Chapter 10
“Listen, they’re giving off vibes. Like fuck-me vibes. Please, baby Jesus, let them be down for a third. Maybe I won’t have to be celibate while I’m here,” Lucas says, and I roll my eyes at his extraness. “Please, I beg of you. You’ve got to give me something. Have you not seen how hot they are?”
“Yes, Lucas, I’m well aware of how hot Jacob and Marcus are.”
“Then you obviously understand why I need details.”
“Geez, overachiever much?”
I let out a laugh before it fades. “Yeah, but then there’s Matthew House.” Warmth spreads in my chest at the name, and the reminder of all the good that organizations like Matthew House do. Supporting queer kids is life-saving.
“You remember the kids’ carnival last week?” I ask.
“Of course I remember. My jaw still hurts from it hitting the floor at how beautiful they both were. Which I forgot to tell you. Next time, give a guy a warning, will ya? I was wearing your nicest Camden College T-shirt with fucking penny loafers.”
“Hey, it’s the only shirt I have that’s not black.”
“How do you not even own a button-up?”
“Can we focus here? What you may not know is that Jacob and Marcus were once married… to Matthew. As in Matthew House.”
Lucas sucks in a breath, and his eyes scan the room. As soon as he spots them, I see the Ferris wheel of emotions cross his face before landing on a sad smile. “I didn’t know.”
“It turns out Jasper lived with them in his teens, and according to him, their love was pretty grand. The kind that love stories are built from. It’s a tragedy, really.”
“How did he die?” Lucas asks.
“Cancer, I think. But I don’t know the details. Everyone talks fondly about Matthew and his life, but not a lot about his death.”
He clears his throat. “Can you excuse me for a minute?” I nod and watch as Lucas, with all the confidence in the world, walks straight up to Jacob and Marcus.
I arrived at Mazie’s party two hours early, knowing I’d need time to get the food going since I agreed to help Spencer get it prepared.
I loved the idea of finger foods, so we just ran with it.
Lucas and I have been in assembly-line mode: mini sandwiches, skewers, tiny tarts.
Turns out, making everything adorable takes approximately a century.
Ugh, what am I gonna do with Lucas and Dom?
What a fucking mess. I wasn’t trying to screw with Dom’s feelings.
I swear I wasn’t. One minute we’re doing dangerous things with our mouths and he’s threatening me with edging, and the next minute life steamrolls us—Mr. Hannagin’s retirement party for me, nonstop bookings at Ink Me for him.
Our only contact has been a few texts about my car.
So no, we haven’t talked about Lucas moving in, or about that kiss, or about how Dom said all those filthy, possessive things in my ear and then had to disappear into twelve-hour days.
And Lucas… Well, Lucas is an instigator.
And I don’t think he even knows what he’s doing, so how can I tell Dom something I don’t know?
Even so, I most definitely should be punished.
With Dom’s earlier promise still lingering in the air, I look around the room filled with all my friends.
Finn and Spencer, with their easy domestic chaos.
Jaxon and Alex, with their soft edges and sharp humor.
Marcus and Jacob, already halfway to adopting every stray human in town.
Olly, fluttering around his cupcakes. Jasper, lurking and pretending not to watch Olly.
Actual real-life friends. It’s rare, I know.
What else is rare? Dom holding a baby.
Actually, it’s more like he’s fighting with a baby. Ohh, damn. And she just elbowed him in the face. Snap! And there’s a finger poke to the eye.
Dom curses under his breath, and I snort a laugh. Maybe she is some kind of government agent. We’re all sorts of strange, and I fucking wouldn’t have it any other way. I am surrounded by people I know care about me.
Even if they sic the big broody one on me.
Never thought I’d enjoy being stalked by a tattooed Italian with control issues.
Turns out… I don’t hate it. Maybe Dom and Jasper can compare notes.
Once, when I was picking up floral arrangements from Peddles and Perfume that Spencer wanted to use to decorate the tables, I swear I had an armful of flowers and he was out on the sidewalk hiding behind a light pole.
There are moments I still wonder if I did the right thing—walking away from all that training, all that prestige, all those shiny kitchens with their sharp-edged promises? Some days the answer feels like yes. Some days it feels like I slapped a “quitter” sticker on my chest.
Then I stand in a room like this, with people who know my name and my coffee order and my damage, and I watch them laugh with their partners and hold their kid, building lives they actually want… and the answer hits harder: yes, a thousand times yes.
It’s okay to admit I got it wrong. Even if I lose everything, I won’t stay on a path that doesn’t feel true. I will not spend my life contorting myself to fit into rooms that don’t want who I am. I refuse to live that way for the rest of my life.
I want to do what all the people filling this room did. They found home, then themselves, and then love.
I follow the direction of Lucas’s laugh and see him near Marcus and Jacob, hands flying as he talks, Marcus clearly charmed. Good. I hope Lucas gets rooted here. I hope he finds his version of this, of us.
Then my gaze snags on something else.
What the fuck is Dom doing?
He’s… crouched behind a potted plant.
Holding Mazie.
At arm’s length.
She’s balanced on his forearm like a tiny, furious circus act, legs kicking. His other hand is pulling down one of the plant’s big leaves like it’s a curtain. He’s angled just so—peeking around Mazie’s head—directly at Lucas.
I blink. Once. Twice.
Oh my God.
He’s using a baby to spy on Lucas.
Mazie lets out a battle shriek and smacks his cheek. Dom doesn’t flinch. He just adjusts his grip and keeps staring past the fern, tracking Lucas’s every move like a very large, very unsubtle predator.
Marcus says something to Lucas; Lucas laughs, touches his arm. I watch Dom’s jaw clench from across the room.
“Oh, I see you, sir,” I murmur under my breath, a slow grin pulling at my mouth.
Jealous. He’s jealous. Not just annoyed, not mildly territorial, but full-on “hide behind the foliage with a baby and survey the situation” jealous.
A warm, reckless satisfaction curls through me. Not because I want to hurt him—God, I don’t—but because maybe I’m not the only one lying awake replaying that kiss. That night. Those promises.
He wanted to mark me. He pretty much said it.
And he thinks a plant and a baby are going to shield him.
I wipe my hands on a towel, straighten my shirt, and start crossing the room toward him, heart thudding with something that feels suspiciously like courage.
If he wants to spy, he can do it up close.
I’m ready to follow orders, sir.
Break into Dom’s house.
Check.
Kneel in the center of the bed.
Check.
I look down. Nothing but tiny black briefs. Che—fuck, my socks.
I’m mid-hop off the bed when I hear the front door open. I freeze. Fuck, already? When I left, he said he would give me a twenty-minute head start. It’s only been… I look down at my watch. Shit, twenty minutes.
I can hear Dom walking up the stairs, but the way the floorboards are creaking, it’s all slow and suspenseful, making me giddy with excitement.
Socks. Focus, Beckett, socks. I tug at the tip of my right sock, then wobble around awkwardly on one foot. The bedroom door opens, and I give one last yank on the superhuman material before toppling over onto the bed.
“Hello, little mouse. Did we have a hard time following orders?”
I look up and freeze, one sock still hanging off my big toe. I swear to God, it’s swinging. “No, I mean… kinda?” I shrug.
“Let’s see. You’re lying in the middle of the bed but not kneeling.
That’s offense number one.” Dom moves further into the room, reaching over his head and removing his shirt.
He walks along the bed, his fingertips skating up my thigh.
“I’m almost positive I said no clothes except for these tiny briefs that just barely hide your cock.
” He cups my junk and gives it a tight squeeze.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned?” I knew the moment those words left my mouth that they should’ve stayed in my head. Okay, no, not really.
“Four, little mouse.”
YES!
I let out a whimper of embarrassing proportions, but on the inside I’m squealing like a kid in a candy store. Is tonight the night? Please let tonight be the night.
Edging. My preferred kink. I can edge myself for hours. It’s one perk of living alone. But I’ve never been edged by another person.
I eye my conquest up and down. I bet he’s playing the long game. He’s totally playing the long game… Ugh, dammit!
I really try to tamp down my excitement but fail miserably when I give a little wiggle.
“Try again,” he says, tightening his fist around my dick and giving it a harder squeeze.
“Well,” I squeak. “I was kneeling on the bed just like you said.” He kisses his way up my neck.
“But I realized I forgot…” The scrape of his teeth against my earlobe makes it impossible for me to word at the moment.
Fuck, I need to word. “Forgot… socks.” Dom glides his lips down my neck to my collarbone.
“Socks! I forgot I had socks on.” His other hand is busy roaming every inch of my body, causing me to shiver at the hot, wet mouth in contrast to the cold, soft fingertips.
I don’t know all the rules of this little game, but I’d better be able to touch him. My mouth will never leave the mountains of his tattooed muscles. I’ll lick every valley in his six-pack abs. I’d drink from his fountain of youth.
Sweet Jesus, Beckett. That’s not fucking creepy at all.