Heat Wave, page 38
Nick groaned. “Mostly. I tried writing it down, but it didn’t come out like I wanted it to. Kept getting distracted.” His ADHD—that part of him he once despised—hadn’t disappeared as he’d gotten older, but that was okay. He was in control. He had the tools. Medicine. Meditation. Even then, he still had days when he felt like he was vibrating out of his skin, but that was part and parcel of being neurodiverse. He didn’t let it stop him from living. It was only a small part of the greater whole that was Nicholas Bell.
Dad grinned. “Gonna wing it, huh? That’ll be … fun. You want me to step in if you start talking about the mating habits of turtles?”
“Please,” Nick said, relieved. “Though I think they’re probably expecting that.”
“Of course they are,” Dad said, stepping to his side. They stood in front of the mirror, watching each other in their reflection. “Not too shabby. I can’t believe we’re about to—”
Nick said, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
Dad sucked in a breath, looking away, blinking rapidly. “Oh, hey, you don’t have to—”
“Thank you,” Nick said, turning toward his father. “Thank you for loving me. Thank you for protecting me. Believing in me. Thank you for being my dad.”
“It has been my honor,” Dad said roughly, gathering Nick up in a tight hug. “You and me, kid. Always.”
They stood there, holding each other, the sunlight of a cool November morning filtering in through the window.
* * *
They found Seth pacing in front of a pair of double doors, looking slightly panicked. On the other side of the doors, a loud murmur of voices of those in attendance. In a room off to their right, a burst of laughter from those waiting to make their entrance. It was almost time.
Seth deflated slightly when he saw them. “There you are. I was getting worried. We have to—holy shit, Nicky.”
Nick grinned at him, spreading his arms and turning a slow circle. “Pretty good, right? I mean, it’s no dead magician’s suit, but it’ll do. Did it all myself with absolutely no help.”
Dad coughed pointedly.
Nick winced. “Okay, maybe a little help.”
“Bow tie?” Seth asked, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Bow tie,” Nick agreed.
Seth kissed him with a loud smack. “You look amazing. I know I saw the suit earlier, but this is … wow.”
“You, too,” Nick said. Seth was wearing a suit that matched Nick’s down the smallest detail, aside from one little difference. On the lapel of his suit coat was a red-and-orange pin in the shape of a flame. A gift from a girl he’d saved years ago from a high-rise fire.
As Seth blushed, Nick could see the boy he’d once been. Oh, the curls were still there, and he had that same fiery spark in his eyes, but the man before him—once a boy on the swings with chocolate pudding on his lips—was a grand sight to see. Even though they’d been together for years, Nick still pinched himself every now and then at how lucky he was. He’d been given the awesome and slightly terrifying responsibility of carrying Seth’s heart, something he did not take for granted.
(It also helped that they were amazing at butt sex. Seriously. The first time had been a bit of a disaster—waaaay too much lube, so much so that it’d been like a human Slip ’N Slide—but every time after? Holy shit, they should’ve gotten awards for some of the stuff they did. Seth could be very imaginative. Nick felt bad for the people who couldn’t have sex while flying. It was really something else.)
“I’m going in before this gets weird,” Dad muttered somewhere behind them. “Nick, I will remind you that you’re in public. Indecency laws are still a thing. Seth, make sure—”
Nick turned slowly to look at him.
Dad threw up his hands. “I can’t believe you—fine. Dr. Gray, please make sure Nick keeps his pants on. You, too.” He gave them a stern look, though it seemed as if he were fighting a smile as he went through the doors, the sound of the crowd on the other side rising and falling as he closed the doors behind him.
Seth groaned. “Nick, you don’t have to make him call me that. We talked about this. I still have a bit to go before I even have my PhD, and then it’s just more school. I’m not a doctor of anything yet.”
He did, but Nick was absurdly proud of his partner. Seth had been working his ass off to get where he was, long days and even longer nights. But he knew what he wanted to do, and Nick had supported him, knowing what he was working toward, and how important it was. The plan was for Seth to finish out his PhD before moving on to medical school with a specialization in psychiatry. Once done, he wanted to become one of the first to work primarily with Extraordinaries, those who needed someone to talk to about life, superpowers, and what it meant to exist in a world where many people were still scared of people like them.
“We have talked about this,” Nick told Seth. “You’re gonna get there, dude, helping people who need it most.” He kissed Seth’s cheek. “Besides, you know how hot it makes me, Dr. Gray.”
Seth rolled his eyes fondly, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Yeah? You like that?”
“A lot,” Nick breathed. “Hey, we have a few minutes. What say you and I find an empty closet and I’ll show you just how much?”
Seth made a face. “That wasn’t as romantic as you seemed to think it was.”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” Nick assured him. “I just want to put my mouth on your—”
“Later,” Seth said, and the heat in his eyes made Nick shiver. “Promise.”
Nick believed him. Seth had never led him astray, and though the odds had been stacked against them—who really found the love of their lives in high school?—they’d stuck together.
Which was why he’d come to a decision, one that made him deliriously happy and deliriously nervous in equal measure. Tucked safely away in the back of the hallway closet in their small apartment was a box. And in that box, a ring that Aaron Bell had once worn, given to him by Jennifer Bell. Nick was working up the courage to give it to Seth. Soon.
(Three days from now, he will, only to be stunned when Seth bursts out laughing, telling him to stay right there. He’ll rush back to their bedroom, leaving Nick gaping after him, reappearing a moment later with a similar box in his own hand. In this box is a ring once worn by Jeremy Gray, his father. Seth will say he’d been waiting for the right moment to propose, and they’ll laugh. They’ll cry. They’ll hold each other close and the rings will absolutely be the wrong size, but it won’t matter. The next day, they’ll tell their family, and everyone will agree it’s about damn time.)
“Later,” Nick said, taking Seth’s hand in his. “We should—”
The double doors opened, and an usher stuck his head out. When he saw Nick and Seth, he said, “I think we’re ready.”
“On it,” Seth said, pulling Nick toward a room off to the right. Seth knocked on the door before pushing it open. Inside, a group of people in matching outfits—all blue—looked at him. “You all good?” Seth asked. “Looks like we’re about to start. Can you get in the order we practiced? Line up in front of the entrance and wait for your cues.”
The people inside nodded, standing up from their chairs, smoothing out their suits and dresses, a few fixing the flower crowns sitting on their heads as they filed out into the entryway.
They left them to it and went to another door just down the hall. Nick knocked this time. “Hey, it’s us. You ready?”
“Come in,” a voice called out.
Nick pushed open the door, and inside found Trey and Aysha Gibson standing with their daughter, Congresswoman-elect Lola Gibson.
Congresswoman-elect, Nick marveled as Gibby smiled at them. It’d been close, the election a few weeks before, a nail-biter right down to the last minute, but Gibby had emerged the victor. Representing the Fourteenth District, she was one of the youngest people ever elected to the office. The wedding party was made up of many of her staffers, people whom Gibby and Jazz had hand-selected for their ideas, their desire to create change. Gibby’s opponent—a six-term incumbent—had decried her age, saying that she was far too young and inexperienced to represent her district. Not only had he tried to make it about her age and her platform of police reform, he’d used her relationship with Pyro Storm and Guardian to say that she was no better than Simon and Patricia Burke, the former now incarcerated in a maximum-security prison upstate for the rest of his natural life, the latter at a facility that once housed her son. “She has Extraordinaries at her beck and call,” the douchebag had argued in their final debate. “What is she going to do when her first bill fails in committee? Sic her pet Extraordinaries on us?”
Gibby had smiled (the one smile that Nick knew meant she was about to ruin the douchebag’s life) and said, “At least I’ll have submitted a bill for consideration, which is more than you’ve done in the entire time you’ve been representing Nova City.” She then proceeded to provide a point-by-point takedown of the incumbent’s lack of action in his years in office. By the time the debate was over, even her most ardent critics had begrudgingly admitted that she’d wiped the floor with her opponent.
Still, it’d been close, and when the election had finally been called in her favor, they’d all been frazzled. All, that is, except for Gibby, who looked up at the screen in wonder and said, “We did it.”
With tears streaming down her face, Jazz said, “No, Gibby. You did it.”
Apparently, a newly elected congresswoman didn’t seem to mind being tackled by her friends and campaign-manager fiancée, which was good, seeing as how that’s exactly what happened.
Now, standing in the room with her parents at the Kensington home, Gibby wore a smart suit, similar to Nick’s and Seth’s: blue and black, her long tie cinched firmly at her throat.
“You look so good,” Nick said. “You put the rest of us to shame.”
She laughed, looking down at her suit. “This old thing?” She smiled again, but it trembled a little. She cleared her throat. “Have you … uh. Have you seen her? She okay?”
Nick grinned. “I have. As Jazz’s man of honor, it was my duty to tell her she looks beautiful, though she didn’t need to hear it from me. She’s very, very excited.”
“And as your man of honor,” Seth said, “you look perfect, Gibby.”
Gibby nodded, obviously relieved, but before she could speak again, Trey promptly burst into tears. “She does, doesn’t she?” he sobbed, Aysha smiling warmly at him, squeezing his hand. “The best thing ever.”
Gibby laughed quietly. “Thanks, Dad. I…” She shook her head. “I guess it’s time, huh?”
“It is,” Nick agreed. “You need a moment? I can tell them to wait a minute if you do.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m ready.” She laughed again. “I’m so, so ready.”
* * *
The wedding itself was small. Family, friends, staffers, all sitting on chairs in the backyard of the Kensington home, next to the pool where electric tea candles floated. An archway had been built at the end of the yard in front of the audience, covered in vines and blooming flowers. When the doors opened and the first of the wedding party went through, people turned toward them, all smiling.
Music played from speakers, wordless, soft. The air had a bit of a chill to it, but not unpleasantly so. Nick and Seth waited for their turn, knowing they’d be among the last to walk through, standing with Gibby and Jazz.
When their cue came, they stepped out into the backyard, walking down the long carpet that divided the audience. Nick nodded at Mary and Rodney Caplan, Cap’s mustache twitching as he grinned at them, tossing them a wink. He laughed when he saw Chris and Mateo Morton’s three-year-old son squirming in Chris’s lap. Luis was not a fan of sitting still, and when he saw Seth, he shouted, “Papa, it’s Fire Guy!”
Everyone laughed as Seth flushed. Luis was Pyro Storm’s biggest fan.
Chris sighed and said, “Yeah, kiddo. It’s Fire Guy.”
Burrito Jerry sat with his boyfriend, Derek, and their girlfriend, Amy. Both adored him. It’d been Amy first, then Burrito Jerry had picked up Derek in Matilda when he’d needed a Lyft, and they’d all been inseparable ever since. So much so that Burrito Jerry had repainted Matilda, turning the scantily clad figure riding a seahorse into Derek (still scantily clad, of course), with Amy and Burrito Jerry riding their own seahorses behind him. It was … a lot, but they were happy, and that was all that mattered.
Dad and Yolanda sat near the front, hands clasped between them as Dad smiled widely, eyes glistening.
They reached the front, the officiant nodding at them, mouth twisting a little when Nick said, “If you need me to take over, just let me know. I got you, Melissa.”
“Thanks,” Melissa said dryly. “But why don’t we just let me handle it.”
They took their places on either side of her, the wedding party lined up behind them.
And then the music changed, and Gibby walked out of the house into the backyard, her parents at her side. She looked determined, and when they reached the front, her parents took turns hugging and kissing her, whispering words meant only for her. When finished, they went to the empty chairs in the front row, standing with everyone else to wait for the last of the wedding party to come through the doors.
They didn’t have to wait long.
Arm in arm with Miles and Joanna Kensington, Jazz walked out into the backyard, and everyone gasped. Nick had already seen her—her long white flowing dress, the flowers braided into her hair—and so he looked at Gibby, wanting to see the exact moment she saw her wife-to-be.
He was not disappointed. Gibby’s jaw dropped, and she exhaled explosively. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “She’s…” A tear trickled down her cheek.
“Told you,” Nick whispered, ignoring Melissa’s pointed glare.
Jazz moved slowly, so slowly, in fact, that when they were halfway down, Jazz’s face scrunched up as she declared, “Okay, this is fun, but we need to move faster.” Everyone burst into laughter as she dragged her parents toward the front, Miles almost tripping over his feet.
She didn’t wait for her parents to give her away. Instead, she launched herself at Gibby and kissed the ever-loving hell out of her. “I accept,” she said, peppering Gibby’s face with kisses. “I do. I am your wife. We are married.”
“Not quite,” Melissa said, amused. “But sure, why not.”
Jazz didn’t seem to want to let Gibby go, but then Gibby didn’t either. They finally broke apart, hands clutched between them.
“Let us begin,” Melissa said, opening the leatherbound book she carried. “We have come together today to celebrate two people who wish to pledge their lives to each other.” She smiled at Jazz and Gibby, but they only had eyes for each other. “I will read from—
“Aha!” a thunderous voice bellowed from above. “I’ve got you exactly where I want you. Prepare to suffer my wrath!”
Everyone looked up.
A figure floated down toward the ground, decked out in a makeshift costume consisting of a snowsuit, at least seventeen rolls of duct tape, and a bicycle helmet, complete with stickers of unicorns on the sides. His cape—what looked like a comforter he’d taken from a bed—billowed around him as he touched down in the middle of the audience. At the center of his chest, a symbol that looked like it’d been ironed onto the front of the snowsuit: a predatory bird with wings spread and sharp talons.
“Oh boy,” Trey said. “You’re gonna regret this, man. Probably a better idea to turn and walk away.”
“I won’t,” the man snapped. “I never back down from a fight!”
Trey shook his head. “All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He glanced at Aysha, sitting next to him. “I’ve never been to a wedding and a funeral at the same time.”
The man sneered at him, his teeth bared. He looked to be in his forties, and thin as a whisper. He posed in the yard, hands on his hips as everyone stared at him. “Like I’m scared of a little fire or telekinesis. I can do things you haven’t dreamed of. There’s a new Extraordinary in town, and I will bring Nova City to its knees.” He jutted out his chin. “They call me … Commander Hawk. With one piercing cry, I can summon birds of prey that will do what I tell them to, up to and including ruining a wedding!” He frowned as he looked around. “Why aren’t any of you screaming or running for your lives?”
“Because we know what’s about to happen to you,” Trey called from his seat. “You were warned. What happens next is all on you.”
Commander Hawk scoffed. “Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m not afraid of fire and telekinesis. Pyro Storm and Guardian? More like Pyro … something and Guardian … something else.” He frowned. “Okay, that wasn’t good. I’m a little nervous.”
Seth sighed. “It’s not me or Nick you need to be afraid of.”
Commander Hawk blinked. “What do you mean? Who else am I supposed to be scared by?”
“Us,” Jazz said, eyes glittering dangerously. “Gibby, if you please. This idiot is interrupting our special day.”
“Your wish is my command,” Gibby said. And with that, she charged forward.
Commander Hawk barely had time to back up before Gibby kicked him in the nuts. He shrieked, face turning white, the cords on his neck thick as he bent over, clutching his junk.
Jazz hiked up her dress and moved quickly. Gibby dropped to a crouch, and Jazz rolled over her back, the hem of her dress fanning as her right foot shot out, her heel striking Commander Hawk in the throat. He made a strange noise—urk!—as he began to gag, stumbling back, helmet askew on his head. Gibby rose and finished him off by kicking him squarely in the chest, knocking him off his feet, skidding along the ground. He came to a stop, dazed, as wedding guests peered down at him.
“I … have … so … many … regrets,” he whispered.
“And stay down,” Jazz snapped. “If you do, maybe we’ll let you have cake later. But if I hear one more word from you, I’m gonna stab you and I won’t be made to feel bad about it on my wedding day.” She grinned suddenly. “Wow. I get the whole bridezilla thing now.”
