Epilogue
William - Don’t You Dare
Three Months Later
“What’s this?” Brooks asks when I stand from the edge of our bed to hand him a gift bag.
With rapt attention, I watch the droplets of water as they trail down his broad, tanned chest until they disappear into the towel wrapped around his waist. Clearing my throat, I tell him, “Just a little something that made me think of you. Open it.”
He tosses the tissue paper aside and picks up the brown apron I stumbled across online.
His smile transforms from bashful to salacious in seconds. “Mmm, yeah stuff me so hard?” he questions as he reads what’s written across the front of the apron.
I try and fail to bite back my chuckle. “Do you like it?”
“What exactly about this made you think of me? Was it the turkey with its legs spread open and stuffing spilling out of it, or just the fact that I love when you stuff me full of your cock?” He quirks a brow, causing him to look downright mischievous.
“Definitely the second one.”
“You’re starting to sound like me,” he points out.
Shit, I really am.
“And you’d be right; I do love being stuffed full of your cock. But I can’t wear this today. Our parents will lose their shit.”
“Oh, come on. Since when did you become the reserved one in our relationship?” I quip.
“Since you invited your parents and your brother to stay with us for Thanksgiving and proceeded to rant and rave about how great of a cook I am when I’ve never prepared a Thanksgiving meal for nine people.”
That catches my attention. “Nine?”
“Yeah, Mateo was telling me how he was planning on eating a frozen pizza today all by himself, and I couldn’t accept the fact that he wouldn’t just join us when we’re a few houses down the beach.”
“Hmm,” I hum, wrapping my arms around his waist and dropping a kiss on his exposed collarbone. “Is the almighty War going soft on me?”
Brooks grinds his towel-covered length against me. “Never soft around you.”
I shake my head at his antics. “You’re incorrigible.”
He bites my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth.“Says the man who wants his boyfriend to wear an apron so inappropriate it would surely make his mother clutch her pearls.”
“Mom only wears her pearls on Christmas and at weddings,” I retort.
“Ah, shit. When we told your family to dress casual, are they going to dress, like, normal people casual or your version of casual? Do I need to call Jade and my parents?”
As if he just realized I was already dressed, he steps back and appraises my outfit. His slow perusal feels as if he’s caressing me with his gaze.
“I’ll be damned. Casual. And, fuck, only you could make a sweater and dark-washed jeans look this hot.” Stepping forward again, he grips hold of my sweater and tugs me impossibly closer.
I love when he pulls me to his chest like this, as if he can’t stand for there to be a millimeter of space between us for any length of time.
Surprisingly, living with Brooks has gone better than I could’ve imagined.
After being a perpetual bachelor for thirty-four years, I anticipated that it would take time to get used to having someone else in my space.
I’ve never been so happy to have guessed wrong.
“We’ve got twenty minutes before I need to baste the turkey again. But I bet I can make you come in five,” he taunts, adding a cocksure smile for good measure.
“Why waste precious minutes by rushing? If the turkey burns, it burns.” I shrug my shoulders before leaning in to capture his lips.
Brooks steps back and rushes his palm up to cover my lips. “Take it back!” he shouts, sounding irrational, bordering on insane.
When I don’t say anything, he puts his hands on his hips. “Take it back right now or take your bad energy outta the house before I actually burn the fuckin’ turkey.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re crazy for me. So I guess we’re a couple of nut jobs cohabitating.”
I let out a sigh of impatience. “Shut the fuck up and kiss me, baby,” I command, pulling him in and taking his lips before he can spew any other insanity.
Just as I place the sweet potato casserole on the dining table, my brother comes sauntering down the stairs with the most arrogant smile on his face.
He can be such a pompous little prick sometimes.
Shit, isn’t that exactly how Brooks thought of me when we first met nearly six months ago?
Also, how has it only been six months since we first met? It feels like a lifetime ago yet as if it were only yesterday at the same time. I’m stunned by how quickly I fell for Brooks, and it appears I’m not the only one.
My parents are too thrilled that I’ve found someone to share my life with to be shocked. No, the skepticism lies squarely on my little brother’s shoulders.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
“Oh, look. Brooks is over there making googly eyes at you from across the room. How pathetically romantic,” he mock-coos.
Again, pompous prick.
“They’re moony eyes,” I correct in a cool tone.
“Whatever that means.” Dawson lets out a deep sigh, turning his back to Brooks. “Doesn’t it get tiring having someone so much younger than you to look after all the time?”
I feather my jaw in an attempt to bite back the vitriol I’d love to spray in his face, but ultimately the ugly side only Dawson seems to bring out of me rears its ugly head.
Fisting my hands, I grit out, “You’d think as my baby brother you’d be ecstatic that I’ve finally found someone I want to spend my life with. Someone who makes me genuinely happy. Instead, you’ve done nothing but be hypercritical of everything to do with the man I love. What is wrong with you?”
“First of all, I’d hardly consider myself your baby brother anymore now that I’m a thirty-year-old grown man—”
“Debatable as to whether or not you’re grown,” I retort, cutting him off.
Dawson narrows his eyes. “Second, absolutely nothing is wrong with me. It’s you I have a problem with.”
Before I can even attempt to delve deeper into that discussion, my mom thankfully interrupts us.
“White or red?” she asks, holding up two bottles of wine.
Clearing my throat to give myself a moment of mental transition from whatever the hell that was, I reply, “How about both. I know you prefer white, but Elena prefers red. That bottle there is the one she brought—it’s Agiorgitiko, a popular red in Greece.
There’s also a bottle of Moscato chilling in the wine fridge for Jade if you wouldn’t mind grabbing it. ”
“Ah, Jade’s here? I haven’t seen her yet. She’s so lovely.”
My brow furrows in confusion. “You haven’t seen her yet? She got here before you did. Hmm. I’ll have to see if Brooks can find her.”
“No need. I’ll go look for her while I grab the bottle of Moscato,” Dawson offers, and I’m thankful for the excuse to cut our conversation short. Tonight is definitely not the night to dive deep into the complexities of our sibling issues.
“I was happy to hear your team made it past the first round of playoffs. That’s a first in franchise history for the Rays, right?” my mother questions once Dawson heads back upstairs.
My mood sours a bit further, thinking of how our season came to a close. Sure, I should be happy that we managed to turn the team of degenerates into a playoff contender, but I’m still pissed we lost in the second round of playoffs.
Who knows, next season could be my last, and I would do just about anything to be there when Brooks wins his first World Series.
To be on the field with him as confetti rains down all around us.
I’m going to do everything in my power to help our teammates make the most of our offseason so we can come back stronger than ever next season.
A warm hand envelopes mine, and I look over to find Brooks already smiling at me. My chest warms as my pulse steadies.
No matter if it’s something small like being reminded of our losing season, or something as monumental as being outed in front of the world, he is my steadying force—my calm in the storm.
“We’re proud of how this season ended up, considering the rough start. I’m looking forward to next season; but I won’t lie—my main focus is soaking up as much time getting to know your son in the offseason,” Brooks tells my mom.
My mom stares back at him with heart eyes, and for the first time I get a taste of what others possibly see when I look at him, too.
He has her wrapped around his finger, and he knows it.
Cocky little shit.
But I’ll take it. The fact that my parents have welcomed him with open arms and embraced my relationship with a man is something I’m feeling incredibly grateful for this Thanksgiving.
“Alright, I think it’s time to eat,” Brooks announces to everyone.
After we’ve all taken our seats, passed around food, and filled our plates, the room fills with conversation.
Brooks places his hand over mine and squeezes it, causing my lips to pull into a soft smile. His eyes lift to his little sister sitting across from him, currently eating the potatoes off her plate like there’s no tomorrow.
“Jesus, Jade. Could you have some manners and slow the hell down? You’re eating like a baby elephant.”
I cover my hand to smother a laugh as Jade smiles with her cheeks puffed out full of food. After a couple chews, she swallows before sassily replying to her brother. “I can’t help but devour this delicious meal you’ve prepared for us, big bro.” She winks, and Brooks is anything but amused.
“I agree with pequena guerra. This meal is amazing,” Mateo adds, shoveling turkey into his mouth.
“What did you just call my sister?” Brooks asks, his voice tight with tension.
“Little War. You know, like a little you.” Mateo beams with a cunning smirk.
“Nicknames already, huh?” Dawson mutters behind his wine glass.
My eyes don’t know who to look at. Brooks looks like he wants to bite off Mat’s head. Jade is eating every item off her plate without a care in the world, and Dawson is saying weird shit and giving side glances toward Jade.
Luckily our parents are all in their own deep conversations, ignoring the strange energy hovering over this end of the table.
Dawson chimes in again, turning to Mateo. “I’m surprised you’re still hungry right now. I figured you’d be full from all that dessert you snuck earlier.”
Mateo sputters out the wine he just took a swig of.
Dawson shrugs, the gesture innocent enough, but I know better. He’s up to no good.
“Dawson,” I warn. “Enou—”
“Or maybe it wasn’t the two of you I saw sneaking dessert upstairs earlier,” he cuts me off, casually cutting into his turkey.
Jade’s face heats at the same time as Mateo fists his hands on the table.
What. The. Fuck.
Brooks draws his brows together. “Nah. I just set the pies out. They were untouched, so I’m sure you’ve got it all wrong.”
“Hmm,” Dawson hums. “Maybe.”
“You are wrong,” Jade sneers, narrowing her gaze on my brother.
“Yeah, papi. Get your eyes checked,” Mateo tacks on, pinning Dawson with a glare.
“I’ll do that. Oh, before I forget. How’d those hot yoga sessions turn out for you, Costa?”
Mateo eyes him warily, unsure of my brother’s motive. I’m feeling the same way, to be honest. Dawson feels like a loose cannon today. Mateo then puts on a performative smile.
“They are good. Pequena guerra is an amazing teacher,” he says, casually throwing his arm over her shoulder. “I have one session left.”
“Oh, yeah? I bet things are really heating up between the two of you.” Dawson waggles his eyebrows before taking a languid sip of wine.
“Don’t. You. Dare,” Brooks grumbles. But I fear the warning Brooks shoots Mateo’s way is too little too late. “Take your arm off my baby sister, you dick.”
Eyeing my brother, he looks as if he’s about to add fuel to the dumpster fire that’s currently happening in front of me. So much for a peaceful first Thanksgiving together.
I turn to face Dawson. “You’re done, Daws,” I tell him through gritted teeth, but it appears I’m too late by the looks of anger radiating off Brooks in waves.
Oh, fuck. Here we go.
Brooks looks as if he’s about to launch himself across the table and wring Mateo’s neck. Jade’s eyes widen, flicking back and forth between the three men.
Dawson smirks, looking too smug for his own good before taking a bite of turkey. His mouth turns down slightly as he chews. “Turkey’s a bit dry, War. Maybe next year.”