Authors: Samantha Wayland
“Okay,” he said, his voice embarrassingly hoarse.
Anna nodded once, then asked Michaela about the gala the previous month. Callum sat and listened, well aware they were giving him a moment to collect himself before they got down to the real business he and Anna had come to discuss.
He slipped his phone from his pocket and smiled down at the good morning text still waiting for him. He thought he should send back a greeting. Ask after Oliver. Tell Rupert what he’d just done. Instead, he unlocked his phone and typed in what he really wanted to say.
I miss you.
Rupert stared at his phone. Every time he deluded himself into believing he’d got the hang of this thing with Callum, Callum went and yanked the rug right out from under him.
“Rupert!”
“Reese!” cried Oliver, pulling on Rupert’s hand. Rupert held firm, but grinned at the happy and increasingly vocal little boy.
Reese climbed from the back of his car in front of the hotel as if it were an everyday thing, no hint of anxiety in his expression or body language. It seemed there were several people in Rupert’s life who were determined to surprise him these days.
Reese smiled as he let someone pass him on the sidewalk before he jogged over to them. Two months ago, this man could barely leave his estate. Rupert hugged him the minute he was close enough.
Reese hesitated, then hugged Rupert back. “So, this is a thing we do now?”
“Yes,” Rupert said, giving one more squeeze before letting go.
Reese studied him. “Does your face hurt?”
“No,” Rupert lied.
“Really? Because it’s killing me,” Reese said jokingly.
Rupert rolled his admittedly very black eyes. He’d trained himself in the last twenty-four hours not to scrunch up his nose, because even though it wasn’t broken, it still hurt like a son of a bitch.
Reese turned to Oliver. “Hello, young man,” he said very formally. “How are you this evening?”
Oliver giggled. “You sound like Rupert when he’s cross.”
This, of course, set Reese off cackling.
“Come on, you two, we have a lot to get done tonight.”
Rupert led the way into the hotel, curious when Oliver pulled his hand free. He immediately reached for Reese, who took it without hesitation. Something painful and sweet twisted in Rupert’s chest. He even understood what it was, now.
Family. It was new and fragile, and Rupert cherished it.
“So, what’s the plan?” Reese asked.
“Pizza!” bellowed Oliver. Alexei’s influence was becoming clearer every day.
“Yes, pizza,” Rupert promised at a more reasonable volume. “It should be here later.”
“And now,” Oliver said in an excited, high voice, “we can pack up. First our room. Then Callum’s.”
“Oh really?” Reese asked, missing innocent by a mile. “Callum is moving, too?”
“Yes!” Oliver continued. “His room will be easy, since he never sleeps there.”
Rupert could not get them into the elevator fast enough, hitting the door close button repeatedly.
“Is that so?” Reese drawled.
Oliver turned serious. “Yes. I was very afraid when Rupert first found me. Callum and Rupert wouldn’t let me sleep alone.”
Reese’s humor faded. “Of course not.”
“I used to sleep in the middle,” Oliver continued blithely, “but now Rupert uses Callum as his pillow, and I get the other half of the bed.”
It was remarkable, really, how Rupert had gone from rejoicing at every word Oliver spoke to longing for his silence again.
“Well, that’s fascinating, Oliver,” Reese said, a gleam of unholy glee in his eyes. “I’d think Callum was too big to be a pillow.”
“Oh no,” Oliver replied. “Callum is very strong. He gives the best hugs. And his pajamas are really soft. Sometimes I fall asleep on top of him when he puts me to bed. Like a really big pillow.”
“I see,” Reese said with a sage nod. “That does sound nice. Perhaps I will ask if Callum will be
my
pillow some night.”
Oliver giggled.
Rupert cast Reese a dark look. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Would I not?” Reese murmured as he brushed past Rupert and into the hallway. “Come, Oliver! Show me the way to Callum’s room. Do you have a key?”
“We keep it on the counter in our room. Come on, I’ll show you!”
Rupert followed them as Oliver bounded to their door. It would be a long evening if Reese was going to harass him about his relationship with Callum. Rupert wasn’t even certain there
was
a relationship, so how was he supposed to answer questions about it?
He pulled his phone from his pocket and flicked his thumb to see the text message still up on his screen. He smiled and enjoyed the swoop of his stomach in anticipation of Callum’s return.
If Rupert had his way, tomorrow they would begin the process of moving Oliver into his own room. Rupert was very much looking forward to having a bed to himself.
Well, not
all
to himself, of course.
“How’d it go with ordering new furniture for Oliver?” Reese asked, as if reading Rupert’s mind.
Oliver beamed and wriggled with excitement. Reese looked at him expectantly, but when Oliver remained silent, he glanced at Rupert. Apparently, Oliver was done speaking.
“Oliver picked out some very nice things,” Rupert supplied. “The salesman was very helpful, but I think that was a function of his desire to get me out of the store before I frightened more customers away.”
“I can’t blame him. You are a fright to see.”
“Thank you,” Rupert said dryly.
They set to packing up Oliver’s belongings first, which took little time even with all the stuff he’d accumulated since London. Rupert worried his brother thought almost daily shopping sprees were the norm.
Rupert’s packing was not quite as quick, but that was mostly due to all the shit Reese gave him about his six suitcases, three garment bags, and the box of what Reese insisted on referring to as “beauty supplies.” At least Reese’s antics distracted him enough that Rupert could tuck his and Callum’s clothes for tomorrow aside without an audience. Reese would have a field day over Rupert poking through Callum’s underwear drawer, which Rupert absolutely didn’t linger over, even if there
were
some interesting options.
They took a break for Oliver’s coveted pizza, the grown-ups enjoying a beer and a few minutes to put their feet up.
“What’s next?” Reese asked once they’d finished.
“We go get the rest of Callum’s belongings,” Rupert said, leading the way down the hall. Once inside, he hauled out Callum’s empty suitcases and packed away the token amount of clothing he found in one drawer. It didn’t fill a tenth of the bag.
Reese lifted his eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Rupert handed him Callum’s enormous, and rather pungent, hockey duffle, and led the way back to their real hotel room. Reese stood watch, pulling a terribly amused face, while Rupert drew open the drawers of the second dresser in his bedroom and carefully packed the rest of Callum’s clothes.
“You know, they say if you do it too much, your face will get stuck like that,” Rupert said.
Reese snorted, glancing to confirm Oliver was still in front of the TV before saying, “You know, for a man who doesn’t have a thing with Callum, you two seem pretty cozy.”
Rupert sighed and sat back on his heels, careful not to put too much weight on his bad knee. It wasn’t Rupert’s place to out Callum to anyone, even Reese, who had a better view of things than he probably should. Rupert had considered asking Callum if he could be honest with Reese, but it raised the twin issues of Callum’s likely panic at the very idea, and Rupert more or less acknowledging that there was something between them to talk about.
“I can’t talk…can you give me some time?” Rupert asked, looking over his shoulder at Reese.
Reese nodded. “I didn’t intend to pry into—”
“No, it’s not that,” Rupert said. “You can ask me anything. You’re the only family—well,
adult
family—I have. Of course you can ask.”
“Oh,” Reese said, apparently nonplussed. “I—ah, thank you.”
It wasn’t something they’d ever talked about, but today it felt like it had needed to be said. It deserved to be acknowledged.
Rupert went back to packing. “Thank
you
.”
Reese left it at that, for which Rupert was grateful. Honestly, between the hugging and the talking about their emotions, he was operating so far outside his comfort zone it was now in another province.
Soon it was time for Oliver’s bedtime routine, which Rupert had learned was not to be trifled with. Ever. Reese called Hodges to come pick him up, and promised he’d be there in the morning to help load up for the drive over to the warehouse.
Callum was due back the following evening, and by then Rupert hoped to have at least what was coming from the hotel settled into their new space, and the bedrooms ready for occupancy. It would take a while to get everything from Rupert’s old apartment unpacked, and even then he would guess the new apartment would look empty. It was a truly enormous space, and at a price so low, Rupert had actually argued with Alexei to charge him more.
By the time Oliver was ready for bed, Rupert wasn’t far behind. He lay dozing beneath his brother, thinking vaguely about getting up and getting some work done, but just couldn’t be fussed.
He was deeply asleep, in the dead middle of the night, when something tugged him back to consciousness. He tried to sit up, but realized Oliver was still on top of him. He slid the boy to one side of the bed as Callum came through the door, already stripping off his shirt.
He’d come home early.
Rupert closed his eyes and smiled. Callum slipped into the bed, his arms curling around Rupert’s shoulders and waist, pulling him closer, until they were pressed together from chest to toes. Rupert tucked his head under Callum’s chin, his face to Callum’s throat, and sucked in a deep breath, letting it out with a contented sigh as their legs tangled together and they settled into the bed.
Callum’s big hand spread across his back, and Rupert dropped off into sleep, still smiling.
Callum stood in the middle of Rupert’s massive new living room and looked around in wonder. The twenty-foot ceilings soared above them, dwarfing the chocolate leather couches and mahogany dining room set the movers had placed on the dark wood floors. The public rooms were all open to one another, separated by the suggestion of breaks in the space, changes in lighting, and now Rupert’s colorful rugs.
The windows reminded Callum of his apartment in Denver, each pane easily ten feet high and six feet wide. The view of the river and the New Brunswick countryside beyond was as breathtaking as his view of the Rockies, maybe better.
Shaking that off, he turned his attention back to the massive wall of floor-to-ceiling bookcases and the pyramid of boxes beneath. He knew Rupert would end up rearranging it all to whatever exacting system he desired, but for now, the goal was to get as many empty boxes back out the door as possible.
Mike and Alexei were in the kitchen, feeding Oliver his snack while Alexei put away various kitchen supplies. The copper pots hanging above the island gleamed in the bright lights. They’d all made good progress when a howl of frustration came from Oliver’s bedroom.
“
Callum
!”
“What’s wrong?” Callum shouted.
“I can’t put this bloody bed together. I hate this fu…fadoodling thing!”
Snorts of laughter issued from the kitchen, as well as the office, where Reese was supposed to be hard at work. Callum tried really hard to wipe his grin off his face as he walked down the hallway and entered Oliver’s new room.
The dresser, desk, and bookcases were already in place. All that remained was the bed. The mattress and footboard leaned against one wall, the headboard was against another, and the frame teetered haphazardly between. Rupert stood to one side with his hands planted on his hips.
He look, frankly, adorable—even with his matching shiners and poor bruised nose. He’d stunned Callum this morning by coming out of the hotel bedroom wearing honest-to-god blue jeans. They were slim and dark, painfully new, and probably hand-sewn by Calvin Klein himself, but they were the real deal. Callum had spent the entire morning staring at the way they stretched across Rupert’s butt, having obviously been tailored to accommodate that bubble. Later, Callum would think to admire the way the tight t-shirt clung to Rupert in all the best ways, but most of that was because it served to emphasize
that ass.
Callum couldn’t resist a quick peck to Rupert’s cheek, letting his hand skim over the bubble in question before going to the far side of the bed. He enjoyed the half-smile that replaced Rupert’s furious scowl. Callum would have been tempted to go back around and do it again, but now everyone else piled into the room.
“What is wrong, Rupert?” Alexei asked, loudly enough that even Callum winced.
Rupert rolled his eyes and gestured emphatically. “I give up.”
“It’s okay, Rupert,” Oliver said. “I’ll just keep sleeping in your room.”
Callum tensed and hoped like hell that his and Rupert’s chat with the little boy about not discussing who
else
was sleeping in Rupert’s room had stuck.
“What?” Mike asked. He and Alexei exchanged a long look.
“I sleep with Rupert. And—” Oliver cut himself off, but not before Callum’s heart had stopped.
Callum steadfastly ignored Reese’s pathetic attempts to not appear amused.
“You sleep there every night?” Alexei asked.
Oliver shrugged.
Rupert put a hand on his shoulder. “Oliver, we talked about this. Once we get your new room set up, you can try sleeping in here. I’ll stay with you if you need me to,” he promised, and Callum smiled encouragingly, hoping Oliver understood Callum would stay, too, if Oliver wanted. Not being able to say it, to just admit he was going to be here, chafed.
“Yes,” Oliver agreed, “but now the bed doesn’t work, so I can definitely stay with you tonight.”
“Now, now,” Alexei soothed, shooing the Smythe brothers out of the way and kneeling by the bed.
Mike practically dove to the side by Callum. “We can do this.”
Two minutes later, the bed was set up and sturdy as an oak.
Callum was impressed. “I had no idea you two were so handy.”
Alexei chuckled. “Who do you think built this apartment?”
“What?” Rupert asked, his mouth dropping open. “I thought Belvedoro Construction and Property Management built it.”
Mike smirked. “Rupert, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Think about that for a moment.”
Rupert looked both pleased by the compliment and deeply confused. “Golden beasts?”
Mike laughed. “That
is
what it means in Italian, but not what I meant.” He shot Alexei a look. “I told you people would think that was a little weird.”
Reese clapped his hands together, startling everyone. “Ha! Belov and Erdo. Belvedoro is all the letters mixed up.”
Mike grinned at Rupert. “He’s making you look bad, boss.”
“He considers it a calling,” Rupert said.
Alexei turned to Oliver. “So, little man, you will sleep in here tonight?” he asked with an unwarranted amount of hopefulness.
“I’ll try,” Oliver promised solemnly.
Alexei grinned and ruffled his hair. “Good boy!” he said, then winked at Mike, who blushed furiously.
Callum was missing something. He thought Rupert might get it, based on his mildly horrified, completely amused expression, but then he jumped, distracted, and pulled his phone from his pocket.
“I don’t know this number,” he muttered to himself, hesitating for a moment before swiping his thumb across the screen. “Hello? ...I’m sorry,
who
is this?”
Callum had been about to return to his project in the living room, but now he went to Rupert’s side.
“Yes, I know Christian…What?
What?
” Rupert cried. Callum surreptitiously put a supportive hand low on Rupert’s back. “Of course, I’ll be right there. I’ll be right there!”
Rupert tried to hang up the phone three times before succeeding.
“What is it?” Alexei demanded.
“That was the Pathways Center. Christian turned up there after hockey practice today.”
“Does he volunteer there? I remember that was who the troop did all that fundraising for.” Callum said, rubbing his thumb along Rupert’s waist.
“Yes, that’s right. But he’s not there for that. He says he doesn’t want to go home.” Rupert swallowed, his voice hoarse when he said, “He says he doesn’t feel safe.”
This was met with a charged silence.
“He gave them my name, apparently, and they called the office, who in turn gave them my cell number since I wasn’t in today,” Rupert explained. “They’re hoping I’ll come down there to speak with him, and them, about what to do next.”
Rupert was more than a little freaked out. So was Callum—he was twitching with the need to
get there now.
He wasn’t the only one, apparently.
Alexei swooped Oliver up into his arms. “We go. Now.”
Everyone charged for the door, Christian’s personal army coming to the rescue, when Rupert pulled up short. “Wait!”
“What is it?” Callum asked, checking his pockets for his wallet and keys.
“We can’t all go. I don’t want to overwhelm Christian or the center. And perhaps Oliver should stay here.”
Callum turned to Alexei and Mike expectantly, surprised to find them looking back at him the same way.
“You stay here with Oliver,” Alexei told him. “We’ll go with Rupert.”
“But—”
“We volunteer there,” Mike explained.
“Yeah, but—”
“It’s an LGBT youth center, Callum,” Alexei said, as if Callum were missing the point. “That might be why Christian chose it.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“So,” Alexei said, drawing out the word, “Maybe that’s not so much your area of expertise.”
Callum was struck by the curious amusement on Reese’s face. In a flash, Callum realized Reese already knew, or strongly suspected. And Callum could tell Rupert was about to jump in and try to save his ass.
Which did not need saving, even if he
was
totally having a panic attack meltdown on the inside.
“If you’re done patronizing me,” he said to Alexei, “
and
finished implying all straight people are out of touch, then I’ll take this moment to tell you I’m gay, too.”
And, wow, in just two short months he’d gone from this feeling like a full-out evisceration to going all out for the three-for-one coming-out special and it only making him mildly nauseous.
Rupert looked more stunned than anyone else.
Alexei turned to Mike and dug out his wallet, muttering under his breath. Mike held out his hand for the fifty-dollar bill Alexei smacked against his palm, a shit-eating grin on his face.
So Mike, like Reese, had suspected. Callum felt kind of itchy and hot thinking about that, so he focused on the more pressing issue at hand.
“So, who’s going with Rupert?” he asked.
“I can stay here,” Reese offered with a bland smile. “Since apparently I’m underqualified.”
Oliver clung a little closer to Alexei, who cast a judgmental eye over Callum before nodding grudgingly. “We can stay.”
Callum bit back twin urges to thank him and smack him in the back of the head. He turned to Rupert.
“Let’s go.”
Rupert jumped into Callum’s car and buckled up, silently screaming for Callum to go faster. He wasn’t dragging his feet or anything, but the shocked look hadn’t left his eyes since he’d come out to Mike, Alexei, and Reese, all in one shot.
Rupert was so proud of him.
He threaded his fingers through Callum’s where they rested on his thigh as he drove.
“You okay?” Callum asked.
“Me? Yes, I’m fine. Worried about Christian, of course.” He paused, wondering if being honest was a good idea. “And you.”
“I’m fine.” Callum said, not particularly believably.
“It would be understandable if you wanted to have a bit of a freak out.”
“Nope.”
“Nope?”
“We have shit to get done right now. But I’m totally going to lose my shit later, if that’s okay with you.”
Rupert smiled and squeezed his fingers. “That’s fine. Perhaps after Oliver is in bed.”
“Great. It’s a plan,” Callum said.
Rupert had been making far grander plans for their first night without Oliver sleeping next to them, but perhaps this would be better. It had occurred to Rupert this morning as they’d been dumping Callum’s bags in the master bedroom closet that he’d never actually asked Callum if he
wanted
to move into the apartment with them. He’d just assumed. And Callum hadn’t said otherwise.
Perhaps more than tacit agreement was warranted before they went any further.
“Um, speaking of tonight…”
Callum sighed. “I can’t wait to crawl into that big bed with you.”
Oh. Well then.
Before Rupert could sort through the barrage of images and ideas Callum’s quiet wish invoked, they were turning into the Pathways Center parking lot.
Rupert leaped from the car the moment it stopped moving, Callum right behind him as he burst into the lobby.
The woman behind the desk shot to her feet. “Sir, I have to ask you to stop right there!”
Rupert skidded to a halt, surprised until he remembered where he was and what his face looked like. He glanced at Callum, who seemed far more familiar with the concept of appearing threatening. Before Rupert’s eyes, he seemed to shrink a little, his hands where they could be seen, his eyes direct. Rupert wondered how many foolish opponents had been lured closer and regretted it.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Rupert said to the receptionist, reaching calmly for his wallet. “I’m Rupert Smythe. One of your directors, a Mr. Gabriel Santangelo, called me a few minutes ago and asked that I come.” He offered the woman his license, Callum following suit a moment later.
The woman stared down at Callum’s license, then up at Callum. “Oh.”
Uh oh. Hockey fan.
“If we could speak with Mr. Santangelo, please?” Rupert said.
“Yes, of course,” she said, still gawping at Callum.
Callum smiled back and nodded, as if encouraging her. When she still didn’t move, his smile slipped and his cheeks warmed. “Is Mr. Santangelo still in?”
“What? Oh, yes! I’m sorry,” she said with a breathless giggle. “I’ll go get him.”
The moment she disappeared, Rupert started laughing.
“Shut up,” Callum muttered.
The door burst back open and the woman fell into the room, even more breathless than when she’d left. “Gabriel asked me to bring you back.”
They followed her silently, Rupert watching in fascination as their escort attempted to walk forward and look over her shoulder at the same time. The second time she almost slammed directly into a doorframe, Callum stopped her with a hand on her arm.
Rupert had never seen a fifty-something year old woman blush like a school girl. Callum looked like he rather wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
“Thank you, Janet,” came a nice, deep voice through the door to their right.
Janet stood staring at Callum, blocking their way. Rupert was starting to feel torn about who he felt sorrier for. God knew he’d had moments like this, staring at Callum.
“Janet, is there a problem?” came the voice again.
“Oh, right.” Janet stepped aside, tittering nervously as she edged around Callum, then turned and bolted for the front office.
Her boss stared after her, confused.
“This visit will probably be in the papers tomorrow,” Callum muttered darkly. When Rupert looked at him with alarm, Callum waved it off. “Not important. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
The first of those was Director Santangelo. Rupert quickly did the introductions and Gabriel, as he suggested they call him, asked if they’d like to sit down as he returned to his desk.
Rupert remained on his feet, Callum standing silent sentry at his shoulder.
“I’d really like to see Christian, if I may,” Rupert said, hoping he wasn’t being rude, but increasingly desperate to see the boy.
“Of course. Of course.” Gabriel eyed him, still not moving.
Rupert felt oddly exposed in his jeans and t-shirt. He hadn’t gone out so casually dressed in…well, possibly ever. He had been enjoying it back at the apartment, but now he felt naked under Gabriel’s suspicious scrutiny.