Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
The article wouldn’t appear in the Mountain Chronicle until Wednesday, but it went up on the Chronicle’s website first thing Monday morning.
It didn’t mention the Westlakes, Westlake Waterless Printing, or Greta Westlake.
However, weaved into the body of the story was a subtle mention that Mitch didn’t see much support from his mom, and that he was dependent on the partial hockey scholarship, like many other GH hockey players.
Geoff wasn’t worried. He didn’t anticipate an article from a small student newspaper to affect the Westlake business, especially since the Westlakes weren’t mentioned by name.
Coach Bedley had been right in selecting Jenny Lynn to write the article.
It was thought-provoking, while questioning how much was too much for a student athlete.
Had Alex not already sent the first draft of his book to his editor, he would’ve used Jenny Lynn’s article as a reference. Hell, he still might.
For reasons Alex didn’t understand, Geoff intended to stay with Westlake Waterless Printing, despite his impending divorce from Mitch’s mom.
The man either loved his job or was too dedicated to leave.
But he was, he’d told Alex, Mitch, and Cody this morning over a breakfast of bacon and French toast, transferring from the head office in Manhattan to the smaller satellite office in Burlington to be closer to Mitch.
As the Account Director for the East Coast, his job involved a lot of travelling and he could technically work from anywhere.
It was early evening on Monday and Alex and Cody were watching some kind of dance competition marathon on TV, while Mitch napped with his head in Alex’s lap.
Mitch and Cody weren’t on spring break until next week, but they’d skipped classes today, given the weekend’s activities, to stay home and rest, and would get notes from their classmates.
Geoff was cooking them dinner in the kitchen, something that smelled like garlic and onions and sautéing chicken.
Feet propped up on the table next to a wooden treasure box with a skull and crossbones etched into the front—except the crossbones were hockey sticks and the skull was wearing a mask—Alex responded to text messages from Yager, JP, and Jay.
Fed up with answering the same questions three times, he created a group chat and texted them all an update at the same time along with brief introductions to each other.
Dudes! Yager texted. You’re the fuckers who played with Dean in college?
Alex smiled at Yager’s manners and put his phone away. He nudged the box to the side a bit so he could stretch without knocking it off the table.
“Hey, Mitch?” he’d asked this morning when Mitch had come back into his bedroom after his shower. “What’s this?”
Mitch took one look at the box in Alex’s hands and narrowed his eyes on Alex. “Were you snooping?”
“Maybe.”
“Under the bed?”
“I’m a good snooper?”
Mitch snorted and sat on the bed next to Alex. “Guess I can’t get too mad, since I snooped through your journals.” He took the box from Alex and set it on his lap, then opened it.
Inside were a dozen wooden sun catchers. A sun, a moon, a couple of stars, a 3D box, a heart, a distended oval. All with an inset piece of glass, or a circle of glass hanging by a thread, to reflect the sun.
“These are beautiful.” Alex picked up a sun made of the same wood as the small sun catcher that hung in Mitch’s bedroom window. “Why don’t you hang them up?”
“My brother made these,” Mitch said.
“You said once he’s a woodworker?”
“He was. Before he went to work with my mom. Sun catchers were his niche, and I thought for sure he’d open up a small studio someday.
” Mitch’s mouth kicked up. “He used to try out new shapes and give me one once he’d perfected it.
He made this box too. But when he—” Mitch lost his smile and pressed his lips into a tight line.
“When things changed?” Alex prompted.
Mitch shrugged. “I took them all down from where they hung in my window at home. They were a reminder of what we used to have, and it hurt to look at them. Honestly, I don’t know why I kept them.”
“Hope.” Alex placed the sun back in the box. “Hope that things might get better between you someday?”
Mitch rested his head on Alex’s shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Did he make this one too?” Alex gestured at the sun catcher in the window. “And the one in the living room downstairs?”
“Yeah. Maybe it’s time I put a couple back up?” Mitch yawned and settled back into Alex. Within seconds, he was asleep.
“You know,” Cody said now from the loveseat perpendicular to Alex, “it wasn’t just the money thing.”
“Huh?” Alex shook his head. “Sorry, what?”
Cody jerked his chin at a sleeping Mitch. “The reason he’s so tired? It’s not just because he took on extra students to make money. He misses you, so he’s been keeping himself busy to distract himself.”
Alex ran his hand through Mitch’s hair and watched his chest rise and fall.
The right thing to do would be for Alex and Mitch to take a breather from each other, let Mitch get himself back on track.
But just the thought of that made the back of Alex’s neck break out in a cold sweat.
Mitch trusted him. Trusted him not to play with his heart that way, not to make relationship decisions without talking to him first. And frankly, despite what had happened, Alex firmly believed they were stronger together.
They just had to figure out how to make their relationship work without Mitch going into a frenzy over it.
Besides, Alex had already told Mitch he wasn’t breaking up with him over this, and he intended to keep his word. They were stuck with each other until one of them called it quits for reasons that didn’t equal letting the other go for their own good.
As far as Alex was concerned, they were stuck with each other forever.
“He needs a better coping mechanism,” Alex said to Cody.
“No doubt. Dance classes, maybe?”
“Hmm. Something he could practice at home a couple hours a week might work better. What about music lessons?”
“He’d probably like that.” Cody gave Mitch a fond look. “Piano or something.”
Alex tugged a lock of Mitch’s hair and grinned down at him, feeling his heart clench in affection for him. “He’d be a maestro before the end of the year, wouldn’t he?”
“Probably. Overachiever.”
The doorbell rang, startling Mitch into wakefulness. Geoff turned from the stove and raised an eyebrow at Alex and Cody. It was Cody who went to answer since Mitch was still occupying Alex’s lap.
“Hey,” Alex said as Mitch’s eyes opened.
Mitch reached up and ran a hand over Alex’s jaw. “Hi,” he whispered, voice sleep-rough.
There was a commotion from the front of the house.
An unfamiliar voice told Cody to get the fuck out of the way.
Cody responded with a snapped “You can’t just barge in here, douchebag!
” and two pairs of feet clomped down the hallway.
And then a stranger strode purposefully into the room, followed by a furious Cody.
The stranger was about six feet tall with a swimmer’s build.
Dressed in pressed dark slacks and an open wool coat that reached his knees, he was GQ in the flesh: only a hint of five o’clock shadow, hair slicked back, tie perfectly tied, suit coat buttoned.
He had Mitch’s chocolate brown eyes and the same curly hair, although where Mitch’s hair was brown, the stranger’s was ash blond.
Alex knew the stranger’s identity immediately. This was Dan, Mitch’s brother.
* * *
Mitch sat up and stared, first at his perfectly put together brother, then at his fuming best friend, who stood glaring metaphorical daggers at Dan—seriously, if looks could kill—then at his dad, who looked just as surprised as Mitch felt, then at his boyfriend, who wasn’t any more pleased than Cody.
His scowl was ferocious. And kind of hot.
And with his arms crossed over his chest that way, huge biceps hugged by his tight-fitting T-shirt?
Under different circumstances, Mitch would’ve dragged him upstairs.
Instead, he turned back to his brother and the mess his life had suddenly become. “Did you get lost on your way somewhere?”
Dan slung his fancy overcoat over the back of one of the island barstools. “Don’t be a smart-ass. Hi, Dad.”
“Son. What are you doing here?”
“Don’t sit down,” Cody snapped at Dan. “You’re not staying.”
Dan huffed and leaned against the island, crossing his feet at the ankles.
Mitch looked around him to his dad. “Did you know he was coming?”
“He asked me for your address,” his dad said, moving the pan off the burner. “But he didn’t tell me why.”
“Can you please stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Dan snapped.
“This from the guy who’s ignored me for the past few years?” Mitch said, at the same time as Cody said, “You’re not here. You’re leaving,” and thrust Dan’s coat into his arms.
Dan ignored Cody and addressed Mitch. “I wouldn’t have had to come all this way, had someone told me you’d passed out and been taken to the hospital. Instead, I had to find out from some fucking amateur newspaper article.”
“I didn’t know you cared.”
Dan had the grace to flush. “I deserve that. Look, can we talk. Please?”
Mitch got comfortable on the couch, propped his feet on the coffee table, and waved a hand at Dan. “Talk.”
Dan glanced from their dad, to Cody, to Alex—who he squinted at, as if he recognized him, but eventually dismissed him. “Alone?”
“Why should I?” And yes, Mitch was aware he sounded like a petulant five-year-old.
Alex bumped their shoulders. “Go.”
“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”
Alex grinned at him and rubbed Mitch’s back as he got up. “Noted.”
“Come on, then,” Mitch said to Dan, who was eyeing Mitch’s treasure box on the coffee table as if he’d never seen it before.
Mitch led Dan into his bedroom, slamming the door behind them. Because he could.