Chapter 6 #3
“Good.” Trevor didn’t know what else to say. It would be so stupid to admit to any of that. Like exposing some part of himself that he hadn’t even fully admitted to his own brain, yet.
Jordan patted him on the back before he turned to head to his own building. “Have a good night,” he said, with an exaggerated leer. “A real good night, if you know what I mean.”
Trevor rolled his eyes and shoved Jordan through the doorway.
A few minutes later, he was heading up in the elevator in Lane’s building, up to his floor.
When he let himself into the apartment, it was quiet. Lane’s bedroom door was open, and when Trevor poked his head in, still unsure if that was a place he belonged yet, it was empty.
Settling onto the couch, Trevor pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Talk? he sent to Delia, and a second later, his screen flashed with a FaceTime notification.
“Oh, honey, you’re all pale,” Delia fussed, her bright eyes appearing on the screen. Her blond hair was graying at the temples, but she was just as pretty as she’d been when Trevor had met her the first time. Her smile just as warm.
She wasn’t his mother, but then she’d never tried to be. Never tried to replace the mom he’d lost. She’d just been there for him. Caring about him, at first, and then loving him, steadfastly, like Trevor was her own, and it hadn’t taken Trevor very long to start loving her back just as fiercely.
She might not be Mom, but she was Delia, and that was just as special.
“It’s freezing here and I just got home,” Trevor said dryly.
“Don’t tell me Lane keeps the apartment cold, because I don’t believe you. He’s a wimp when it comes to the cold. Honestly, I don’t know how he’s lived there so long,” Delia mused.
Trevor did not want to tell her that Lane usually kept the apartment warm enough that he could wander around practically naked, and that was hell on the state of Trevor’s dick.
Never mind not wanting to. He couldn’t tell her.
“No,” Trevor said. “It’s definitely warm enough. I’m getting warmer, don’t worry.”
“Oh good. You were out?”
“Yeah, having dinner with some teammates. Two other rookies.”
“That’s great, honey.” Delia smiled. “I’m glad you’re making friends. Besides Lane, of course.”
She’d never seemed to understand the undercurrent of their dynamic. Or maybe she was aware of it, and just ignored it, like if she pretended that Lane and Trevor were close, it would all be fine. How they weren’t brothers and they weren’t really friends, either.
“Right,” Trevor said.
“How is he?”
“You haven’t talked to him?”
For the first time, something a little pained broke through the warmth of her smile. “Oh, of course I do. But you know how he is, especially during the season. He’s always forgetting to text back.”
There was no way Lane was actively dodging his mom’s calls. That was the one thing Trevor had always known, for sure, about Lane. He loved his mom, more than anyone or anything else. Maybe even football.
Didn’t matter if he didn’t come home in the summers, or during holiday breaks, there was no altering of that one immutable fact.
“Right,” Trevor said. Deliberately not bringing up that Lane had never failed to answer one of his texts, not since he’d come to Toronto, anyway. “Well, tell me what hobby you’re working on these days.”
Delia laughed. “I’ve been trying my hand at stained glass making, actually?”
“Stained glass? Really?”
“I mean, not really. It’s kind of faux stained glass. But I’m looking into a class at the community college, and you know your dad is always encouraging me.”
Trevor knew. Delia, at a looser end since his dad had retired and closed the office, had been trying a whole succession of craft hobbies. Every time she seemed to think she’d found the one she’d settle on, but after a few weeks or even a few months, she was moving on to something else.
“Well, he doesn’t have much room to talk. He practically lives on the golf course these days,” Trevor retorted.
“It’s good for him, though,” Delia said. “I just need to find something I love as much as he loves golf.”
“Dangerous,” Trevor teased and she laughed. “You going to show me something you’ve made? I want to see this stained glass masterpiece.”
“No, no,” she said, laughing still. “It’s so bad. Give me another few weeks. Maybe a few classes. Then it’ll be good enough to show off.”
“I’m going to come home and Dad’s gonna have built an addition onto your she-shed just to contain all your hobbies,” Trevor joked.
“Trevor, don’t tempt him,” she said, flushing. “He would.”
And that was the thing: how could Trevor ever dislike Delia, if even a tiny part of her was unlikeable? She’d made his dad so happy again, after all the grief he’d slogged through after Trevor’s mom’s death.
“I’m gonna send him a text about it,” Trevor claimed.
“No, no,” she groaned. “He would. He’s already talking about remodeling the guest bathroom, all on his own, and I can’t spend another Friday evening in Home Depot.”
“He should hire someone,” Trevor said. Tom had redone the tile twice in the master bath and there were still a few spots where it was definitely wonky. Not that he or Delia would ever tell him that. “He can afford to.”
“I think it gives him something to do.” Delia paused. “Not that I would know anything about that.”
“No way,” Trevor teased.
She paused, a suddenly nervous look passing over her face, but Trevor didn’t have a chance to ask what it was, before the front door opened, and a second later, Lane was walking into the living room.
“Oh hey, look who it is,” Trevor said, turning the phone so Delia could see that her son had just arrived.
“I’m on the phone with Delia,” Trevor explained. “Dad’s threatening to remodel the guest bathroom next.”
Lane froze, just for a split second, but long enough that Trevor couldn’t miss it. Like he’d just witnessed a glitch in Lane’s system programming.
And it didn’t make any fucking sense. Because the next second, his whole face broke into a huge smile—a real smile which Trevor recognized because he’d spent enough time with Lane by this point to truly know the difference.
“Hey, Mom,” Lane said. He didn’t sit down next to Trevor but instead perched on the end of the couch. “You’re letting Tom take on another bathroom, huh?”
Delia grinned. “I don’t want to.”
“Tell him to please hire someone.”
“Funny, that’s exactly what Trevor said.” Delia chuckled under her breath.
Lane looked over at Trevor, their eyes meeting. Trevor felt the jolt of it, all the way down to his toes. “Yeah?” Lane asked casually.
“Well, I’ll try but I don’t know how successful I’ll be. He likes a project, and it’s good for him to stay busy.” Delia paused. “I’m so glad you showed up, honey, because I wanted to float something by both of you.”
“What is it?” Trevor asked.
“Your dad and I were thinking we might come for a few playoff games,” Delia said. “You’ll have home field advantage, and we’d both love to be there for you two.”
Trevor supposed that he should’ve anticipated something like this, but January in Toronto was a hell of a lot different than January in Phoenix.
“Wow yeah, I’m just surprised Dad’s willing to leave Arizona.”
“He loves you two very much,” Delia said, grinning. “But what do you say?”
Trevor knew she was looking right at Lane, who’d gone silent.
He was afraid to look over there; afraid of what he might see. From the beginning, Lane had been noticeably reluctant to play happy family. He’d avoided it, if he could. And now, that might be even more awkward, because he and Lane were most definitely not treating each other like family would.
“I think . . .” Lane trailed off, and Trevor held his fucking breath.