“Jacks—”
“If by some miracle, you get outed through no fault of yours or mine, I’ll marry you and sign foster papers with you.”
As I go by the counter, I set my coffee cup down and offer my arms. “Come here.” I can feel the tension in his body as he leans against me. “I promise. I’ll propose better in the off-season. Take you on a trip to the Bahamas or something.”
He shifts in my arms, pulling away as he reaches for the slider, and says, “I’m going to talk to Jared. You’ve got calls to make.”
My blasted phone rings as if on cue, and Jacks smiles at me. “Never any rest for the wicked.”
He’s out the door. I watch a second as Jared throws a nice, tight spiral to Jacks. There might be hope for the kid. My phone is still ringing. Auntie Beulah. Perfect. Just the woman I was gonna call.
“Hi, Auntie.”
“Hey, baby-child, callin’ ta see when yur happy ass be flyin’ out?”
“Yeah, about that…there’s been a change of plans. How you feel about coming out here and staying with us?”
Auntie’s squeal is deafening. I cross to a small alcove desk where Jacks has his laptop.
* * * *
Ten minutes later, I’m still on the computer when Jacks comes in, and my auntie’s on speakerphone.
“Hey, are you going to be the type of dad who’s always working?” Jacks leans over my shoulder to look at the laptop. “What’re you doing?”
My auntie’s disembodied voice comes through loud and clear. “Dad? Oooh, you gonna be a daddy?”
“We’re trying to foster a child, Auntie. Remember, he’s the reason you have to come out here.”
“I thought ya said ya had ta be married?”
“Not going to happen,” says Jacks. “Not until Irus is out of the closet.”
“Well, tha’s a stupid reason ta wait, honey-child.”
Frustrated, I shove the laptop away and groan. “I can’t find anything, Auntie. Everything’s all booked up.”
Jacks reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He tosses a business card on the table, along with one of his credit cards. “Get them a private charter plane. Tell this guy it’s for Jackson McCoy.” He points to the name scribbled on the back of the card. “He’ll help you out.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“It’s the holidays. We’ll spend too much, eat too much, and go back to training too soon. Who cares? Let’s have some fun. Get your family out here for Thanksgiving.”
I’m stunned. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say. “I love you.”
Jacks leans down and kisses me. “Yeah, I know. Now hurry up, and get out here to play ball.”
Auntie pops off all excited. “Oh, baby-child, ya better go ’n’ keep this one. How many times ya get a good man throwin’ hisself at ya, child? Ya not all that great ta be lookin’ at, either. Too skinny. Not enough meat on yur bones!”
“I like her,” Jacks whispers in my ear.
Oh, Lord, if he only knew.
He’ll find out about my auntie soon enough.
* * * *
Jacks is stretched out next to me in bed. I’ve been watching him sleep for an hour. I can’t help myself. Gently, I tangle my fingers through his hair. He shifts a little but doesn’t wake. Strange how quickly I’ve fallen in love. Never thought anyone but Kane would make me feel this way. I’d give Jacks the world if I could. Sort of hurts that he doesn’t want to marry me. The mixed signals are killing me too. One minute he loves me and nothing can stop us. The next he’s terrified I’m gonna be outed and my career done.
My phone goes off just as I run my finger along Jacks’s lower lip. He stirs. Mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over. He pulls the blankets off me, and I sit up on the edge of the bed. Damn, the floor’s cold. I recognize the ringtone for Rough Trade. It makes me hesitate, but something tells me I should pick up.
“Yeah,” I whisper as I make my way downstairs so I don’t wake Jacks.
“Beaumont, I was afraid you weren’t going to answer.” His voice sounds smug and slithery. What the hell could he want? I paid him right out of my life weeks ago.
“What do you want?”
“Money.”
“I don’t owe you anything. You have two seconds to tell me what this is about, or I’m disconnecting.”
My phone pings. I open up a text message. In it is a photo of Jacks with me wrapped around him—spooning him… In my bed? “What the fuck? How’d you get this?”
“Shouldn’t leave your keys in the door.”
Shit. I knew it. Took the keys to the bedroom my ass! “I’m not paying you any money. Go away.”
“I’ll sell it to the tabloids.”
Through no fault of your own. Jacks’s voice is in my head. I look upstairs. There’s no sign of movement. What I’m thinking feels dirty-handed, but I don’t care. I’ve nothing to hide. I’m not ashamed of Jacks, of our relationship, and I believe we should be out. We should be proud.
Rough Trade could be bluffing. He’s never said anything before, and he could’ve outed me a long time ago. If it isn’t a bluff, I’ll be outed and Jacks won’t have any reason to say no to my marriage proposal.
“Do what you feel you have to do, Twinkie.”
“Jesus, do you even know my name?”
“Never needed to, boy.”
“Your funeral.”
The phone disconnects. There’s a swirling feeling in my gut. Did I do the right thing? Will Jacks see it as noble or underhanded? Jacks is such a good guy. I worry about him. I shake off the icky feeling. Sure, it’s not the best way to come out. I’d rather do it my way, but Jacks has me by the balls.
Part of me hopes Rough Trade is bluffing. A larger part of me really hopes he isn’t. Jacks shouldn’t have to be the only player out in the open. I try to imagine what it would be like holding hands in public. We could meander through Pioneer Square with my arm thrown over Jacks’s shoulder. Go to Pike Place Market so Jared can have fun throwing fish. Seems like a world away. A damn fine fantasy. Could it be that easy?
Chapter Eighteen
Four Days Later
Thun Field (A Small County Airstrip), Puyallup, WA
Jackson McCoy
Oh, this is a fresh hell. What have I got myself into now? Is this going to be me meeting the in-laws? Fuck me running. Thanksgiving with Irus’s auntie, ex-boyfriend, and the ex’s husband. Sure, nothing fucked-up about this holiday. This just isn’t in my wheelhouse. Holidays are spent alone on my mountain.
Not this year, I guess.
Jared stands next to me, practically the same height but still such a kid. The punk slouches, so I poke him in the ribs.
“Hey,” he hollers.
“Stand straight.”
The kid shifts his posture. We’re at the chain-link fence by the restaurant, waiting for the private jet to land. The airfield is spread out in front of us. The excitement is too much for Irus. The man grabs me, laying a deep, mind-sucking kiss on me, and faintly I hear Jared’s voice: “Ew, gross.” I don’t know where my brain has leaked to, but I recover enough to push Irus away.
“Not in public,” I whisper.
“What’re you worried ’bout? You’re out of the closet.”
“You’re not. So let’s attempt to keep a lid on this shit.”
Irus’s excitement withers some, but he forces a grin. “Let’s go inside. Get some breakfast.”
I’m too nervous to eat, but it’s cold, so we go inside to have some coffee. As we wait to be seated, I can’t help but watch Irus gazing out the window. The man is so different from anyone I’ve ever known. Sure, he’s brash, but he’s loving. Pure and simple innocence saturates this guy’s soul. A man I’m so not worthy of loving. The thought of risking Irus for some fleeting pleasure has been on my mind. Relationships aren’t my gig.
When I get scared and run, Irus will wind up hurt. The idea of Irus slogging through my muddy past with me, putting him through th
at kind of torture, makes me hate myself even more. This just isn’t fair to the man. Irus is endangering his career to be with me. Soon, he’ll realize I’m not worth the trouble. I’m greedy if I keep this thing up with him. The circling thoughts kept me up last night and again pestered me this morning. My mind refuses to rest. If I can’t love him, I should be fair and let him go.
The fact is, I enjoy his kisses. The taste of Irus in my mouth, minty and musky at the same time, leaves me wanting more. I’m selfish and afraid. Poor Irus. Bastard just doesn’t know what he’s getting into with me. Branson never said he loved me. I liked it that way, but always felt empty when he left. Hell, sometimes during sex too.
What the fuck is Irus thinking? Men don’t love guys like me. They love the cute little twinks who have sweet faces and fashion sense. Like Irus’s ex. The dancer. My hands are rough with broken fingers and scars. My knuckles are as gnarled as my grandfather’s were at sixty-six. Mine are from years of catching bullet passes for a living.
Still, Irus said he loved me, and all I could do was ignore him. Pretend he didn’t confess anything. Sure, I think we said the love thing during sex, but that’s just passion. Now I’m meeting his family. What the fuck? I’m stuck in some sort of alternate dimension, and I don’t like it one bit. A few months ago, Irus hated me, and I enjoyed flirting with him, fucking with his world. Today, he’s fucking with my world.
Turnabout isn’t fair play.
“What’s up?” Irus asks. “You have your ‘I’m gonna puke’ face on.”
“That you remember what I look like when I vomit pisses me off.”
“We’ve all tossed our cookies on the field…just you more than me,” he says, grinning like a happy idiot.
Our waiter guides us to our table, sliding three menus across the smooth veneer. I slip into the booth. Irus sits next to me, and Jared takes up the other side, slumping into his seat. I give Irus a scathing look. At least I hope it’s scathing. Feels more like a lie. “I’m not going to throw up.”
“You’ve hurled on me before, boy.”
“Keep it up, and I’ll do it for spite.”
The waiter brings us three waters. I flip over my mug, letting him know I want coffee. “I’ll take a shot of Irish crème too.”
“Sure thing,” he says, looking at the others.
“I’ll have coffee. No Irish crème,” Irus says.
Jared pipes up. “I’ll have just the Irish crème.”
“Give him a hot cocoa,” I tell the waiter.
“I’m not a child.”
“You’re not a man,” Irus says.
“Can I have a soda instead?”
I nod when the waiter looks at me, as if I’m the kid’s father or something, and for some ungodly reason, I take to the role without any thought. Must be fucking crazy. I’m a single guy. A pro football player. Wait. A single, gay pro football player in the middle of an embattled season and a career in turmoil. What the fuck am I doing playing dad to a kid with as many problems as I have?
Irus wants to help. The man tries to make us a family. Damn foolish. His career is just taking off. He’s tied for the league record so far for interceptions. Now we’re on the same team, he gets more interceptions. Never got one on me, no sir.
A small Cessna lands and rolls to stop. The pilot climbs from the craft. I watch as he goes through the motions of checking his vehicle and blocking the wheels. Mom used to bring me to this county airfield as a kid to watch all the small planes take off and land. This restaurant has always been a favorite stop of mine on the way home from practice. Now Irus enjoys it as much as I do. The first time I brought Irus here, it had been a clear day with a marvelous view of Mt. Rainier. I love my home.
The waiter leaves with a smirk on his face. He’s been our server a number of times. Of course, now we’ve added Jared to the mix, which changes the dynamic somewhat. We’re getting a few stares here and there from folks. The assumption we are an interracial family or a gay couple is hinted at in their whispers. Irus is ignoring them, thankfully.
Wish I could. The thought scares me. The realization that we’re becoming a family, or the possibility of meaning something to each other, is coming too fast. I’m not ready to care about losing someone. When did this happen? How did it go from two guys banging to a guy who wants to marry me and a kid who wants me to be his dad?
Irus looks out the window and points. “There they are,” he says, excitement in his voice.
The private jet comes in for her landing, gleaming through the mists, and even to me, it’s a beautiful sight. Irus is about dancing in the booth next to me, full of jumbled energy, anxious to see his family. When the plane taxis in, Irus is out the door. Our server brings the coffee and my shot. I down the Irish crème quickly and ask for the check.
“Jared, go help them with their luggage. I’ll take care of the bill.”
Jared shuffles out the door, heading to the jet now coming to a stop. Irus crosses the field with Jared running after him.
“Here you go. Thanks for coming in today.”
My server leaves the bill on the table. Not sure why I’m stalling, but instead of getting up to pay, I watch the people file out of the plane. Christ. I’ve heard of doppelgängers, but the guy hugging Irus looks a lot like me from a distance. His blond hair is longer, height not quite the same, and he seems more graceful. Kane. The dancer. The ex-lover. Yeah, this is going to be fun. My sarcasm must be a defense mechanism. I’m usually not this negative, but this will be the first Thanksgiving I’ve not spent alone.
The woman hugging Irus catches my eye simply because of her size. Damn. His auntie is a large woman. As tall as Irus and built like a defensive lineman, the woman manhandles Irus like he’s a little kid. I’m assuming the man with his arms around Kane is Garrett, Kane’s husband. The paramedic… The ex-firefighter.
“You going to meet them?”
The server smiles at me. He’s a gentle guy with soft blue eyes. My hesitation seems to amuse him. “The in-laws?”
“Sort of,” I say.
“Need a shot of something stronger?”
“No. Thanks anyway.” Time to get my ass up and pay the bill. After our waiter walks away, I push from the booth. At the counter, I leave him a nice tip and sign my credit card slip. Irus is at his car already. I go to mine, opening the back as I call out to Jared. “Hey, kid, you ride with me. Bring some of those bags over here.”
With the backseat of the Jeep free of passengers, Jared’s able to stow the bags. I go to help him when it looks like not everything will fit.
“Put some of it in back,” I say.
“She’s a big woman,” Jared whispers to me. “She hugged me, and I thought I was going to snap in half. I heard popping noises. Felt like a train just ran down my spine.”
“Be nice.”
Irus’s laugh catches my attention. Such an appealing sound. His laugh always does something to me. Strange feelings wriggle in my gut.
“I am being nice. She’s really funny. I like her. Kane, though.” He lowers his voice and glances over my shoulder. “He’s got scars.”
“Scars?”
“Across his cheeks, over his nose, and he has one here.” Jared points to his throat. “Like they had to put a hole in his throat. You know, like to breathe? Did he get in an accident or something?”
“I don’t know. Don’t stare.”
“I’m not staring.”
“You are. Now knock it off. Finish loading their bags.”
“What do I look like, a bellhop?”
“I’ll get you the little hat, if I don’t beat you first. You wanna give me fifty right here in the parking lot?”
“Pushups? It’s raining!”
“It’s a sprinkle. ‘Sides, does it look like I care?”
“No.” He picks up another bag. “God, they got a lot of shit.”
“Watch your mouth. You know Irus doesn’t like to hear you swear.”
“He swears like a fucking sailor. So do you.”<
br />
“Yeah, well, I’m a man. I can do whatever I want. You’ve got a long way to go before proving yourself, kid.”
“Yeah, like surviving you two. Why’re you stalling? You better get over there, Jacks. Don’t want them thinking you don’t like them already.”
“I never said—”
“It’s the ex. Of course you hate him.”
Jared hollers when I smack the back of his head. “No one likes a smart-assed kid. Get in the Jeep.”
He rubs his head. “Man, to think I chose you to be my foster father. What the fuck was I thinking?”
“Watch your mouth, boy.” Irus comes up behind Jared, giving him a mock shove, but laughs.
He’s happy, and it spreads like a contagion. Doesn’t quite wash away all my nerves, but when Irus grabs me, yanking me close to his side, I smile. With so much on my mind—my worry over Jared being taken away, only getting the holiday with the kid, and my deposition coming up—I’m sick to my stomach. I put on a nice front, though, for both Irus’s and Jared’s sakes.
“Auntie Beulah, meet Jackson McCoy, my fiancé.”
“Fiancé? Child, ya din’t say nuthin to Auntie about actually gettin’ hitched! Thought yur boy said no?”
“Just takes some time, Auntie.”
In an odd moment, my world swirls around me, and I realize Irus’s auntie has swept me off my feet into a bone-crushing hug. Off my feet! Good God. Jared’s right. The woman’s a beast. She allows me to slide back to my feet. Double Ds smother my face, depriving me of air. I smack her on the back, hoping she takes it as a hug but also trying to dislodge myself from her grasp. I’m ready to do a swim move on her to break her hold, but she drops me back into the world, holding me at arm’s length.
“Child, ya jus’ a hansome thang. Irus got hisself a type, don’t he?” She glances to Garrett for confirmation. The whole exchange sounds like a long-running joke.
She yanks me back into a hug. Irus laughs somewhere in the distance. There’s just enough time to suck in a breath before I’m forced back into her breasts. At least she smells nice.
“Come on, Auntie. Let him up for air. I can’t marry him if he’s dead. You’re mashing him. He’s not used to Miss Beulah love.”
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