Oh shit.
Turkey, Samuels, John’s family… they were all here at John’s house to celebrate a late Thanksgiving, and Wyatt had just crashed it.
Mortified, he stiffened and tried not to show his panic.
“Ouch,” the woman said, snatching the scepter out of her daughter's hand. “I’m Justine, John’s sister. And this is my daughter, Olivia.”
Wyatt politely held out his hand, and Justine shook it.
She opened the door wide and ushered him inside.
He fought down his nerves, knowing it was too late to retreat now as they walked through John’s house. He was unable to stop his thoughts from returning to the last time he was here, of feeling John’s slumbering body pressed against his, showering together, playing house, making love. It had been so easy to fantasize about what it would be like to be here all the time. To not just be John’s guest, but his partner… his person…his.
Emotions tightened in his stomach like a fist, and he noticed the kitchen island and dining table covered with bowls, plates, and food.
“We got lucky with the weather,” Justine commented. “Well, my dad did. Insisted on grilling the turkey this year. We’re all outside on the patio.”
Slipping his fingers through his hair and pushing it out of his face, he stepped out onto the sunny backyard patio.
It was gorgeously designed, with plenty of space for a party. There was a paved walkway with concrete around the house and two fire pits, lit and radiating plenty of heat. Beautifully colored potted plants were covered for the season, and he knew this place would look spectacular in the spring. He noted the four planter boxes alongside the fence line and the jacuzzi.
John’s home represented him. Clean, well-maintained, orderly, and…
Lonely.
Wyatt had noticed it the first time he was here. All this space, all these rooms, and no one waiting for him when he came home after a long shift. The thought stayed with him. Yet seeing John’s family, laughing and gathered in his home, seemed to breathe life into it.
And apparently into John, too, who was standing by the grill wearing a plastic yellow tiara and a scepter of his own, shoved in his back pocket as he held a baby in his arms. He was cooing lovingly down to the bundle of blankets in his arms as curious, tiny hands reached for his beard, digging into it the way Wyatt loved to do. He couldn’t help but feel the tug of a smile on the corner of his lips, getting to witness John so relaxedwith his family.
An older man, whom Wyatt assumed was John’s dad, kept lifting the grill lid to check on the turkey.
He was momentarily transfixed by the easy, natural smile on John’s face.
Wyatt’s heart thudded. He loved his smile.
He lovedhim.
Fuck. Knock it off.
He sucked in another breath and felt the snap of something on his butt. Glancing down, he saw Olivia with her golden plastic scepter once more. “This way, knight.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle, wondering how she had gotten the weapon back already from her mom.
“She’s got a thing for smacking people's butts with that, so watch out,” Samuels’s drawling voice said, and Wyatt glanced up to the older man.
He was dressed in casual dark jeans, a navy-blue undershirt, and a gray plaid long-sleeved flannel shirt over it. Even though he was younger than John by a couple of years, his gray was richer through his brown, slightly curly hair. He was a very handsome man in his own right, but he never paid much attention to it because another ED doctor had Wyatt’s full attention.
He saw the heavy bags under Samuels's eyes, and his usual easy smile seemed a little more strained. “I think it’s how she keeps her subjects in line,” Samuels said, taking a sip from his glass of wine and eyeing him frankly. “Good to see you, man. How’s the arm?”
“Good.”
He nodded and glanced toward John, who hadn’t noticed him yet. “John invited me over cause all my family’s back in New York. Didn’t want me celebrating Thanksgiving alone. Oh, and I also sorta blackmailed him into it.”
Wyatt saw the twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he winked and turned back to the firepit he had been sitting at with another man, who yanked the scepter out of Olive’s hand, chastising her. That must be her dad, Wyatt amused.
“Johnny!” Justine said, walking down the few steps and toward her brother. “You got another guest.”
John, still cradling the baby, turned, and his smiling face fell slightly in surprise at the sight of Wyatt. He felt a flush beginto creep up his cheeks.
