Chapter 2
Jake Collins—Daddy Jake
“How are you really?” I ask Chris as we sit on the couch on his patio.
My little brother has been having a very hard time lately with his boyfriend Benny being on the road late at night. It’s understandable, believe me, I know.
Our parents died in a car accident late at night fourteen years ago. A drunk driver took them from us and Chris didn’t deal with that trauma the way he should have. And I didn’t help him the way I should’ve.
At twenty years old, I became his guardian and did everything in my power to keep a roof over his head and him healthy and safe, but I didn’t help him deal with the loss.
I failed, simple as that.
So now I’m trying to make up for it, checking up on him like an older brother would’ve back then. And it doesn’t matter that Chris has told me a million times that he doesn’t resent me in the least—actually the opposite, he knows I was focused solely on our survival—but I still know I failed.
“I’m better, Jake. I swear,” he mutters and takes a long pull from his beer. Is it wrong that I love how he rolls his eyes at me?
He never did that when he was an actual teenager, so I suppose we’re both making up for stuff now.
“I told you, my therapist and I are on top of it. Besides, Benny’s coming home in less than an hour. Are you staying for dinner tonight too?”
“I’d love to,” I tell him with a big-ass smile I can’t tone down. I’ve been coming to dinner every two nights or so all season when Benny has been out of the city on away games, and though I know Chris is well aware of why I’m coming over so often, I can tell he likes it.
I like it too.
Even when Chris is doing much better and he doesn’t need my presence to distract him from the danger he believes Benny is in, I think I’ll still be coming over more often.
It’s been five months now since the season started, even more since he started dating Benny, and both have brought us closer.
“Perfect, then stop stalling and just tell me what’s going on at Provoke that has you coming over every night?”
Chris moved to go to the kitchen before I could process the question. He thinks something is wrong at Provoke?
“Nothing’s wrong.” I call out the reassurance as I follow a few steps behind him. “Everything’s fine at Provoke, Chris. You know this. You get bi-monthly reports, don’t you?” I demand.
“I know, but it’s weird seeing you during the night,” he mumbles as he peers into the oven where he has something cooking.
“Well, I don’t have to be there every night, but I have been going after seeing you,” I grumble. I hope that doesn’t set off his anxiety, since the club is forty minutes away from his house.
I see him close his eyes and breathe deeply, but he doesn’t react otherwise.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, feeling utterly useless.
“You do not have to apologize,” he snaps angrily.
Then he takes a couple more deep breaths and finally turns to look at me.
I see frustration and pain in his eyes, and added to that, the same helplessness that I feel.
“I knew you were driving at night, Jake. I knew, of course.” His words are barely audible by the end, and I have to be closer.
I don’t slow my movements or inhibit the emotion, I just wrap him in my arms and squeeze tight, hoping he can feel all the love I have for him.
“I love you,” I say simply.
“I love you more.”
“Doubtful,” I snark back, and give him a teasing smile when I lean back. “Now, tell me how Lure is doing while we get this homecoming dinner ready for your Benny.”
He tells me about the gay nightclub we own and he manages between directions on what to chop, what to wash, what to pass him.
It’s clear right away that he’s making sides for steak and potatoes with a huge salad, and I can’t help but smile at how obviously devoted he is to Benny.
Not that he didn’t cook before meeting him, but now it’s all organic food, all healthy and more intentional.
An hour passes before I know it, and then we hear the garage door, and only a minute later the laundry room door that leads out there opens. I send him a questioning look when I realize there are multiple footsteps, but Chris isn’t looking my way.
He’s already walking over and taking Benny into his arms.
A slow smile starts to stretch my cheeks but it freezes when the mountain of a man steps into the room behind Benny.
Chris’s boyfriend is already a pretty big guy, but him . . .
Easily six and a half feet tall and built like a brick wall, the picture he makes has me fucking salivating.
His smooth, clean-shaven cheeks and soft smile as he looks down at Chris and Benny embracing makes him look like he doesn’t have a cynical bone in his body.
Physically, he doesn’t look soft at all, but that expression makes me think his personality might be soft as a teddy bear.
He keeps looking at them while I stare at him, enthralled, but then Benny kisses Chris enthusiastically and it must become uncomfortable for him to keep looking at them because he looks away.
Those soft looking cheeks begin to redden at an alarming rate, and as my heart starts to try to beat out of my chest, his blue eyes lock on mine and I’m fucking done.
Over.
I want to walk over, ask his name, ask everything about him, but I . . . can’t.
My body’s frozen, and I can barely breathe, forget about moving or speaking.
“Sorry.”
I hear Benny’s sheepish voice but don’t look over to see his barely embarrassed grimace.
He’s never been shy about PDA, and I actually prefer that to the alternative.
Normally his unabashed show of love for my brother would make me smile, but since I’m still enthralled by the beautiful man whose name I’m desperate to know, that’s not happening today.
“Oh, this is Timmy, Jake,” Benny says, and Timmy’s eyes finally land on me. They’re a soft looking hazel that pulls me in instantly.
“Hey,” Timmy says, and then walks over with his hand outstretched—his very big and calloused hand I find out when I offer him my own. “Timmy Daniels.”
“Jake Collins,” I say distractedly. Then it clicks in my brain. I know that name, as any self-respecting hockey fan would. “You were just traded to the Pirates.”
I wonder briefly how I didn’t recognize him sooner, but the fact is, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without a helmet, so I guess that’s why.
His cheeks pinken slightly and all thoughts of hockey and everything but that pale shade of pink leave my brain. I can’t even think about what to say next when faced with his adorable sheepish grin.
“Yeah.” He pulls his hand away—the one I didn’t want to let go of—and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m really happy to be here,” he murmurs, looking me right in the eyes.
God, he’s precious.
“With Benny,” he adds suddenly, and looks back at him. “We’re friends from the juniors, and I’m pumped to play with him again, you know? I didn’t have a lot of friends back in Detroit.” His words come out fast, a bit frantic, and I don’t mind one bit. He’s got me, hook, line, and—
Wait, did he—
“So you’re twenty-two as well?” I ask before I can stop myself, and I want to take the words back instantly, even if the realization does have an uncomfortably big impact on me.
“Yeah, same as me,” Benny says, brightly as ever, and clearly unaware that my dreams just got crushed.
So he’s more than a decade younger than me.
That’s . . . too much.
Too young.
Too beautiful.
Unattainable.
Wrong.
For me.
While I freak the fuck out, Benny introduces Timmy to Chris and they start talking about their time at boarding school, and they . . . don’t stop.
I don’t think anyone notices that I don’t speak, because there’s no way I could ever get a word in edgewise anyway.
I use the time wisely, wallowing.
I’m going to work after this, and there’s no time to wallow at work when you manage a gay sex club. There just isn’t.
So when dinner is over and the plates are rinsed and in the dishwasher, I make a quick exit, not even letting Chris question why I’m leaving so early tonight.
During the long drive to Provoke, I get some more wallowing in.
I mean, for fuck’s sake.
I’ve been looking for a boy to call my own for years.
Long, long years.
And of course, Timmy’s probably not a boy. Hell, he’s probably straight, so it’s all pointless. But damn, he’s pretty.
I’ve had zero luck in finding my forever love, so I know I’m due some results, but I know better than to get ahead of myself like this.
Once the club was established and Chris and I finally had some stability in our lives, I started searching desperately for someone to love.
I even went as far as convincing myself I didn’t need the kind of connection a Daddy-boy relationship offers.
And I failed. Miserably.
I want that connection, that deep sense of satisfaction. I need it.
Despite how little evidence there is, I still hope that someday I’ll find the perfect boy for me, and if he happens to look anything like Timmy?
Well, fantasies never hurt anyone.
Owning a sex club, I know that fantasies can actually lead to a healthier and happier life, when you do your research and don’t hurt anyone.
There have been plenty of boys who’ve come into Provoke looking for a Daddy, but none of them have been right for me. None of them have wanted what I want.
Not that I use my business as a matchmaking service for myself, but it is the best place to look.
So, I think as the long highway looms in front of me. Maybe tonight I’ll find him and I’ll forget all about beautiful Timmy.
Yeah, right.