Chapter 20
John
An easy, impossible lightness settled around him like a halo as he kissed his sleeping nephew’s forehead in the car seat.
Justine handed him Olivia next, and he buckled her into her toddler car seat as she drifted in and out, her yellow queen dress rumpled from play and her tiara tangled in her hair.
“See ya later, sweetheart,” he murmured to her, kissing her temple. “I love you.”
“I love you too…” she yawned, “Uncle…”
He smiled, closing the car door quietly.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” he said to his sister, kissing the side of her face.
She hugged him back and wiggled out of his arms, “I’m not used to furry beard kisses.”
He and Chad exchanged hugs next. Their parents had already left for the evening. Their dad struggled staying out too late, and their mom wanted him somewhere familiar before bed. Chad climbed into the driver’s seat and Justine hesitated, glancing at Wyatt’s motorcycle.
John kept his expression carefully neutral, sliding his hands into his pockets and smiling, waiting.
Justine was more intuitive and upfront with her feelings than John.
He supposed it was a second child thing.
And more than once this evening, she watched Wyatt—and John.
Granted, Samuels was also in the mix, but she for some reason paid him absolutely zero attention.
“So, have you figured it out yet?” He asked gently.
Her eyes, surprised, shot to his. He was never the one to bring things up. He blamed this entirely on Wyatt, who somehow, in the span of a month, had reopened the closed door around his heart that he had been so scared of.
Justine glanced uncertainly at the bike again and then at him. “He’s young.”
John’s smile deepened, and he nodded, “That he is.”
She stiffened, “I don’t…” she exhaled, uncertain. “I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“Unfortunately, we all do. Something I’m working on accepting. It must be a Donnelly trait.”
Justine’s expression softened. “You really love him, don’t you?”
“I do,” he replied firmly.
She sighed, “We were cursed by being raised by romantics.”
He chuckled, “or blessed.”
“Yeah, whatever. Well, if he shows up to Christmas, I suppose it’ll be official.”
John swallowed. The image of Wyatt in his parents' kitchen, in his childhood home, stirred something inside him. “We’ll see.”
“God—really?”
He raised his hands in a defensive gesture. Justine always bristled when he used his doctor voice on her. “Sorry, you’re right. Truth is, I haven’t asked him yet.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I like him. I caught him dueling with Olive in the backyard with those stupid plastic whipping toys Chad bought her. She needs someone who’ll keep her on her toes. We’re all too soft with her.”
Something inside him warmed, loving that Justine so graciously accepted John’s sexuality, and also Wyatt being in his life. It meant a lot to him.
“I liked Samuels, too. He’s got a fat chip on his shoulder, though. That man needs a woman who will…”
John cringed and shook his head, “He’s not into women, J.”
Justine’s eyes widened. “Him too?! Your nurses must hate life with all these hot gay doctors walking around.”
A burst of laughter rumbled from his chest.
“Or love it?” She said, considering it. “Lawson, especially. Jesus, that kid has an ass you can bounce a quarter—”
“Goodnight, sister.”
“Okay, okay. Goodnight, brother.”
He waved them goodbye and made sure they got out of the gate before heading back inside to find Samuels and Wyatt cleaning up the kitchen and dining room.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said, closing the front door.
“Yes, we do,” Samuels retorted. “I haven’t had a meal like that since I left home.”
Wyatt paused, hands deep in the pile of dirty plates, rinsing and loading them into the dishwasher. “Me either, now that I think about it.”
“You and your dad did a good job with the turkey, but damn, that pumpkin pie your mom brought knocked my socks off,” Samuels said with a whistle, using a wet rag to wipe down the dining table.
“Who made the stuffing?” Wyatt asked.
“Chad,” John replied, heading to the living room to put on some music. “Justine avoids the kitchen like the plague. Always has, even when we were kids.”
“Nicely done, Chad,” Wyatt said with a teasing smile. “Really knows how to stuff the stuffing.”
Samuels shot him a look and both men laughed. John shook his head and felt the easy laughter roll out of him. He picked out his favorite Muddy Waters record, placed it on the turntable, moved the tone arm, and hit play.
He joined Wyatt in the kitchen and pulled out extra Tupperware to pack the leftovers in, and enough for Samuels to take some with him.
“You going back home for Christmas at least, Samuels?” John asked.
He shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe. I dunno. Not much left for me there these days.”
“No parents?” Wyatt asked.
“Nah, dad skipped out when I was a kid, and mom… isn’t the nicest person to be around voluntarily, especially during the holidays.”
“What about friends?” John asked.
Samuels stilled, before quickly shaking his head, his expression closing. “Nah, no one special.”
Wyatt glanced at John, exchanging a curious look.
Samuels wasn’t being forthcoming, and John, knowing when to back off, merely nodded, closing the container full of turkey.
“Well, Justine likes you. Both of you. So, this is the official Donnelly invitation to join us for Christmas, if you don’t have any other plans. We’d love to have you.”
Wyatt stiffened next to him, and John brushed a reassuring hand onto his back as he reached for the plate of stuffing. “Especially you,” he whispered lowly, unable to resist kissing his cheek as he returned to the food containers.
“Thanks, man,” Samuels said, walking back into the kitchen. “That’s very nice of you.”
“You’re welcome. Steph usually shows up with her husband a bit later for dessert and drinks.”
Samuels grinned. “Even more reason to come.”
John finished packing two very full containers of food for Samuels and placed them before him, along with an entire uneaten homemade apple pie.
“You’re kidding?” Samuels said incredulously down at all the food.
“Nope,” John patted his back. “My fridge is full already. Whatever you don’t want, I’ll take it to work for all the broke med students.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes at him, sipping his wine with soap bubbles on his hands and looking deliciously sexy while cleaning the dishes.
A few strands of his sandy blond hair draped over his eyes, his long black sleeves rolled up past his elbows and the top button of his black flannel securely fastened, all of which reminded John of what was hidden beneath.
Wyatt saw something in his expression and his gaze lingered over his mouth, taking another slow sip of wine, intentionally tilting his neck upward and exposing the bruising red mark on his neck that he had managed to keep covered with his collar all night.
John’s cock twitched.
“All right,” Samuels declared. “I think I’ll head out.” He patted the back of John’s shoulder, giving him a genuinely appreciative look. “Thank you for this. I uh…” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize how much I needed tonight.”
John’s heart stuttered at the sight of grief tightening his friend’s face, and he nodded. “Of course. Anytime. I’m serious about Christmas, too. Please come if you can.”
Samuels nodded tightly and winked at Wyatt, hands filled with food. “See ya later, cowboy.”
John walked him out to his car, and when he came back, Wyatt was in the living room, sprawled out on his couch, Muddy Waters crooning all over him.
One of his favorite songs clicked on, ‘Country Boy’. He shut and locked the door behind him, strolling into the living room and standing over Wyatt, who slowly tilted his chin up, blue eyes heady and needy.
“Come here,” John breathed.
Wyatt reached for him. John pulled him to his feet and into his arms, and they began to sway in a slow dance.
Wyatt hummed, dropping his head onto his upper chest, hands traveling over his body freely. He wanted nothing more than to finish what they had started earlier, but he also equally, and maybe more powerfully, wanted to hold his cowboy in his arms.
They swayed, moving to the guitar's rhythm.
“Your family is incredible,” Wyatt murmured against him. “Which makes sense, they raised you.”
“Thanks. Justine appreciated you playing with Olive at her level of intensity.”
Wyatt chuckled, “I think she’d prefer being Zorro more than a queen.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“Your mom is really nice. She reminded me of you.”
John nuzzled his face into Wyatt’s hair. “I haven’t seen her this happy in a while. It was good to see her smile.”
“Well, yeah, she has one less person to worry about.”
He paused mid-sway. “What do you mean?”
Wyatt leaned back, hesitating. “She may have… uh, asked me directly if we were seeing each other.”
Startled, John recalled the brief moment he saw Wyatt and his mom setting the dining table together. His mom was intuitive, like Justine, like him. She was a smart woman, too, and had probably known all along that her son was gay.
“And?” he asked quietly.
“I wasn’t going to tell her we’re just fucking,” Wyatt said, exasperated. “So yeah, I told her we’re together.”
John released him, pulse racing. “How’d she react?”
“She looked happy to me,” he reassured. “Then she asked if I was serious about you, and then how old I was. I told her I was serious and that I cared about you a lot.”
John suddenly laughed, it was weak with relief. “My sister did the same thing when we were saying goodbye.”
His cowboy shifted, looking nervous, “And?”
John studied him, seeing the trace of blush on his cheeks as he whispered, “I said the same thing.”
Relief relaxed Wyatt’s features, and he swayed into him. “Well, good thing our stories lined up, or that would’ve been awkward.”