maybe it wasn’t just Garrick he needed. He looked around the small hospital room, trying to pretend seeing Savannah’s boob wasn’t totally freaking him out—lady parts were so not his thing—and realizing that one of the coolest things about the relationship between Savannah, Rhian, and Garrick was how they balanced each other out. Rhian and Garrick made Savannah more playful and demonstrative. Garrick and Savannah made Rhian more confident and settled. And Rhian and Savannah made Garrick more patient and thoughtful.
Jack wondered if he and Grady did something like that for each other.
Then he wondered where the hell that thought had come from.
And then he opened his mouth.
“How can you tell when someone likes you?”
Garrick paused in the process of taking Fiona from Savannah, then quickly gathered up the baby and her blankets and crossed the room to Jack. “Here. You burp her.”
Jack’s heart stopped mid-beat. “What?”
Garrick laughed. “I swear to god, did you just pee yourself a little?”
“No,” Jack sputtered over Rhian and Savannah’s laughter.
“I’ve never seen anyone look more terrified. Here,” Garrick said, apparently unconcerned that Jack’s hands were shaking as he curled them around the warm little body Garrick pressed against his chest and shoulder. Holding Fiona, not letting her fall, was instinctive. Jack had to keep her safe. But was he doing it right? Was he holding too tight? Jesus Christ, how could she be so tiny?
Once Jack had a good hold of Fiona and was patting her back gently, Garrick dragged an enormous chair meant for sleeping or nursing close enough that their knees almost touched. Rhian handed Garrick a large carton, which he cracked open so the smell of fresh, hot lo mein hid the antiseptic scent of the hospital.
Rhian settled on the edge of the bed to share the tray table with Savannah. Not even the feast before them, though, could pry their undivided attention from Jack.
Jack kept patting Fiona’s back and wondered if he could pretend he hadn’t said anything. Fiona came to the rescue when she let out a belch that would have made any frat boy proud.
Her parents looked like she’d hung the moon.
Jack laughed at them while Garrick helped him transition Fiona from his shoulder down to cradle her against his chest. His hands had never looked so enormous or felt so inadequate.
He stared down into Fiona’s vague gaze and knew her parents would see to it that she’d always be safe and loved and wanted. Jack would do the same.
It felt enormous. And simple.
“I assume we’re talking about Grady,” Garrick said like it was no big deal and as if Jack had ever come to him to talk about boys in their entire lives.
“We’ve been spending a lot of time together. I’ve been helping him,” Jack explained, “with the whole Colton situation.” Everyone nodded. Jack had filled Garrick in on what was going on and Garrick had checked in since, offering his, Savannah’s, and Rhian’s help. “And it’s got me…thinking about stuff.”
Garrick chewed slowly, his gaze going to Rhian and lingering there before returning to Jack. “Change can be scary,” he observed.
“It is. Or it can be. But we’ve been friends a long time, so I don’t know what my problem is. There hasn’t really been any change. Except…” Jack trailed off, trying to put into words what he didn’t understand himself.
Garrick tilted his head. “Except?”
Jack focused on Fiona, sneaking one glance at Garrick before saying, “We’ve been sleeping together.”
The sound of Savannah trying to cough up the food she sucked into her lung almost drowned out the thump of Garrick’s carton hitting the floor between his feet. Garrick sat frozen, his loaded chopsticks halfway to his mouth, his other hand empty, staring at Jack.
“It’s just sleep,” Jack said. “Just sleeping. That’s it.”
With the help of Rhian whacking her on the back, Savannah managed to breathe again. Garrick picked up his dinner, which by some miracle had landed upright. He took a bite and eyed Jack while he chewed and swallowed.
“So, when you say together, you mean he’s on the couch and you’re in the bed and you just sleep under the same roof?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “First of all, you know Grady would never fit on my couch. Or any couch.”
Garrick’s eyebrows went up, but Rhian—ever sensible—nodded. “Grady is super tall.”
“Right? Ridiculously tall,” Jack agreed. “He’d have to curl into a ball to fit.”
“So, he spends the night…in your bed,” Garrick said.
“Actually, we’ve been at his place, mostly. He’s got more room.”
“Do you mean, like, a guest room?” Garrick asked.
“No.”
“Twin beds?”
Jack glared at his friend. “No.”
“So, you just lie next to each other, doing that weird and awkward thing where you try not to touch?”
Jack’s face went hot. “Not exactly.”
Garrick’s eyes narrowed. “Do you lie there with one finger pressed to his cheek?”
Jack laughed and shook his head. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Hey, I’m trying to figure out what this means. Do you have one ankle hooked over his? Are you the big spoon? Are you wearing pants when this happens?”
Rhian shook his head mournfully and looked at Savannah. “Sometimes I can’t believe we love him as much as we do.”
Jack stifled his laughter when Fiona made a small sound of distress. Voice barely above a whisper, he said, “There’s a lot of contact, okay? Like…a lot. And I’m the little spoon, if it matters, though usually we’re facing each other. Now do you understand?”
“But you’re just…sleeping?” Garrick asked, because he very clearly did not understand.
“Yes,” Jack said, though he couldn’t help but think about the press of Grady’s erection against his hip and call himself a liar.
“And now you don’t know if you have a date tonight.” Because of course Garrick wasn’t going to forget that.
“That was me being stupid. I’m not a good candidate for a relationship, so I don’t know why I ever said that.”
Garrick cocked his head. “What do you mean, you’re not a good candidate?”
Jack waved a hand, then realized he was only holding Fiona curled in one arm and immediately put it back on her to be safe. “I’ve got a lot of…baggage. Too much ugly shit in my past. I’ve never wanted to drag someone else into all that, you know?”
“I don’t know,” Garrick said in the same stubborn tone he’d used all the times Jack had tried to remind him there was no good reason to give Jack a job running the arena.
He could admit, now, that he’d been wrong. He loved his job, and he was fucking good at it.
“Let me ask you something, Jack,” Garrick said. “The other night you told us something about your past that I didn’t know.”
Jack nodded.
“Am I treating you differently?”
“No.”
“Did you think I would?” Garrick’s gaze held the pain he tried to hide from his voice.
Jack thought about lying, but couldn’t. “Maybe.”
Garrick winced. Jack sighed.
“It’s not about you, okay? I didn’t think you’d stop being my friend or anything, it’s just people can be weird about that stuff.”
Garrick frowned. “That’s shitty. I’m sorry.”
Jack shrugged, because what could he say? The truth sucked.
“Is Grady acting any different?”
“No,” Jack admitted, then thought about earlier that day when he’d told Grady and Colton even more. How Grady had held his hand and cried with them. How he’d hugged Jack after.
Fear gnawed at Jack’s stomach.
God, was that why he was feeling so freaked out? Because Grady didn’t run screaming?
“So, why can’t you have a relationship with him?” Garrick asked.
“Because he isn’t supposed to want one with me. He isn’t supposed to know the truth and not look at me like…like a victim. Or like I’m weak or broken or…” Jack searched his mind and the only words he could think of were the ones he’d stamped on boxes being shipped back from the arena to their distributors. The stuff they rejected because it wasn’t good enough. “…spoiled goods.”
Rhian made a hurt noise in the back of his throat and Jack immediately regretted saying anything. He was embarrassed and furious with himself—he knew it wasn’t true, damn it.
“Jack.” Garrick no longer bothered to hide his shock and horror.
Jack shook his head. “No, I know I’m not any of those things.” He hitched Fiona a little higher and pressed her over the ink on his chest, letting himself remember the freeing sting of the needles as they plunged beneath his skin, marking him. Reminding him even as he set the memories in their place. “But that’s never stopped people from seeing me that way. People think they know how they’d react if they went through what I experienced and they assume I was the same way. They’re wrong—about me, and probably about themselves—but everyone defaults to pity. They like to tell themselves it’s sympathy and empathy even as they slowly back away, like someone else’s past trauma is a taint that might somehow be contagious.”
Rhian settled on the arm of Garrick’s chair. “I hope we’ve never treated you like that.”
“No, you haven’t.” Then he admitted, “But I’ve also never told you about, well, a lot of stuff.”
Savannah touched his shoulder as she gingerly settled onto one of Garrick’s legs. Jack ignored her little wince—lady parts were amazing and scary, and he wasn’t going to think about the size of Fiona’s head, currently cupped in his palm. No, he was not.
“You could tell us anything,” Savannah said, “and we will love you just the same, Jack.”
Jack was horrified to feel the sting of tears in his eyes. Jesus, this had been a fucking roller coaster of a day. “Can you be sure?”
All three of them said “yes” at the same time.
Jack’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest.
“I’m not saying you can or should tell us anything,” Savannah said. “That’s entirely up to you. But whatever you decide, and no matter what has happened in the past, you’re a member of this family. You’re Uncle Jack, now, and like all of Fiona’s other uncles—”
“Of which there are legion,” Garrick grumbled.
“—you will always be a welcome part of her life, and ours,” Savannah finished.
Jack nodded, humbled. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank us, Jack,” Rhian said with a smile. “We should all be thanking you for putting up with us. If it weren’t for you, Savannah and I would be in Boston pretending we weren’t in love with the same man and Fiona wouldn’t exist. Our family wouldn’t exist, so of course you’re a part of it.”
Jack smirked. “It’s just lucky I have a lifetime of practice keeping Garrick from doing stupid shit.”
“Hey!” Garrick said, but his heart wasn’t in it. He smiled ruefully at Jack. “How about you take some advice from a professional, then? Don’t walk away or try to decide what Grady wants or what’s best for him. Let him decide.”
“And maybe,” Savannah added, “to keep him from doing something similarly dumb, tell him what you want. The worst that can happen is he isn’t interested.” Garrick coughed something that sounded like nevergoingtohappen and Savannah dug her elbow into his ribs. “Which, for what it’s worth, I think is unlikely.”
Jack’s heart stuttered as his brain considered what if…
* * *
Grady practically bounded to the intercom to hit the door lock release and let Jack back into the building. His door was already blocked open with a shoe from the pile, which probably was more an announcement of his failed housekeeping than a welcoming gesture, but Jack was used to him by now.
After all, he’d never once pointed out that Grady lived—if one chose to believe the critics—in the ultimate bachelor pad, and Grady was definitely adding that to the list of things he liked about Jack.
It was, of course, a really, really long list.
Grady dished up Jack’s beef massaman curry over a bed of rice and told himself to be cool. Just because he was having some sort of crisis over his stupid feelings didn’t mean he should ruin their night by acting weird.
Then Jack came through the door and all hope was lost.
“Hey,” Jack said. His smile was almost…shy?
Grady manfully resisted clutching a hand over his heart. “Hey. Dinner’s ready.”
That smile grew. “I hope you didn’t work too hard…placing that order for delivery,” he teased.
“How do you know I didn’t actually go get it?” Grady countered.
“Because the delivery guy is still sitting in his car out front, talking on his phone.”
Grady laughed. “Yeah, okay. Delivery is my specialty. No one ever taught me how to cook.” His laughter faded when he recalled how he’d been raised to believe that was “women’s work” and it wouldn’t be “appropriate” for him to learn.
What utter bullshit.
Jack bumped their hips together playfully as he walked by, knocking Grady out of his dour thoughts. “Thank you for getting dinner.” He picked up his plate and frowned.
“Did I get the wrong thing?” Grady asked, concerned.
“No,” Jack said thoughtfully. “It’s perfect. One of my favorites.”
Which Grady knew. What he didn’t know was why Jack was looking at him like he had questions.
Grady was too much of a chicken to ask. “I’m glad,” he mumbled instead, stuffing a bite of yellow chicken curry into his mouth to prevent any feelings from falling out.
They ate in companionable silence. Jack was rinsing their dishes in the sink when Grady’s phone chimed with the alert from work.
Fuck. Please don’t be anything serious. He loved his job, but he was also counting the seconds until he could crawl into bed with Jack.
Grady frowned at the text message.
“What is it?” Jack asked, coming to stand next to him.
Grady considered playing it off as nothing but shoved the selfish impulse aside. Jack didn’t want to be coddled, and he had reason to know.
“It’s John Babcock. I asked some people to keep an eye out for him and they’re letting me know he got in a bar fight earlier.”
Jack tensed, but his expression was wry when he let out a snort. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Is he being charged?” he asked hopefully. Which—fair enough.
“Not clear. I’ll find out tomorrow when I go in, but it’s not likely anyone will want charges brought.”
“Wait. Where was the fight? Here in Moncton?”
Grady grimaced. “Yeah. Over at Bull’s.” Of course. A brawl broke out at least once a week at Bull’s Bar and Grill. If they charged everyone involved, they’d have to install a revolving door at the station.
“Okay. That’s good to know,” Jack said, voice flat and face blank.
Shit. Grady put his phone down and reached for Jack, then let his hands drop back to his sides. He wanted to do something to help, to make Jack feel better or safer or whatever he might need, but maybe now wasn’t the time to touch Jack without his permission.
Jack didn’t look at him. Didn’t react. “I’m sorry,” he said, his gaze somewhere over Grady’s shoulder.
“For what? It’s not your fault Babcock is a fucking idiot.”
“No, I mean I’m sorry my past keeps coming up.” He made a face, a sour twist of lips that Grady hated.
“I’m not.”
Jack finally met his eyes. “What?”
“I’m not sorry your past keeps coming up. Don’t get me wrong, I wish someone would rocket Babcock into orbit and you’d never have to hear his name again, but if he is going to be around, I want to help. If you don’t want that asshole anywhere near you, then I want to do whatever I can to see that happen.”
