Thunderstruck (Toronto Thunder #4)

Prologue

Six years ago

“I don’t get why I need to meet them,” Lane complained.

“I keep telling you,” his mom, Delia, said, ruffling his hair affectionately as she drove them to the restaurant they were meeting at for dinner. “Tom and I are serious.”

Lane didn’t roll his eyes but he wanted to. She did believe that, and if the world was fair and just, it would all turn out to be true. His mom was awesome. Pretty and always smiling, even when life got her down, with a fierce drive to try to better their situation.

He would’ve believed that Dr. Thomas Thompson was the tool she was using to permanently improve their lives, but he’d seen her come home the day she’d met him, in line at the grocery store.

Despite that Tom was a doctor and very clearly comfortably well-off, her eyes had been sparkling and smile even wider than normal.

She’d liked him, not what he could do for their little family of two.

“I know,” Lane said instead of all the other things he wanted to say. Like, he knows we live in the trailer park, right? Like, this isn’t going to last and I’m terrified of what happens when I need to pick up the pieces, after.

Delia turned to him, her usual sunny smile replaced by an unexpected seriousness. “I know you’re worried, baby. But you don’t need to worry. You’re going to really love him. He’s so sweet and thoughtful. And Trevor’s nearly your age! That would be exciting, wouldn’t it? To finally have a brother?”

“A brother?” Lane couldn’t hold back the astonished exclamation.

Obviously Delia really liked this doctor, but it had only been a few months.

They couldn’t be thinking of getting married.

On one hand, he did want that kind of security for his mom.

On the other, it was his job to do it. He was so close to actually making it happen too.

Next year he’d be in college, and after two years, he’d declare for the draft and then he’d be making NFL money.

It wasn’t the responsibility of some snooty doctor who’d just moved to town, just met her, and swept her off her feet.

“Honey, this can’t be a surprise,” Delia said.

It was a huge fucking surprise.

Lane opened his mouth and snapped it shut.

“You’re engaged?” And she hadn’t told him.

For so long it had been just the two of them against the world.

That hadn’t always been easy—and there’d been a lot of difficult times, especially early on, Lane aware even though his mom had tried her best to shield him from the worst of it—but they’d always had each other.

“No, no, not yet.” But the private smile on her face made it clear she wanted that.

Yes, she’d told him that she and the doctor were serious, but Lane had never imagined it was this serious.

“Oh.” Lane swallowed hard.

She glanced over at him right before she pulled the car into the restaurant parking lot. “But we have talked about it, which is why this is so important to me.”

Parking the car and turning it off, she turned fully to Lane. “Baby, you’re always going to be mine, you know that. It’s the two of us, right? But that doesn’t mean it always needs to be.”

And he wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to not be lonely and disappointed in love—which had happened a handful of times before she’d sworn off dating. Then she’d come home glowing after meeting the doctor and Lane supposed he should’ve known this was coming. But he’d been in denial.

“I know that,” Lane huffed out. Not sure who he was more annoyed at—this situation or himself.

He’d gotten so used to the idea it was just them. That he was going to be the one to pull them out of the trailer park, and God, it felt like he was so goddamn close to getting it done.

“Promise me you’ll give Tom a chance,” his mom said, “and I think you’ll really like Trevor too. He’s a sweet kid. You’re sure you’ve never seen him around? I know he’s on the team with you.”

“The season’s over, Mom, and I’m a senior,” Lane reminded her. “I’m sure I’ve seen him around, I just didn’t know who he was.”

“Well, you will now. I hope you’ll be friends. We both hope that,” she said, that small, secret smile playing across her face again.

And what was Lane supposed to do when she looked so happy? Not agree?

“Alright,” he said.

The way the happiness bloomed across her face made it worth it.

As they walked into the restaurant, Lane bargained with himself. Wasn’t that all he’d ever wanted? For his mom to be happy? Maybe it would be a little hard for him to reconcile that it wasn’t going to be him, providing for her, but it was happening. Wasn’t that the most important thing?

He’d nearly gotten his head around that idea when they walked through the restaurant and right there, sitting next to an older man with slightly graying auburn hair and gold wire-rimmed glasses, was the guy.

The guy he’d spotted half a dozen or so times in the gym, with his sandy-blond hair and its strawberry-blond highlights when the light hit it just right, and the velvety brown eyes.

And the body that just wouldn’t fucking quit, his cut-out tank exposing all those lean muscled flanks, and abs that made Lane’s mouth water.

Lane had been scrupulous about not fucking around near where he went to school, but the guy had tempted him to break his self-imposed rule.

Especially the handful of times their eyes had met, and the guy had flushed prettily, shyly glancing away.

He’d been in expensive workout clothes, otherwise, with the best earbuds money could buy and a brand-new phone. But it hadn’t just been that. It was the quiet confidence and the polish over him, like he’d been shined up by all the relative comfort of his situation.

Lane had told himself it was a bad idea to even look at him, but it had been hard not to. They’d never spoken, but he’d been tempted.

Now, trying to grapple with the knowledge that this was Trevor Thompson, he was so fucking glad that he’d assumed the guy was out of his league and never worked up the nerve to approach him. Or worse, to hit on him.

“Oh, Tom, you got here early,” Delia said, and sure enough, she headed like a shot towards the man in glasses and the guy.

Trevor.

Your new brother.

Lane muttered a halfhearted “fuck,” under his breath as they approached the table.

The doctor slid out of the booth, greeting his mom with the same lovestruck expression currently plastered all over her face.

Well, she hadn’t been making shit up; it was clearly serious.

Dr. Thompson turned to Lane next. “And you must be Lane.” He smiled at Delia. “You weren’t kidding, he’s big.”

“Not much to do with me,” Delia said, as Lane reluctantly took Dr. Thompson’s hand and shook it. A second later, the guy was wrapping his arms around him, and God, of course the good doctor was a hugger.

That was true about Lane’s height—his dad, who he’d never met—had apparently been tall, and it wasn’t like he’d inherited any of his size from Delia, who was barely five feet.

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Lane,” the doctor said, and behind his glasses, his hazel eyes were gleaming with authenticity and truth. Of course he really fucking meant it.

Lane should be happy, but all he felt was a horrible crawling in the base of his gut, as everyone’s attention turned to Trevor, who slid out of the booth with one of those adorably bashful smiles on his face.

Trevor should not be his type. Trevor was not his type.

But there was no question that something about him set him on fire.

Shit, shit, shit.

“And this is my son, Trevor. He’s said you’ve seen each other around in the gym. He’ll be on the football team next year.”

“Hey, man,” Trevor said, and of course, he was also a hugger.

Lane tried to immediately forget the press of Trevor’s body against his own, but he already knew it was going to be hard not to flash back to it the next time he had his hand around his dick.

Lane had the thought briefly cross his mind that maybe Trevor would be less inclined to touch him if he knew the truth about Lane’s sexuality, but they’d just gotten through the painful exercise of ordering, Delia and the doctor flirting shamelessly in front of them, when Dr. Thompson turned to Lane.

“Delia tells me you’re heading to USC next year for school. A full football scholarship. What an accomplishment.” The doctor’s voice was so warm and so real it was hard to hold on to his resentment.

But then Lane’s gaze flicked, unable to help itself, back to Trevor, and there it was, back in spades. Why did his son have to be the guy?

“Yeah,” Lane said.

“And they’re accepting?” Dr. Thompson asked quietly, meaningfully.

Lane had been out since he was fifteen years old—had never really thought he was in the closet—which meant the whole school knew the truth about his sexuality. So obviously Trevor did too—wasn’t new enough to have missed it—and he’d still hugged him like that. They both had.

Swallowing hard, Lane nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it should be good. I mean, I haven’t had much trouble here.”

“Probably because who’s gonna bully you,” Trevor piped up, the corner of his mouth tilting in a knowing smile.

“It’s not just about physical size,” Delia said, pride radiating out of her, “but yes, my Lane’s always been so good about sticking up for himself. And this area is fairly accepting, thank goodness. We’d have left, otherwise.”

She’d never said that to him. Lane had always assumed that they weren’t going anywhere, because they didn’t have the money or the resources to move, but from the determined tilt to her chin, he wondered if she would have figured out a way to make it happen anyway.

“Of course you would have. I always raised Trevor to be a strong ally—so many of the patients in my practice haven’t been straight, and I think it’s so important to surround yourself with a good cross-section of humanity. Not just people who are like you.”

Now Dr. Thompson was beaming with pride, too, the glow in his eyes unmistakable as love.

“You’re so right,” Delia said, softly. Lane wanted to throw up.