Chapter 37 #2
He kisses the top of my head. “Ditto, babe. Sounds like a good plan.”
“The only kind I have.”
“From the stories I’ve heard, that is far from true.”
“You seemed to like my plan to seduce you and get in your pants.”
“I didn’t say they’re all bad.”
I chuckle into his shoulder, and I dust a kiss there. It’s amazing how I walked into this room empty, devoid of energy, emotion, anything. And in mere minutes I’m full again. It’s like he breathes life back into me.
I pull the blanket over us and tilt my chin up until we’re eye to eye. “Night, Storm Cloud.”
He brushes his lips over mine. “Night, Sunshine.”
Me
Hey Graham Cracker. We’re heading back to the apartment. Game’s getting pushed because of the rain. How are you holding up? Do you need me to grab food or anything on the way back? Do you know how to feed yourself?
I forget what’s normal for eighteen-year-olds. I could cook for myself a lot younger than that, but Graham and I had vastly different upbringings. Does he have, like, a chef or some shit? I’m sure he knows how to order takeout, though.
Graham
Did you just…nickname me? And all's good here. Your roommate Frankie is here with me, and he made us lunch. He’s hilarious.
I stop dead. And Jed slams into my back. He catches my hips before I eat pavement.
“What was that about?” he asks.
Paulie, East, and Shelby eye me too. Shelby drove over for the game—but then it got pushed to tomorrow because of weather, so we’re all heading out together.
“So…Frankie is at home with Graham. He wouldn’t like…hit on my little brother, would he?”
Paulie takes way too long to answer so I tap Frankie’s number and put my phone up to my ear.
“Shaney-babe. What can I do you for?”
I sigh. “You can’t do me, Frankie.”
He chuckles. “Hey, don’t hate on a man for trying. If certain people ever change their mind on their sharing policy, you just let me know.”
“Never gonna happen,” I sing. “So, Graham said you’re hanging out with him today? You skip out on work to hang out with my little brother?”
“Not exactly. I was pretty surprised when I came downstairs and found a child sleeping on our couch, though. Thanks for the heads-up.” He yells that last part, and Paulie winces. Yeah, probably should have let Frankie know about Graham. Whoops.
“I’m not a child!” faintly echoes through the speaker.
“Only children say that,” Frankie retorts, then his voice comes back clear through the phone.
“So, first I was nervous you guys got yourself involved in some sort of kidnapping ring. I was extremely relieved when Shelby informed me he’s your brother before she left, and I didn’t have to report all your asses to the police.
Second, I wasn’t going to leave him here alone.
He doesn’t know how to cook, Shaney. Not even breakfast. His family apparently has a full-time cook.
It’s a crime. I worked from home so I could at least make sure he ate something.
And you better believe I made sure he’s the one who made the omelets. ”
“Thank you—minus the whole kidnapping accusation. So, my brother is safe from your flirtations? Even if I’m unfortunately not.”
He gasps. “Rude. And, no hate, but age-gap is not my kink, love. I’m not interested in being anyone’s daddy.” He pauses. “Though I won’t say no to finding me a daddy.”
Wow. I can only imagine how Graham is taking this conversation from the other end.
A high-pitched cackle rings out faintly in the background. Well, he had texted he thought Frankie was hilarious.
“All right. We’re on our way home.”
“Sounds good. Today’s a slow day at work, so I’m calling it quits soon. Wanna cook together?”
Jed leans over my shoulder. “That better not be a fucking euphemism, Frankie.”
Frankie lets out a wistful sigh. “He’s just so dreamy. Especially with that growl. Speaking of daddies…”
I shake my head and laugh. “You do realize Jed is younger than you, right?”
“Daddy is a vibe, Shaney-babe. You have so much to learn.”
“I guess so. But yeah, let’s cook. It’s been a while.”
“Perfect. I’ll drag this one to the grocery store. He probably doesn’t even know what those are.”
Two hours later, Frankie and I are owning the kitchen, while Graham and Jed watch from the kitchen table. Are we putting on a show? I mean, Frankie’s playing his karaoke playlist, so I’ll let you be the judge. Paulie, Shelbs, and East are sitting around the coffee table working on a puzzle.
Frankie adds some cooking wine to the chicken he’s browning, and a loud hiss fills the kitchen, followed by a cloud of steam.
“Coming in behind you,” I say as I carry my sheet pan of carrots over. I’m making my mom’s recipe.
“That’s what he said,” Frankie calls.
I snatch the towel on the oven bar and whip it at him. He jumps out of the way just in time and grins at me. We’re doing chicken picatta with chickpea spaghetti, carrots, and brussel sprouts for dinner.
Frankie walks over to the fridge and takes out a couple lemons. He tosses them to Jed without a word, and Jed snatches them out of the air, eyes wide. Damn, those reflexes are sexy.
“Fuh—udge.” Jed glances at Graham. “What the hell, Frankie?”
Frankie chuckles. “He’s eighteen, not eight, Jed. You can say fuck around him. Roll those for me? Need a good strong man to massage my lemons.”
Graham chokes, and Jed’s expression goes dry as dirt.
Frankie hands Graham the juicer. “And you, handsome, can squeeze ‘em.” He winks.
“Frankie, behave!”
I blink as the two words reverberate through the room like surround sound. I think all four of us yelled that. Frankie just chuckles.
At that moment, the front door slams. “Oh my fucking God, when did we move to the ? It’s pouring buckets out there.”
I shoot Maddy a small hello smile. He slaps me on the ass with the baguette he picked up for us on his way home from work. “Here’s the fancy bread you requested. Damn, it smells good in here.”
“Thanks, I’m trying a new aftershave,” Frankie says.
Maddy rolls his eyes, but his smile widens. He heads for the living room and discreetly says hi to Easton. A sliver of guilt settles over me. Maddy and East are in an awkward position with Graham being here, and I hate them having to hide in their own home.
I quickly nab three beers from the fridge, pop the tops, and approach Graham and Jed. I lean against the table, forcing their attention away from the living room. I slide the beers over.
“Cheers, boys.”
I catch Maddy’s eye, and he sends me a grateful smile. And immediately greets East the way he’d wanted.
“I’m not twenty-one,” Graham says, eyeing the beer.
I push his a little closer to him. “It’s a session, so it’s low alcohol percentage. And kind of feels, like, all big-brother-y to be sneaking my lil bro beers.”
His eyes light up, and his cheeks bunch with a grin. “Yeah. It does.” He grabs his and lifts it. “Cheers, big brother.”
Well, be still, my stupid heart. It’s kind of cool getting to be a big brother.
Something hot and sharp rushes over me, and my muscles go taut.
I grit my jaw. I could have had that. If not for my father.
He took a lot away from me, and this is just one more thing.
Graham’s a really cool kid. I would have loved the chance to grow up with him.
Play catch. Be someone he could lean on.
A new song comes on, and I squeal. “Oh my fucking God. This is my jam.”
“I Don’t Want To Wait” by Paula Cole just started up.
“Damn fucking straight it is,” Frankie says. He raises a brow, and I nod. He tosses me a wooden spoon.
I catch it and strut to him, spoon held to my mouth. I break out singing after the last do-da-do-do-doo. My heart clenches as I sing the line about her son growing up without getting to know his father. My mom played this song a lot when I was little. She was huge into Dawson’s Creek.
I push the heartache away and spin toward Jed and Graham. I point to them and belt out the angsty, impatient chorus, all yearning and big Dawson’s Creek feelings.
Frankie slides in next to me with a pair of tongs and joins in. “Sorrrrrrry,” we sing together.
“What even is this song?” Graham asks.
Frankie and I freeze.
“Excuse me fucking what now?” Frankie asks.
“Youths these days,” I sputter.
“It’s blasphemy.”
“An outrage.”
“No taste.”
Jed’s lips are twitching so hard at my and Frankie’s indignation he looks like he’s having a fit.
I plop down at the table, slightly out of breath from my dancing and singing. “You really don’t know that song?”
Graham shakes his head slowly, biting his lip against his amusement.
“It’s like I don’t even know you,” I say theatrically.
“I mean…” Jed says.
I glower at him, and he bursts out laughing. Which has me instantly smiling. I can’t even stay fake mad at him. I just love when he laughs too much. He does it so often now.
“This is…really cool what you have here,” Graham says softly.
I glance at him and catch him staring at his beer. “Yeah. Everyone here is good people.”
He looks at Frankie, following my roommate as he bustles around the kitchen. “Yeah. And you’re all really yourselves.” He meets my gaze. “You know? No judgment.”
Huh. Interesting. “I mean, we judge. It’s just in a loving way. Like you should hear them talk about me and how I like pineapple on my pizza. You’d think I admitted I could strike out Babe Ruth.”
“You like pineapple on pizza?” Graham perks up. “I fucking love pineapple on pizza.”
I lean forward. “No way.”
“Yeah.” He nods, his whole body shaking with the force of it. “It’s bomb.”
“Yassss, bro.” I hold out my fist, and he dabs it.
Jed’s sitting across from us, fighting a smile. He takes a swig of his beer. “You two are…something. I have no words.”
I shoot him a wink, then direct my attention back to Graham. “But, yeah. I love these guys.” I pause and then add, “Everything about them. They’re all pretty damn awesome.”
“And you’re not…you know…weirded out that Frankie is gay?” he says to his beer.
I lock gazes with Jed, and his is just as wide as mine feels.
“Why would we be weirded out?” Jed’s question is gentle.
Graham frowns and glances between the two of us. “Because it’s not okay. We’re supposed to be straight.”
Okay. Well, that was fucking telling. Pretty sure my little brother of two days just came out to me without even realizing it.
“You’re not supposed to be anyone but who you are,” Jed says firmly.
“No one is supposed to be straight. That’s the same kind of bullshit that says a woman’s place is at home or men aren’t allowed to express anything but anger.
It’s toxic. Made up by small-minded people who want to make themselves feel powerful.
They know the only way they can stay on top is by shrinking others. ”
Jed leans forward and taps the table. “No one’s idea of who they want you to be is important. The only version that matters is the one you truly are.”
Graham nods, but he’s glaring pretty fiercely at his beer.
“It’s prejudice, Graham. Plain and simple,” I say. “When people believe you’re not up to their standards, it’s called prejudice. Whether it’s your sexuality, the color of your skin, your gender, your income level.” Sometimes you’ll never know why you’re not enough for them.
Jed clears his throat, and my stare flicks to his. “Those people…” His warm brown eyes bore into me. “The people who believe that. They’re the ones who fall short. Not you.”
I swallow hard, look away, and take a swig of my beer.
“The best thing you can do,” Jed says to Graham. “Is surround yourself with people who don’t hold that kind of hate in their hearts. I’m relatively open about my bisexuality—”
My gaze snaps to him, but all his attention is on Graham. Who’s now following Jed’s every word.
“—but some days are really hard. Being queer in professional sports automatically puts a target on your back, and many in our organization still hold old beliefs. One of the things that has helped me immensely this year is finding a support system. Shane,”—his eyes flick to me for a heartbeat before falling back on Graham—“The rest of the guys here. Shelby. Having people in your corner who love you without condition…that makes all the difference.”
The label on my beer blurs, and I force steady breaths past my tight lungs. He’s right. He’s so fucking right.
The doorbell rings, and I jolt. I throw back a quick swig and jump up. “I’ll get it!”
I turn and wince. That had come out way too chipper.
Not me being slightly overwhelmed and wanting to run away for a second to breathe.
So much changed for me when I picked up Easton at the airport all those years ago when we got drafted.
It was the start of something I’d never had before.
Community. People who wanted me outside my mom.
My father might not want me, but I’ve found a family who does.
I swing open the door, a greeting on the tip of my tongue—
And freeze.
Déjà vu.
Familiar hazel eyes.
Only this time they’re not my little brother’s.
Thunder crashes, but I don’t even flinch. His gaze sweeps over me, neat black hair swept back and threaded with gray, Rolex glinting.
Recognition flickers in his eyes—so quickly I almost miss it—then it vanishes behind a blank expression.
“I’m looking for my son.” His voice is matter-of-fact as his gaze slips past me. “Graham Ackerman. I was informed he’d be here.”
His stare lands back on mine, but I don’t respond. He says something, but it’s nothing but white noise.
A sharp ringing echoes through my brain.
I’m being dragged under.
My limbs won’t move.
I’m shackled and sinking.
Everything fades further and further away.
Until I’m swallowed by blackness.