The Long Game, page 20
And, well, there was nothing Grady wanted more than to give Jack everything he asked.
His orgasm roared through him, his arms shaking and hips losing their rhythm. He shoved Jack into the mattress again and again as he added to the absolute mess between them. Jack clung to him, anchoring him as he rode out the dizzying ripples of ecstasy.
They were plastered together from navels to thighs, trying to catch their breath, when there was a soft knock at the door.
“Are you guys awake?” Sam asked quietly.
Grady started to laugh and could feel Jack’s body shaking beneath him.
“I need a bigger fucking apartment,” Grady muttered, then more loudly said, “Yeah, give us a minute.”
He could hear gagging noises from the other room—Colton’s contribution—but he didn’t think they’d been loud enough to give themselves away.
“I’m going to make a run to the Dipsy Doodle Dangle Café,” Sam said through the door. “You guys want the same thing you got yesterday?”
“That would be great,” Grady called. “Thank you.”
“You got it,” Sam said cheerfully.
Grady sighed, nuzzling Jack’s ear as he rolled to the side. The way their skin peeled apart could have been gross, but it made Jack laugh. Grady tugged his shirt off and sacrificed it for the greater good, taking turns wiping up most of the mess while they grinned at each other like a couple of idiots.
“There’s at least one advantage to having a full house,” Grady observed. “Someone else can get breakfast.”
“Do you want my help?”
“With breakfasts?” Grady asked teasingly. “Because yes.”
Jack huffed. “With the apartment hunting.”
“Okay, that, too,” Grady agreed. He felt guilty when Jack had already done so much, but he wanted Jack to love the new place since he would, hopefully, be spending a great deal of time there.
Like, maybe even living there?
That was what Grady wanted, but given it was just after dawn on day three of their relationship, it was probably too early for him to be thinking about it, let alone suggesting it.
He kissed Jack softly. “I’ve already written to the owners of this place and asked about the first-floor apartment. I’ve never been in there, but based on the footprint, with the additions off the side and back and what I’ve glimpsed over the years, it’s a lot bigger than this one. Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’s a three-bedroom unit.”
Jack hummed thoughtfully. “Who’s your landlord? Maybe I know them.”
Grady rolled his eyes. “You probably will, you know this whole damn town. Though in this case it’s a company, not a person. Belvedoro Management.”
Jack popped up onto one elbow. “Really?”
Grady eyed Jack. “Wait. Do you know someone there? For real?”
Jack grinned and promised to set up a tour, his eyes dancing. Grady wanted to ask more, but Jack kissed him and that was also a solid plan.
* * *
For the second day in a row, Jack took the boys with him on his errands, then they went to the arena. The boys used the gym while Jack did some work and packed up even more to do at home. The only urgent issues were regarding the clinic the next day and none were serious or difficult to resolve. It was hard to believe it had only been a week since they’d found Colton. Colton already felt…important to Jack.
Jack was an only child, but he suspected this fierce protectiveness, this need to see Colton safe and happy and well, was what it would be like to have a little brother.
After some hunting, he found Colton and Sam in the locker room chatting with Mike Erdo and Alexei Belov. Sam clearly didn’t know what to make of Alexei’s crazy story and wild gesticulating while wearing nothing but a towel. As always, Mike stood at Alexei’s side, similarly clad in a scrap of terry cloth, smiling at his boyfriend more than the story. Colton appeared to be entranced by the story and the view.
Jack chuckled at Sam’s bemused expression, wondering how long until he felt as fiercely about him as he did Colton.
Who was he kidding? He probably wouldn’t make it to the end of the day.
It was scary. But also good.
The boys grinned when they saw him, and he was helpless to do anything but grin back. The fact that they both looked so much like Grady only added to the tight, happy feeling in his chest.
“You guys ready to go?” he asked, noting both boys had showered and changed already.
“Almost,” Colton said, turning back to Alexei. “So, is the homemade glue water-soluble?”
With true horror, Jack realized too late that the last person he should have left the precocious teenager alone with was the league’s most notorious prankster.
Jack had regrets. So many regrets.
Since there was no going back now, he left Alexei to finish filling their heads with terrible ideas and went around the corner. Jack had suggested Colton and Sam use the private bathroom with shower in the trainer’s office off the locker room, so he poked his head in there to make sure they hadn’t left a mess.
They hadn’t. In fact, it was cleaner than when they’d arrived.
Returning to the locker room, Jack pulled Mike aside for a quick chat, then shooed the boys into the hall while Mike towed his shit-stirring boyfriend into the shower room before he could explain how to suspend an egg from dental floss.
Why would anyone want to do that?
On second thought, Jack didn’t want to know.
What he did want to know was why he’d thought it was a good idea to bring the boys along when he needed to stop by his mother’s house. If she said even one thing to upset either of the boys, Jack was going to pack them in his truck, lose his shit on the woman, and leave.
In a preemptive effort to placate her, they stopped at the Dipsy Doodle Dangle Café on the way.
He made Colton get decaf. He was, apparently, a monster.
As soon as Jack pulled in the driveway, Colton jumped out of the truck, tray of drinks in hand, and skipped up to the front door to knock.
Jack’s mother opened it, one eyebrow arched. “And who would you be?”
“Colton,” he chirped as he ducked through the door in a whirlwind of cheerful greetings and exclamations about how lovely the house was.
By the time Jack and Sam made it into the living room, Colton was planted on the couch, passing Jack’s mother her latte while he waved his bucket of iced sugar-coffee in the air and exclaimed how happy he was to meet her.
Jack chuckled at his mother’s expression. She had no idea what to make of Colton.
His mother looked at him for help, which might have been a first. He shrugged and introduced Sam.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Sam said quietly.
Jack held his breath while his mother eyed Sam, then Colton, then Jack. “Why have you brought these…charming children to my house?”
“Sam’s twenty-one,” Colton said, his cheerful smile never wavering, though Jack didn’t doubt for a second that he was on guard. “So, not a child.”
“My apologies,” Jack’s mother said to Sam before turning back to Colton. “Are you their personal defender, then?”
Colton beamed at that idea. Sam rolled his eyes. Jack, mostly, was impressed with his mother’s judicious pronoun choice. Jack made a mental note to ask Sam how he’d prefer to be introduced to ensure clarity without creating awkwardness.
“Goodness, you must be related to that Mountie,” Jack’s mother observed as she took in Colton’s bright smile.
Colton leaned closer. “Do we look like him? That’s so awesome. Grady’s my cousin and Sam’s brother. We all thought he was dead, but it turns out he’s just gay, so now Sam and I live here.”
Jack’s mother blinked at the extremely brief version of events, her mouth opening but no sounds coming out.
Sam and Jack shared a look, both fighting not to laugh.
“How…lovely,” Jack’s mother eventually managed. Jack couldn’t remember the last time his mother had gone so long without an acerbic remark. Colton was magic. “And how did I end up with the pleasure of your company?” she added.
And there it was. It was almost a relief. And, unexpectedly, it seemed to delight Colton.
“Grady is working, so Jack’s keeping us company,” Colton explained before launching into a more detailed retelling of how he’d ended up in Moncton and found Grady. Jack had half a mind to request Colton help unload the truck to limit the oversharing, but his mother listened without comment.
Jack got his coffee and passed Sam his. “Do you want to hang out in here, or do you feel like giving me a hand? I need to do some chores and replace the faucet in the kitchen.”
“I’ll help, if that’s all right.”
“More than. Come on,” he said as he went back out the door. Together they ferried things to and from the truck and took the trash and recycling out. Jack kept one eye on the show unfolding on the couch, sharing looks with Sam as Colton regaled Jack’s mother with every thought in his head—gesturing grandly with his enormous coffee—and Jack’s mother made biting remarks.
Jack and Sam were in the kitchen when Colton dragged Jack’s mother into a conversation about the Murdoch Mysteries, of all things. Apparently, Colton was a fan, because he was never going to stop surprising Jack. His mother was still acting like Colton’s enthusiasm might be contagious, but there was almost a smile on her lips as Colton did a truly horrible imitation of Inspector Brackenreid’s Yorkshire accent.
Shaking his head, Jack squatted down to look beneath the sink. When Sam hesitated, Jack tugged him down, too. “You ever do something like this?”
“Plumbing?” Sam asked dubiously.
“Yeah, sure,” Jack agreed.
“No, it’s…” Sam trailed off. “The family considered it men’s work, and back then I…yeah, so, I never got a chance to learn.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Right, well, that heteronormative bullshit is the reason Grady lives on takeout and ice cream, so I guess I’m going to go against the rules and teach you boys how to cook before Colton gets diabetes and Grady has a heart attack. You with me?”
Sam grinned. “I’m actually a pretty good cook already.”
“Thank god, because I’m going to need your help.”
Sam took the wrench from Jack. “What do you need me to do?”
Jack and Sam stuck their heads into the cabinet, giggling when their shoulders got stuck but making it work. When they came out again, Colton was laughing like a loon. Jack stood, taking in the pinched and vaguely bemused expression on his mother’s face.
“Momma Chevalier, you’re so funny!” Colton crowed.
And while Jack didn’t know what she’d said, he didn’t believe for one moment her commentary had been intended as wit.
“Has he suffered repeated blows to the head?” his mother wondered aloud in French.
Colton cocked his head. “You said something about…my head?”
Jack’s mother sniffed. “Of course you don’t speak French. Don’t they teach you anything in school?”
Jack’s mother took great pride in his family’s Quebecois heritage, which was pretty rich, since her maiden name was Margaret O’Reilly and she’d been born and raised right there in Moncton. His father’s family was from Quebec. She did speak flawless French, though.
Colton’s irrepressible nature wasn’t dented in the slightest. “I’ve been living on the street and in homeless shelters for the last two years,” he said with breathtaking honesty. “Obviously, I didn’t go to school. Maybe I’ll take it when I go back. I guess I’ll have to in the fall.” Colton’s hands were suddenly still.
Jack was about to tell his mother to ease up—in French, if that would make her listen—when she sniffed and said, “Well, perhaps if you do, I could help you.”
Jack’s mouth fell open. He was honest-to-god dumbfounded.
Colton glanced at him, did a double take, then stuck his straw in his mouth to hide a smile. After a long sip, he said, “Merci, Maman Chevalier. I’d like that.”
And damned if Jack’s mother didn’t appear genuinely charmed.
Jack didn’t know what to do with his mother being…sweet? He was shocked, but also proud of her, which was disorienting after a decade of little more than forbearance. On both their parts.
“Jack’s quite good with numbers,” his mother added, at which point Jack probably looked like Wile E. Coyote had dropped an anvil on his head. “Perhaps he’ll be able to help you with math.”
Colton turned to Jack. “Would you?”
Jack snapped his mouth closed. “Sure. I’d be happy to.”
“You’re a good boyfriend,” Colton said, managing to sound both snarky and sincere. “Grady is a lucky guy.”
Jack thought that might be Colton’s way of saying he was lucky to know Jack, too, but Jack was too struck by the idea that he was somebody’s boyfriend to think too hard on it.
His mother’s eyebrows went way up. “What’s this?” she asked in French. “Are you with the Mountie?”
Colton exclaimed, “Oui!” before Jack could respond.
Jack braced for a sharp remark, but his mother just looked thoughtful.
This whole day was getting weirder and weirder.
When it came time to leave, Jack and Sam had to practically drag Colton out of the house with promises he could come back and visit again. Jack’s mother didn’t seem at all alarmed by the prospect.
Fucking Twilight Zone stuff going on.
Jack just wanted to be home with Grady and the boys, and he wasn’t going to spend too much time thinking about the fact that home was no longer his apartment on the other side of town.
17
Grady slumped onto one of the stools that had mysteriously appeared beneath his breakfast bar. It had been a long couple of days between work, phone calls with lawyers, and the endless list of tasks that needed to be accomplished to settle one teenager and one young semi-independent adult into their new home in Moncton.
The hockey clinic that afternoon had been a nice break and a way to clear his head. Then he’d come home to a house full of people who were happy to see him. He used to love the quiet, the privacy, of living alone but now he couldn’t remember why. For the first time in years, he remembered what it had been like to return from school on break and have the whole family waiting, happy to see him.
For the first time in years, those memories didn’t hurt so much.
He tilted his chin toward the large box Jack had hauled inside and was now poking through on the countertop. “What’s that?”
“Just some things you’ll need to survive,” Jack said distractedly, pulling out a handful of large, brightly colored utensils.
“I need a whisk to survive?” Grady asked, secretly pleased he knew the name of one of them.
Jack waggled his eyebrows. “It depends on what we do with it.”
Grady grinned, then laughed when Jack’s cheeks went bright pink at his own behavior. “Oh, really?” Grady drawled.
Jack shook his head and put the whisk and the rest of the utensils in the drawer that used to house Grady’s lonely wooden spoon and spatula. Said spoon, however, now resided with five friends of various shapes and sizes in a ceramic container to the right of the stove. Grady…wasn’t sure when that had happened.
“You’ve been busy,” he observed, squinting at the spoons. He was pretty sure he’d previously seen them and the container in Jack’s kitchen.
Jack shrugged. “We got a lot done today. The boys were a big help.” He lifted a retro aqua-blue toaster out of the box and placed it on the counter near the fridge.
“You can’t leave that here,” Grady protested, recognizing the colorful appliance.
“It’s fine. We need something for breakfast and if Sam and I aren’t around, I figure you can’t burn the place down with this.”
“I can make breakfast,” Grady protested.
“Lucky Charms don’t count.”
“We can go out,” Grady said—just to be difficult and because he was oddly aroused to see Jack’s toaster in his house.
There had to be something seriously wrong with him.
Was the middle school lore true? Could he get brain damage from being horny all the time? He was finally allowed to touch Jack but there was never enough time or privacy. He was being cockblocked by his goddamn chaotic life and he would have been mad about it if he wasn’t so fucking happy.
Jack rolled his eyes. “Hey, Colt,” he called, raising his voice to be heard over the TV, “if we have breakfast at the Dipsy Doodle Dangle Café tomorrow, what will you get?”
Colton sat up straight. “Oh! Oh! I’d start with the turbo mocha cinnamon dulce, maybe with an extra extra shot and extra whip, and a chocolate croissant and a bear claw, then I’d go for something lighter, like their blueberry battery charger and…”
While Colton ran down the sure-fire recipe for type two diabetes that also promised to rot his teeth and electrify his brain, Jack arched a smug eyebrow at Grady.
“Asshole,” Grady mouthed while making a mental note to ensure Colton ate something containing protein in the mornings.
Smirking, Jack went back to unpacking.
Grady leaned over and grabbed a giant green bowl-shaped spork from the box, brandishing it in the air. “Jack, you know I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t even know what this is. I was raised by idiots who thought cooking was woman’s work unless it was on a grill or over a campfire. So, unless you want a hot dog on a stick or a s’more, I’m useless.”
Jack chuckled. “First of all, that is a pasta spoon.”
“It looks like a back-scratcher.”
“It is not a back-scratcher,” Jack said.
“Or maybe some sort of chastity device,” he added, turning the spoon this way and that, as if trying to determine if it could cradle his balls.
Jack made a choking sound. “Do not molest the kitchen utensils or it will become a spanker.”
Grady waggled his eyebrows. “You’re going to have to come up with a less compelling threat if you want to deter me.”
