Chapter 32

Joey

“You shall never defeat me! Your efforts are futile, tiny humans. Surrender now or—”

Brad cuts off on a gasp, falling to his knees as Sonny nails him with a blast from his water gun.

“No! This can’t be,” the love of my life says in dramatic fashion, sinking to the grass as my cousins’ kids advance on him, giggling hysterically all the while. “You may have wounded me, but I will rally. You’ll never win. You’ll never…”

Brad makes a gurgling sound and goes still, his face pressed to the ground.

“That one?” Iggy asks.

“That one,” I agree, letting out a sigh. My smile is ridiculously wide as I watch Brad feign his demise. Iggy slaps my shoulder, chuckling softly.

“Here you go, hon,” my Aunt Margot says, passing me a new margarita. “He’s good with them. Are the two of you thinking about having kids of your own?”

I cough into my drink, and Iggy cackles.

“If you ever want a test run,” Alice calls from nearby, “just let me know. You guys can have mine for the weekend.”

I look over at where Sonny is repeatedly shooting Brad in the head with water, his hair now soaked.

Oh boy .

“That’s, uh, great. Thanks, Alice,” I manage, heading over to Brad’s sprawled form. “I think you guys got him. Why don’t you head inside and grab plates and silverware for lunch?”

The kids groan but head for the house, and I squat down, running my fingers through Brad’s wet hair.

“Doing all right?” I ask.

“They just kept shooting,” he mutters, shifting his face toward me, a grass stain on one cheek. “Ruthless little gremlins.”

I snort. “They had fun.”

“So did I,” he says, accepting the hand I hold out for him. He lets me tug him up and brushes loose grass off his shirt. “But now my health points are low, Joey-roo, so I’m gonna need you to feed me. What are we having for lunch? Please say meat.”

“Burgers and brats,” my Uncle Johnny calls, holding up his tongs. A massive brat is held in the metal.

Oh no.

“Frack yeah,” Brad says, bounding toward the patio table. “ Ooh ! Whole pickles. These things are huge. Sonia! Where’d you find such big dills?”

Oh no .

Lunch is…interesting. Luckily, I don’t have to try to stop myself from watching Brad as he eats, even when he manages to turn his brat into a two-biter. An impressive feat, for sure.

Once we finish up and the table has been cleared, Brad and I go change into our swimsuits. He’s less hesitant this time as we get into the water, but I still stick close.

“You’re doing good,” I tell him, watching as he swims along the edge of the pool. He stops before long, his arm resting on the concrete perimeter.

Floating still isn’t his strong suit.

“Well, see, this guy I’m dating is part fish,” he says with a grin. “So I had to learn a few things.”

“This fish would have happily stayed on land for you,” I point out.

Brad frowns before pushing off the edge. “Incoming.”

I keep the two of us buoyant as Brad wraps his legs around my waist, his arms looped loosely over my shoulders.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says seriously, his light green eyes pinging between my own.

My heart thumps. “Listening.”

“I never, ever , want to erase part of who you are. Relationships are supposed to be about compromise, right? But you have this tendency to go balls to the wall when it comes to making other people happy. The fact that you’re here now, for one. And I know,” he adds quickly. “You don’t regret moving. I know that. But you can’t tell me you don’t miss New Hampshire and your mom.”

I can’t deny it.

“Which is why we’re going to make a point of visiting when we can,” he goes on. “Every few months, even when it’s all cold and snowy and I get frostbite on my nips.”

“Why would you be shirtless in the snow?” I question.

“I dunno, dude! Isn’t polar plunging a thing?”

“Please, please don’t do that.”

He waves me off. “Naked snow angels, then. Whatever. My point is you can’t leave behind the best parts of your past just to make a future with me. And I wouldn’t want you to. I’m happy to learn how to swim so I can be here in the water with you. And I’ll be happy to get on a big metal death trap every so often so we can visit your mom. I like spending time with your family, Joey. I like working on the house with you. I like sharing your favorite things. So don’t ever think loving you—all of you—is a hardship. Because it’s not. It’s the easiest thing.”

“Fuck, bub,” I manage, my throat tight. “You’re constantly amazing me, you know that?”

He preens. “Well, I am pretty amazing.”

“You are,” I agree easily. “Thank you for…I don’t know. For seeing me, I guess.”

He cocks his head slightly, hand wet as his fingers drift over one of my eyebrows. “Joey Kangaroo, my guy, I may have missed a few things along the way, but I’ve never been able to look away from you. Logan can attest to that.”

I huff a laugh, having half-forgotten about the man and our failed date at the ballpark. “You kept touching my stomach,” I remember.

“It’s so nice,” Brad groans, his hand squeezing between our bodies to drift along my abs. “So, so nice. The best baker couldn’t have crafted you.”

“I…thank you?”

He hums. “Logan understood. He’s been really nice about it. Wishes us well.”

“You’ve kept in touch?” I ask in surprise.

“Oh, sure,” Brad says. “We chat sometimes. I actually set him up with Lewis. Remember him?”

It takes me a moment. “Watersports Lewis?”

“Yeah, man! Turns out they’re getting along really well.” He huffs a laugh. “You never can tell who enjoys piss play.”

Jesus .

“Well, I’m glad for them,” I say.

“Me too,” Brad replies dreamily. “Now be a good Joey-floaty and let me drift on you.”

“Anytime, bub,” I answer, propelling us through the water. “Anytime.”

It’s early evening when we arrive at Brad’s apartment, the calendar having declared it a “Brad-pad” night. We shower off the chlorine from the pool, and then Brad retreats to the living room to order a late-night snack of chicken and waffles. I give my mom a call.

“Hi, my boy,” she says in greeting. “How’s my favorite Vegan?”

I groan. “We’re called Las Vegans. Not vegans . It’s a totally different vowel sound. And Brad is fine, thanks for asking.”

My mom chuckles. “He said you guys are planning a trip over around Thanksgiving?”

I snort, even as my insides light. Leave it to Brad to schedule our next visit without even telling me. “We sure are. He, uh…really wants to make a habit of visiting.”

She hums. “I won’t lie and say that doesn’t make me happy to hear. He’s a good one, Joey. He’s good for you.”

“Yeah,” I say, that lump back in my throat. “It, uh…scares me sometimes.”

“Why’s that?” she asks.

It takes me a minute to figure out how to answer her. I walk over to the wall as I pull the words to the surface, tracing the canvas of Brad and me from our boudoir photoshoot with my eyes and then the tip of one finger. He’s so beautiful. So open, even then. It astounds me, when I think about how he grew up. It would have been easy for him to close himself off. To guard against all the hurt in the world.

Instead, he’s one of the most genuine people I know. He’s utterly transparent and trusting. Damn near fearless , as far as I’m concerned.

He doesn’t have walls around his heart. And I want nothing more than to make sure that organ beating inside his chest doesn’t get bruised or broken.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him,” I tell my mom. “How do I protect him? How do I keep him safe?”

“Oh, honey,” my mom says softly. “You don’t. It’s not your job to stop everything life will throw at the two of you. You couldn’t even if you tried. It’s your job to hold his hand. To stay at his side and work through it together. You’ll heal each other over time whenever anything bad happens. That’s just how it goes. As long as he knows you’re there for him, there with him, he’ll always feel safe.”

I pull in a breath, my subsequent exhale shaky. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course, my boy. You two will be okay. I know it. Now… Ah , is that him I hear now?”

“ Joey-roo, my kangaroo-boo. Waffles are here, and I love —Oh.” Brad stops in the doorway, a scrunched grin on his face. “Are you on the phone?”

“It’s my mom,” I tell him.

“Mama D!” Brad calls, coming into the room and swiping my phone. “I tried those seaweed snacks you mentioned. You’re right. They’re really good, even though my brain is convinced I’m eating poison.” He nods a couple times as he paces over to the window, peeking out through the curtain. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. The chickpea ones are okay. Kinda dry, though.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, a smile on my face as I watch Brad chat effortlessly with my mom. Not for the first time, I’m profoundly grateful for the woman who raised me. Not only because she’s always been there for me, but because she’s there for Brad without question. I think she knew he needed it from the start.

Brad comes over before long, climbing onto my lap as he continues to talk. The phone is close enough now that I can hear both sides of the conversation.

“Did you get the coffee I sent?” my mom asks.

“I did!” Brad answers. “It’s really good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I should probably get going now, but it was lovely talking to you, darling.”

“Likewise. Do you want to say bye to Joey?”

“Please,” my mom says.

Brad hands over the phone, settling his head on my shoulder as I bring the device to my ear.

“Mom?”

“I just wanted to say have a good night. Talk soon, and I love you.”

“Love you, too,” I tell her. “And thanks again. For earlier.”

Brad nuzzles his nose against my neck, fingers drifting up under my shirt as my mom says, “Of course. You’ll be all right, my boy.”

“Yeah,” I agree hoarsely.

My mom says a final love you , and we end the call. I set my phone aside, clearing my throat as Brad’s fingers trace over my skin, a purely soothing touch on his part, not remotely sexual. Not that it stops me from reacting at least a little.

“Hey,” I say gently.

“Hi,” he mutters. “Waffles are waiting in the living room, but I left them boxed up so they’d stay warm.”

Brad makes no move to get up and head that way, so I run my hand up and down his back, my other on the outside of his thigh. I’ve never been with a single other person as physically affectionate as Brad.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” I tell him seriously.

He stills, pulling back to see my face. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Are you excited for your coming-out party this weekend?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Brad says with a grin. “Edible phalluses have been procured, porn stars have been assembled, and I’m ready to grind away on your hammies. Or your quads. Any preference on whether I’m in back or in front?”

I snort. “You can have any side of me you want, bub.”

“Oh, shit. That’s hot. If you happen to see a ‘Property of Brad’ fanny pack show up in your closet, don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Um.”

Brad jumps up, climbing off my lap and jogging for the door. “Waffles, Joey!”

With a laugh, I follow after him.

Brad is in the living room when I arrive, opening our boxes of chicken and waffles. “So here’s what I’m thinking,” he says, setting our controllers down next to our food. “We fuel up while taking out the zombies at the old textiles factory because they’re easy. Then you’ll have my rear once we reach the abandoned motel. I want you plastered to my back, Joey. Don’t be afraid to unload everything you’ve got. After that, once we make it through the overrun alleyway and get to the forest cache outside the city, I’ll return the favor. Bros gotta take care of each other’s fannies, dude.”

As Brad details our game plan, setting out silverware and drinks as he talks, there’s a profound sense of peace that settles over me. This, right here, is a simple moment. It’s not grandiose or accompanied by fanfare. But that doesn’t make it any less important. It’s Brad and me, spending our evening together. One of many more to come.

What I said to Brad is true. I’ve felt lucky since the moment he came into my life. When I saw him laugh and felt it like a physical blow to my sternum.

When he hugged me the first time and didn’t let go.

When he became my friend, listening when I talked and sharing his own stories—his own self—with me in return.

When he asked me to kiss him because he wanted proof that what he was feeling was real.

Every time he’s touched me, cuddled me, slept with his head on my chest.

Every press of his lips to mine and the way he smiles at me as if squinting into the sun.

Those eyes, so green, always laughing. Always happy and kind.

His honesty.

His goodness.

The way he loves.

I’ve felt lucky every day since meeting this man, and I know I’ll continue being the luckiest person alive.

Because of him. All because of him.

“Joey,” Brad says in amusement, snorting as he holds up a piece of chicken with his fork. It’s covered in syrup from his waffles. “Look. This chicken strip looks like a peen, dude! It even has two balls, see? Well, maybe one and a half. Something definitely happened to the second one. But still.” He wiggles the chicken a bit. “Think I can get it down in one bite?”

Yep, that’s the one.

I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving that man.

I can’t wait.

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