Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Christmas Eve, Denver
Christmas would not be an excuse even while he was with Pilot.
No, Tate stayed with his training. He bought a George Foreman grill and a ton of chicken, despite Pilot's protests, because he just had to have it.
Pilot made sticking to his diet difficult enough with his love of late night ice-cream, but Tate couldn't afford to slack off.
He got up every morning and dragged Pilot to the gym, kicking and screaming. Once they got there and started working out, Pilot relaxed. He spent more time on the weights and doing fifty million crunches, but damn his body showed every minute of lifting in every rock hard muscle.
Tate had to spend as much time on cardio as the weights.
He usually started on the row machine, worked with Pilot on weight training, which was drastically different than Pilot's routine, and then moved to the treadmill or bike.
He probably only finished half his cardio before Pilot finished and headed to the showers.
After, he would run out to get protein shakes for both of them.
Most of the time Tate finished before he got back.
The routine worked and Tate felt content. The sex was beyond amazing. The only thing they lacked was a nearby track. If he had that, Tate might never leave. At least, he'd never want to leave. He had no idea if Pilot would want him to stay and that made all the difference.
It seemed like they had a deeper connection, something more than casual fuck buddies.
Tate hoped he was right about that, because his fragile heart would end up shattered if he was wrong, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from falling.
Even if he could stop it; he wouldn't. Every second spent with Pilot healed up his wounded heart and kept him from thinking about other opportunities he’d missed out on, like Bryce.
The day before Christmas Eve, Tate convinced Pilot to take him to the mall. Not that he really wanted to go shopping in the crazy crowds, but hell if he was going to show up Christmas morning at Pilot's family's home without presents. Plus, he wanted to get something special for Pilot.
Roaming the overcrowded stores searching for the perfect gift showed just how little he knew about Pilot and made him sad.
He thought they had a blooming relationship, but late night re-runs aside, he didn't know much about Pilot, proving that it wasn't a real relationship at all, just an affair, a fling.
Tate wanted to change that, but Pilot had said from the beginning that Tate tried too hard.
So, he just needed to get Christmas right. He needed to be serious, but subtle.
Pilot had been in the military, he liked guns, and his friend Johnny had told him that he used to fight in MMA style leagues around the city.
When Tate thought about Pilot, he thought masculine.
The man was a bodyguard, hired security.
Nothing mushy would do here, he needed a manly gift.
He started with the one guns and ammo calendar that didn't have half naked girls on it, from the booth in the middle of the mall that sold them.
It wasn't enough. A Sports Authority gift card went into his shopping bag, but it still wasn't enough, wasn’t personal.
After spending most of his time away from Pilot wracking his brain, he finally found the trinket shop that personalized nice stuff for gifts.
He didn't think he'd find anything suitable, but he wandered in anyway.
Surprisingly, he did find something. An upscale version of those cheap id bracelets kids bought.
It had a leather band and a small silver slide.
He had it engraved simply with Pilot. They finished it up with just enough time to meet Pilot at the food court.
The other gifts had been easier with Pilot's help.
Johnny got a gift card to Abercrombie and Fitch.
Pilot swore he'd go nuts over it. Uncle Gary was even easier.
Pilot said the only thing he wanted was time on the gun range, so they stopped there on the way home from the mall and went in together to buy him enough time to last half a year.
Tate wanted to get stuff for the rest of Pilot's family, but Pilot wouldn't let him.
He swore they had stopped exchanging gifts years ago since they all really could use the money more.
His parents retiring and his sister preparing for a baby, if she could ever get pregnant, were major reasons, as well as Pilot saving up to buy part of his Uncle's business.
That left his brother. Pilot said, “He's an asshole and I wouldn't get him anything anyway.” So, they didn't. Their time with that part of the family would be drinks on Christmas Eve and that was all.
Tate had never met a boyfriend's family before. Donny had been like Tate, with his family disowning him, making his own family out of friends. None of his other boyfriends had ever been that serious. So, nervous didn't even begin to describe how Tate felt standing at Pilot's sister's door.
He rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. “What if they don't like me?” he asked, looking up to Pilot's dark, serious eyes.
He snorted. “What's not to love? You're the coolest person I know.” He kissed the top of Tate's head and pounded his knuckles on the door, simultaneously.
A second later, a woman opened the door.
She looked a lot like Pilot, with a large body frame, but she wasn't fat, just tall with wide shoulders.
Her dark hair fell around those wide shoulders and her smile was warm.
Her nose was softer than Pilot's but very similarly shaped.
“You must be Tate,” she said reaching out her hand.
“Hi,” Tate said, shaking her hand.
“This is my sister, Sheila.” Pilot reached in and hugged her, then she opened the door wide.
“Come in.”
Tate smiled shyly and followed Pilot into the house.
Sheila seemed nice, so he relaxed. They made their way into a large kitchen with a huge breakfast bar with stools in front of it.
Pilot pulled one out for him, just as another woman approached him.
She had the same dark hair and eyes. “I'm Sean's mom,” she said, putting a glass of wine in Tate's hand.
He normally didn't drink, but he couldn't refuse and decided it would be okay to sip one glass.
“You can call me Mary or Mom, doesn't matter. All the kid's friends usually call me mom.”
“Uh...thanks.” Tate couldn't think of anything else to say. She was nice, but he didn't know if he could call her Mom. That was too foreign a concept for him. He hadn't seen his mom in ages and could barely remember what being his mom had even meant. Maybe he had never understood it.
Pilot put his hand on his shoulder, reassuring him, calming him.
Tate melted into that warmth, wanting everything to be perfect.
For a while it was. They snacked on cheese and crackers and laughed.
Johnny showed up and hugged everyone, including Tate.
He seemed a little tipsy already, but helped himself to a glass of wine. Pilot, noticeably wasn't drinking.
Sheila's husband and their father had been in the other room, but eventually joined them in the kitchen.
Mary pulled out some kind of baked brie dish from the oven and Sheila cut up a loaf of fresh bread.
Tate had one piece of bread with the warm cheesy concoction.
It tasted of brie and honey and had to have a million calories in it.
The food was too good, and Mary topped off his wine glass twice before he decided he couldn't drink anymore.
It left him feeling warm inside. It'd been a long time since he'd felt the effects of alcohol. He’d never been a drinker anyway, since it wasn’t included in his training plan.
Just when he thought the evening couldn't get any better, it crashed. Colin, Pilot's brother, showed up. Pilot hadn't lied about that one. Asshole didn't cover it.
Before even saying hello to anyone, Colin started stirring shit up. “Jonny? What’re you doing here? Don’t you have taxes to do? Like mine?”
Johnny rolled his eyes. “I’m not even getting into this with you right now.”
“You’re not getting anything into me, queer-bate.”
Pilot huffed, but Sheila beat him to the punch. “Shut up or you’re out of here, Colin.”
“Can’t you be decent for once?” Pilot asked him.
Colin popped the top on an aluminum beer can. “I’m decent. Always. Better than your faggy asses any day.” He took a long swig. Then stared at Pilot, daring him to say more. “That’s what I thought.”
Tate could live with him being an ass to Johnny and shooting dirty looks at Pilot. It wasn't his family. Then, Colin noticed Tate.
“So, what's your story?” he growled, pointing at Tate around the beer can he still held.
“Story?”
“Yeah. What the fuck are you doing with Sean? He doesn't have money. What the hell? You just bend over for anyone?” Tate couldn't believe this guy.
His eyes flew wide open at his crass comment. “What the hell? You don't know me.” Before much else could be said, Sheila came around the corner and swatted Colin on the back of the head.
Pilot's face turned red and Tate thought he might just explode.
“It's okay, Pilot,” Tate said quietly, resting his hand on Pilot's thigh.
“No. No it isn't. Fuck you, Colin. You have no right coming in here acting like an ass to everyone.”
His mom seemed sympathetic, but more interested in calming things down than in doing the right thing. She shushed Pilot and Colin. “Sheila stop hitting your brother.”
Sheila wasn’t backing down, though. “Bull! If he comes into my house acting like that, he's gonna get hit.”
Their mom pulled her daughter into the other room, and Colin laughed. “You all must know I'm right or you wouldn't get so riled up. Seriously...”