Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Grady
This has to be love. It’s the only way I would allow this kind of behaviour in my house. In my vicinity. In my life.
Lake pauses, fork in his mouth. He tilts his head and smiles. Sliding it out, he chews and swallows before saying, “You want some?”
The sneer is automatic, and it only makes Lake laugh and cut more of the pancake off with his fork and eat it with exaggerated movements.
Love is the only explanation. I even cooked the fucking abominations. The world has ended. I might as well turn in my badge and go live like a hermit in the woods. Even just those thoughts tell me I’ve been living with Lake for too long.
Lake smiles wider; it’s taking up his whole face, and he cocks his hips, leaning against the counter he’s standing beside. “Are you sure? They’re really good.”
“I’m sure they’re not.”
“For someone who has a thing against them, you’ve made them perfectly.” He picks one up and squishes it between his fingers. “See? Perfectly fluffy.”
“Fluffy isn’t a compliment.” If I wanted to eat tasteless air, I could just open my mouth, no need to waste perfectly good ingredients.
“I think you’re fluffy.”
I frown. “What the hell does that mean?”
Lake comes closer—bringing his plate of horrors with him—and tugs on the hem of my shirt. “You’re a big guy.”
“I have muscles. That’s not fluffy.”
“It’s my fluffy.”
“That’s not how words work.”
“Grady?”
“What?” He’s the one that started this train wreck of a conversation.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Even tasting like pancakes, he still makes my toes curl, and the urge to drag him up onto the counter and fuck him is on the tip of my tongue.
It’s too bad that doing it would mean we’d be late to work.
And Quinn gives me those knowing, sly looks way too often as it is.
Like he hasn’t been late because of his insatiable partners.
He can shove those looks where the sun doesn’t shine.
Lake pulls away with a breathless sigh and a heated twinkle in his gaze.
“When are you going to get fitted for your suit?” he asks, like he didn’t just make me hard and leave me wanting.
I only feel marginally better when I see the bulge in his pants too.
At least we’re suffering together. Solidarity and all that bullshit.
“Two weeks.” Quinn couldn’t do this weekend, as he has something going on with Will’s family.
I have no idea how he keeps track of everyone he’s now connected to, with four boyfriends.
Lake’s family is overwhelming enough. It would help if Lake remembered to put anything on the calendar. It’s a work in progress.
“We should do it at the same time. Not like together but on the same weekend. I’ll let Zach and Felix know.”
“Alright.”
Lake hesitates and then hikes himself up onto the bench, crossing his legs and balancing his plate over them. “About Riley…”
“My boss?” I glance in the direction where I know the surly teenager that Lake is actually talking about is showering on the other side of the house.
The surly teenager who’d barely eaten any of his breakfast before stalking off, like it had somehow offended him.
He’s not wrong in this case: pancakes are an offense to anything. Just existing, they’re an offense.
Lake ignores that. “He’ll need a new home, right?”
“He will. They’ll place him in temporary care until they can find a new foster home for him.”
Lake nods and pokes at his last pancake. I already know what’s coming, and I don’t know how I feel about it.
“We have a spare room. Multiple of them, in fact.”
That wasn't subtle at all. “We do,” I say warily.
Lake drops his fork and picks up the pancake with his hand, dipping it in syrup before biting off a piece.
“We could easily turn one of them into his room. The one he’s already been in or a different one if he wants.
They’re all far enough away from our room to not be an issue, you know, sexy-naked-time wise. ”
I’m ignoring that he called it that. “Lake...”
“We could do it,” he insists intently. “Foster him, I mean. Give him a place to stay. Stability.”
I push my own plate away and fiddle with the side of my mug, still lightly warm. “It’s a lot of responsibility. And he’s got a lot of trauma.” Way more than either of us are reasonably equipped to deal with.
“Which makes stability and care more important, right? Having people he can rely on.”
I can’t disagree with any one particular point—I don’t think Riley has had stability or care his whole life, and we have both the room and the means to help him—I just don’t know that we’re the right ones for this.
It’s not something to decide on a whim. Even by trying to help, we could end up doing more damage. “We’re not foster parents.”
“But we could be. Everyone that’s a foster parent started out not being one.”
Sometimes I envy the way that Lake sees the world. Full of colour, and optimism, and glasses half full. Sometimes it’s really fucking annoying. “Looking after a teenager is huge, Lake. He’s not a pet.”
“He’s not?” Lake’s innocent face is way too convincing, like he’s practiced it in the mirror. He probably did. I knew he was taking longer in the bathroom than usual today. “And I ordered a new set of dog bowls for him.”
“Cute.” I take Lake’s plate and put it beside him before dragging him to the edge of the counter.
Cupping his face, I search it, checking to see just how sincere he is about this.
He has a tendency to make impulsive decisions and leap without looking, but his heart is always in the right place.
If he hadn’t taken that chance on me, thrown his lot in with me before he could really think about it, then we wouldn’t be here.
And if I hadn’t trusted that he meant it, that this was real, and I wasn’t just an experiment for him, then we’d never have had a chance.
He looks at me with total trust, with complete confidence that I’ll be by his side, with him and supporting him, in all things.
“You really want to do this? You have to be sure, Lake. If we decide to pursue this, there’s no backing out. He doesn’t deserve that, and neither do we.”
He leans forward, pressing our foreheads together, hands settling on my chest. “I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.
I see parts of you that you don’t even realise are there.
You’re an amazing partner, you’re going to be an amazing husband, and you’d be an amazing dad.
” He tilts his head, kissing me softly. “He needs us.”
“He’s a strong kid; he’d find his way, regardless.”
“Maybe, but why does he have to do that alone?”
“You could have just asked for another dog.” Being a parent has never been in my thoughts before. My only parental figure is gone, and I could never hope to be half the man he was.
“This is better.”
I initiate the kiss this time, unfurling Lake’s legs so I can move him closer.
“I’ll be going to talk to his social worker once I drop him off at school, to see about organising his new foster placement.
I can talk to her about what steps we would need to take.
It’s unlikely we’ll be able to move him in straightaway.
I don’t know how it works. Might be best to ask him first too.
” Grasping his chin ensures that he’s looking at me and listening.
“Don’t get your hopes up, and don’t mention anything to him right now.
I need to check whether this is possible, first.”
“There’s no reason why it wouldn’t be, is there?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Just… let me figure it out first, okay?”
“Okay.” The total trust in his voice gives me no choice but to drag him close for another kiss. The way he looks at me is intoxicating, like he’s so sure I’ll heal any of his hurts, fix any of his problems. I’m not the man he sees when he looks at me, but damn, he makes me want to be.
A clearing of a throat behind us is the only reason I stop at all. Lake’s mouth is too enticing, too hard to pull away from. Having someone else permanently in the house will be an adjustment.
Riley is standing in the doorway, his ratty school bag hanging off one shoulder, and an even worse expression on his face than he had when he left the room earlier. “Are we going?” he asks. More muttering than actual speech.
“Depends, is the attitude coming with us?” Sitting in a car with that for half an hour should be a fun experience.
“What do you care? Once you drop me off at school, it’s not your problem anymore.”
At least I can see where the attitude is coming from. “Lake made you lunch.”
Riley looks at the container that Lake packed with a sandwich, fruit, a chocolate bar, and some wrapped-up pancakes.
“I tried to veto the pancakes, but he didn’t listen.”
“Pancakes are an all-the-time food,” Lake says, waving at me. He drops down onto the floor and grabs the lunch. “Here. It won’t spill. Do you have a drink bottle? I think we have some here.”
“I’m fine,” Riley says stiffly. He takes the food from Lake like it’s about to bite him.
Lake checks the time on his watch and then disappears into the pantry.
“Just one sec. I’m pretty sure—aha! Found one.
” He comes out with a yellow drink bottle that’s still wrapped up.
“Don’t ask me why I bought it, or even when, but as you can see, totally unused.
No one else’s germs to worry about. Let me rinse it and then fill it up. ”
Riley shuffles awkwardly on his feet, his scowl still firmly in place. But he puts the lunch and the now-full drink bottle into his bag, so I don’t mention it.
“Ready?”
“I was already ready.”
Fucking save me from this car ride.