The Key Holder (Pathfinders Lake #3)

Prologue - Ford

To have the press release ready to go was one thing, but to watch Camden Kane plant his lips on Lucas Rivera’s at an Olympic medal ceremony broadcast live on global television was about to be life-changing. If I could find the balls to do what I needed to do.

I was a gymnast my whole life until after college when I became a coach. I had been around muscular men for a long time, but kept it professional. Repressing my true feelings helped. Granted, Olympic men were certainly of a higher grade of muscle. Not that I had done anything in London about it.

As much as I may have wanted to experiment, I was still a married man. I would never cheat on my partner. But I also could no longer ignore the feelings consuming my every thought. I had to be honest with myself.

I want to be with a man.

The words sounded so simple in my head even though I knew I was attracted to other boys at an early age.

The amount of what-if scenarios running through my head right now might as well be a multiverse.

And it wasn’t just Cam and Luke’s kiss that had me thinking about my sexuality and what I wanted for my future.

I had always had second thoughts about marrying so young—and to a woman. But I thought it was what you did.

Melissa.

How the fuck was I going to tell her?

I loved her, but not like that. Not with that kind of fire. That passion. Spending time around Cam and Luke after they revealed their relationship was like pouring lighter fluid onto the coals of my libido.

I wanted to feel that way about someone. To kiss like that. To take them in my arms and claim them.

Looking back, that’s kind of what Melissa did to me. I let her take the reins and I was flattered by the attention. But in hindsight, my heart was never really in it. I thought it was expected.

I was a coward.

In reality, our passion had gone away years ago. She had to have felt it too. Maybe she’d understand?

“Attention, passengers, we have begun our descent into Chicago. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for landing, be certain your seat back is in the upright position and your seat belt is fastened.”

The flight attendant continued on but I was trying to figure out when the best time to talk to Melissa would be. I didn’t want to do it right before Dylan’s senior year in high school, but the sooner the better. For everyone.

I hated that Dylan was going to become a child of divorce.

I had thought enough about Melissa on the flight. Apparently, my brain decided that the Uber from the airport was for Dylan, my stepson.

He never knew his biological father and he was eleven when I married his mother. Barely out of college, I became his stepdad. It was a minefield at first, but over the years, our relationship had grown stronger.

He had never called me dad or anything, but I helped him with plenty of homework and with Melissa’s insistence, I was there for the talk. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was too late. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed the uptick in lotion and Kleenex usage in the household, but I certainly had.

The Uber turned into our neighborhood and I took a deep breath.

I hadn’t told them I decided to come home early because I didn’t want them to make it a big deal. The coaches didn’t win Olympic medals, but my guys won the silver in the Team Finals. Even without earning a medal for myself, it was a significant career accomplishment.

When I confessed to Woodward, the team’s head coach and my interim boss, my reason for wanting to go home early, he was fully supportive. Certainly more understanding about it than my parents would be. Not that I talked to them much anymore.

If Melissa and Dylan weren’t expecting me, then I reasoned—selfishly—it might be easier to talk to them. There wouldn’t be a fancy dinner or homecoming celebration waiting for me to ruin.

That was what I told myself anyway.

“Here ya are,” the driver said. “I’ll get your suitcase.”

It was a quiet sunny afternoon in the neighborhood as I made my way up the front walk.

A perfect day to change your entire family’s life.

Although it might have to wait.

Melissa’s car wasn’t in the drive, which meant she wasn’t here.

“Hello?” I called out, dropping my duffle by the door. I left my suitcase there too and headed into the kitchen.

No one’s here.

“Dylan?”

Heading back into the foyer, I thought I heard something upstairs. Maybe Dylan was playing a video game or something? He probably had his earphones on and couldn’t hear me. I took the stairs two at a time.

But at the top, the sound was coming from our bedroom, not Dylan’s.

A few steps later, I heard a deep voice say, “Take my big cock, you little slut.”

What the fuck?

Melissa was cheating on me!

In a flash, I mustered the required courage to beat the shit out of whomever was fucking my soon-to-be ex-wife and blasted the bedroom door open.

But instead of a strange man in our bed, I found Dylan—alone and naked—kneeling on the bed, holding a jockstrap to his face, and jacking off.

What the fuck?

“Shit!”

In a tumble of lithe muscle, he fell backwards, away from me and off the bed, crashing onto the floor. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay?” I took a step forward and stopped.

Our bed was covered with…underwear?

“You’re dick’s so big.”

The man’s voice I had heard wasn’t someone fucking Melissa, it was some ripped tan dude plowing a guy wearing football pads. On Dylan’s laptop.

“Get on your hands and knees!”

I stood, mesmerized by the gay porn.

“Fuck me, coach! Fuck me with your huge cock”

“Can you close my laptop, Ford? For the love of God, pleeease!”

My eyes darted over to find Dylan, hiding on the other side of the bed. I could just see the top of the back of his head; he was facing away from me.

I swallowed, my eyes transfixed on the cock sliding in and out of the younger man’s ass, but did as Dylan requested, ending the titillating verbal exchange.

But now that I was closer, I could see the bed was covered with my underwear.

Calvin Klein, Under Armour, Ralph Polo Lauren, Pump.

“You aren’t supposed to be home,” Dylan said.

“I came home. Early.”

“I noticed.”

“What were you doing?” Not that I really needed to ask, but it's what came out.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Dylan.”

He moved so fast, his pale ass was a blur as he left the room.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted as he left, leaving me alone.

I made my way around the bed to where he had been crouching. On the floor was a blue jockstrap; the one he had been sniffing when I came in.

It was mine.

The brand was my favorite. Bike.

I hadn’t brought it to London because it was dirty from my last workout.

Fucking hell.

I had just caught my stepson jerking off to jock porn kneeling on top of a drawer-full of my briefs and using my favorite jockstrap as a facemask.

This wasn't how I imagined my return home.

Now what was I supposed to do?