Chapter 10
Chuckie executed Adam’s plan perfectly. Once she and Mo had disappeared from sight—and hopefully earshot—he turned to his family.
“Was the ambush necessary?”
“Ambush!” Mom tutted, but her green eyes sparkled, giving away the mischief.
“Don’t be silly.” She cast a glance around the foyer, but the rest of the children had scampered off after hugs and introductions; Adam could already hear the hollow whack of ping-pong balls coming from the basement.
Obviously, their arrival had interrupted a tournament.
“You can hardly blame us if we all had to see for ourselves if this boyfriend was any more real than Santa Claus. Years and years of ‘it’s just not the right time to look for love, Mum. I’ll get to it by ’n’ by. ’”
Adam might have been raised in New Brunswick, but he’d never said by ’n’ by in his life.
“I didn’t realize you needed proof of life.
” Or how guilty he’d feel bringing home a boyfriend for his family to get attached to.
His parents had always been invested in his romantic happiness.
They thought he’d sacrificed too much for hockey already.
If they found out this whole thing was a facade to, once again, prioritize the Canyons and their reputation…
Adam squashed his guilt. His parents never had to know. In a couple weeks, he and Mo could amicably fake break up, and Adam could pretend to be heartbroken, and his parents would lay off about his love life for a while. Maybe next off-season, he’d let them try to set him up as a consolation.
“Well, I can’t believe you’re now dating the guy we’ve been watching you make stank faces at for seven years.
” Chelsea shepherded the family toward the sitting room.
Fortunately, everyone knew the drill by now; Adam could only take so much of everyone all at once.
His parents and Chelsea always got first dibs.
She nudged him onto the love seat in the corner and then plopped down after him and pulled her knees up to her chest. Their parents settled in the armchairs opposite. “What changed?”
By now, Adam had given the response enough times, it should’ve come out by rote. Instead, he opened his mouth and said, “I don’t know. We did, I guess. Or maybe we were never that different in the first place.”
“Aww.” Chelsea nudged her foot against his thigh. “Look at you, evolving.”
Adam shot her a quelling look.
“He’s different here,” his dad offered, sounding thoughtful.
Adam turned toward him so fast, his neck twinged. “Pardon?”
“Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t remember, but we did meet him before. At your draft,” he elaborated.
Oh God, Adam’s parents had in-person memories of tiny underage twink Mo.
“Boy’s got more personality than oughta fit in his body, for sure. I watched that time they tried to interview you and he got the claws out.”
…Oh. For some reason, the back of Adam’s neck went hot. “Yeah, uh, he’s not afraid to say what he thinks or to put someone in their place.”
Dad crossed his arms and rocked back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Where’d all that backbone go just now, hm?”
“Mo doesn’t care what most people think about him. He wants you to like him.”
The rest of Adam’s face burned to match his neck.
He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t even been conscious of thinking it.
But he knew it was true. Reporters, strangers, the general public, his own parents—Mo didn’t respect those people.
He only treated his parents with faux affection and deference as a survival mechanism.
But he respected Adam, and he respected the team—at least as much as they deserved.
And he wanted Adam’s family’s approval, even though they weren’t really dating.
Chelsea kicked his thigh again. “Oh my God. Are you going to be bright red this whole holiday, like a color-inverse Christmas tree? We could get you some ornaments. Or some concealer.”
Adam grabbed her foot. “Poke me again and see what happens.” He ran a warning finger up her instep, making her yelp in surprise and kick reflexively. She would’ve kicked him in the teeth if he didn’t have such a strong hold.
“Mum! Adam’s bullying me.”
“She started it!”
Mom played along. “And if I have to end it, you’ll both regret it.” She shook her head, then addressed Adam. “Go bring your things in, hm? I bet you’d both like a shower after your trip.”
Ugh, yes, now that she mentioned it.
“Separately!” his dad put in, mock-stern.
Maybe Adam should’ve taken Chels up on that makeup offer.
Groaning, he got to his feet. “Goodbye! I hate you all.”
Thankfully, the house cleared out somewhat by dinner time. Adam was introverted enough to breathe a sigh of relief when he sat around the table with just Mo, his parents, Chels, her husband, and Chuckie.
A shower and time spent talking cars with Chuckie had done Mo a world of good. He wasn’t exactly himself again, but at least he was no longer doing an impression of a shrinking violet.
It also helped that they were eating with four adults trained in how to get shy kids to loosen up and join in.
“Wait, you’re all teachers?” Mo asked over lasagna.
“For our sins,” Dad said with a smile.
Chels kicked Adam’s feet under the table. “Didn’t you tell him anything about us?”
“Of course I did,” he protested. He was sure he’d told Mo as much.
“He did,” Mo rushed to say. “He mentioned your parents and you. Guess he forgot to say that it was a requirement for marrying in too.”
Chels laughed. “Not hardly. Mum and Dad were so disappointed in me for not marrying a man who was rich or handy.” She winked.
“You saying being able to decorate a room, on theme, and with only construction paper, Crayola markers, and glitter isn’t a handy skill?” her husband, Simon, said dryly.
“Doesn’t fix a leaky faucet or a wonky cabinet door, though, does it?”
“Nah, but that’s why I married you.”
Adam smirked. “I was gonna say, Chels—are you letting other people touch your power tools now?”
“Go near my garage and meet the consequences,” she shot back, waving her fork at him.
He made no promises.
Next to him, Mo shifted awkwardly. “So you’re the black sheep of the family, then? Jock instead of nerd?”
Chels laughed loudly, and everyone else at the table chuckled.
“Uncle Adam isn’t a sheep,” Chuckie declared with a frown.
“It’s an expression, sweetie,” Simon explained. “To be a black sheep is to be different from the rest of the family.”
“But Uncle Adam isn’t different. He has red hair too!”
Adam leaned down to press a kiss to Chuckie’s head. “You’re right, Chucks. Definitely not a black sheep.”
Chels agreed. “Besides, Uncle Mo doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He hasn’t met Teddy yet, so he doesn’t know that Adam isn’t the jock of the family.”
“Uncle Teddy’s a bro’s bro,” Chuckie agreed, clearly quoting someone. Chels, Simon, and Adam snorted, avoiding eye contact so as to not lose it.
“Well,” Mom said, “that’s one way of putting it.” She eyed her children as if trying to determine who was responsible.
“And a Jim bro,” Chuckie added. “Mum, who’s Jim?”
“Not that kind of Jim, baby. A gym bro”—the words came out only slightly strangled—“is a guy who likes to go to the gym and use the exercise equipment.”
“Oh. Yeah. He likes to take pictures at the gym.”
Oh God, one of them was going to injure themselves trying to hold in their laughter.
“Yes,” Simon said, straight-faced. “Uncle Ted likes a gym selfie.”
Chuckie nodded, still serious.
Figuring a topic change was definitely in order, Adam asked, “So, what do we have planned for tomorrow?”
Hours later, Adam and Mo got ready for bed in the downstairs guest room.
They’d known they’d have to share, not only because space was limited but also because Adam’s family would expect it.
Still, as they settled into the queen bed, it struck Adam that they’d never shared a bed without having mind-blowing sex first—and they hadn’t shared again since that first time. Still, it was weirdly not awkward.
Once curled up, Mo mumbled into the pillow, “Your family’s nice.”
Warmth filled Adam. “Sometimes.” Chels was too much of a Big Sister to be called nice.
“I like ’em,” Mo said before nuzzling the cotton sheets and passing out.
“They like you too,” Adam told his sleeping face.
Mo hummed but didn’t otherwise stir.
Figuring Mo had the right idea, Adam wiggled around to get comfortable and closed his eyes for sleep.
Mo woke with a desperate need to pee. Adam was curled around him.
Apparently, nocturnal Adam was just an inveterate cuddler, an eager big spoon.
Adam’s arm around his waist felt heavy, restrictive.
Mo hadn’t had a regular sleeping partner since college, when he’d been young and dumb enough to think a TA could have serious romantic interest in a freshman.
He’d wised up some since that heartbreak, at least.
Or so he’d hoped.
Bladder screaming, Mo eased out from under Adam’s arm, desperate not to wake him, grabbed one of Adam’s hoodies, and headed for the bathroom.
Unfortunately, this particular guest bedroom didn’t have an en suite, and the bathroom was at the other end of the hall. At least Chuckie was the only other occupant on this level.
Whole families lived like this, Mo knew. Having to share bathrooms with kids. But Adam didn’t have to! They didn’t have to stay with his parents, right? He could have bought his own house with two en suites for the master bedroom if he wanted.
Rude of him not to, honestly. And weren’t Chelsea and Simon local? They didn’t have to stay overnight. Surely, there was no reason for Mo to have to share a bathroom, especially not with someone who needed a footstool at the sink and owned a Bluey toothbrush.
These people liked each other way too much, in the weird, matching-Christmas-themed-pajamas way.