It takes me a few more seconds to pull myself together before my body and mind catch up. “That was incredible, Firecracker.” He certainly lives up to the nickname in all areas of life. “Be right back.” I manage to peel myself off the bed and get to the bathroom to clean up. Once I deal with the condom, I get a damp washcloth to bring back for Frank.
He’s practically asleep when I return, curled up into a tight ball in the middle of the bed. “You okay?” I ask, cautiously using the cloth to clean the lube and cum from his skin. He might be comfortable now, but in a few hours, all of that is going to itch like crazy.
“So good,” he mumbles. That’s the best I’m going toget out of him tonight. I toss the towel toward the clothes hamper and crawl in next to him. Even though he’s curled up, he somehow manages to take up both sides of the bed. I push him over a little bit to give myself space. He grumbles, then flips over and suctions himself to me. Guess he’s a snuggler.
“Can I sleep here?” His voice is barely above a whisper. It nearly breaks me that he even has to ask. Unless he demanded to go, there’s no way I’m letting him out of my sight tonight.
“Where else would you sleep?” I hit the switch to turn off the lamp, leaving the room encased in darkness.
“The guest room.” I can hear his signature sarcasm in his answer. I wrap my arms around him and pull him as close as possible.
“No more guest room for you. You’re going to stay right here.”
Chapter Seventeen
FRANK
I can’t putit off any longer. I did everything short of faking smallpox to get out of this family dinner, but my mom kept insisting.
It’s not like I haven’t seen them recently. Thanksgiving was only two weeks ago. That’s nothing. Especially knowing Christmas is right around the corner. But my mom gets what she wants. Always.
So it’s Friday night, and instead of being on a date with Matthias, I’m in the kitchen with my parents and Ethan.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Ethan. I know it’s a long drive,” my mom says, placing her hand on his shoulder as she walks around to take her place at our small kitchen table.
“It’s no problem.” Really, it isn’t. They act like a ninety-minute drive is some great feat. “I wouldn’t miss this.” I stop myself before I laugh. Seriously? Part of the issue in putting this together is that Ethan didn’t want to give up his Friday bro night. The first fifteen times that were thrown outfor this were nights I have class. It took a lot of whining on my part to get them to do this on a weekend instead. This close to finals, I can’t afford to miss a minute of lecture.
“Well, we’re happy you could make it. How’s Criselle?”
“She’s great. Probably happy to have me out of the house for the night.” For once, I agree with him. I spent much of our childhood looking forward to the days he was out of the house for extended periods of time.
“Give her our best.” My mom grabs the pan from the table and scoops a big helping of her famous casserole onto his plate.
“Of course.”
The table is silent while everyone loads up their food. Except me. I have my own plate, made separately because the casserole is full of things I can’t eat. I have some strange deconstructed version, pulled from the pan a little too early before all those ingredients are added. It looks… sad.
It’s edible, though, so I busy myself eating to tune out the conversation.
“Frank, how’s work?” I practically freeze at the question.
“Uh, it’s pretty good. We’re most of the way through our current backyard job.” It’s a bittersweet position. I’ll miss being so close to Matthias’s house every day. Even though he’s not there, I can feel his presence. A part of me worries about what will happen to us when we switch to a new location at the beginning of January. I’ll miss out on my morning coffee, my secret lunch, and my water bottle. Hopefully, that’s all that will change. The two of us are finding our rhythm; I don’t want anything to interfere with that.
“Will there be another job after that? It’s winter. There can’t be that much landscaping to do.” I can sense a trap in my father’s question, but I can’t quitefigure out what it is.
“We’ll be remodeling a couple of rooms in a house.” After two years, they should know the range of jobs that we do. We’re not close, but it’s not like I haven’t mentioned them several times. Given how cold the winter is turning out to be this year, I’ll be thankful to work inside every day for a few months.
“Oh, I’m sure that’ll be nice.” The way my father says nice sends a chill up my spine.
“I like getting to work on different projects. It keeps things interesting, and I learn new skills.” The new skills have started to slow down now that I have more experience. There’s always something I haven’t done before or a new technique, though.
“Wouldn’t you like to put some of those skills to work at something else? Like in an office?” My mom is gentle with her words, but I’m suddenly sensing this is a setup.
“I’m happy working for Sam.” It’s the truth. I might not want to do it forever, but I’m satisfied for now.
“We know that he’s been good to you, but I think it’s time for you to move on. Put yourself in a position to advance. You can’t work construction for the rest of your life.” I ignore the comment, biting my tongue until I hear where this is going. “Your brother’s offered to find you an entry-level position in his company.”
“His company?” I ask. It’s not like he owns the fucking place. He works there, but I’m not sure he has that much pull.
