Chapter 42
Forty-Two
Ryan
Sitting at Spence's formal dining room table last night—the first time he's ever used it, by the way—and watching everyone eat my food, drink wine, and have a few good laughs at my expense felt like something out of a dream.
Cricket told everyone about the time I tried to make scrambled eggs in a plastic bowl on our gas stove when I was teaching myself how to cook and nearly burned down the house.
Then Harper shared the story about the time I gave myself a perm because I wanted curly hair.
And, of course, there were plenty of jokes about our little sex show.
The entire table was in tears. Even Spence.
Especially Spence. I don't think I've ever seen him laugh that hard.
My heart couldn't have been fuller. It was the first time in my life I felt wholly like my authentic self. No pretending. No hiding. No carefully constructed version of Ryan Buterbaugh designed to survive. Just me.
Something settled inside me last night. A sort of unshakable resolve. For the first time, I don't feel afraid of whatever comes next.
Spence sat across from me the entire dinner, and every time I looked up, his eyes found mine. I caught Cricket looking between us more than a few times. Every time, she had this tender expression on her face.
After dinner, my sisters pulled me aside and we had the official coming out conversation.
Which is funny considering the entire world already knows.
But I hadn't actually said the words to them.
Not directly. Not face-to-face. So, I did.
And then we cried. Well. Cricket bawled.
Harper cried. I cried. It was a whole situation.
Cricket could barely get the words out when she told me she'd always suspected I was hiding something.
That it was likely my sexuality. She said it was the only explanation that ever made sense for what happened when she walked in on my parents confronting me and Terrell when I was eighteen.
She kept saying she should've told me I could tell her anything.
That she should've pushed harder. That she should've protected me.
I told her the truth. Even if she had tried, I never would've admitted it back then.
My father had me so scared there wasn't a chance in hell I would've risked it.
Both of them are furious with my parents.
I told them this isn't their fight. That I don't want them drawing my father's attention.
They weren't interested in hearing any of that.
Of course they weren't. They're Buterbaugh women.
Once they make up their minds, God Himself would struggle to change them.
I'm lucky. Those two are the reason I survived growing up in that house.
After everyone left last night, I started gathering plates. When I reached for the faucet, Spence caught my wrist before the water could run. His hand slid down to lace through mine, and he pulled. No words. Just this steady, insistent tug toward the bedroom.
The dishes could wait.
What happened after that—I keep trying to find the right words for it, and I can't. Not exactly.
He fucked me…
All. Night. Long.
Slow. Languid. Like we had nowhere else to be for the rest of our lives.
Obviously, Spencer has fucked me before.
Many times over. He’s used my body and gotten me off in so many positions they need to publish another volume of the Kama Sutra.
But last night? Last night he worshipped me.
Every touch felt like reverence. Like he was memorizing the landscape of my skin, learning me by heart.
He can’t say it yet. Whatever he's feeling, it's still trapped behind that fortress he built around himself.
But his body spoke for him. Every deliberate roll of his hips, every breath against my neck, every time he paused to look at me like I was something precious he couldn't believe he was allowed to touch.
He'd bring me to the edge, watch me fall apart, then hold me while I came back to myself.
We'd drift off tangled together, his heartbeat slowing against my back.
And then I'd wake—an hour later, maybe two—to the sensation of him already inside me, moving so gently I barely registered the shift from dream to waking.
That exquisite, excruciating drag against my prostate, unhurried and relentless, building me back up before I'd fully recovered from the last time.
I was floating. God, I was fucking floating.
My thighs ache today. My eyes are heavy. There's a pleasant, lingering soreness that reminds me with every step exactly what he did to me, exactly how thoroughly he claimed me.
Worth it. So completely worth it.
“Butters?”
I blink. Anthony is standing in front of me waving a hand through my line of sight.
“What? Oh. Um, yeah?”
He laughs. “Where did you go?”
I rub the back of my neck. “No idea.”
“Sure.” He points toward opposite sides of the ballroom. “I asked if we should put the silent auction on the right side or the left side.”
I glance around the room. The hotel ballroom is already beginning to transform.
Tables. Lighting. Decor. Volunteers. In two days, it'll be packed wall-to-wall with people supporting THRIVE.
I study the layout we planned. “I think we'll have more room on the right side. My bros in the NFL really came through. We have a lot of signed items to auction.”
Anthony nods. “Right side it is.”
I start bouncing on my feet. Actually bouncing. I can't help it. The more I think about tomorrow night’s event, the more excited I become. “I hope we make so much money for the kids.”
Anthony smiles immediately. “We will. Zero doubt.”
My grin widens. Because I believe him.
Spence doesn't know it yet, but Tyler and I have been conspiring for weeks. The kid is ridiculously talented. Passionate. Driven. And every conversation somehow circles back to Spence. How Spence changed his life.
I knew Spence had taken on a sort of big brother role.
I just didn't realize how much he'd done.
The endless tab at Tom's Diner so Tyler never went hungry.
The apartment he still pays for. The design classes.
The supplies. The support. The encouragement.
The faith. I might just be tired from all the fucking last night, but it makes me super emotional thinking about it.
Spencer Stark likes people to think he's some kind of cold, heartless viper in a designer suit. He's not fooling me.
When Tyler told me he'd finally completed an entire collection, an idea formed immediately.
Fashion shows make incredible fundraisers.
THRIVE always needs funding and Tyler deserves an opportunity.
Also, Spence deserves to see what happens when someone believes in a person the way he's believed in Tyler.
We can get influential people in the room. Athletes. Investors. Business leaders. People who can open doors. Maybe Tyler makes some connections. Maybe he lands opportunities. Maybe he changes his entire future.
And an added bonus—we get to surprise Spence. A thank you. From both of us. For showing us the heart he works so hard to hide.
“Butters?”
Shit. I blink again. “Yeah?”
Anthony laughs. “Lost you a second time.”
“Sorry.”
“You okay?”
A low laugh escapes me as I shake my head. “Yeah.” I look around the ballroom. At everything we're building. At everything that's changed in my life. “I'm actually really good, Anthony.”
His expression softens. “Almost too good?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Maybe a little.”
Anthony nods toward the lobby. “I know the feeling. We've got an hour before the sound and video technicians get here.”
“Okay?”
“Let's grab a coffee and talk.”
“Yeah.” I smile, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “I need to talk to my best bro.”
He points toward the lobby again. “Come on.”
As we start toward the café, he glances over at me. “We're probably going to be here late tonight.”
“Figured as much.”
“Chance went to pick up Tyler and help him get the collection transported over.”
My excitement immediately spikes. “Yesss! I can’t wait to see everything.”
Anthony nods. “Me too, but there's a lot to set up. You okay with staying late?”
I look at him like he's lost his mind. “Anthony.”
“What?”
I shove his shoulder. “You couldn't keep me away if you tried.”
We grab our coffees and claim a small table near the windows overlooking the hotel courtyard. The second we sit down, Anthony says, “I'm sorry.”
My brows zip together. “For what?”
He sighs and wraps both hands around his coffee cup.
“Since Chance came back, it's been a whirlwind. Us finding our way back together, opening the agency and THRIVE, planning a wedding… and now we have two babies.” A soft smile pulls at his mouth before he looks down at the cardboard sleeve around his cup.
“I just haven't been there for you. I haven't been a good friend.”
I shake my head immediately. “No.”
Anthony looks up. “No?”
“You don't owe me an apology.” I lean back in my chair. “I've never felt like you wouldn't be there if I asked.”
His expression softens. “Still.”
“Nah.” I wave him off. “You've had a lot going on.” I take a sip of coffee and smirk. “And you're in looooove.”
Anthony's entire face changes. It's subtle. Most people probably wouldn't notice. But I know him. The guarded, sharp-edged guy I met years ago is still there, but now there's something warm underneath it all. Something steady. Something happy. The love is written all over his face.
Then he points at me. “So are you.”
I blink. Once. Twice. Then I groan and drop my elbows onto the table before burying my face in my hands. “Oh my God.”
Anthony starts laughing.
“I am.” My voice comes out muffled. “I so am.”
His laughter gets louder. I finally sit back up.
“I’m going to tell you something,” he says, shaking his head. “You know me better than most, Butters.”
That makes my heart smile. “Hell yeah, I do.”
“You know how closed off I was.”