Chapter 37 Théo
“Mom wants to come for a visit.”
I nearly dropped the wooden spatula I was using to stir the pot of chili I was making. The words landed in my stomach like a stone, sending ripples of anxiety through my whole body.
I loved my mom. I did. But all her hovering made me feel like I was a kid again. Incapable of taking care of myself. Of making my own decisions. Every phone call was a gentle interrogation: Are you eating enough? Are you sleeping? Have you talked to your therapist?
Granted, watching your youngest wither away to nothing and then being told he would die if he didn’t get help probably changes a mother. I couldn’t blame her for the worry. I just wished I didn’t feel like I was constantly disappointing her by not being fixed yet.
“When?” I kept my voice carefully neutral, my eyes on the bubbling chili.
“I’m home for a stretch.” Avery was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone with the casual ease of someone delivering good news. “I bought her a ticket already.”
Of course he did. Avery, the good son. The one who called every Sunday, who remembered birthdays without calendar reminders, who had somehow turned out stable and successful despite our fractured childhood.
And then there was me—Mathéo, the prodigal son.
The one who’d driven our parents apart, nearly killed himself chasing perfection, and was now living off his brother’s charity.
The comparison sat bitter on my tongue.
“That’s great,” I said, forcing brightness into my voice. “We should take her to Chinatown. She’ll love it.”
“Ooh, there’s a dim sum place Hana’s been wanting to try.” Avery perked up at the mention of food—or maybe at the mention of Hana. “I’ll see what day she’s free. You should invite Sully.”
This time, I did drop the spatula.
Red sauce splattered across the floor like a crime scene, spattering the lower cupboards and the edge of the counter. I swore under my breath and grabbed for the paper towels, crouching down to mop up the mess.
“Why would I invite him?” I asked, keeping my head down, my voice carefully casual.
“I thought you guys were friends.” Avery sounded genuinely confused.
“You hang out together even when you’re not watching his dog.
He’s a really nice guy. I’m sure Mom would love to meet any friends you’ve made.
” He paused. “Maybe one of the skaters you’re training with too?
It would put her at ease to know you have people to lean on other than me. ”
I was very focused on cleaning up the mess so he couldn’t see my expression. My hands moved mechanically—wipe, fold, wipe again—while my brain spiraled.
My brother really was clueless.
Here I was, sleeping in Derek’s bed most nights, wearing Derek’s clothes, letting Derek take me apart with his hands and his mouth and his ridiculous earnest praise—and Avery thought we were friends. That Derek was just another name on the list of people keeping Théo Beaubien from falling apart.
Which, technically, wasn’t wrong. Derek was keeping me from falling apart. Just not in the way Avery imagined.
“I’ll think about it,” I said finally, tossing the stained paper towels into the trash. “I don’t want to overwhelm Mom with too many new faces.”
“She’s met Hana before.” Avery was already back to scrolling, the conversation forgotten. “Just let me know. I want her to see that you’re doing okay here. That Chicago was a good choice.”
She really had not wanted me to leave Toronto and it was one of the rare times my brother had defied her and sided with me. I should feel more grateful but mostly I felt anxious.
I turned back to the chili with a clean spatula and stirred it with more force than necessary.
I was going to have to tell him eventually. About Derek. About us. Whatever us was.
But not today. Today, I had enough to worry about with my mother’s impending arrival and the minefield of emotions that would bring.
◆◆◆
In the end, I consulted with Sabrina—my surrogate therapist, since I wasn’t seeing my actual therapist until next week. It was a long overdue conversation where I had to admit we weren’t just sleeping together but I was actually starting to develop—gulp—feelings for him.
“I knew it,” she crowed through the phone. “I knew it from the moment you mentioned the snowdrop thing. You don’t let people give you cutesy nicknames, Théo. You once threatened to stab a guy for calling you Teddy.”
“That was different. Teddy is a horrible nickname.”
“The point stands. You’re catching feelings.”
I groaned and buried my face in the neckline of my shirt. One of Derek’s—a plain dark tee I’d pilfered from his bedroom floor. Inconspicuous enough that Avery wouldn’t notice, unlike the Frost hoodies. It smelled like bergamot and him.
Chicago was supposed to be a clean slate. A fresh start. And here I was: fucking my brother’s mentor, catching feelings I couldn’t afford, and stealing his clothes like a lovesick teenager.
New city, same disastrous decision making.
“This is a disaster,” I muttered.
“It’s not a disaster. It’s called being human.” Sabrina’s voice softened. “You’re allowed to have feelings, Théo. You’re allowed to want things.”
“I don’t know how to do this. The relationship thing. I ruined the last one.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. The secrecy ruined it. Competing against each other ruined it. Enabling each other’s worst habits ruined it. You just... you just survived it.”
“I ran away to another country.”
“Strategically relocated,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Yes. One sounds cowardly and the other sounds like self-preservation.” She paused. “Which it was, by the way. Self-preservation. You were drowning in Toronto. Leaving was the right call.”
I didn’t say anything. My throat felt tight.
“And this thing with Derek,” she continued, gentler now. “It’s different, isn’t it? It feels different?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “It does.”
“Then maybe you should stop waiting for it to blow up and just... let yourself have it.”
I stared at the ceiling. The thought was terrifying. Also, annoyingly, a little bit hopeful.
“Now stop deflecting and tell me about the mom situation.”
Right. The actual reason I’d called.
“She’s coming for a visit. Avery wants to do dim sum with some friends—the whole ‘everything is fine and dandy’ routine before she decides to move into his apartment to keep an eye on me.
” I picked at a thread on the pillowcase.
“I don’t know if I should invite Derek. It’s a group thing, so it wouldn’t be weird, but.
.. meeting my mother feels like a big step.
What if she figures it out? What if Avery—”
“What if you spontaneously combust from overthinking?”
“Not helpful. We’re in a weird—”
“Théo.” She cut through my spiral with practiced ease. “Just invite him. He’ll go along with whatever you want to do. That man is down bad for you.”
“Stop. I’m just incredible in bed.”
“You stop. I saw the texts, snowdrop.”
I wrinkled my nose. “It sounds weird when you say it.”
“That’s because his sex voice is probably all low and growly.”
“He doesn’t only call me that during sex.”
“Exhibit A.” I could hear her smirking through the phone. “Derek Sullivan is down fucking bad. And so are you, even if you won’t admit it. Invite him.”
“What if it’s too much too fast?”
“Then he’ll tell you. He seems like the type who actually communicates like a functional adult.” A pause. “Which, no offense, you could learn from.”
“Rude.”
“Accurate.”
I sighed. She wasn’t wrong. Derek had been nothing but patient, nothing but honest, nothing but exactly what he seemed. The least I could do was meet him halfway.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll invite him.”
“Good. Now tell me more about the sex. Scale of one to ten, how big is his—”
“Goodbye, Sabrina.”
“You’re no fun!”
I hung up on her cackling and stared at my phone for a long moment.
Then I opened my texts and started typing.
◆◆◆
Which was how I ended up at a crowded dim sum place in Chinatown on Sunday morning. Me, Derek, Avery, Hana, and my mom crammed around a table with a revolving tray, the restaurant loud and chaotic around us.
The menu was a paper checklist with photos of the food, little boxes where you wrote the quantity of each dish you wanted. Avery and Hana had commandeered the ordering duties and were scribbling numbers with alarming enthusiasm.
“You know there’s only five of us?” I peered at the growing list of items. Har gow, siu mai, char siu bao, cheung fun, turnip cake, potstickers—
“Avery eats enough for at least three people,” Hana said without looking up.
“I’m a growing boy,” Avery said proudly, adding an order for five servings of shrimp and chive dumplings.
“You’re 22.”
“Still growing.”
My mom laughed and the sound loosened something tight in my chest. She looked good—rested, happy, her dark hair streaked with more silver than I remembered but her eyes bright.
She’d arrived yesterday afternoon and so far the visit had been…
okay. Better than okay. She hadn’t asked about my weight or my eating habits or whether I was sleeping enough.
She’d just hugged me for a long time and told me she was proud of me.
I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Derek was seated next to me, close enough that our knees occasionally bumped under the table.
He looked good. He hadn’t shaved since his injury and that was enough to fill in his beard and cover most of the bruising that still lingered on his face.
He had shown up in a black leather jacket that had made me want to do unholy things to him.
When he removed it to hang on the back of the chair, it wasn’t any better.
Underneath he had on a black sweater that clung to his chest and emphasized his broad shoulders.
He’d been introduced as a friend of Avery’s and mine—teammate, mentor, the guy whose dog I watched sometimes. Derek played the part perfectly: friendly, easy, just enough charm without overdoing it.