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

21. WADE

WADE

Suit Wars, Danton Drama, and a Kiss to Remember

F rom my spot outside, I watched him, the tension in his shoulders drawn tight as though holding back something that threatened to escape. He curled inward, shielding himself from whatever had passed through the phone call. His breath puffed visibly in the cold air, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. But then, just as his eyes met mine, the transformation was instantaneous. Like flipping a switch, he was all dazzling charm and effortless flash, the exaggerated brightness almost blinding.

Without a word, he darted toward the house, his movements quick and deliberate, skirting past me as if proximity alone could break the shield he’d constructed around himself. It stung more than I wanted to admit. Cal had been avoiding me all day, pulling away whenever I got too close. And maybe it was my own stubbornness—or something far messier—that made me want to break through those walls. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to let him keep shutting me out.

I found him upstairs, alone in the guest room, muttering curses under his breath as he wrestled with a rumpled suit. His scowl was sharp enough to cut glass, his frustration bubbling over as he berated himself for something as small as “not packing better.” But it wasn’t the suit that caught my attention—it was his ankle. The swelling had worsened, darkening into a deep, angry bruise that practically screamed for attention.

My gut twisted at the sight, but I didn’t comment. Instead, I turned on my heel and headed downstairs to retrieve an ice pack.

When I returned, he was still at war with the suit, his fingers smoothing over the fabric with a manic kind of determination.

“Pretty boy,” I said, my voice low as I placed a hand on his back. He stilled, his movements halting as if I’d disrupted a delicate balance. When he turned, his eyes were unguarded, glinting with a fragility that struck a chord I didn’t know was there. For a fleeting moment, all I wanted was to wrap him in my arms, to show him he didn’t have to carry so much alone.

“Sit,” I said, nudging him gently toward the bed. He stretched his legs out in front of him, reluctantly following my lead. I grabbed a spare pillow, carefully lifted his injured ankle and rested it on the cushion, then pressed the ice pack against the bruise. He flinched slightly at the cold but didn’t pull away. I didn’t say anything, letting the silence speak for itself. Cal had a way of barreling through life, pushing himself past every limit with little regard for the consequences. I wasn’t na?ve enough to think my concern could change that, but I wasn’t going to leave him without at least a little care.

Satisfied that he wasn’t going to move, I picked up the suit and hung it neatly on the door. Rummaging through the wardrobe, I found a portable steamer and set it up.

“You,” I said, pointing at him, “don’t move.” My tone came out sharper than intended, but to my surprise, he didn’t argue. Whether it was the throbbing ankle or pure exhaustion, Cal stayed put.

I left briefly to grab him a coffee and a plate of sandwiches my mom had laid out for lunch. When I returned, I set them beside him and gestured with authority.

“Eat. Drink. Now.”

He looked at me like I’d just ordered him to climb Mount Everest but obediently picked up a sandwich. As I warmed up the steamer, I glanced over to see him actually eating, a sight so rare it brought a grin to my face. Cal noticed immediately, his hand pausing mid-air as he stared at me like I’d grown a second head.

“Stop gaping,” I said, shaking my head as I smoothed out a crease in the suit. “It’s just a smile.”

His lips quirked into a soft chuckle, and he took another bite, the tension in the room finally easing. For a moment, the chaos of the day faded, and it was just the two of us in that quiet space. No walls, no pretenses—just Cal and me, sharing a fleeting but genuine moment of calm.

With Cal resting his ankle and our suits perfectly steamed and ready, we had a little time to kill. I really didn’t want him moving around more than he had to, and considering we’d have the whole evening to socialize, I figured a little downtime wouldn’t hurt. I sat down beside him on the bed and started flicking through the TV channels, hovering for a second on a sports channel. Just as I was about to move past it, Cal’s hand shot out, stopping me.

“I want to watch Tyler and Hunter,” he mumbled, a slight smile hinting in his eyes. No argument from me. I left the game on, watching as his face softened, gaze focusing on the screen. But it wasn’t long before I felt him lean into me, his head gently tilting onto my shoulder. The day had clearly drained him, and his body seemed to give in as he drifted off, even with the noise of the game in the background.

I stayed still, barely daring to breathe, feeling the weight of his head relax against me. Soon, he shifted, his body instinctively curling closer, his good leg draping over my hip, his hand resting over my chest, right over my heart that was hammering far too loudly for my own comfort. His head nestled firmly into the crook of my neck, so close that when he adjusted, his lips grazed my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

It was… intense. I didn’t know how much I’d missed something as simple as being held like this, someone curling up into me without hesitation. With Sam and Danton, it was usually me seeking that connection, a quick spoon before they moved away, each with their own kind of distance. But this? This was natural, like Cal fit here without even thinking about it, his body warm and trusting against mine.

I glanced down at his peaceful face, his breathing deep and steady, and found myself grinning like an idiot. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the moment. It was perfect in a way I hadn’t expected, and I realized that maybe, just maybe, Cal was more than the enigma I’d been puzzling over. For once, he wasn’t pretending or putting up walls; he was just here, soft and present.

It was… nice.

As time crept closer to the hour, I really didn’t want to wake Cal up, not while he was finally catching up on some desperately needed sleep. Instead, I carefully replaced the ice on his ankle, but he only stirred enough to snatch my pillow and tug it close, hugging it like he would me if I were still lying there.

I went about getting ready, hopping in the shower and after regretting—yet again—the hassle of long hair as I wrestled with the blow dryer. But I’d stuck with this look for a reason. It set me apart from my brothers, and I’d decided long ago I’d never be the guy in those framed military photos on the wall or even the version of myself Danton once wanted. This was my own mark. My own small rebellion.

After finally wrangling my hair and suiting up, I felt uncomfortably polished, itching to be back in my worn flannel and boots. This suit, sleek as it was, felt like I was in someone else’s skin. But tonight was for my brother.

I was just about to gently wake Cal when the door flew open, and in came a very panicked Cal, practically shoving me aside as he fumbled with his clothes.

“Out! I need to shower, and you actually let me sleep? You have no idea—I’m late to everything unless I start early!”

I raised a hand, trying to calm him.

“Hey, relax, we’ve got plenty of time. Just take it easy, no need to slip in a rush, alright? You only need to change and dry your hair.”

He looked at me like I was the mad one.

“Says the guy already dressed, looking like some dark-haired Thor,” he muttered before he peeled off the rest of his clothes, leaving him in tight black briefs that had me swallowing hard. He caught my look and gave me an exasperated sigh.

“You do realize that for me to be your ‘Pretty Boy,’ I have to cover these dark circles and make myself look—what’s the word? Alive.”

I shook my head, giving him a slow once-over.

“Oh, Cal, if you could just see what the rest of us do. You’re stunning as you are. My family’s right to say I’m punching.”

The blush that flooded his face was so unexpected—creeping from his neck up to his ears, a flush that had me wanting more.

“Don’t say things like that,” he whispered, barely meeting my gaze.

I frowned. “Why not? It’s true.”

“Just… don’t, okay? You need to keep things the same with me. I need you to hate me.” His voice was fragile, almost pleading.

That took me aback. Hate him? I’d been frustrated, sure, annoyed even, because he was reckless, running himself ragged as if he was out to prove he could take on the world alone. But hate him? Not for a second.

Before I could argue, he waved his hands, shooing me back.

“Out, now! I’m already behind, and I will not be late to your brother’s engagement party because of you. Go!”

I lingered just long enough to catch his stubborn glare before leaving. A thousand questions simmered in the back of my mind about the barriers he kept raising—and why I was starting to feel an overwhelming urge to dismantle every single one.

From my spot at the bed, I could hear Cal’s muffled expletives as he moved around the bathroom, punctuated by the occasional sigh of frustration. The blow dryer roared intermittently, and his grumbled chastisements to himself floated through the door. I had to bite my lip to hold back a laugh, picturing him wrestling with his reflection like it was an unruly student. He was completely unaware of the fact that we were still perfectly on time, his frantic energy almost endearing as he tried to perfect every detail.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, the bathroom door creaked open. And when he stepped out, my breath caught. Damn.

Cal stood there, the very picture of elegance and allure, dressed in tailored dark heritage green pants that hugged his frame just right. A crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a string of pearls against his skin, elevated the look. Over it, he wore a matching green blazer threaded with gold, catching the light in subtle, elegant glimmers. His makeup was flawless, accentuating the flecks of gold in his deep brown eyes. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a high-fashion editorial.

“This is as good as it’ll get,” he said, spinning once for effect, though the self-conscious undertone betrayed him.

“Beautiful. You couldn’t be more beautiful,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. His cheeks flushed instantly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He turned his gaze away, flustered.

“Stop that,” he muttered. “No one’s here; we don’t need to keep up a facade.”

I opened my mouth to counter, but the door swung open, and my oldest brother, William, stepped in with his signature grin.

“Wow, you two look fantastic! You’re putting me to shame,” he laughed, motioning toward the hallway. “C’mon, baby brother, time to party.”

William pulled me into a hug, clapping me on the back in that affectionate way he always had. I lingered a little longer than usual, letting the comfort settle me. Tonight wasn’t just for Wylie and Benny—it was for all of us, a rare moment of pure joy amidst the chaos of life.

When I glanced back, Cal was watching us, his expression soft and almost wistful. It tugged at something deep in me, a flicker of recognition for the loneliness he carried, even when he smiled so effortlessly. On impulse, I extended my hand to him, and to my relief, he took it, his fingers slipping between mine with an ease that felt… right.

I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as we made our way downstairs and into the transformed barn. The space was breathtaking, twinkling lights draped over wooden beams, casting a warm glow that made everything feel magical. A projector looped through photos of Benny and Wylie, capturing years of love and laughter. The beauty of it all hit me hard, my throat tightening unexpectedly.

“Pretty boy, this is…” My voice cracked, emotion catching me off guard. I couldn’t even finish the thought. It was perfect—far more than I could have imagined.

Cal turned to me, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

“You think they’ll like it?”

Before I could respond, Benny and Wylie appeared, practically glowing with excitement. Benny pulled Cal into a tight hug, gushing,

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! If this is what you’ve done for the engagement party, I can’t wait to see the wedding!”

Cal laughed softly, his modesty evident.

“Really, it was nothing. I had fun.”

Wylie hugged him next, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” he said simply, but the weight in his voice said so much more. For a moment, it looked like Cal might cry, but he steadied himself, his eyes sparkling with the warmth of their gratitude.

When Wylie turned to me, his words were low but deliberate.

“Don’t mess this up with him.” It hit me square in the chest, a mix of hope and warning that lingered as he walked away. Benny followed with a pointed look that practically screamed, We’re keeping him, even if you screw this up.

Cal, oblivious to their silent messages, was still basking in the moment. I wove us through the crowd, introducing him to friends and family, each interaction cementing his place as the night’s star. His charm was effortless, his wit quick and disarming, leaving everyone captivated. It wasn’t just an act—he had a way of making people feel like they were the most interesting person in the room. And for tonight, it wasn’t just my family falling for him. I could feel myself falling, too.

But then, that familiar voice slithered through the air like a cold draft.

“Well, well, well, aren’t you the talk of the town.”

I stiffened, instinctively tightening my grip on Cal’s hand as I turned to face Danton. Polished and sharp as ever, he looked every bit the part of a man who thrived on appearances. His calculating smile was one I’d learned to dread, the kind that never reached his eyes.

Cal, unfazed, greeted him with playful indifference.

“Glad to hear it—I was hoping to make a good impression. Wade here is a keeper, after all.”

He leaned into me, draping himself effortlessly against my side. The warmth of his body against mine grounded me, while Danton’s gaze flicked to our entwined hands, irritation flashing across his face.

“Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier,” Danton said smoothly, extending a hand. “I’m Danton, Wade and I used to be an item.”

Cal took the offered hand with a firm grip, his smile sweet but razor-sharp.

“Ah, the one stupid enough to cheat on the keeper.”

I bit back a laugh, pressing my face into Cal’s hair to stifle it as Danton’s composure faltered, his face darkening.

Danton’s smile strained.

“Hmm. Well, people make mistakes,” he said coolly.

Cal’s hand flipped idly in the air, almost as if shrugging off Danton’s presence.

“Is it, though? Last I checked, letting someone’s dick in one's ass wasn’t exactly an accident.”

I choked, laughter threatening to burst free as Danton’s face turned crimson. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, but no words came out. From somewhere behind us, Benny’s voice cut through the tension like a well-timed drumroll.

“Oh, he’s got you there, Danton.”

The warmth that surged through me was more than amusement; it was pride—something deeper, something that felt like a damn revelation. I tightened my arms around Cal, pulling him closer, my chest swelling with gratitude for the fearless, fiery man who had just publicly handed my ex his ass on a silver platter. No one had ever stepped up for me like that. Ever.

Danton’s jaw worked as though he was fighting to keep his polished mask intact.

“Have a good night, Wade. I’ll be seeing you soon.” His voice held a simmering edge, the kind that promised unfinished business. Then he turned and strode off, his tailored tux blending back into the crowd.

I felt Cal tense slightly in my arms, his body rigid for just a moment before he spun around to face me, an impish glint already sparkling in his eyes. His hands found my chest, pressing against me lightly as he tilted his head.

“So, Jack,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you’ve got a very model-like type. Should I be worried?”

I grinned despite myself, the tension from Danton’s presence melting under Cal’s cheeky tone.

“You’re nothing like him,” I said firmly, the words spilling out without hesitation.

His teasing smirk faltered just slightly, his jaw tightening as if my words didn’t quite land.

“I suppose not… He’s a lot more… polished,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost distant.

I wanted to tell him how wrong he was, how much more he was. But I realized there was no point in comparison.

Cal wasn’t just different—he was better. In every way. And the more time I spent with him, the more I felt myself drawn in by the brilliance of who he was, all bold edges and hidden depths.

Instead of answering, I let my actions speak. My hands slid lower on his waist, pulling him in until there was no space left between us. The noise of the room faded, the watchful eyes of family and friends forgotten. This wasn’t for show, not for them or anyone else. This was for us.

“Danton has nothing on you,” I said, my voice dropping to a low murmur only he could hear.

“His heart couldn’t come close to yours, not on his best day. There’s no world where I’d ever want him back.”

Cal’s eyes searched mine, disbelief flickering there for just a moment before something softer took its place. He opened his mouth, but no words came, just the faintest hitch of his breath as I leaned closer. I hesitated, giving him a choice. When his lips met mine, the room seemed to tilt on its axis, and every nerve in my body ignited. His kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but then it deepened, turning hungry, his tongue brushing against mine in a way that made my knees weak.

The sound of someone clearing their throat shattered the moment like a glass dropped on concrete. We broke apart, breathless, to find Wylie and Benny standing there, matching grins plastered across their faces.

“This night is about us, thank you very much,” Wylie teased, crossing his arms with mock indignation.

“Stop stealing the limelight, will you? At least wait for the dance floor before you go there. ”

Heat rushed to my face, and I heard a soft chorus of chuckles behind them.

My sister Tania joined in, her face lit with delight as she murmured, “Aww,” in a way that only made my cheeks burn hotter.

Grabbing Cal’s hand, I muttered, “Let’s go,” and tugged him through the crowd, weaving between guests until we found a quiet corner where we could breathe.

Once out of sight, I turned to him, my heart pounding as I took him in—the flush on his cheeks, the way his eyes sparkled with something I couldn’t quite name. Whatever it was between us, it wasn’t part of the plan. It wasn’t fake, not anymore. And as much as it scared me, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to stop.