Chapter 25 #2
The happy couple’s immersed in themselves—as they should be—but Trav’s lost to his baser instincts. He can’t help it. I know he loves Stace, but Dash triggers his inner “Daddy lion protecting his cub” mode.
“I wasn’t ready for this,” he complains.
“Were you ever gonna be?”
“No.”
Pouting. The man’s actually pouting. Wish I could squeeze his hand.
“It’s Stacey,” I remind him. In other words, he can worry less about Dash. So much less than he would have if Dash had married anyone else.
“Which is the only reason I haven’t flung him over my shoulder and carried him out of here,” he growls under his breath, muttering, “Fuck. I am like him, and right now I don’t know if I care.”
He’s comparing himself to Maxwell again, isn’t he? I swear to fucking god, the next time I see that man, he’s getting a fist to the jaw.
But anyway, the two unhinged lovebirds sent Trav a text this morning, and I got the invite over breakfast along with Casey. Guess it was in the stars, because there should have been a long-ass wait list for the courthouse, but nope, they just happened to have one opening for them.
At least I got to be the one to calm Trav down. Dash came into my room.
“Um, I need a major favor. Dad’s, well, not in love with us rushing into this. I can tell he’s trying to be supportive, but he’s simultaneously having an aneurysm. Could you go to the restaurant and talk to him off the ledge for me?”
I was glad to. Don’t know if when Dash was asking me to calm his dad down, he meant for me to fuck his brains out, but that’s what I did.
Worked, too. I strode into his apartment without a word, pushed him on his back, and rode his dick until he forgot he had a son.
Then I was against a wall for a bit, and for some fucking reason, Trav decided my right ass cheek was getting all the love.
He left multiple handprints until it throbbed.
I can’t even sit on it. Love how it feels, but Dash so totally owes me for sacrificing an ass cheek in the name of this breakaway wedding.
Anyway, it got him here, to this high-brow courthouse in Vancouver. Dash thanked me. But short of dragging Trav into the public washroom for more of my ass, we’re cooked. The officiant needs to speed this shit up, or one of the grooms is about to go missing.
“By the power invested in me by the province of British Columbia, I now pronounce you husband and husband.”
With a firm hand to Dash’s low back, Stacey pulls him forward, dips him, and cradles his head for a kiss as if the rest of the world isn’t here.
Casey and Sutter let loose with obnoxiously loud, spit-slick whistles, sharp and ear-splitting, and I can’t help joining in with my own hoots, clapping alongside Jack and Mercy.
Dash is the happiest I’ve seen him—ever.
His soul can rest. Stacey will take good care of him.
All things Trav’ll see once he calms the fuck down.
Again.
“Thank god that’s over,” Casey says. “I love you, bro, but weddings are boring as shit.”
Sutter moves Casey’s curls off his face. “Don’t worry, kitten. I know you have the attention span of a gnat. Our wedding’ll take the same amount of time as a fast-food run. It’s also not good to let him go this long without food, assholes—where we going to eat?”
Jesus. Sutter acts like Casey’s about to wither and die.
“You called it, babe. My stomach’s eating itself. Trav? Isn’t the father of the groom supposed to provide dinner?”
Read the fucking room, Case. Can’t he see Trav’s having an internal conniption? Actually, probably not. None of them get Trav like I do, and I wouldn’t want them to, so I swallow the shit I want to say like usual.
The conversation caught Dash’s attention, though. “I could use a burger,” he says.
I catch Stacey’s expression. It says, does he offer to foot the bill, or will Trav take offense to that?
“Burgers are on me,” Casey says, finally picking up the vibe and saving his brother from starting a nonsense beef with his new father-in-law.
“Absolutely not. I’m the father of the groom, everyone, c’mon by. My treat,” Trav says in a gruff voice.
Dash frowns.
God dammit. Fuck this. Dash is gonna cry, and Trav’ll feel like shit about it later. I elbow him, risking exposure, but at the same time, it’s not something I haven’t done before. Finally, finally he plasters on a smile.
“C’mere, son. Do I get to hug you yet?”
Dash beams. “Dad, Dad? Look. I’m married!” he says, leaving his new husband so he can wave his ring at Trav.
Trav puts an arm around him. “Let’s see it, bud.” He takes Dash’s hand, holding the ring up to the light. “Looks good on you, kid.”
“I’m so happy, Dad. This is all I ever wanted. I mean, this and a family, but I already have that.”
That does it. Trav can’t hold the tears back anymore.
They roll down his sexy face, and he squeezes the life outta Dash.
“Love you, Dashie. C’mere, Stacey,” Trav says, holding an arm out for him.
They form a three-man circle. “Welcome to the family. You’ve always been like a son to me, anyway, was about time it was made official. ”
“I’ll take good care of him, Trav,” Stacey promises.
“I know. Couldn’t have asked for better for my boy.”
That’s it. Not even the standard “hurt him and I’ll kill you” threat.
Trav knows Stacey would never. He’d jump off a cliff before he’d ever let harm anywhere near Dash.
Trav pulls out the good scotch for Stacey.
It’s not easy to make your way into Trav’s circle of trust, but Stacey’s there, and it’s permanent.
Something lands on my chest. An invisible weight.
Trust. They have trust. With Hunter, it’s different.
I know he loves me—he’d never let anyone hurt me—but it doesn’t feel easy like what I’m watching transpire between Trav, Dash, and Stacey.
It feels like pressure, like proving myself.
Like one wrong step and it’ll all collapse.
As if he can hear me thinking about him, I get a text.
Hunt
So proud of you for going to university. We should get cracking on those applications.
My heart aches. God does it ever ache. Memories come at me.
Hunt teaching me how to fix shit so that when I have a house of my own someday, I’m competent.
Hunt—gruff and rough around the edges Hunt—learning how to bake cakes from scratch, so I’d have something homemade for my birthday.
He’s a whiz in the kitchen now, but it didn’t come easily for him.
The first cake he made was so undercooked, it was inedible.
The second, too dry. He beat himself up real good about that.
I told him I didn’t need a home-baked cake.
Hell, one of those boxed mixes Casey likes so much would have been just as good.
Not according to Hunt.
“You don’t know what you need, kid,” he’d said. “How could you? You never saw what a real family looked like.”
He sweet-talked the neighbor next door into teaching him. It wasn’t hard, Hunter’s stupidly attractive and charming when he wants to be. He came home, proud of his three-tiered wonder, but only because he felt good giving me something he thought I needed.
Hunt’s a dumbass. I only ever needed him.
Me
Yeah, I can come this week. At a wedding.
I send him a picture I took earlier of the numbskulls in love, saying their vows.
Hunt
Can you do Sunday? Working overtime every day this week.
Me
Works for me. Don’t work yourself to the bone, Hunt.
My brother’s gonna drop from exhaustion one of these days. This feels more excessive than usual. What’s he doing to his house this time?
Hunt
I’ll try not to. Tell Dash congrats.
Yeeeeah, maybe I’ll wait on that one. If the sound of their incessant lovemaking is anything to go by, don’t think we need to make Stacey any more feral than he already is.
He deserves all the happiness in the world.
Just Dash? Not me?
Fuck, you know that’s not how he means it.
But that’s how it feels.
Trav’s it for me. I’d … I’d also marry him in this damn courthouse. Right now. If I text Hunt like Dash texted Trav this morning, would he show up for me? Trav was uneasy about it—totally understandable, normal parent shit—but he was here. He came around. Would Hunter?
Probably not. He’d show up just to drag me out.
Fuck. Just, fuck.
Doing my best not to make a scene, I slip out and storm down the stairs back to the front desk, fueled by rage and anguish. My hand slams onto the counter, almost as if it’s being puppeteered.
“Do you have another appointment for today?”
The young woman chewing bubble gum behind the counter looks me up and down exactly how she should—like I’m an escaped zoo animal who needs to be captured and returned to my pen.
“For what? This is City Hall, and you’ve got choices, bud—anywhere from getting a license for your pet to filing complaints about graffiti.”
“I want to get married.”
She looks around, checking behind me to see if I’m hiding a person back there. “Aren’t you missing something? Unless you’re trying to marry your pet—can’t help you with that one. You’d need—”
“God, no. He’s … here. In another room. Can we?”
I see it in her eyes, the moment she takes pity on me. What does my face look like? Guess it doesn’t help that I’m in a suit. It looks like I planned this.
She checks her computer, shaking her head. “Sorry, bud. We don’t have anything until October. Want me to put you on the list?”
“October? Then how did the Alderchuck wedding get in at the last fucking minute?” I grit my teeth, my cheeks heat with nonsensical rage.
There’s more typing. She squints at the screen.
“I … yeah. This is unusual. Someone must be sleeping with the mayor,” she jokes.
My stomach turns. I know way too much about our damn mayor.
“Um, sorry. Inappropriate. Seriously, though. That’s unusual.
It must have just been their day. You know?
Kismet. Written in the stars-level kinda shit. ”
Yeah.
Their day.