Chapter 13
Trevor thought he was totally under control and not freaking out about their dinner, but the moment Lane came out of his closet, wearing a slim-cut suit that hugged all his muscles just right, Trevor felt desperate. Hot under the collar.
Sure that he was going to give something away.
“You look flushed,” Lane said, glancing over at him as they took the elevator down.
He hadn’t even put his coat on—a thick wool number that he’d known he’d need for the ridiculous January weather in Toronto but now he was actually looking forward to the blast of frigid air awaiting them. Maybe he’d actually cool down before they saw their parents.
“I’m fine,” Trevor said, even as he dug his phone out and sent a frantic text to the rookie chat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why does Lane look so good? I’m gonna end up slobbering all over him during dinner IN FRONT OF OUR PARENTS.
Jordan responded first. Probably sitting at home by himself, endlessly scrolling through his apps, being picky as fuck about what guy he was going to let fuck him for the first time.
this is what I keep telling you.
not helpful, Trevor texted back.
“You’re quiet,” Lane said, nudging him again. “Are you sure you’re good?”
Trevor looked over at him. He was allowed, even encouraged, to tell Lane how he felt now. And they were already running a minute or two behind, Tom and Delia would almost definitely beat them to the restaurant, so there’d be no time for Lane to go back and change anyway.
Not that he probably would. He’d probably spend the whole dinner with his hand on Trevor’s thigh, barely covered by the tablecloth, smirking every single time Trevor looked over at him.
“You’re just . . .” Trevor swallowed hard. “You clean up, good, yeah?”
The enormous smile that broke over Lane’s face at Trevor’s words told him that he’d made the right choice in telling him.
“Yeah? You feelin’ hot about it, baby?” Lane said, ducking his head closer. He smelled good too, and Trevor wanted to climb him like a tree.
But he couldn’t. They couldn’t.
“Yeah.”
Lane’s gaze met his, and Trevor felt like he was burning up from the inside out. He nearly leaned in and did something stupid like kiss Lane, when the truth was, this dinner was going to be awkward and difficult enough, if Trevor couldn’t get himself under control.
“Later,” Lane mouthed at him, and Trevor wanted to melt to the floor about it. But he didn’t. Because that would be undignified.
The elevator doors dinged open, and Lane hesitated for just a second before he walked out, into the lobby, Trevor trailing behind him.
How had Lane done this for so long? For years, even? Trevor hadn’t been entirely sure he got why Lane had stayed away, but now he was beginning to really understand why.
And back then, Lane had only thought it was him. He hadn’t had an inkling that it could be mutual.
Trevor’s phone vibrated as they slid into the Uber.
you could just go the simplest route and TELL THEM, Cam had texted.
Trevor sent him an eye rolling emoji back. Cam knew very well why Trevor couldn’t just go the “simple” route and tell them. Because Lane and his silence had made that simple route more difficult, and Trevor was being an understanding and sympathetic boyfriend. A good partner.
or, Jordan sent, you could just stay at home and fuck about it.
Lane must have glanced over at his screen. Because he nudged Trevor’s side. “Whining to the rookies, huh?” He still looked amused.
“A little,” Trevor admitted.
“It’s cute,” Lane said, an honest-to-God dimple showing in his cheek. “Really freaking cute, actually.”
“Stop it, I’m trying to think, well, not brotherly thoughts, but platonic thoughts. We’re going to have to keep it together for a whole dinner.”
But Lane just laughed. “You keep it together at practice, sometimes for like ten-plus hours.”
Somehow that was different though. Those guys just looked at him and Lane and saw the demon twins.
Saw the overlay of their short history of rubbing each other mostly the wrong way, not the right way, and interpreted everything through that.
Of course, it also helped that Trevor had something to do during those long days. A purpose. Being busy always helped.
Instead, he was going to be sitting there at dinner, making small talk, and with very little to distract him, trying not to think about how he wanted to pull Lane’s tight pants off with his teeth.
“Yeah, not the same,” Trevor admitted.
“I get it.” Lane ducked his head down closer. They were close to the restaurant now. Only a few blocks away. “It’s like they’re meeting us for the first time again.”
Trevor nodded his agreement. “That’s exactly it,” he said. “They didn’t know us when we knew each other. And we’ve spent the last six months doing that.”
Lane’s gaze softened. “It’s been good, right?”
It was hard to believe that Lane would even ask, but then Trevor was still discovering how there was a tender vulnerability inside him that was hidden by his sometimes-brash, always-confident exterior.
Trevor hadn’t known that Lane existed when he’d moved to Toronto.
“Kinda the best,” Trevor admitted. He’d never imagined that he’d be so happy. He’d been excited, sure, and a little apprehensive to move in with his stepbrother who he didn’t know all that well yet, but had always wanted to, and in the end, it had turned out even better than he could’ve imagined.
And part of his nerves, for sure, were that he wanted to turn to his dad and Delia and say, look, I didn’t know then, but I know now. This is me. And Lane? He’s part of that new me.
“Good.” If Lane sounded a tiny bit smug about it, Trevor wasn’t going to call him on it, because Trevor couldn’t imagine a better compliment than Lane being proud that he was making him happy.
The car pulled up in front of the restaurant and they slid out. There was no more time for check-ins or touches, because there were their parents, standing just inside the front doors by the host stand.
Trevor took a deep breath, told himself everything was going to be fine, that he was, in fact, happy, they were here in Toronto, and went to greet them.
It was, despite all his anxieties, mostly fine, actually.
At least until they’d settled down at their mostly private table, tucked all the way in the back, Delia exclaiming about the elegance of the decor and the artwork on the walls, and how handsome her two boys were, and they ordered some wine and a few appetizers.
Then the interrogation began.
“I want to know everything about how you two living together has been going,” Delia said.
Trevor tried very hard not to freeze in his chair. Lane’s hand had yet to make its way over to his knee or his thigh, but he had a feeling that was coming, especially if he kept being this freaking obvious about it.
“Yeah,” his dad said, far too casually and in a way that made Trevor’s antennas for bullshit light right the fuck up. “We barely hear from you two. I know you’re busy.”
“So busy,” Trevor interceded. “NFL’s a lot different than college. I’m so lucky that Lane’s been there to show me the way.” He was kind of hoping that conversational gambit might convince Delia or Tom or even both of them to go along with the topic change, but no dice.
Instead, Delia said playfully, “Trev, that’s exactly what we want to know! Tell us everything Lane’s been teaching you.”
This time there was no mistaking how Trevor froze, absolutely deer in the fucking headlights. And yep, there was Lane’s hand, squeezing around his knee in a tight grip that wasn’t so much surprising as it was arousing.
“About football?” Trevor asked weakly.
He swore he saw his dad’s eyes narrow. But no, that had to be his imagination. A hallucination, maybe. Or a nightmare.
“Of course about football,” Delia said, laughing as she picked up her wineglass. “What else would he be teaching you?”
A dozen things that Trevor should not be thinking of right now, in the middle of dinner with their parents, who were currently unaware that they were both fucking and in a relationship, flickered across his mind.
“Maybe how to adjust to his new frame of mind,” Tom said mildly.
Lane cleared his throat. “Yeah. Um. I haven’t had to do much teaching, honestly. Trevor’s been an eager student, really smart and really on top of the transition.”
He looked regretful the moment the words came out of his mouth, like he hadn’t even realized how they’d sound, until they were sitting right there, too many double meanings unmistakable if you were looking for them.
Trevor just hoped that Delia and his dad weren’t.
“Sounds like it’s going pretty well, then,” Tom said mildly.
The former he felt pretty good about, but the latter? He was semi-convinced that his dad knew and was just waiting for the confession. Was maybe even actively trying to encourage the confession.
Well, Trevor would blurt it out right now, if Lane was alright with it. He was done playing this game. He wasn’t very good at it, and he wanted them to know just how happy Lane had made him. Just how happy he and Lane were together.
“Really well,” Trevor agreed. So well we can’t keep our hands off each other.
“And it hasn’t been difficult at all, Trevor cramping your style?” Delia asked Lane with a little wink.
Oh, God.
“Uh. Not at all. It’s been good to have him around.”
“Tell us what a typical day’s like,” Tom said, still casual, like he wasn’t trying to pull at a loose thread. But Trevor knew his dad, and he couldn’t be convinced that he wasn’t.
“Up early,” Trevor said.
“Yeah,” Lane agreed. Their eyes met. Trevor frantically trying not to think of how amazing it felt to wake up next to him, now, not down the hall like he’d done for the first five months. “And Trevor makes breakfast now.”
“Because Lane’s awful at it,” Trevor said, trying to get into the rhythm. “Tried to pretend for the first few months that he could cook, that he should cook.”
Delia laughed. “And you let him?”
“I didn’t want to overstep,” Trevor confessed. Which was the truth.