Epilogue
FIVE MONTHS LATER
Grayson
Standing at the window, I press my forehead to the glass and try to get a better view of the walkway down below. It’s no use. I can’t see anything except beach. Stepping back, I pull my phone out of my pocket and check for any text messages. Nothing. Wasn’t their flight supposed to land a couple hours ago? I knew we should have picked them up from the airport.
“Shouldn’t they be here by now?” I call, raising my voice enough for Remy to hear me.
“You’re underestimating California traffic.”
“We should have picked them up.”
Remy steps into the room, wearing his usual board shorts and bare feet. He put a shirt on as a concession to company coming over, even though I told him he didn’t have to bother. None of us are going to remain fully clothed for long. Not with the ocean right outside the door and a beautiful sunny day just waiting to be enjoyed.
“They’ll get here soon.” He steps up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist; a kiss between my shoulder blades before resting his cheek on my back.
Relaxing into his hold, I reach back and rest my hand along his upper thigh. It’s a month post-season, and a month since Remy and I started our summer together. There are very, very few months that rank as highly as this one. My skin is darkened and my hair has natural highlights from repeated saltwater and sun exposure. I’ve learned to SUP board and I’ll paddle around idly while Remy surfs. I have more board shorts than just the black ones, and have developed calluses on the bottom of my feet from walking barefoot on the hot sand.
But the best part of the past month is Remy. It’s waking up smelling coconut shampoo and feeling his presence in the bed without having to reach for him. It’s touching him, laughing with him, and arguing with him. And, of course, it’s our seemingly unquenchable desire for each other. I keep waiting for it to die down—to not feel a physical pull toward him every time he walks into a room.
Something tells me I’m going to be waiting a long time.
“I hear a car,” Remy murmurs against my back. I gasp, and he loosens his arms, allowing me space to step forward and press my face back against the window. I see a flash of gold hair.
“It’s them.” Cupping Remy’s face, I kiss him hard.
“Go,” he says, laughing into my mouth. “I’m right behind you.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach the bottom just as Sam rounds the back of the house. He’s looking toward the ocean, mouth slightly agape. Troy is only a step behind him, face flushed with excitement and dimples flashing as his eyes meet mine.
“Gray,” he says, and drops his bag onto the sand with a thump. Grinning, I step forward and pull him into a bone-crushing hug. He grunts, but wraps his arms around my waist and squeezes me back.
Once I’ve sufficiently crushed Troy’s ribs, I pull Sam into a similar hug, smiling when he laughs and thumps my back. God, I missed these guys.
“How was traffic? I was expecting you to be here earlier. We should have just picked you up from the airport.”
“Nah, we were okay. I mean, yeah, the traffic was insane, but.” Sam shrugs, reaching a hand blindly behind him for Troy’s. He cocks his head to the side, toward the ocean. “This is incredible.”
“Wait until you see the view from inside. Come on.” Before he can, I pick up the bag Troy dropped onto the ground. Sam adjusts the strap of his own, slung over his shoulder, and smiles as Troy bounces a little bit on the balls of his feet.
I lead them up the stairs and through the glass door, laughing when Troy’s jaw drops a little bit as he scans the room.
“Whoa,” Sam breathes, staring out the massive westward-facing windows overlooking the ocean.
Footsteps behind me alert me to Remy’s presence, and tingles race down my spine as I turn and look at him. He winks at me before turning his attention to our guests, who are still ogling the view and haven’t registered the addition of another body in the room. Remy pauses next to me, leaning into my side as he always does when we’re near enough to touch. I’m lightheaded with the excitement of having them all here in the same room.
Troy looks the same as he always does, black hair a mess and grey eyes bright with barely contained enthusiasm. There are permanent indents in his cheeks from how hard he’s been smiling since he got here. Beside him, Sam looks a little slimmer than the last time I saw them—finally losing some of that bulk he’d maintained since his college hockey days. He’s shaved his face, which, paired with the explosion of freckles, makes him look somehow younger. The pair of them look like they haven’t aged a day past twenty-two.
“Oh, hey.” Troy is the first to turn and catch my eye, blushing when he sees Remy beside me. He steps forward and holds out a hand. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”
“Of course. Nice to see you and not have to worry about losing to your ass,” Remy replies, earning another blush and shaking his hand before turning to Sam. “You must be Sam—it’s good to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” Sam replies, tucking his hands back into his pockets and grinning when Troy’s fingers follow. “This place is incredible. Are you sure you’re fine with us staying here, though? We don’t mind getting a hotel if you want your own space.”
“No,” I say, just as Remy responds: “Gray would cry himself to sleep tonight if you went to a hotel.”
“Okay.” I roll my eyes, even though I would be pretty bummed if they left. When Remy had offered all his spare rooms for everyone to stay here, I’d immediately discounted it before it slowly grew on me. Now, I’m so attached to the idea of having everyone under one roof for a few days, I probably would shed a few tears if any of them left.
“You miss me, huh?” Troy asks, looking pleased with himself.
“He does,” Remy tells him. “Constant pining. ”
“All right, that’s enough. Come on, I’ll show you guys where you’re sleeping.”
“Honestly, I’d be happy sleeping on the floor out here. I bet the view is just as good at night,” Sam says, following as Remy and I lead them across the room. When I glance over my shoulder, Troy’s eyes are ping-ponging around as he looks at everything. When we pass it, I point down the staircase, drawing his attention to it.
“Full gym and a two-lane lap pool are downstairs.”
Sam laughs, but Troy’s face lights up even further. “You have a pool!”
“Yeah. Not always feasible to swim in the ocean,” Remy tells him, shrugging. “Goes without saying, but you can use whatever you want. I’ve also got surfboards, SUP boards, and a handful of kayaks, too.”
Troy looks like all his wildest dreams were just handed to him on a silver platter. Beside him, Sam is gazing at his face tenderly, still charmed by his husband’s everlasting enthusiasm for physical activities.
“We could run on the beach, and then go for a swim tomorrow morning,” Troy says, jostling Sam’s arm with their linked fingers.
“Fun,” Sam deadpans back, earning a light shove.
We deposit their bags into the biggest of the spare bedrooms, and I trail behind them as Remy gives them a tour. If they notice the way all of the bedrooms are made up for guests, they don’t comment on it, even though Remy continues to shoot me covert looks. I shake my head at him, grinning, and check my phone. The others should be arriving any minute, if we timed this correctly.
“So that’s it,” Remy concludes, clapping his hands and rubbing his palms together. “Anybody need anything to eat, or we could check out the beach?”
“Beach,” Troy and Sam say simultaneously, before Troy adds: “Definitely the beach.”
“We’ll let you change.” Throwing my arm around Remy’s shoulders, I steer him toward the living room and bend to kiss the top of his head. I understand what people mean when they say they’re on cloud nine, now. I’m so happy I feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. I lean down to kiss his hair again, because why the fuck not.
“Think they’ll be surprised?” he whispers.
“Troy, definitely. He never suspects anybody of anything. He still acts shocked when I mail him a birthday present every year, like he can’t believe I remembered. Sam might have an inkling, but we’ve been pretty good at hiding it.”
“Do you think the house will be okay for Nico?” Remy pulls open the massive sliding patio doors, and turns around to peer at the living room. “That coffee table is a hazard for everyone, honestly. I should just get rid of it; the number of times I’ve bashed my shins on it.”
“I think it’ll be fine. I sent Lawson some pictures and he said you already have less furniture than they do, and a more open floor plan.”
“Okay.” Remy’s voice, barely above a whisper, still sounds wary. “I wish all the bedrooms were the same size. I feel bad that Corwin is getting the smallest one, but with Nico…”
Wrapping an arm around his waist, I pull his back against my chest and glance behind me to make sure Troy and Sam haven’t come out yet. They’re still back in their room, but I pitch my voice lower anyway, leaning down to speak directly into his ear .
“You don’t know Corwin like I do. He’s happiest when everyone else is happy. You could put him and Nigel on the porch and they would roll with it. Seriously, Remy, they’re the most laid-back group of people ever. Nobody is going to be unhappy with what they have here.”
“Nigel St. James can’t sleep on the porch. He’s old. It would hurt his back.”
I’m still laughing when Troy and Sam make an appearance, both wearing nothing but board shorts and matching grins. Troy looks at the open patio doors and nearly vibrates with excitement.
“We should swim,” he says.
“You need sunscreen,” Sam replies, eyeing his pale skin.
“I’ll get a base tan and then I’ll be fine,” Troy retorts, already walking out the door and down the steps. Sam follows immediately after.
“When you say base tan, you mean sunburn, right?” he asks, making Remy laugh. He rises up on his toes to kiss me before patting my hip and following the other two out the door.
“I’ve got the spray shit. We can sneak attack him,” he calls to Sam.
“I can hear you,” Troy responds.
Making sure I leave my phone behind, I jog down the stairs, leaving the patio doors open like Remy and I usually do when we’re home. When I reach the sand, it’s clear Troy lost this particular argument as he’s standing with his arms held out in a T-position while Sam walks around him and douses him with sunscreen. Remy points toward his calves.
“Don’t forget the legs and feet. Worst place to get a sunburn is the back of the knees—trust me.”
Obediently, Sam sprays twice as much sunscreen than is needed onto the backs of Troy’s legs. He’s so greasy, he’s a reflective surface.
“Let that set before you go swimming,” Sam tells him, and then starts to spray his own arms.
“We probably should have bought more sunscreen,” I say to Remy.
“Nah, we’ll be okay once we get that base tan,” Troy repeats, making me laugh. He looks around, shading his eyes and peering up at the house. “This is really your beach, Remy?”
“From that marker”—he points to a stake—“to that one. This entire stretch is considered privately owned, so I rarely have any trouble. Sometimes dog walkers or runners will pass through, but that doesn’t bother me. The ‘private property’ thing is mostly meant to deter loiterers.”
“That’s so cool. I can’t believe you live here,” Troy muses, shaking his head.
“Well, we’ve got plenty of space,” Remy replies casually, waving a hand back toward the house. My head whips his direction so fast my neck cracks. We. “You’re welcome any time. The house is empty the majority of the time, anyway. You ever want to open it up for a weekend, you let me know.”
Troy beams at him, face flushed. He turns to Sam. “Swim?”
“Swim,” Sam agrees. “Race you.”
As quickly as if a starting gun was shot off, they bolt for the water, laughing deliriously. Remy watches them with a smile on his face; I watch Remy. That casual we rattles around my skull, short-circuiting my brain. I hope he meant it as the all-encompassing “we” that labels us as a single entity. We, as in Grayson and Remy. We as in this is endgame and I never want to touch another man as long as I live .
“Gray?”
I shake myself and meet his eyes. I don’t know what it is, but something about him on the beach does it for me. If it wasn’t broad daylight and my friends weren’t a few yards away, I might throw him down on the sand and have my way with him.
“Sex on the beach never works out the way you think it’ll work out,” he says, correctly interpreting the way I’m staring at him.
“I guess I won’t know until I try it.”
He laughs and mouths later . “So, as I was saying, have you heard from the others?”
“Nope, no messages. But it should be any minute, especially since when I checked their flight earlier, it said they’d get in early?—”
A car door slams, cutting off the rest of what I was going to say. Remy and I exchange grins, turning toward his house—that sounded way too close to have been one of the neighboring driveways. Sure enough, barely a minute passes before Lawson comes into view, dark curls blown amok in the breeze. He raises a hand in greeting before turning around to help the rest get the car unloaded.
“I’ll do the welcoming party,” Remy tells me, pointing to Troy and Sam in the water. “You go keep them distracted.”
“Deal.”
The water in July is a hell of a lot warmer than it was in February, so I have no qualms about swimming out to where the others are. When I get to them, Sam is treading water as Troy freestyle swims in the opposite direction of the beach. I watch him, too, a little worried about him going that far out. The Troy who billeted with my family back when we were kids hadn’t known how to swim .
“Uhm, should he be going that far out do you think?” I ask Sam. He brushes the wet hair from his face, foot nudging mine beneath the water as we float near one another.
“He’s a strong swimmer. We sometimes go kayaking in the Atlantic and it can get pretty rough. We’ve flipped before and he’s never had a problem. Still…” He trails of, squinting into the distance. “I wish he wouldn’t go that far.”
Putting his thumb and pointer finger into his mouth, he gives a sharp whistle. Waiting, he watches until he sees Troy’s dark head pop up and then does it again. Seeing what he’s doing, I raise an arm out of the water and wave it, trying to give him the universal signal for come back.
“He’s flipped around,” Sam says, and the pair of us keep our backs to the beach as we watch him approach. I glance over my shoulder a couple times, but with the sun reflecting off the water and all the windows on Remy’s house, it’s impossible to see.
Troy swims back to us without taking a break. By the time he reaches us, I’m impressed.
“You’re a good swimmer,” I tell him. Much better than me. I’m not super comfortable even being this far out, and today is a pretty mild day as far as waves.
“Thanks. I like it, it’s a good workout.”
“Could you stay closer to shore, though, if you’re going to swim out here?” Sam asks nervously. “We don’t know the water here. There could be rip currents. Or sharks. Jellyfish.”
“Or all of the above,” I put in.
“Sure,” Troy says immediately, swimming closer to Sam. “Sorry.”
I chance another look toward shore, squinting and trying to ascertain whether they’ve got the car unloaded yet. I can’t see any motion, so I’m guessing they’re all inside .
“Want to head back?” I ask, and am grateful when they both immediately agree. The waves are getting stronger and more frequent, so by the time we wash up on the beach, we’re all a little bedraggled and out of breath.
“Yeah, please don’t swim out that far ever,” Sam gasps, carding his fingers through Troy’s wet hair.
“I won’t. Sorry,” Troy says again.
“It’s okay, just…please don’t. Also, let’s make another rule: no swimming in the ocean without supervision.”
I smile to myself, bending over to hide my face under the pretense of grabbing a towel. There’s something satisfying about knowing I’m not the only one who wants their partner to stay a little closer to land. Unlike mine, however, something tells me Troy will listen to Sam’s request. Glancing up at the house, I lock eyes with Remy who’s leaning on the porch railing watching us. I give him a little wave and he returns it before turning around and calling out to the others.
The volume gets Sam’s attention. He turns and looks toward the house just as Corwin and Nigel join Remy on the patio. I watch as his eyes pop wide in surprise before a smile stretches across his face.
“Surprise,” I say, catching Troy’s attention. He looks at me, then at Sam, before finally turning toward the house. Having just joined the others—and with an arm flung over Nico’s shoulders—Lawson calls out.
“Thought we might crash your vacation.”
If I thought Sam looked happy to see them, it’s nothing compared to the literal sun that shines out of Troy’s face. Abandoning his towel, he jogs toward the stairs. Lawson catches him at the top before anyone else has the chance, pulling him into the kind of hug that suggests it’s been years not days since they’ve seen one another.
There is a flurry of greetings and excitement as Sam and I make the rounds as well. Troy’s smile is so broad, it looks like it might be painful.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” he asks Corwin.
“We wanted it to be a surprise. Grayson had the idea before he even asked you. Figured it might be nice to change the scenery a bit—we can’t have an anniversary party in my backyard every year.”
“Our anniversary?” Troy asks, gesturing toward Sam.
“No,” Lawson answers dryly. “Our other friends who got married on July twenty-first. Not everything is about you, Nicky.”
Nico’s sigh is drowned out by Nigel’s snort of laughter. “You walked right into that one,” Sam tells his husband.
I sneak around everyone until I’m standing next to Remy, leaning back against the railing and putting my arm behind him. As he always does, he rests his weight against me, body warmer than the heat of the day. He kisses my arm and licks his lips.
“Salty.”
Before my dick can get any ideas about where that might lead, Corwin appears next to me. The wind has wreaked a little havoc on his usually perfect hair; it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him looking a smidge less than impeccable.
“Thank you, again,” he says to Remy, “for inviting us and letting us stay here.”
“We’re happy to have you,” Remy replies, using that damn we word again that he’s suddenly so fond of. “And actually, I was sort of hoping you might be willing to help out with the cooking a little bit. Gray told me you’re an amateur chef.”
“Oh, no, it’s more a hobby than anything,” Corwin demures immediately. “But I’d love to. In fact”—he checks the time on his phone—“why don’t I go start something. Everyone is probably hungry and?—”
“We ordered food for tonight,” I tell him, almost laughing at the way his face falls. “But the rest of the week is all yours.”
“Cor!” Troy shouts. “Did you see the gym in the basement? And the pool ?”
“I think it’s clear none of us are spending our salaries correctly,” Nigel comments, hip leaned against the railing as he looks out over the ocean. “Remy has the right idea.”
“Anthony wanted to add a pool at our place,” Nico comments. “Something tells me we’re going to be revisiting that conversation shortly.”
“Just think of the pool parties you could have for your hockey kids,” Sam says slyly, earning an exasperated look from Nico and a grin from Lawson.
The others break out into a spirited conversation of the pros and cons of a pool at Nico and Lawson’s house. Nigel tries making a case for his and Corwin’s, but the general consensus is the others have more space in the backyard. I settle in beside Remy, half listening to the conversation, but mostly watching and enjoying the simple fact of them being here. I wish they were going to stay longer than a week.
“What are you thinking about?” Remy asks. I look down at him.
“Just feeling lucky, I guess, that I met Troy all those years ago and that they’ve allowed me to be a part of the family.” I wave an arm to encompass the group .
“Me too. I’m going to ace this trial run.”
Snorting, I pull him a little closer. “I was also thinking about the way you keep saying ‘we’ when you’re talking about your house.”
“You live here,” he says indignantly. “It’s our house. Keep up.”
“Interesting how I seem to have missed that conversation.”
“You moved in a month ago.” He shrugs. “Really, Gray, you need to pay better attention. Your toothbrush is in our bathroom, your clothes are hanging in our closet, and our dirty laundry is all mixed up together waiting for us to wash it in our washing machine.”
“Okay, smartass.”
He gives me a smug grin. Shrugging out from underneath my arm, he puts both hands on the railing and brackets my hips. I widen my stance so I’m not looming so far above him, and he steps closer between my legs. If it wasn’t for the presence of six other people on the patio, I’d think we were about to engage in public indecency.
“Grayson Brody.”
“Yes?” I try to keep the amusement from my voice, but it’s not easy when he’s working hard to give me his best approximation of puppy dog eyes.
“Will you move in with me?”
“I will,” I respond seriously, nodding gravely. He cracks a smile, unable to keep the left side of his mouth cooperating with the right. I love that damn crooked smile. Actually, I just love him. Before he can step back, I put a hand on his hip. “One more thing.”
“Mm?”
“I love you. ”
His jaw starts to drop before he snaps it closed and narrows his eyes at me.
“Shut the fuck up,” he says, which is definitely not the reaction I’d been hoping for. “You shit, I was going to tell you that first! I had this whole thing—I wanted to tell you tonight when we have the fire on the beach!”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling at the annoyed expression on his face. “Sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry,” he grumbles, poking me in the stomach. Behind him, Nigel tips his head back and laughs at something Nico said. Troy and Sam are chatting with Corwin, and Lawson appears to be checking out the grill Remy has pushed into the corner of the deck.
“I love you,” I say again, enjoying the way it rolls right off my tongue. I’ve never said those words to anyone but my parents and Troy.
“I love you, too,” he says seriously, but his lips twitch and he adds under his breath: “Let all the bartenders know.”