Chapter Twelve
Anthony
Kason’s house is gorgeous. It’s a huge resort-style home, with high ceilings and a crisp, clean look with white walls, built-in shelves, and floor-to-ceiling windows.
I follow Kason into his kitchen that looks like it would be impossible to run out of cabinet or counter space. A large window above the granite countertops overlooks his backyard, which is nestled into the mountains.
It’s big for someone like me. We’ve always lived in apartments or small trailers, sometimes even motels, when I was growing up.
Then my mom took off and I ended up with my uncle, where everything was oversized and extravagant.
It made me feel uncomfortable, like there was too much space.
Why did two people need all those rooms? All those things?
Kason’s house, though, has this homey, lived-in feel to it. There’s a comfort here I never felt while living with my uncle and aunt, and I know it comes from him.
He goes to the sink first and washes his hands.
“Since I had mine all over your dick and ass, I should probably do that too,” I tease, gently hip-checking him as I join him at the counter.
“Best hello ever,” he teases, and I roll my eyes, secretly pleased that he enjoyed it. That he enjoys me. “How about omelets, breakfast potatoes, and bagels?”
“Only if I can help.”
“Yep. We’re cutting potatoes first.”
He grabs a couple from a basket, washes them, and then the two of us start cutting them into small cubes. We chat about hockey and Lush, but the whole time, my mind is stuck on a silent, persistent question.
Are we boyfriends?
Does dating equal boyfriends? I have no experience with this stuff. Easier to just hook up and be on my way. Then I know what to expect and don’t—A sharp pain stings the tip of my finger. “Shit.” I drop the knife, jerking my arm back.
Great. I cut myself. Because that’s awesome.
“Oh damn. I’m sorry.” Kason grabs my wrist and leads me to the sink.
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t cut my finger.”
He shrugs. “I can still be sorry.” He puts my hand under the water, as if I can’t do it myself, blood making the water run pink. “Don’t move.” Kason turns off the water, walks away, and comes back a moment later with a first-aid kit.
“I’m fine.”
“Maybe I still want to play doctor with you.” He pumps his brows, and I can’t hold back my grin.
I watch him as he cleans it with antiseptic pads, then puts ointment on. “You’re a caretaker.”
“With you I seem to be, don’t I?”
“It can’t just be with me.” Why would I matter that much?
“In a way, I suppose I take care of my parents and my sister and her wife. I would with Rylan, so I guess that’s how you know I really like you. I want to fix everything.”
Blood rushes through my ears, making me dizzy. Kason Maddox is hands down the best man in the whole world. “You can’t fix everything for others.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to fix the things I can.
” He puts a Band-Aid on my finger. “Like this. I could fix this, so I did. All better.” He kisses the tip of my finger, and there’s a strong fear I might pass out, that my heart is beating too fast, too hard, all wrapped up in this man standing in front of me.
“Breathe, little dancer. Be good for me. Let me hear you take a nice, deep breath.”
Wait. Am I not breathing? Oh no. That’s not it. I’m breathing too fast. It’s matching my heart, the room around me spinning—
“You’re doing so good.”
I try to focus on his words, on the lulling sound of his voice. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I losing my shit right now?
“That’s it. Take a deep breath.”
The room gets fuzzy, but I concentrate on Kason, on inhaling when he does, exhaling when he does.
“Such a good boy,” he soothes, and it helps. Why does it help?
It takes a few minutes, but eventually my vision clears, everything inside me slowing to a more normal rate.
“Do you have panic attacks?” he asks.
“No. I used to as a kid, but they got better. I had a few when everything went down with Malcolm, but it’s not like a thing I struggle with.”
He cups my cheek, plays with my hair. “Is it me? Is this too much?”
No. It’s not. We’re not. Maybe it should be, but not for the reason he’s thinking. It’s just scary, and I’m afraid to get used to it and—“Are we boyfriends?”
What. The. Fuck.
Why did I blurt that? Is that part of what has me losing control?
“Do you want to be boyfriends?”
“Do you want to be boyfriends?” I volley back.
“I asked you first.”
“Yes, well, you’re clearly the more put-together one, so maybe throw me a bone?” I tease, and he chuckles.
“I would like to be your boyfriend, but only if that’s what you want.
If you’re not ready, we don’t have to use that label, and we can stick with dating.
Or again, if you’re not ready for this, I don’t want to put pressure on you.
I want you, but if you only want to be friends, I can accept that too. ”
“I don’t want to just be friends,” stumbles from my mouth.
“I realize I’m probably giving you whiplash.
First, I didn’t know we were dating, then made it seem like I didn’t want to date you; now we’re dating, and I say to take it slow, and a week later ask if we’re boyfriends.
I have no idea what the fuck is going on inside my head.
It’s just, Hayes and Donovan said we’ve been boyfriends without benefits and now we’re boyfriends with benefits, and then all week I’ve been wondering if we’re boyfriends, and it’s annoying as shit and all your fault.
I’m not usually like this. You’re just so…
” I gesture up and down his body as if that’s some kind of reason.
He smirks. “So…what?”
“Cocky.” I roll my eyes, though I’m not truly annoyed by him. “But also kinda perfect. And I’m not, Kason. Exhibit one is my behavior today. I’ll fuck this up, so you should prepare yourself now.”
“I’m not perfect either. You might fuck this up, and I might fuck this up, both of us might screw up or—”
“You’re not helping.”
He grabs me, pulling me close. “Or neither of us might fuck it up. Maybe this doesn’t last, but maybe it does. The only way to know is to try…and I want to try, with you. You’re the first person in a long time to make me want to try having a relationship.”
“Why? Have you met me? I’m a mess.”
“I like you.” He holds my hips, fingers brushing beneath my shirt and against my skin. “I would love to be your boyfriend if you want to be mine.” He winks. “With benefits.”
“I never should have told you that.”
“No takebacks.” Kason leans in, brushing his lips against mine. “What do you think?”
I’d say I think I want this, but it’s not true.
I know I do. I want it, want him. And in the grand scheme of things, for all intents and purposes, he’s been my boyfriend for a whole-ass week, or hell, even since before we officially decided to date.
I wish I knew how to stop pretending feelings are logical, that it’s so easy to know something when your heart or mind try to tell you something else.
I wouldn’t judge Hayes for the same thing, and I didn’t judge Donovan for his fears when it came to Eric.
Why is it so much easier to accept others than it is to accept myself?
Because I know the sting of being judged by others, of people thinking there’s something wrong with me, but I can’t change what other people think.
I’m good at pretending it doesn’t bother me, but now, maybe I need to find a way that it truly doesn’t.
“I want to be your boyfriend,” I admit.
“Then we’re boyfriends.” He leans in, taking my mouth with his. Kason’s tongue sweeps inside, the taste and feel of him going straight to my head.
I don’t get nearly enough time to enjoy him before he’s pulling back.
“Now, my boyfriend is going to sit in the kitchen with me and talk while I make him food.”
“I’m not allowed to help anymore?”
“You’re on the injured list.”
“Or maybe my line is just on the bench for a couple minutes.”
“I can handle that.”
But I don’t end up helping again. I sit on the counter, talking to Kason as he cooks potatoes, chops veggies, and puts omelets together. He’s fun to just watch sometimes. He’s so graceful, his large, muscular body moving fluidly.
“It’s like dancing…what you do on the ice,” I find myself saying as we sit at the table in his backyard and eat.
“That’s actually really fucking sexy. I like that being how you think of me when it comes to hockey. What made you say it now, though?”
“I was thinking about you cooking and how you move. Then my mind went to hockey and dancing, and clearly, it stuck there. My boyfriend is really hot.” It’s fun testing the word on my tongue, even if I do have to ignore the spike of fear I get by saying it.
“Huh. You should see mine. Smokin’.”
I smile. He’s so fucking cheesy, and I love it. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
I don’t know why I’m torturing myself with this question, but the truth is, I want to know as much about Kason as possible, want to know all the little things that made him who he is.
“You said you haven’t wanted a boyfriend in a long time. Did something happen?”
He nods, takes a bite, chews, then leans back in his chair.
“I had a boyfriend…hockey player. One and only time I ever dated one. We were together for nearly three years, but the whole relationship was in secret. He didn’t want to be an out hockey player, didn’t want to be out anywhere, really, and I wanted him.
But it got harder and harder. Still, I stuck around because… ”
“Because you were in love with him?” The question sticks in my throat.
“Yes,” he answers honestly.
Kason has been in love before. I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course he would have, and I’m sure the man loved him too. How could you not? Still, it makes me feel twitchier than I expected, makes my back straighten and my stomach sour.
“What happened?”
“He ended it. He’s married now—to a woman.
They have a kid. He has the life he wanted, one where he can pretend he’s not into men too—or hell, maybe it’s just that I wasn’t the one for him.
Maybe he just didn’t feel the same. He’s bi, and we wanted different things, and there’s nothing I can do about that. ”
How is he like this? How is everything so easy for him? “How do you do it? Not let anything bother you and keep going.”
“It bothers me. That’s the first and only time I’ve had my heart broken.
This was in college and my first years in the NHL, and you’re the first serious relationship I’ve had since then.
But everyone is different. No one handles life the same way.
I won’t pretend I didn’t go into a depression after losing him, but then I decided I couldn’t live like that.
I don’t mean to trivialize it or make it sound like I think it’s easy and that anyone can just snap their fingers and poof everything changes.
Therapy helped me. I always did yoga, but that’s when I got into meditating more, and I found my way out of it. ”
“And you’re not afraid of getting hurt again?”
“I am. But I’m not letting it hold me back from what I want. Which is you.”
Me.
Kason Maddox wants me, and that’s probably one of the best things to ever happen to me.
“You’re not letting it hold you back either, Ant. You’re here, and you asked me to be your boyfriend.”
I chuckle. “I asked if we were boyfriends.”
“Same thing. I can’t wait to tell everyone you asked me to go steady.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop myself from smiling.
I’m happy. I’m having fun. Kason inspires me to want to be more like him, and maybe then I’ll deserve him.