Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
NOW
Dash
S o, a new thing’s happening. I can’t look at Stacey or hear his voice without fucking blushing. It’s becoming a problem. How do I overcome such things? By being a fucking brat. I promise, it’s the only worthy solution. Besides, any trouble I get myself into, I’ll pout my way out of. The whole world is well aware that Stacey gives me whatever I want, and I’m enjoying putting that to the test.
Except for orgasms on demand, apparently. My throat’s still fucking raw from yesterday. We barely left my bedroom all day.
“Frog in your throat, Dash?” Casey says, cackling at his own joke until it dawns on him. “Ew, I can’t tease you without thinking about my brother in the act of fornication.”
“Act of fornication?”
“Yeah, makes it sound more science-y. I’m not using sex and my brother in the same sentence.” He fishes a fistful of ketchup chips from the bag, shoving them into his mouth, getting chip crumbs everywhere. Sutter’s not here to clean up after him.
“Has Sutter texted you? When are they coming back?” I stretch out on the couch, pouting. It’s cold without my human furnace. The insulation in this house is terrible, so even though it’s hot outside, it’s cold in here until noon.
“Haven’t you texted your man?”
Stacey’s my man now. I smile. “Well, yeah, but I don’t wanna text him every five minutes.”
Casey frowns. “Why? You always text him every five minutes.”
“That’s when we were friends. I don’t wanna do anything to make him regret this.”
He does a double take, sets the chip bag on the coffee table, and wipes his hands on his sweats. “What are you doin’, Dash? Do I need to get Dirk involved? I will.”
I look to the ceiling and then stare him dead in the eyes. “You don’t need to involve Dirk. Getting here was a long road for Stacey and me. It’s only natural that I’m a little anxious.”
“Yeah, nah, dude. You have two options. Text him right now or tell him why you wouldn’t text him once he gets back.”
“Since when are you the bossy one?”
“Since my brother’s happiness is on the line. Stace hasn’t been this happy since before Mom died. He wasn’t even this happy when he got drafted or pulled up from the Wildcats.”
Is he that happy because of us? “Really?”
“Yes, really. Text him.”
I pull out my phone and stare at it. Stacey went to the bank with Sutter to get the details on co-owning a home in Vancouver, but he wanted me to stay here because he said there was a surprise he wanted to arrange for me.
He’s coming back soon. There’s nothing you need to worry about.
“If you can’t bring yourself to ask him how much longer he’s gonna be, send a heart emoji. Trust me on this one.”
Never thought I’d be getting relationship advice from Casey about his brother. I take it, though, and send a lone heart.
I get one back almost immediately.
Stacey
Miss you so fucking much already. We’re done at the bank. We’ll be home soon.
I show the message to Casey.
“See?” he says.
“Yeah, okay. I was stressed about nothing.”
Me
I miss you so much, too. I need your body. It’s cold in here.
Stacey
That all I am to you? A human heater?
Me
Maybe.
Okay, flirting with him’s fucking fun.
Once again, Stacey’s pulled out his special magic and I’m right as rain. I even text him a few more times to rat Casey out for not using a bowl for his chips and wiping his hands on his pants instead of washing them. All things I would have done before.
I can do this.
An hour later, the door swings open. Stacey and Sutter stride through it. I should play it cool, but I can’t. I’m off the couch before Casey, launching myself at Stacey. He catches me, lifting me into his big arms.
“I’m not mad about getting greeted like this. Not one bit,” he says.
“What the fuck am I? Chopped liver?” Sutter says. Casey’s too busy watching every move I make to give Sutter any attention.
Casey winks at me out of view of Sutter, whose attention has momentarily shifted to sliding off his shoes.
“You went to the bank, not off to war, Sutter.”
“Get your ass over here, kitten.”
Casey bounds over and Sutter catches him in a kiss. “You taste like ketchup chips,” Sutter says matter-of-factly as if he checks Casey’s flavor every hour. Probably does. He rubs noses with Casey. Yeah, rubs noses. They do that a lot.
And—unbelievably—they make relationships look easy.
“So, where is it?” I search his empty hands. He’s not holding any packages either.
“Where is what?” he says, but his eyes say something else.
“The surprise that kept you away from me.” My heart catches for a second. I’m trying here. But it seems even with my best friend, there’s a block for me once it’s morphed into a romantic relationship.
Stacey smiles and presses a kiss on my forehead. “I’m so glad I’m not the only one in this relationship who’s totally fucking smitten.”
Why am I worried again? Stacey makes everything better. Literally everything. “You’re not, now answer the question.”
“I don’t have the surprise with me. Something’s being done to it. We’ll have it in a few days.”
“I hope someone’s dropping it off because that was too long to be apart.” My chest’s already aching knowing that we’ll be apart for most of the year. I’m actively not thinking about it.
He rests his forehead on mine. “You’re right. It was too long, and that’s unforgivable. I’ll have someone pick it up.” He kisses my lips.
“Don’t forget to tell him about the text thing,” Casey singsongs.
I send him a look that hopefully relays what a fucking rat I think he is.
“What text thing?” Stacey says brows pinching.
“Casey, you meddling asshole. You said if I texted him you wouldn’t tell him.”
“I lied.” Casey laughs. “It was for your own good.”
Maybe I’ll punch him in the throat for his own good.
“Easy, baby. I have something to talk with you about anyway. Come with me?”
“Um, yeah.” I let him drag me out to the porch where he settles us in the swing, facing each other. He takes my hands.
“It’s only been a couple of days for us—a couple of the most amazing days of my life—but as far as I’m concerned, you’re it for me. I don’t mind the zero to sixty, but you might and that’s okay if you do. I can slow down if you need me to.”
“What?” I shake my head. “No. No slowing down. Stace, I’ve wanted this for far too long.”
He nods. “Okay, in that case, will you let me take care of the house?”
Oh. I see where he’s going with this now.
“It’s really fucking expensive,” he adds.
My breath catches. “How expensive?”
“As in, if it wasn’t a bunch of guys with NHL careers buying the house, our grandchildren’s grandchildren would be paying it off. We won’t live there forever, though, and it’s a good investment.”
“I don’t need to be an owner, Stace. I’m happy to contribute whatever’s considered fair as, like, rent or something.”
“That’s the thing. I wanted to put in for us as an us. Doing something like this is half the reason I took that contract with Vancouver. I was happy with the Wildcats, and leaving you for a year about killed me, but all I could think about was what I could provide for you if I signed.”
“You … you were thinking about that, even then?”
He nods. “Yeah. That’s why I was hellbent on going. I wanted to be able to provide a comfortable future for us. I know I’m a huge prick for hoping for the demise of your relationship, but I was. So, will you let me? Once we’re married, what’s mine is yours anyway. It is now, too, but on paper, I mean. This would just be a little head start.”
“What about Dirk?”
“I told Sutter you’d ask that. We’re gonna cut him in at something he can afford, so when we sell, he’ll still leave the investment having made a bunch of money.”
I raise a brow. “And you can’t do the same for me?”
“We can,” he says.
“Stace…”
“I want to do it, okay? Please let me do this for us? You know it’s in my DNA to provide. I’d rather you keep all the money you make for whatever you want. Or even better, save your money for a rainy day and let me pay for everything.”
It is a very Stacey thing. Looking after people is his life’s purpose. My guess is that’s what he found so appealing about Trent and Alex, too. I’m not even sure if he knows it, but he liked the looking after them part.
“Eventually, you’ll have The Wicklow—if you choose to keep it—and I just … I really, really, want to fucking spoil you, okay?” he rushes out.
It’s physically injuring him to have to ask at all.
“Okay, Stace. I’m fine with it. We’ll figure it out along the way.”
“Good. Fuck, what a relief. I thought I was gonna have to talk you into it. I had a thousand points I was gonna make.” He grips my face in one hand, under the jaw, resting his forehead on mine, and breathing our shared air before he continues. “And, I don’t really know how to bring this one up, but the wedding venue—you wanna keep it or do we find something new? I wouldn’t even ask, but I keep thinking about your face while we were there. You were so fucking happy.”
“Is it weird if I wanna keep it? We planned a very ‘us’ wedding.” Syd wasn’t on my mind at all, which should have been my first clue.
“Not weird, and I’m pretty sure Judy’s commission’s high enough that she won’t care who shows up as long as she gets paid.”
“Perfect, so, next off-season?”
“Yep, for the wedding reception.” His eyes flick away and then back to mine.
“What does that mean, Alderchuck?”
He pauses to move the hair off my face. “It means, I want you to be my husband as soon as possible. Maybe it’s just a piece of paper to some, but I want to call you my husband.”
“Admit it, you want some kind of legal ownership, which is super hot, by the way.”
“Not gonna deny it.”
“I’ll marry you whenever you want, Mr. Alderchuck.”
He presses my nose. “Good, now your turn.”
I groan, covering my face. “Please don’t make me.”
“Nope, not gonna fly.” His jaw is hard and as firm as his resolve. But, wow, this is where boyfriend Stacey is different than friend Stacey.
A sharp exhale heaves from my lungs. “It’s stupid.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“It’s a needy, high-maintenance?—”
“Breathe, Dash.”
I follow the sound of his voice and ignore the rattling bones in my mind. “You cool with me texting you as much as I want to?”
“Shit,” he says, breaking contact with me to run a hand through his hair. “I went too long without texting you.”
“No, Stacey . This isn’t about what you did wrong.”
“I got involved with your surprise,” he says, eyes twinkling.
I smile, looking away as my stomach drops out of my body. The way he looks at me is unreal. Was he always like this? Did I miss it? Or has he pulled the ropes off his restraint?
There’s a yank, my body collides with his solid one. “Dashie, in case it’s unclear, you get to text me whenever the fuck you want, however the fuck as many times as you want. Like you always have.”
He says that now, but he doesn’t know what it’ll be like. “Promise you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”
“I promise, but it won’t be. Maybe you’ll be the one getting sick of how much I text you, huh?”
He pokes at my ticklish ribs, tearing a laugh from me. “Guess we’ll see.”
“And if you’re unsure about anything else, please talk to me, eh? We make things work with good communication.”
“Then theoretically, we should be fine. That’s one thing we’ve never failed at.”
“That a dig at how much I’ve made you talk over the years?”
“Maybe…”
“That’s it.”
He’s way too good—and too quick—at tossing me over his shoulder. “Stacey!”
His response is a smack to my ass. Then he takes me to bed … I guess to show me that he can get a point across without any words at all.