Chapter 17 #3
By halfway through the meal, Nate was actually almost a little disappointed that Dean and Brody lived out in California.
And a glass and a half of red wine in, he didn’t bother holding that opinion in.
Or the opinion that Dean should leave California and come to Toronto.
Play for the Thunder. Anchor the other side of Dean’s line.
But when he suggested that, Dean just laughed. “And leave behind my three hundred plus days of sunshine for Toronto? Fuck no, dude. I’m honored, but no.” His face turned sly then. “But maybe I could tempt you,” he said.
It might have been tempting once, but not anymore. “Not as long as Ramsey plays for Buffalo,” he said.
Ramsey looked surprised by this, but he shouldn’t be.
They hadn’t talked about it, but surely, he knew how serious Nate was.
Nate knew how serious Ramsey was, even if he never said it out loud.
It was evident and obvious in every secret he’d held close to his chest that he volunteered to Nate, now.
In the way they kissed. In the way every night and every morning, even in sleep, Ramsey’s arm always seemed to reach for him, unconscious and instinctual.
Even if he’d been in relationships before, Nate would still believe that this was serious, but the truth was, Ramsey hadn’t been. He’d never done this before. He’d never wanted to do this before.
“Serious,” Brody teased, but Ramsey didn’t argue. Didn’t look displeased, just still slightly astonished, like Nate had said something he hadn’t anticipated.
Nate wanted to ask him about it but then his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was set to do not disturb, except for his favorites list. And there was only one guy on the favorites list that Nate would be tempted to pick up for right now—the other was sitting next to him.
“I gotta grab this,” he said apologetically, pushing away from the table.
He glanced at Ramsey, who just nodded. There was no way he didn’t know who it was. Ducking out of the private dining room to an empty hallway that led to the bathrooms, Nate picked up the call.
Jordan was breathless and laughing when Nate said, “You okay, bud?”
He thought he could hear a false note in the laughter, but it was impossible to tell for sure, not with all the background noise wherever Jordan was.
Though if he was being honest, he already knew where Jordan was.
The only question was which strip club he’d ended up in, and which one Nate was going to have to head to, ducking out of this dinner he was very much enjoying.
“I’m fucking fine, dude. Don’t worry about me. I’m worrying about you. Getting all stuffy and settled.”
Nate rolled his eyes. Last night with Ramsey in his jersey and in his bed, he hadn’t exactly felt stuffy.
“I’m good,” Nate said. Wincing, he added, “Are you sure you’re good?”
“Oh my God, Big Dog, I’m fucking fine. It happens.” The fake note was back, and this time Nate was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure he heard it. “Stop angsting about it and get your ass over here. Party with me.”
“What are we celebrating?” Nate asked, putting off answering for now. He didn’t want to go to a strip club and hang out with Jordan. It would no doubt be another kind of situation like it had been last time Jordan had hit the fake panic button and dragged both Nate and Ramsey away from their date.
Nate really didn’t want to do it again. Not like this, with a couple he was actually enjoying hanging out with.
“Celebrating being alive, baby!” Jordan whooped loudly. “It’s lit down here. I’ll text you the address.”
“Jordo—” But he didn’t get the rest of the word out, even, before the line went dead.
No chance to tell Jordan he wasn’t going to show up.
Immediately his phone buzzed, before he even made it back to the table. Jordan had only sent him a pin drop. And then a whole string of incomprehensible emojis.
Nate grimaced and decided fuck it. Jordan was fine. How much trouble could he get into at a strip club called the Pussy Palace?
Worst-case scenario, he’d get drunk and belligerent and they’d kick him out and he’d slink back to his apartment and wake up with the hangover from hell tomorrow morning.
He texted back: wish I could bud, but I’m a little busy right now.
“Everything okay?” Ramsey asked when he sat back down to finish his dinner.
“Jordan,” he murmured under his breath, “but I took care of it.”
He wanted to feel as sure as he sounded, but he wasn’t. His phone buzzed once, then twice, but he didn’t pull it out of his pocket until the waiter was clearing their empty plates and he heard a third buzz.
Are you fucking serious?
Then, I guess you fucking are, dude. Guess the cock’s really that good.
And third, just: big dog
The whole string would’ve been much easier to dismiss if he hadn’t sent the third message, long after the first two.
There was something about that last message. A plea, unspoken.
Nate drummed his fingers on the table, and a second later, Ramsey’s hand gripped his thigh, squeezing it tightly.
Without Ramsey asking, Nate knew what he wanted and tilted the phone screen so Ramsey could read it too.
He was pretty sure Ramsey wanted him to see his concern. Otherwise, he’d have hidden it, and Nate would be left in the dark.
It made him feel warm and seen, to be deliberately included like this. But then a fourth text came through.
shit big dog
Concern superseded the warmth, immediately.
He felt terrible that he was going to have to bail and leave before they’d totally finished their date.
Maybe he could meet up with the three of them at Vault later, after he’d checked in with Jordan.
But before he could open up his mouth to make his apologies to Brody and Dean, Ramsey spoke up. “Sorry, guys,” he said regretfully, “but Nate and I are gonna have to take off.”
“What?” Nate asked in disbelief. “You’re not—”
“I’m coming with you,” Ramsey said in a voice that brooked no disagreements. He turned to Brody and Dean. Brody was smirking.
“Can’t even keep it in your pants for a whole dinner?” Brody teased.
Ramsey rolled his eyes. “No. Nate’s got a player in trouble, and well, I’m not letting him deal with it alone.”
Nate had known he and Ramsey were heading towards that package deal sort of relationship—the Nate-and-Ramsey type—but he hadn’t expected Ramsey to embrace it so quickly or so completely. Apparently Brody hadn’t either, because he looked happy but also straight-up shocked.
“Shit,” Dean said eloquently. He turned to Brody. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“No, you don’t,” Brody said smugly.
“What is it he’s right about?” Nate asked, because he desperately wanted to know. Wanted to know, is it the same thing I’m thinking too?
But Ramsey was already tossing bills onto the table and hooking his fingers around Nate’s forearm, tugging him towards the doorway.
“Get a car,” he told Nate.