Chapter 7
Caleb
Iwake up slowly, warm and sleepy, and not in any rush to move. For a second, I forget where I am until I shift slightly and realize there’s a big arm wrapped around me, holding me tight.
Nash.
I’m in bed with Nash.
He’s curled up behind me, his chest against my back, with his hand resting low on my stomach under the blanket. Our legs are tangled with his knee tucked behind mine—we’re full-on spooning, and I’m the little spoon.
My body tenses a little as last night comes back to hit me in full force. How I awkwardly gave myself a pep talk in the bathroom about how this would all be fine. I couldn’t stop fidgeting because I was sure I’d do something else embarrassing or mess up what’s growing between us somehow.
Nash made me feel comfortable, though. He has since the moment we met. And when he offered to hold me, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to be wrapped up in someone who made me feel that safe.
And now, I’m half hard because of it.
It’s been a long time since I woke up with an erection, and as much as I want things to escalate, now is so not the time. Instead, I focus on steadying my breathing so I don’t risk waking him and losing this connection.
The feeling of him—a man—wrapped around me, making me feel small, allowing me to be tucked into him, feels right in all the ways I’d always hoped it would. There’s a deeper sense of comfort being in his arms, and somehow it feels far more natural than anything ever did with my ex-wife.
Nash shifts slightly, and I brace myself for him to wake up and let me out of his grip. But if he does wake up, he doesn’t move away. If anything, he tightens his arm around me, pulling me in closer, even nuzzling into my hair.
I exhale slowly, sinking deeper into his embrace, letting my body mold to his. The weight of his arm draped around me, the warmth of his chest against my back, makes me feel cared for. Safe. Maybe even adored.
No one’s ever held me like this, and I like it more than I should admit.
The fact that we met yesterday hasn’t evaded me, and yet nothing about this feels rushed.
I don’t know what this means for us, if there even is the potential for an “us” or if I’m just reading into something I shouldn’t be reading into at all.
But, for now, I embrace this for all it is, because if it is a one-night thing, I want to soak it in fully.
I must’ve fallen back asleep because the next thing I know, I’m being shaken awake.
“Dad, I’m hungry,” Sam cries, and reality smacks me in the face, It rips me from the peaceful, warm bubble I wanted to cocoon myself in earlier as panic takes over, because I’m in the room with my son… and Nash and I are still spooning. Shit.
“Mmmm, morning,” Nash breathes into my neck, and goosebumps break out across my skin.
He’s not freaking out, or at least he doesn’t seem to be, as he slowly rolls over and untangles our bodies.
The loss of him is immediate, and I wish I could ask him for five more greedy minutes.
Or, ideally, skip the mountain altogether to stay snuggled up in bed.
“Dad?”
Right, right. Sam. There’s no way I’d ever be able to lie in bed all day with Nash. Not when we have kids—and mine just saw me cuddling with a man.
He knows there’s no right or wrong way to love. I’ve always made sure of that. I’ve taught him that families don’t all look the same, that what matters most is kindness, respect, and love. That people get to love who they love, and no one gets to decide what that looks like but them.
But I’ve never said anything about myself. Not because I was hiding some big truth. More like I wasn’t sure what that truth even was. I’ve always been a little unsure about my sexuality, and the one time I did try to ask for more to explore my desires, it backfired… badly.
So I convinced myself that maybe if I just focused on being a good dad, the rest wouldn’t matter.
But it does matter.
Because if I want Sam to grow up confident in who he is—whatever that looks like for him—I can’t keep hiding parts of myself. Not when there’s nothing to be ashamed of.
It’s a conversation I’ll have with Sam soon when I figure out what to say.
“Yeah, we’ll get breakfast soon. Just let everyone get up and get ready,” I say to Sam. “Can you grab my glasses for me, bud?”
His little legs run around the bed to grab the glasses off the table, and he hands them to me.
“Thanks.”
Nash shifts with all the commotion and turns toward me. My insides suddenly feel all gooey just from looking at his disheveled brown hair and seeing his sleepy smile aimed right at me.
“How about we go get breakfast, then come back here to get our gear before heading to the mountain. That work?” he asks, making a plan. Another point for Nash.
“That works for me,” I confirm.
His hand reaches over, under the blankets, and gives my thigh a squeeze—and of course, my dick immediately perks up.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to play it cool, but I can feel the heat crawling up my neck. I’ve always blushed too easily, and Nash definitely notices.
He lets out a quiet laugh. “I’ll hop in the shower first,” he says, already sitting up. Then, with a quick glance back at me, grinning, he adds, “Give you a few minutes to… regroup.”
He disappears into the bathroom, and I run a hand over my face, still feeling the ghost of his fingers on my thigh. I use the few extra minutes to get my heart rate back to normal and talk my body down.
That is until Sam speaks.
“Dad, why were you and Benji’s dad cuddling?”
My heart lurches for an entirely different reason now.
“Oh,” I panic. “Uh…”
Sam tilts his head, waiting, and I have no idea what to say, so I go with the truth. Or some version of it.
“I just… wanted to,” I say honestly, even if it sounds weird out loud. “Sometimes grown-ups cuddle when they feel close to someone. It’s… like a comfort thing.”
He nods, chewing on that for a second. “Like when I sleep with you after a nightmare?”
“Exactly like that,” I say, relieved.
“I hate nightmares.” He shudders at the thought. “Did you have a nightmare?”
“No,” I admit.
“Then why did you cuddle?”
There’s nothing like children to make you figure out answers you don’t know and explain yourself.
“Well,” I start, stalling for time I don’t have. “Because the comfort felt nice. I think Benji’s dad is great, and being close to him just felt good.”
Sam squints at me. “But you’re a grown-up,” he says, confused.
“I am, but grown-ups need comfort too. We get scared. We get tired. We feel things and don’t always know what to do with them, just like you.”
He seems satisfied with that, for now. “Okay,” he shrugs, turning back to Benji.
“My dad’s the best!” Benji declares, and I chuckle at that.
“He sure is,” I agree easily.
I let out a deep breath, then practically collapse into myself when I turn and see Nash standing there. I must’ve missed the sound of the bathroom door opening.
Add it to the ever-growing list of embarrassing things I keep doing around him. My face is hot, and my heart is still racing as I think about how long he’s probably been there and how much he heard.
I quickly get up to grab my stuff and head toward the bathroom. Nash is smiling at me as I approach.
“We can talk about that later, or never,” I whisper as I walk past him into the bathroom.
“Sure, sure.” He laughs as I close the door behind me.
As soon as I’m inside, I lean over the sink and splash cold water on my face. Nash makes me feel good, nervous. I forgot what it feels like to have a crush on someone, even if that sounds so juvenile.
Being with a man is something I’ve desired for so long, and even though this feels too fast and too risky—especially with our kids involved already—it’s also something I know I need to allow myself to explore.
I just hope he feels the same. He’s given me every indication that he does.
By the time I come out, sweatpants and a hoodie on, contacts in, and teeth brushed, Nash is helping Benji zip up his coat, and Sam is fully dressed. Nash looks over at me and offers a soft smile. “Just finishing getting them ready so we can go grab breakfast whenever you’re set.”
My heart swells. He didn’t have to help Sam get ready while I was in the bathroom, but he did, and now he wants to keep spending the day together. I had a moment of doubt that he’d act weird or pull away, especially since I keep embarrassing myself, but he isn’t.
“There’s a breakfast place right next door,” he adds. “It had good reviews. Does that work?”
“That’s perfect.” I smile. “Thanks for looking it up.”
“Of course.” He smiles back. “Alright, Benji, put your hat on and we’ll head out.”
“You too, Sam,” I echo.
When we get outside, it’s not snowing like it was yesterday. It’s a slow, steady stream of big, fluffy flakes. The roads are finally plowed—not that I’m in any rush to leave. I want to soak up as much time as possible with Nash.
At the restaurant, we all order our breakfast, and the boys get the exact same thing. Then we head back up to the room to pack and get our gear ready to head to the mountain.
“Let’s go to Bonanza for the first run,” Sam decides as he tugs on his ski boots.
“Oh, yeah! I want to do that too!” Benji piggybacks on.
I glance at Nash, who gives the boys a big, warm smile. “We can make that happen.”
A chorus of “yes!” and “awesome!” follows.
Every part of me is thoroughly impressed with Nash, because this man—who I only met yesterday—is already fitting into our little world like he’s always belonged.
He and his son are slipping into place beside me and mine.
The way he shows up for me and Sam is answering questions I’ve spent years avoiding.