Chapter Twenty
“Why have we stopped here?” Robin peered through the windshield at the boatyard, all in darkness.
“Because I’m not letting you get out of this car without kissing you, and I can’t very well do that in front of your house, can I?”
Robin didn’t need to hear another word. He unfastened his seat belt, leaned over, and Dean enfolded him in his arms. Their lips met, and Robin poured his heart and soul into that kiss, breathing Dean in, taking his scent deep, desperate to hold onto it for as long as he could.
“I had a wonderful weekend,” Dean murmured between kisses. “Waking up with you these last two mornings has been heaven.”
“But now we have to come back to reality.” And what would that be? Moments snatched here and there? Meeting up after work to steal a precious hour or two? No chance of falling asleep in Dean’s arms, of making love in the middle of the night when neither of them wanted it to end…
Dean’s forehead touched his, and his sigh warmed Robin’s face. “Right now reality sucks, I know. But when it’s the middle of the week and you can’t wait for Saturday to get here… when we talk on the phone and all you want is the real thing… Hold onto one truth, okay?”
“And what truth is that?”
Dean’s eyes locked on his, Dean’s hand so gentle as he cupped Robin’s cheek. “That I love you. When you’re nineteen, I’ll still love you. But I’ll abide by your wishes. So when you reach twenty, and we’re still stupid in love, maybe then we come clean and tell your family.”
Robin swallowed. “Can you wait that long?” He wasn’t sure he could, if he were honest. Okay, so he was the one saying they should keep quiet, but the thought of stealing moments with Dean for a couple of years?
Dean chuckled. “I know you want everything now, but real life is sometimes about delayed gratification. And this, what we have here?” He leaned in and kissed Robin, taking his time. When they parted, Dean murmured against his cheek, “This is worth waiting for.”
Robin buried his face in Dean’s neck, loving the soft scrape of Dean’s beard, the musky scent that reminded him of the past two days.
“I love you too,” he whispered. He didn’t care that they’d only met in late November.
It didn’t matter how long it had taken them to reach this moment—what mattered was that they were here now.
Dean stroked his hair. “I’d better get you home. They’ll be expecting you.”
“Are you going to come inside?”
Dean shook his head. “Better not. The way I’m feeling, your parents will take one look at me and that will be it, game over.”
“How will they know?”
Dean kissed him lightly on the lips. “Because I don’t think I could hide how I feel about you.” He sighed. “I’m not going to see you over Christmas, am I? They’ll want you to stay home.”
Okay, that hurt. The thought of Dean so close, and yet so far away… His gift for Dean would have to wait until after the festivities. “There’s still time for you to change your mind, you know. Your parents would love to see you.”
“No.” Dean’s fingers wound through Robin’s hair. “That would only mean I was over eight hundred miles too far from you. I’ll stay home with Lady and Loki. That way, if you do get a moment to visit, I’ll be there.” He switched on the engine, and pulled out of the boatyard.
Robin fought the urge to cry. He didn’t want to face his parents with red eyes, but the thought of being parted from Dean made his heart ache. When Dean stopped the car outside his house, Robin grabbed the bag that lay at his feet, then laced his fingers through Dean’s.
“Love you.”
“I love you too. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
That almost broke him. “Merry Christmas.” Robin released Dean’s hand, opened the car door, and got out of there. He didn’t look back as he walked up the path to the front door. He waited until the sound of the car’s engine had faded into the distance before letting himself into the house.
As soon as he stepped into the hallway, he was struck by how quiet it was. “I’m back,” he called out. He couldn’t even hear the TV.
“In here,” his dad said from the living room. “Can you come in here please?”
Robin walked into the warm room, the fire burning brightly, the tree lights casting colors around the room. Mom and Dad were sitting on the couch. There was no sign of Ryan.
Then he saw their faces, and Robin’s heart sank. Oh fuck.
“Has something happened?” Ryan’s absence took on a whole new meaning. “Is Ryan okay? Has he—?”
“Ryan is fine. He’s in his room. And we’d like to talk to you about Ben Taylor.”
For a second there, Robin was stumped. “Ben? Why do you—” Cold washed over him, and ice trickled down his spine. Oh fuck. Game over.
“I ran into his mother in the village on Saturday,” Mom said, her voice tight. “I knew her from the PTA, only I didn’t connect her with Ben. We got talking. And when I thanked her for putting up with your frequent visits to her home, she was puzzled.”
“I can explain.” Robin’s heart rate climbed and his palms were clammy.
“Good, because we’d like to know where you were all those times.” Dad’s eyes were like flint. “More importantly, we’d like to know why you lied to us.”
Robin took a deep breath. “I couldn’t tell you because… you wouldn’t understand.”
Dad arched his eyebrows at that. “Try me.”
Robin’s legs were like jelly. “Can I sit down?” He felt as though he was in the dock, facing a jury. Which was what his parents were in that moment.
Dad gestured to the armchair, and Robin almost fell into it. Mom had her handkerchief in her hands, twisting it.
“The thing is… I’ve met someone.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Dean was so much more than someone.
Mom’s eyes widened. “Then why didn’t you tell us? Why lie about it?”
Dad laid his hand on her arm, and she fell silent.
Dad stared at him. “I take it you felt we wouldn’t approve.
Why would we mind if you’ve gotten yourself a boyfriend?
Your mom would be over the moon. She already thought you and this Ben were dating.
” He narrowed his gaze. “So what’s so bad about this boyfriend that you can’t tell us? Why can’t we meet him?”
“You’ve already met him,” Robin blurted out. “Mom hasn’t… well, not since… not since he taught Ryan in high school.”
There. It was out.
Dad’s breathing caught. “Mr. Quentin?”
“Dean,” Robin corrected. “His name’s Dean.”
“I don’t give a damn what his first name is. What concerns me is why he thinks it’s okay to carry on a relationship with my son.” Dad’s eyes went wide. “You spent the weekend with him. You’re not going to lie to me and tell me you were in separate rooms, are you?”
“We stayed in one room.” There seemed little point in hiding it now.
Dad’s face darkened. “How old is he? Thirty-five? Older?”
“He’s thirty-two. And we haven’t done anything wrong,” Robin protested.
“He’s a grown man. He should know better.”
Robin was on his feet in a heartbeat. “And I’m a man too. At least, that’s what you keep telling me. But I guess you think I’m not old enough to know my own mind.”
“How long has this been going on for?”
Robin forced himself to breathe. “I met him when he came to the boatyard to order his canoe. And I’m the one who did all the running. I wore him down.”
“Well, you may have started it, but I’m finishing it,” Dad declared. “This ends now.”
Robin gaped at him. “Just like that? You haven’t even asked me how I feel about him. How serious we are.”
“And how serious are you?” Mom’s voice was so quiet. Dad flashed her a warning glance, but she glared at him. “He’s right. You haven’t given him a chance to tell his side of things.”
“That’s because I don’t need to hear it! The guy’s a teacher, for Christ’s sake.”
“But he’s not Robin’s teacher,” she said in that same quiet voice. “He never was.” Her gaze met Robin’s. “How do you feel about him?”
“I love him. And he loves me.” Robin felt sick to his stomach.
“You’re eighteen!” Dad hollered. “What do you know about love? And no eighteen-year-old son of mine is going to… carry on with a guy his age.” His eyes hardened. “Like I said, this ends now. You’re not going to see him again. So you’d better call him and let him know.”
“I don’t get a say in this?” In all his darkest moments when he’d worried about their reaction, he’d never once imagined his dad would be so… hard. So unfeeling.
“Robin, why don’t you go to your room for a while?” Mom said in a soothing tone.
In other words, his dad needed to calm the fuck down.
He nodded, his throat tight. Robin picked up his bag, left the room, and headed for his bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door and got out his phone.
“Missed me already?” Dean asked when the call connected.
“They know,” Robin said simply. “It’s all such a fucking mess. Dad says I can’t see you anymore, that it’s over. He went on about your age, and how I don’t know a fucking thing about love, because how could I? I’m only eighteen. I—”
“Robin. Robin!”
He shuddered out a sob. “Yeah?”
“Okay. Take a breath and tell me exactly what happened.”
Robin tried to breathe as he related the scene in the living room, his stomach clenched and his chest constricted. When he got to the end, he fell silent, exhausted.
“Okay.”
“Okay? How is any of this okay?”
“Right now your dad is all worked up. So you need to give him time to calm down.” A pause. “We knew it might go like this, right?”
“Wait—you’re not saying we’re gonna do what he says, are you? You’re gonna roll over and say, ‘Okay, Mr. Davis, you win. I’ll forget I’m in love with Robin’?”
“Right now I’m thinking of your relationship with your dad. You work with him. You live under their roof.”
“Then I’ll leave. I’ll…” Shit, this was such a mess.