That Time We Faked It (Time On The Ice #3)

8. WADE

WADE

The Accidental Boyfriend and the Family Meltdown

F lying had always been a cruel joke played on my body. It wasn’t that I feared planes—nah, if that were the case, we’d be dealing with a whole other set of issues. No, my problem was far more physical. Airplane seats weren’t built for people like me. When you’ve got arthritis, being crammed into one of those things feels like some medieval torture chair designed for pure, unrelenting agony.

Add that to the fact I was heading back home, a place that gnawed at my nerves and didn’t exactly scream “welcome back,” so I was already teetering on edge.

And then… the seats.

I was wedged into economy like a sardine, my knees kissing the seat in front of me, my elbows pinched tight. To my left, a blonde guy—slimmer build, jittery as hell—bounced his leg so hard I thought he might vibrate through the damn floor. I sighed, already bracing for the inevitable chaos that would come from a jittery seatmate. It’s a short flight, I told myself. It’s fine. You’ve got this.

But then I glanced further left, at the guy by the window.

If his boyfriend was compact and buzzing, this one was a mountain—broad-shouldered, athletic, with the kind of build that screamed defenseman. He looked like he could crush a guy against the boards without breaking a sweat. He had that quiet stillness that could either be calming or absolutely terrifying, depending on his mood. And from my vantage point, this flight was shaping up to be a disaster, even if it was short.

I barely had time to mentally prepare before Blondie opened his mouth. He launched into a rapid-fire monologue about his impending trip to Boston.

“I’ve been going over and over in my head how I’m gonna word it all, you know? Like, do I just come out and say, ‘Hey, I’m gay, I love Shane’s dick, and no, I’m not changing my mind on that, and oh, by the way, I hate marketing and schmoozing and selling shitty products like air fresheners that supposedly smell like lemon but actually reek of chemical-infused ass?’”

I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. This guy was a faster talker than my Pretty Boy, and that was saying something. He had this innocent, boyish energy about him, too, like he hadn’t quite grown into his mouth yet. His boyfriend, Shane—who was practically glowing with amusement—reached over to pat his jittery leg, trying to calm him down. “Maybe don’t mention loving my dick to your dad, sweetheart. Some things are better kept between us.”

I couldn’t help but notice the way Shane looked at him, like he hung the damn moon. It made my stomach clench. I hadn’t felt that way in… well, longer than I cared to admit. It was part of the reason I left Boston in the first place—to escape the emotional wreckage of my last relationship. But these two were so obviously in love, it made me pause.

I glanced at my phone, planning to distract myself with my Kindle app, but Blondie wasn’t done. “Yeah, I know, but I figured if I dropped the whole ‘my best friend’s now my lover’ bomb, it might distract him from the fact that I’m totally destroying his dreams of me taking over the family business. You know? Like, focus on the dick part, forget about the whole ‘I hate my career’ thing.”

Any hope of a peaceful, quiet flight evaporated right then, but honestly, I couldn’t be mad. This guy was endearing, and before I knew it, we were deep into conversation. Turns out, they were headed to Boston to face the music with his family, and somehow, in the mix of all that talking, I learned their names and we even touched on the topic of big families. But I didn’t mention why I was headed home. No need to derail Eli’s pre-flight jitters with my own mess.

By the time we landed and said our goodbyes, the flight had gone by faster than I expected. Wishing Eli and Shane good luck with their big family reveal, I got into a cab and made my way home. I stared out the window, still thinking about them.

They had something real, something I thought I’d given up on. I sighed, trying to push the thought away as we pulled up to my parents’ house. Time to face my own demons.

I really wanted to go straight to the hospital. Getting that call— Dad had a heart attack —had nearly given me one myself. What made it worse was my brother’s complete lack of detail. No information on how Dad was doing, which hospital he was in—just a cryptic "get home ASAP." The drive from Boston to Topsfield, Massachusetts, out to my family’s winery, Rossler Flats, didn’t do much to calm my nerves. By the time we were going up the gravel driveway, I was practically throwing cash at the driver just to get out of the car.

Being one of six siblings—three boys, three girls—meant chaos was a way of life growing up. Our house was a madhouse, but at least I was never alone. As the youngest, I’d always had a free run of the land, though my health issues had slowed me down a bit. Still, that didn’t stop me from running headfirst up the steps of the old house. I was greeted by my siblings, one after the other, like a human wave.

Tia, the second youngest, seven years older than me, was the first to leap into my arms. “Little brother, you’re finally home!” she chirped, planting a kiss on my cheek. I muttered a half-hearted hello, distracted by the looming dread that had been hanging over me since the phone call. The rest of them looked way too cheerful for the situation. Tiffany came at me next, arms outstretched, but I stopped her in her tracks.

“Nope. No hugs until someone tells me what the fuck is going on,” I said, crossing my arms. The moment I did, my siblings' shoulders all dropped at once, like I’d burst their bubble of fake joy. Panic started to rise in my chest again, and I was ready to unleash a barrage of questions. But Wylie stepped in with a sheepish grin. “So, ah, it was a lie, dads fine. I just knew it was a way to get you here.”

I stared at Wylie, dumbfounded, as my mind raced to process the mix of—relief, confusion, and a rising tide of anger. My jaw clenched as frustration took over. “ What ?! You got me to fly across the country on a last-minute flight, which wasn’t cheap, by the way, leaving the bar and staff who’ve just started—for nothing ?” My voice cut through the air, and I watched my siblings shrink back like they’d been caught red-handed.

“Well, you wouldn’t have come otherwise,” Wylie said matter-of-factly, as if that was justification enough.

“Of course I wouldn’t! I have my own business to run, one that’s finally picking up momentum, and I need to be there. What don’t you understand about that?”

Tanya, the eldest of my sisters, chimed in, her voice soft but knowing. “I told you he’d be mad, Wy…”

God, did I mention how much I loved my family? Scratch that. I didn’t. They were the kind of family that was too involved in each other’s lives, always in each other’s business, never missing a beat. They all lived on the same land, worked the family winery together, and raised their kids like some kind of commune. And me? I was the black sheep who’d moved away, and even though they claimed to support it, the constant questioning of every decision I made said otherwise. Running my bar gave me some distance, but apparently not far enough.

Especially not when my ex, Danton, still worked for the family. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Yeah, he’s their top wine trader. Even after he broke my heart, they kept him on because, apparently, no one else could match his sales. Lovely, right?

Wylie’s voice cut through my thoughts. “We haven’t seen you in over a year, and you never really talk to us. I know things with Danton were complicated, and—” He paused, his voice softening, “I’m going to propose to Ben, okay? And I’m sorry, but I want my little brother to be here for that.”

I blinked, the frustration ebbing away as I slumped my shoulders. Ben and Wylie had been together for years, and Wylie had been waiting to propose for at least twenty of them. But Ben had been battling cancer for most of it. He’s been in remission for a few years now, and Wylie had finally worked up the courage.

“That’s great, Wy. About time,” I said, my tone softening.

Before I could react, Wylie pulled me into a tight hug, practically squeezing the air out of me. “Sorry for scaring you.”

“A fucking heart attack , though, Wy? That’s just cruel.”

Wylie winced. “Yeah… William already gave me an earful. I just missed you, Wade. You were there for me and Ben more than anyone. You took Ben to treatments, kept him company in between deployments and then when you got home, you were there despite everything you were going through… I really wanted you here for this.”

I sighed, the tension melting as I hugged him back. My brothers and I were all big guys, them football players in their youth, me a military man until I came back to the winery, and I struck out on my own. Wylie pulled back, taking in my longer hair and beard with a playful smirk.

“So… what’s with this ?” He gestured to my face like I’d grown a second head.

I rolled my eyes, giving him a gentle shove. “Didn’t wanna look like any of you lot.”

He chuckled, and as I turned to say my hellos to the rest of the family, I couldn’t help but feel a warmth I hadn’t expected. They were frustrating, sure, but they were my family.

Which, of course, earned me a few slaps on the back.

My brothers, William and Wylie, looked like twins—both clean-shaven, perfectly styled, and way more toned than me. Honestly, they were like carbon copies of each other, part of the running joke in the family about being Irish twins times five. Dark hair, sharp grey eyes, and athletic builds—the Rossler trademark.

“How are you gonna get a boyfriend looking like that ?” William teased, reaching out to ruffle my hair—his favorite form of sibling torture.

I ducked away just in time, throwing him a glare as I smoothed the mess back into some semblance of order. This right here was the reason I’d kept my hair buzzed short most of my life—less opportunity for my brothers to turn me into their personal stress ball.

“Who says I don’t already have one?” The words tumbled out before my brain could put the brakes on them. Why, Wade? Why the hell make up a boyfriend? I could’ve laughed it off, cracked a joke, moved on. But no, my mouth had already committed me to a full-blown lie, and now I was drowning in it.

William’s eyebrows shot up, his grin sharpening like a shark sensing blood in the water.

“Wait, really? Who is he?”

Shit. My heart kicked up a notch as I scrambled for a way out. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yeah, it’s… new. Don’t want to jinx it.”

Instant regret seeped through me like ice water. I never lied to my family—not about anything that mattered. Sure, I’d given them little white lies over the years. Like when I said I’d moved to Canada for adventure and a fresh start . Definitely not because I was suffocating here. Definitely not because I was tired of running into my ex at every corner of Boston or because he kept trying to worm his way back into my life like a bad habit. And I’d certainly never moved to escape the relentless meddling of my siblings, bless their overbearing hearts. Nope. None of that.

See, the thing about my family is that they meant well. Truly. But God, did they smother me. I was the “oops” baby, the surprise addition to the brood. The youngest. The fragile one. The one always in and out of hospitals, on medications that promised my joints to stop aching but instead came with side effects a mile long and caused my energy to vanish. I had arthritis—juvenile arthritis, as the doctors had called it—and my immune system liked to keep things interesting by attacking itself on random Tuesdays.

One day I’d be fine, walking like anyone else. The next, I’d be stuck in bed, barely able to move, cursing every inch of my body. Add a gunshot to the knee in my twenties, and let’s just say my relationship with my joints became even more complicated.

Growing up, they watched me like hawks. If I winced, if I walked too slow, if I so much as sneezed, the entire family descended like I was seconds away from collapse. Tia would fuss over my “ bad posture .” Wylie would scoop me up like I weighed nothing and plant me on the couch. Mom would appear with soup, blankets, and unsolicited advice about stretching. God help me if I ever told them I felt tired .

So yeah, maybe I understood why they still treated me like glass. But I wasn’t glass. I wasn’t fragile. And I sure as hell didn’t need my family knowing I was so alone I’d resorted to inventing boyfriends just to keep them off my back.

William squinted at me like he could see straight through the cracks I was trying to patch.

“What’s his name?”

My stomach flipped.

“None of your business,” I shot back, aiming for breezy. I turned my focus to the old worn combat boots on my feet as if they’d somehow save me from this trap I’d set for myself. Why do you always make it worse, Wade?

“ None of your business ? That’s what we’re going with?” William scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. “Come on, little brother. You’re not getting out of this one.”

My jaw clenched, but I forced a smirk to my lips. “Oh, I will. And you’ll get no details. Not now, not ever. Keep guessing.”

I turned on my heel and made for the house, hoping to escape before this conversation spiraled any further. Behind me, I heard William mutter something to Tia—something that definitely included the words “Wade’s got a boyfriend.” Great. Just great.

Lies had a way of snowballing, and this one had already started rolling downhill.

“Well, why didn’t you tell us!?” Tanya squealed, practically bouncing in place like a kid on a sugar high. How any of my siblings, all in their forties, could still radiate this much chaotic energy was beyond me. Impressive? Sure. Exhausting? Absolutely.

“Because you’d scare him away,” I muttered, pushing past her toward the house like I had somewhere better to be—anywhere better than here.

“No, we wouldn’t! Unless he’s a total douche-canoe,” Tanya shot back, her tone dead serious. “Then we might. But if he’s deserving of our little brother’s big, soft heart, we’d welcome him with open arms!”

I groaned internally, biting down the urge to remind them I don’t have a boyfriend . Because, clearly, I was a fucking idiot for pretending otherwise. But honestly, this was the lesser of two evils. If I hadn’t blurted out the lie, they’d be pushing me into blind dates with whoever their friend’s cousin’s gay hairdresser was. Or worse—trying to get me back with Danton. And I’d set myself on fire before I let that happen.

“He’s not a douche-canoe,” I found myself saying, digging the hole deeper. Way deeper. Stop talking, Wade.

“He’s sassy as hell and can be an asshole without meaning to, but honestly? He’s the most selfless man I’ve ever met. Though he thinks he’s selfish because he gets a kick out of winning people over.”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and my stomach dropped as soon as I realized what I was doing. I wasn’t describing some made-up boyfriend. I was talking about Cal. Pretty Boy . The Cal who strolled into my bar like a whirlwind, shook up my entire life, and then kissed me on the cheek like it was no big deal.

And, of course, the moment the realization hit me, my siblings’ faces lit up like they’d won the lottery.

“Oh my God, you really like this guy!” Tiffany gasped, her eyes wide with delight as she practically vibrated where she stood.

No, I don’t. That was what I should’ve said. What I needed to say. Instead, I stood there like an idiot, gaping at them while my brain refused to reboot.

“Okay, enough about me,” I said, waving a hand like I could swat their excitement out of the air. “Let’s get this show on the road. I have to get back home.”

Wrong move. Tia grabbed my arm like I wasn’t twice her size and yanked me into the living room, her grip deceptively strong. “We haven’t seen you in forever, Wade! We need to know everything.”

Before I could protest, I was shoved onto the couch, and my parents appeared out of nowhere to deliver one of those suffocating hugs they’d perfected over the years. I loved them, I really did. But at times like this? Their affection was overwhelming. Like a weighted blanket you couldn’t shake off.

“Yes, we do need to know it all, son. What’s been happening?” my dad said, clapping me on the back like he was trying to loosen a lung.

And then—like a damn choir—every one of my siblings chimed in unison:

“He has a boyfriend!”

Dad’s eyebrows shot up, his face breaking into the biggest grin.

“A boyfriend?” He leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands like I was about to tell the most epic love story in human history. “Well, don’t keep us waiting! Tell us all about him, son.”

My mouth went dry, my heart pounding. I could’ve laughed it off. I could’ve said, Just kidding! April Fool’s! Except it was January, and they were all staring at me, waiting. Expecting . So I did what I do best—I improvised.

I started talking.

I don’t know how it happened, but the moment I opened my mouth, everything I’d been bottling up about Cal came pouring out. I told them about this ridiculously sassy figure skater who’d waltzed into my bar and turned everything upside down without even trying.

I described how he was infuriatingly selfless, even though he pretended he wasn’t—how he acted like everything he did was for himself when, really, it was for everyone else. I talked about how he brought me staff, brought me customers, and brought a smile to my face when I hadn’t realized I’d forgotten how to smile.

And as I spoke, the words came easier. My hands moved as I talked, my siblings watching me like I was spinning some kind of fairy tale. Hell, I almost felt excited. Like I believed it myself.

But then the weight of what I was saying hit me like a truck. This wasn’t a story. It wasn’t some fake romance I’d invented on the fly.

It was all Cal .

The floodgates slammed shut. My heart sank, and the smile I hadn’t realized I was wearing faded fast. The room was too quiet now, my family still hanging on every word like they hadn’t noticed the shift.

Fuck.