by A J Lange
Tanner groaned. “Don’t remind me. God. My shoulders were sore for a week.”
“Ew, Tanner, please keep your dirty sex exploits to yourself. Lily’s like my sister.”
“Yeah, your sister who is dying to know all the kinky details of your sex life,” Tanner complained. “Don’t even with me.”
Zane’s mouth opened and closed. Well. “I guess I could share a few choice—“
“Ugh! Zane!”
Zane laughed until Tanner threatened to shove the basketball up a very sensitive body part. When they pulled into Gold’s Gym, Zane pointed at a white SUV parked in the lot.
“Hey, that’s Dirk right there.” He frowned. “Wonder if they changed their mind?” He dug his phone out of his pocket to check, but he had no missed calls. He did, however, have a text message from Gray: Protect the jewels. I’m rather fond of them.
Zane smiled and typed out a reply. Does that mean I get dessert first?
He followed Tanner through the gym entry. Zane didn’t know if his use of Gold’s was ever going to be worth the membership cost, but every month he still paid the bill. At the very least, it forced him off the couch a few times a week out of sheer tightfistedness, if not to enjoy the workouts.
He and Tanner pushed through the double glass doors of the basketball gym. There were four goals, four half courts; plenty of room for several pick up basketball games. Dirk, Tommy, Rick and three other guys were in the throes of a heated match. Zane and Tanner paused on the edge of the court and watched.
“So, what do you think?” Tanner asked, voice low.
Zane shook his head, basketball tucked under his arm. “I have no idea.” He tried to catch Dirk’s eye, but after a few moments, it was painfully obvious that the other men were avoiding acknowledging them. Zane took a step forward, but Tanner’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“Zane, let’s just go.” Tanner’s expression was tight and Zane could read the worry there.
A part of Zane wanted to walk right up to the group of his friends, and ask what the fuck was going on. They had been playing basketball together on the weekends for the better part of three years. He swallowed his anger and let Tanner pull him backwards, through the double doors and out to the parking lot.
He exhaled into the cold afternoon, his breath fogging in a puff of white. “Well, that wasn’t awkward at all.”
Tanner smiled down at him, shaking his head ruefully. “Man, do you think this is about the picture in the paper?”
Zane shrugged. He had no idea, but he supposed that was the most likely explanation. “You know what sucks? I feel like a fourteen year-old girl who got dissed by her girlfriends,” he grumbled.
“And just like I’d tell fourteen year-old-girl you, they obviously weren’t your friends to begin with. Forget about it.” Tanner knocked the side of his fist against Zane’s shoulder. “Let’s go to Stanley Park instead.”
Zane groaned. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”
But Tanner had already punched the basketball from the crook of Zane’s elbow and was spinning it nonchalantly on the tip of his index finger. Conceited bastard.
“Chickenshit afraid of a little cold?”
Zane pursed his lips. “You know, your delivery would have more impact if your hair wasn’t long enough to braid, Tanya."
They played one on one in the park until Zane couldn’t feel his nose or his toes, Tanner only conceding defeat after he got a text message from Lily that read, I’m done with the steamer you lazy ass. When he dropped Tanner off, Zane watched his brother walk to the front porch, where Lily stood waiting. She launched herself from the front step and Tanner caught her, laughing. Zane lifted his hand in a wave, smiling at the sweet picture they made. As he drove home, he mused he might get to cancel his Gold’s membership after all.
He didn’t tell Gray about Dirk and the others. But that night they made love in the living room, in front of a warm fire, and he let Gray blanket him with tenderness and affection, canceling out the rest of the world, a gentle reminder that life could be so much worse.
◆◆◆
“So, um, Thanksgiving.” Zane fidgeted at the kitchen table, watching Gray scramble eggs in a cast iron skillet. His dark hair was standing in it’s usual array of manic tufts and he was wearing Zane’s AC/DC shirt, the one with the blood stains that Zane had never fully gotten out in the wash.
Gray quirked an eyebrow at Zane over his shoulder. “Fourth Thursday in November.”
Zane rolled his eyes. “I know when it is, smartass. I meant, what are your plans.”
Gray turned to face him, holding the skillet in one hand, the other stirring the eggs with a wooden spoon to prevent them from burning. “I guess that depends on what your plans are. I plan to be where you plan to be.”
Zane sighed in relief. “So no Sloan family shindigs or anything.”
Gray’s smile was sardonic. “We don’t really do family, Zane. ” He divided the eggs between two plates and then set the skillet back on the stove, clicking the burner off. “I might see what Harry has planned, sometimes we have dinner together. What were you thinking?”
Zane bit his lip, hesitating. Gray set a plate in front of him then took his seat, freezing when Zane blurted, “Why don’t you ever say grace?”
“What?”
“Well,” Zane stammered. “I mean," he waved his hand in the air, feeling suddenly self-conscious. You’re... Catholic?” He dragged out the word, uncertainty in his tone. Gray had mentioned that, right?
Gray settled a napkin across his lap and studied Zane fondly. “Lapsed,” he said, shaking his head. “I haven’t been to mass in years. And I don’t know.”
Zane frowned, tilting his head. Fuck if he hadn’t already forgotten the question. The concentrated blue of Gray’s eyes skimming over his face never failed to jumble his thoughts.
“Grace? It was never a priority in my family. We rarely ate together.” Gray scooped a bite of eggs onto his fork and blew on them gently. He looked pointedly at Zane’s untouched plate. “Did you want me to say grace?”
“No,” Zane said hurriedly. “Unless you want to.” He scrubbed his face. He had no idea how this conversation had tracked so far from where he had intended it to go. “I mean, I thought if you weren’t doing it because you thought I would be offended or something, I wouldn’t be.” Gray was smiling at him in amusement so Zane shut up and shoveled in a forkful of eggs.
“I’m so glad we got that settled,” Gray teased. “Now, what were you avoiding asking me about Thanksgiving.”
Zane exhaled. Fucking perceptive boyfriend, anyway. “Lily and Tanner are going to drive up to Lincoln, to Kenny and Bonnie’s for the weekend.”
“And you’d like to go too?” Gray cocked his head, watching him closely. It was clear he wasn’t sure what to make of Zane’s hesitancy.
“Would you want to?” Zane squirmed in his seat until Gray reached across the table. Zane laid his hand across Gray’s open palm and watched the fingers close around his, warm and tight and soothing.
“I’d love to meet Kenny and Bonnie. If you want me there.”
Zane was sweating bullets, and he had no idea why this was proving to be so hard, except that Kenny was the only family he and Tanner had left. When they were kids, after their mom died, their dad would take off, sometimes for days. Kenny’s was a safe haven, a place to run and play and be kids and get yelled at when they came in late for supper. It was stupidly, unforgivably, normal, and Zane had often thought if he and Tanner hadn’t had Kenny in those darkest months after their mom’s death, they would have turned out to be entirely different people than the ones they became.
Bonnie Hollenbeck, Lily’s mom, had been the proprietor of the bar down the road from Kenny’s salvage yard. After her husband Dave died in a freak boating accident, she had leaned on her oldest friends, William and Kenny; while one was always just a comrade in arms, the other one, the gruff, ballsy, auto mechanic (who taught Zane everything he knew about car
s), was the one who stole her heart.
Bonnie and Kenny were Zane’s surrogate parents. Their approval meant as much to Zane as anyone’s could, and while he had no qualms about introducing them to this unconventional love he had found, he understood it would likely be something of a shock. Still... Zane’s subconscious had done a funny thing over the past few months; it had rearranged the hierarchy in his mind and in his heart until Gray occupied the pinnacle of importance. Everything else had to slot in somewhere below that.
“Gray, I want you there. Here, there, everywhere.” He grinned. “In a box, on a plane, in a house, on a train.”
Gray rolled his eyes, but Zane could see a telltale blush color his cheeks, and his eyes sparked the hot blue that Zane knew meant he was affected more than he would say in words. “Then we’ll go.”
Zane cleared his throat, which was suspiciously tight. “I’ll call them after breakfast.” He squeezed Gray’s fingers. “Thanks, Gray.”
◆◆◆
“Hey, Kenny.”
“Bout damn time you called.” The gruff mechanic’s voice was as irascible as ever and Zane grinned, instantly warmed and nostalgic.
“Yeah, yeah. How’s things?”
“Well damn, boy, how do you think things are? It’s fudging cold up here and that woman has me on a diet now, says my blood pressure is too high. Damned know it all doctors.”
Zane hummed his sympathy, waiting for the tirade die out. “So, I was thinking about coming up for Thanksgiving, with Tanner and Lily."
“Yeah? Why are you telling me that? You don’t need permission to visit you know,” Kenny grouched and Zane could practically hear the eyeroll.
Zane took a deep breath. “I wanted to bring someone with me, a,” Zane paused but chickened out at the last moment. “A friend.”
“Ahhh, now we’re getting to the meat and potatoes of this social call. What’s ‘er name?”
Zane could hear the tab pop on a can of soda over the phone. “Gray.” He waited, wondering miserably if he was going to be a pussy all of his life, or just for today.
"Kay?" Kenny grumbled. “Didn’t you date a Kay in high school? It’s not that girl is it? I didn’t like her.”
“No, Kenny," Zane ground his teeth together. Spit it out, he thought. "Not Kay, Gray."
“So are you and Gray,” Kenny sing-songed the name and Zane groaned to himself. “Are you two going to be sharing the pullout couch or do I need to drag that old army cot from the storage shed?”
Zane pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache forming. “Sharing,” he mumbled.
“I can’t hear you when you mumble, boy.”
“Share, Kenny. We’re going to share.” Zane was practically shouting now and he took a deep, steadying breath. “Kenny—“
“Now look, I know I ain’t your daddy, and you can do what you want, but I’ve been hearing things. Eli called last week.”
“Fuck my everfucking life,” Zane moaned.
“Kenny Taylor, stop harassing the boy and give me that phone.” Zane heard Bonnie’s voice approaching and he could have cried when she finally came on the line.
“Don’t believe to a word he says; the crabby old bastard’s a rank liar.” Bonnie gentled her voice. “Lily’s told us about your Gray, Zane, and we can’t wait to meet him.”
Zane could hear Kenny chuckling in the background and he sagged against the kitchen wall, relief flooding his system. “Yeah?” he asked, swallowing hard.
“Lily sent us your newspaper picture, Kenny’s got it hanging on the fridge right next to one of Lily and Tanner.” Zane could hear Kenny beside her. “Now why’d you go and tell him that for?”
Zane laughed weakly, feeling the last of the tension bleed away. He guessed now it was really official. Gray was going to meet the parents.
.
◆◆◆
..
Thanksgiving Eve dawned bitterly cold, the sky turning darker grey and more ominous with each mile as they drove north across Iowa. Lily and Tanner had left the day before, but Zane had had to arrange coverage for the bar for the weekend, triple checking inventory to ensure everything would run smoothly in his absence. This would be the first time he had left the bar for this long since taking over after his dad died, but he trusted his staff; most had been with him since the beginning with the exception of the assorted college kids who rotated in and out during the school year.
Harry, as it turned out, was in Las Vegas for a convention, but would fly into Lincoln on the only available flight that afternoon. There, he would rent a car and drive the rest of the way to Kenny’s on Thanksgiving morning. Zane tried not to worry about his addition to their midst, but Harry was still a frustrating and sarcastic riddle. A part of him guiltily hoped Harry served as a suitable distraction from Zane’s own life; he had never brought anyone home before. He wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable scrutiny and ribbing, good-natured or not.
When they finally drove through the Taylor Salvage gate, Zane looked over at Gray and winked. “This is it,” he said, his voice amazingly steady considering his stomach was churning with acid.
As they walked to the porch, Gray’s eyes roved over the salvage yard with the same exactitude Zane recognized him applying to the archaeological site. Zane looked at the landscape through Gray’s eyes; he supposed it could appear to be one big treasure chest, if you were a history nerd like Gray. The old cars and trucks, heaps of rust and iron hidden amid the tall grasses, looked ripe for discovery. He reached down and squeezed Gray’s fingers.
“I’ll take you exploring later, show you my favorite spots.”
Gray grinned. “You just want to neck in the back of an old junker.”
Zane laughed. “That too.” He stiffened when the door opened and dropped Gray’s hand.
“Zane Nolan, get your ass up here,” Bonnie cried, screen door slamming against the wall in her zeal.
Zane’s heart swelled at the sight of her smiling face and he jogged up the steps of the porch to grab her around the waist in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. “Goddamn, woman, you look good enough to eat.” He buried his nose in her brown hair, breathing his childhood. “You smell like pie,” he sighed happily. “Please tell me you have pie.”
“Put me down, you oaf,” she laughed, smacking him hard on the back. “Of course I have pie, what do you think I’ve gone senile in my old age?”
“You’re not old, Bonnie,” Zane smirked, still holding her at the waist. “You’re a fine piece of ass for a—“
“Hey, hey,” she joked. “No need to say the number out loud. Now,” she said, turning to Gray who had made his way to the top of the steps. “Grayson.” Her smile was warm and inviting and when she held open her arms to him, Zane wanted to kiss her full on the mouth, bursting with love and affection for this woman, who had unflinchingly signed on for the dubious role of his mother so long ago.
Gray stepped easily into her embrace and smiled at Zane over her head. “Bonnie,” he said. “It was so good of you to invite me. Thank you.”
Bonnie patted him with less force than she had applied to Zane and leaned back to study his face. “You’re disgustingly beautiful,” she stated plainly and Zane choked back a surprised laugh. She ignored him and continued, leaning up to kiss Gray’s cheek. “I can see why Zane is so taken with you.”
“Oh my God,” Zane said under his breath, pulling her off of Gray, cheeks hot and flushed. “Okay, okay. Let him breathe.”
Bonnie chuckled and waved them through the door ahead of her. “Well come on, then. No more stalling. You know Kenny is hiding behind the curtain plotting his next move.”
“I heard that,” Kenny called.
But then Lily was in the doorway, jumping into Zane’s arms, and planting a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek. “It’s about time you two got here. Did you stop and rest--” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “--on the way or what?”
“Yes,” Gray said seriously before Zane could protest. “It’s such a
long, drive, Lily. Zane needed several rest stops.” He met her gaze coolly. “I’m assuming Tanner didn’t, then? Perhaps I could give you some pointers?”
Lily’s mouth fell open and Bonnie hooted with laughter.
“Lily, get off of Zane and let us in the house. It’s ass cold out here.”
Zane felt his nerves ratchet up again when they stepped over the threshold and faced Kenny, gruff old bastard standing there in the same flannel shirt he was wearing the last time Zane had seen him, baseball cap atop his balding head, Taylor Salvage Yard emblazoned across the front in bright yellow stitching.
“Kenny,” Zane said, gripping Gray’s arm hard. “This is Grayson Sloan. Gray, Kenny Taylor."
Kenny took Gray’s proffered hand, and Zane couldn’t tell if the hard-boiled expression in his eyes was normal Kenny sternness or something else. “Welcome to Nebraska, Gray,” he said finally.
Gray withstood the scrutiny with a quiet composure that made Zane’s pulse race. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor. It was kind of you and Bonnie to invite me.” Bonnie was right; Gray was beautiful, Zane thought, watching him shake Kenny’s hand solemnly.
“How do you feel about football?” Kenny asked, still holding Gray’s hand.
Zane held his breath. Fuck shit damn. He should have warned Gray.
“I think Tom Brady is overrated.”
Silence.
“Hmph,” Kenny’s eyes narrowed appreciatively and he dropped Gray’s hand. “At last, someone with some common sense around here.”
Zane breathed a sigh of relief. Kenny turned to go back into the living room, where Zane could see Tanner watching the whole exchange with a bemused expression. Tanner tapped the side of his nose with a finger, and Zane made a mental note to pass him an extra piece of pie later. Tanner always had his back.
Gray caught Zane’s eye and gave him a slow wink and Zane’s heart skittered frantically in his chest. He grinned, feeling suddenly euphoric. Now if he could just survive whatever Harry was sure to throw at him, this might count as the best Thanksgiving ever. First, though, he was going to go sneak a piece of that pie. He figured he had earned it.
