Warm Heart
Page 18
The sweater was knitted all in one piece, like the ones Missy had made, and Mallory bound off the final stitches as the plane landed, and wove in the ends as Glen drove them through the snow to the ski lodge.
Damien took a look at his work as they piloted up the hill. “Nice. Almost exactly like the ones we wore.”
“Missy used to make him one every year for competition season,” Mal said. “For luck.” Tevyn had missed his grandmother a lot in the last year. Mallory had worked so hard on the damned sweater while he’d been gone.
“Very nice.” Damien nodded. “I’ll take notes.”
“Notes?” Glen snorted from the front seat. “You need to take a whole class. God, you’re bad at courting.”
“Says the man who hasn’t been on a date since college!” Damien snapped back.
“Yeah, but I’m not looking at my little brother all cow-eyed and sad either.”
“Thank God, because that would be gross.”
“You know what I mean!”
Damien raised his eyebrows at Mallory to signal he was going in for the kill. “Yeah, you mean that you’d be just fine if I grabbed Preston by the hair and dragged him off to my gay cave because that’s how you court men, but I think he deserves more than that!”
“It’s a man cave,” Glen snapped. “I may be gay, but the only thing gay about my cave is me!”
Mallory burst out laughing. “Give it up, Glen. Damien wins.”
“He always fuckin’ wins.”
Damien and Mallory squeezed their eyes shut and tried not to laugh at Glen’s out-and-out disgust. Glen and Damien’s banter had gotten Mallory through as much traveling as Scooter’s patient company. Tevyn said that was fine as long as Tevyn was the gold at the end of the run.
Mallory’s heart was pounding at the thought of seeing Tevyn again.
Tevyn was always the gold at the end of the run.
He was waiting for them as they pulled up to the lodge, pacing outside in the heated patio, as excited as Scooter at the prospect of reunion.
Mallory swung open the door, and Damien told him, “Let the dog go first, Mal. Then I can take him for a poop walk, and we’ll take our stuff up to the room.”
Mallory was still struggling to Tevyn, yarn bag on his shoulder, loafers slick in the snow, as Tevyn and Scooter said their hellos. Scooter—who behaved for everybody except Tevyn—stood on his hind legs, put his paws on Tevyn’s shoulders, and licked his face from scruffy jaw to eyebrows while Tevyn sputtered and laughed.
Finally Damien called, “Scooter! C’mon, boy! Uncle Damien’s got a poop bag with your name on it!” Scooter disappeared, and it was just Tevyn and Mallory.
They paused for a moment, the last of the light falling across Tevyn’s eyes, and he looked at Mallory like he hung the moon.
“You’re here,” he said, brushing Mallory’s lips with his.
“Yeah.”
“I’m so nervous—but you’re here.”
“Nervous?” Mallory laughed. Tevyn’s confidence on the field since their little sleigh ride had been off the charts. The sports commentators described him as fearless—and Mallory watched him with his heart in his throat. “You’re never nervous.”
“I have something for you,” Tevyn mumbled, burying his face in his shoulder. “They’re doing a spotlight on us, if I qualify tomorrow. But before they do it, I wanted to give this to you and ask you the thing because if they do a spotlight on us and the whole world sees you, they need to see you like I see you.”
“I have something for you too,” Mallory said. “But other than that, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tevyn looked up at him quickly. “You have something for me? You go first.”
Suddenly Mal was swamped with embarrassment, but he reached gamely inside his knitting bag anyway and pulled out the sweater. Fine-gauge wool, simply made, Mallory had perfected his stitching by going around and around and around for a solid month of knitting while Tevyn had been training. “So you’d have one,” he mumbled. “You know. For the competition. Because—”
Tevyn took it from him, fingering the colorful yarn and smiling softly. “Oh, Mal. This—this is perfect. You made this for me?”
Mallory grimaced. “Still not my colors.” He still wore plain suits and sweaters of navy blue. Even Scooter was almost uniformly brown. The most colorful thing in his life was and always would be Tevyn.
But Tevyn didn’t seem to care. He was petting the wool—which had a faint halo to it—and looking at Mallory dreamily. “You didn’t even tell me you were working on it!”
He’d been there through Mallory’s nascent attempts to learn the craft. He was wearing a mangled, hole-ridden disaster piece right now that was Mal’s first attempt at a scarf.
“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he said, absurdly touched by Tevyn’s wonder. “I… she always made you one before competition season, and you’re in the time trials tomorrow and the half-pipe, and I wanted you to know… you know. Someone in your corner.”
Tevyn’s eyes had grown shiny. “See!” he exclaimed, hugging the sweater to him. “That’s what I’m talking about. Someone. Someone special. The network does a spotlight on all of the Olympic competitors. They air it on TV during breaks in the game coverage.”
Mallory blinked. “Yeah! I know those!” It was how he first fell in love with snowboarding as a kid. How he’d first known to look for a Tevyn Moore when he walked into Mal’s life. “They’re doing one on you?”
“Yeah,” Tevyn said. “And they wanted to know about the crash. And they kept saying, ‘So, you’re still seeing Mallory Armstrong,’ and I was like, ‘We’re living together,’ and they were like, ‘So it’s serious?’ and it was making me mad.”
“Mad?” Oh, that couldn’t be good.
“Because I’m not just seeing you. You’re my life. You’re my foundation. When I get down the hill, I want to share the run with you. When I come to train, I’m always weighing is the time on the mountain worth the time I’m missing with you. And sometimes it is, but sometimes it isn’t, and that’s a real thing. And when I’m with you, it’s like a really beautiful run, all the time. There’s this absolute joy when I see you.”
“Why would that make you mad?” Oh, Mallory was so lost. The last of the sun disappeared, leaving Tevyn’s eyes begging him in the twilight to understand.
“Because saying ‘I’m seeing you’ isn’t enough!” Tevyn burst out. “I want to be married to you!” He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a little box. “These are silicone so I can wear mine on the slopes. But I want to pick out gold ones, like, Black Hills gold, with all the color, and I want to wear those in the city. And I want us to have the ceremony and everything and wear them. And when someone’s interviewing me about the guy who followed me down the mountain because he believed in me and had faith in us, I want them to be talking about my husband, not some guy I’m seeing. I want us to get married, Mallory. After the Olympics. As soon as possible. I’d take during the Olympics or before them if I could, but I’m shit at planning, so that’s going to be on you. Because you plan the dreams and together we live them, right? So could you plan a wedding for us, Mallory Armstrong, whose middle name I still don’t know? Would you marry me?”
“Clarence,” Mallory said through a dry throat. “Yes, Tevyn Simmons Moore, I, Mallory Clarence Armstrong, want to marry you on top of a mountain, just like this one, right when the sun sets, so the whole world can see you’re the light of my life.”
His face was wet, the chill of the evening freezing the tears on his cheeks, and he didn’t care. He lowered his head to Tevyn’s because not kissing him then would be unthinkable.
In the background they heard Scooter barking and Damien calling after him, and when the kiss was over, Mallory would start the planning, think about how to marry Tevyn Moore after the Olympics, on top of a snowy mountain, with all of their friends around as well as their giant dog.
Think about how to tell the world that lo
ve was always worth the risk, and that faith could be rewarded, and that whether you stayed on the mountain or came down, what mattered was you did it together.
After the kiss was over, he’d think about this.
Right now, Tevyn’s mouth on his, their hearts overwhelmed and overflowing, Tevyn was the only thing he could think about. Tevyn who was Mallory’s heart, just as Mallory was his.
AMY LANE lives in a crumbling crapmansion with a couple of growing children, a passel of furbabies, and a bemused spouse. She has finaled in the RITAs™ twice, has won honorable mention for an Indiefab, and has a couple of Rainbow Awards to her name. She also has too damned much yarn, a penchant for action-adventure movies, and a need to know that somewhere in all the pain is a story of Wuv, Twu Wuv, which she continues to believe in to this day! She writes fantasy, urban fantasy, and gay romance—and if you accidentally make eye contact, she’ll bore you to tears with why those three genres go together. She’ll also tell you that sacrifices, large and small, are worth the urge to write.
Website: www.greenshill.com
Blog: www.writerslane.blogspot.com
Email: amylane@greenshill.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/amy.lane.167
Twitter: @amymaclane
By Amy Lane
DREAMSPUN DESIRES
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DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warm Heart
© 2019 Amy Lane
Editorial Development by Sue Brown-Moore
Cover Art
© 2019 Alexandria Corza
http://www.seeingstatic.com/
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64108-213-6
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64405-543-4
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019934506
Digital published July 2019
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Blurb
Sneak Peek
Dedication
Yearning for the Snow Bunny
A Snow-Bunny’s Bunny
The Edge of the Cliff, the Top of the Mountain
Powder Keg
Risk Assessment
Real Risk
Daylight
Finding Wings
Flying
Feet on the Ground
A Thousand Miles
Goodbyes and Hellos
Catching Great Air
About the Author | By Amy Lane
Coming in August 2019
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