“As opposed to the large number of fucks I usually give about things.” Gideon leaned back into the cushions.
“Exactly,” Dane said, though Jax wondered if Dane was actually so clueless about Gideon’s feelings.
The thing was, Jax was damned sure Gideon did give a fuck. That seeing Spencer and Dane curled up together on the couch hurt.
Jax put his pie plate and coffee mug on the floor and hung his legs off his side of the couch, resting his head in Gideon’s lap.
Gideon’s hand stroked through Jax’s hair, then gathered it in a tight bunch. “Usually if a guy’s going to put his head in my lap….”
“Had your… shot.” Jax punched Gideon’s thigh.
He didn’t move Jax off, though. After a while, Gideon’s fingers occasionally toyed with Jax’s hair. Somehow, from watching Gideon all these years, Jax had assumed that even at rest, G’s body would vibrate with tension. It was how Jax told himself Gideon kept so lean, that he must burn it off under the skin. But the long muscles under Jax’s cheek and neck stayed still, only small contractions as Gideon reacted to the plays in the football game.
“So how did things go with you and that baby?” Spencer asked.
“Baby?” Gideon tugged hard at Jax’s hair.
“It was a prop,” Jax explained. “Good, actually. Got the part. Hope it’s going to turn into something bigger.”
“TV?” Gideon looked down at him.
Jax was ready to say something about Gideon actually giving a fuck, but the genuine interest in his eyes stopped the mocking words.
“Yeah. I’m kind of excited about it. Been thinking I could get another sublet around here. See more of you idiots. And even Theo, if he ever comes up for air.”
And Oz. But let’s keep that under wraps. Don’t tempt fate, Jax.
Like Fate had a listening post in his brain anyway, Jax’s phone went off. He didn’t recognize the number, but sat up and answered.
“Jax? Hanson Rede.”
Jax swung up off the couch. He’d been trying not to get too excited about the possibility of a recurring role. Growing up listening to his we’ll-need-to-see-the-contract-first mom and his handshakes-are-as-good-as-the-paper-they’re-printed-on dad, Jax himself was something of a cautious idealist. But damn. He really, really wanted this to work.
If Hanson was calling on Thanksgiving, the news was either great or shitty.
“Sorry to bother you on the holiday,” Hanson said, “but I wanted to tell you myself. The network pulled the plug on Dead Man Talking.”
What had Gideon said about monkeys and a circus? The quirky drama hadn’t been Jax’s show, but he’d liked it.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I thought it was great.”
“Yeah, me too. At least they gave it a decent run. Your eps should still air in January, or they’ll be on the DVD. Man, Vince, the showrunner? He was really keen on the idea for your character.”
Not that it mattered now, but Jax was curious. “Yeah?”
“We were going to develop him as a love interest for Charlie.”
Jax froze, a cough tickling his throat. Charlie? Blond, nerdy, computer-expert character, played by Nick Fusco. No one ever had asked Jax to play gay before. The beginning of the end. Typecast. And what would KIDZNet say about that?
“But the baby…?”
“Yeah, great twist, huh?”
A gay dad. Like Oz. What a joke to think Jax could pull that off. The hollow feeling at the loss of the job wasn’t compatible with having just dodged a career bullet, though.
“Anyway, I wanted you to hear it from me before it hit everywhere. Loved working with you, Jax.”
“Yeah, um, me too.”
Fuck Fate. Sometimes the people in tinfoil hats didn’t seem so crazy after all.
OZ PINNED the phone against his ear, conjuring up images of the fallout from being the building inspector who closed Northern Boulevard to traffic on motherfucking Thanksgiving Day because some jackass hadn’t secured a construction crane.
“False alarm,” Officer Lundgren said when he got back on the line. “Just some plastic debris wrapped around it flapping and sending some biddy into a tizzy.”
“Thank God.” Oz really meant it. Shutting down Northern would have been a nightmare.
“You and me both, man.” The cop hung up.
Oz sighed with relief and tucked the phone into his pocket. When he opened his eyes, Ayla was standing in front of him, hands on her hips in a way he distinctly remembered seeing in his older sister.
She didn’t give him time to speak. “Are we staying here with Mr. Hal and Lacey, or are we going to sleep at Aunt Angle’s again?”
He considered that for a second but couldn’t get a handle on it. “What do you mean, honey?”
“Every time now you say ‘excuse me’ to talk on the phone, we end up having to sleep over at Lacey’s or Aunt Angle’s so you can have a date.”
He and Jax had managed exactly two over the past couple Saturday nights, if you could call what they were doing dating. But as his mother was fond of pointing out, as soon as you start arguing with a six-year-old, they’ve already won.
“We are going home to our house tonight to watch a movie, just like we planned. You, me, and Regan.”
The cocked elbows and hip might be Angela’s, but the distrustful stare was all Ayla.
“Tomorrow you’re going to stay with Grams because I have to work, and school and daycare are closed.”
“Why can’t Papi come stay with us at home?”
Joaquín had shown up last Sunday after church, had hung around watching a movie and playing games with them, then redoing Regan’s hair into two puffy pigtails instead of the braids Oz had managed to scrape in on Friday after he washed it. Oz had bitten his tongue until he tasted blood. After walking Joaquín to the car, Oz had reminded him that his time with the girls was supposed to be done someplace other than the house.
“You wouldn’t want them at my cousin’s, and I can’t always take them somewhere.”
Oz had agreed to do the visits at the house but with more notice.
“More of your precious rules?”
“Me having a life, Joaquín.”
Concentrating on his daughter’s feelings instead of his own, Oz scooped Ayla up. “Papi can come and stay with you sometimes at home. He and I talked about that.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. Her legs dangled almost to his knees. He couldn’t believe there was going to be a time when he couldn’t do this, pick her up and reassure her with hugs and snuggles. She turned and clung to him, and though she was almost soundless, he could feel her crying.
“It’s okay, baby.”
“No. Say niña,” she insisted.
“Mi niña. Are you tired?”
She rubbed her wet face in his neck as she shook her head. He walked her back and forth in the hall, pausing to look through Hal’s back door at the windy rain.
“Why didn’t Papi come for dinner? It’s family time.”
“You remember how you go to Titi Gloria’s house for Christmas Eve?”
“But that’s forever away. I want to talk to Papi now.” She held his face. “Can we call him?”
“I’ll call him.” He put her down and wiped her face on his shirt. “When you’re done, I want to talk to Papi too.”
Joaquín sounded relatively sincere in his “Hola, happy Thanksgiving, Oz.”
“Ayla wants to talk to you.”
“She okay?”
“She’s fine. She misses you.”
Joaquín’s voice was barely a murmur, but he used English. “At least someone does.”
“Don’t hang up when you’re done, please.” Oz passed off the phone, then rubbed at the tightness in his chest as she chattered happily in Spanglish.
“Too much gravy?” his mother asked when he walked into the kitchen.
“Something like that.”
“Here. Make yourself useful, tall guy.” Hal handed off a serving bowl
and pointed to a cabinet shelf just barely in Oz’s reach.
Oz accepted more dishes and direction from Hal. “Where’s Regan?”
“Jamming with Lacey,” Moms answered.
The house was pretty silent for two kids dancing.
“My man has Bluetooth headphones to spare.” Hal slid the cutlery drawer closed. “He made them a special remix.”
Oz stepped out and stuck his head in the living room. Darquon was nodding on the couch while Lacey and Regan spun and shimmied. Angela and her son shifted and nudged them out of the way as they tried to watch a football game. Oz didn’t want to go out there and cut off Regan’s fun, but Ayla was sure to turn talking to Joaquín into a sibling conquest if Oz didn’t make Regan the offer. He put it off and ducked back into the kitchen.
“Did you doubt your mother, Oscar?” Moms said.
“No, ma’am. Now be nice, or I’ll let you spend next Thanksgiving with your crazy sister.”
“You’re always welcome here, Mrs. Parsons,” Hal said.
“Thank you, Hal.” She turned to Oz. “Angela told me you’ve been seeing someone new.”
Thanks again, sis. Oz knew he’d already been making fresh-caught-fish gasping face, but he tried to shrug it off. Hal spun around, leaning back against the dishwasher, smirking.
“When would I have time?” Oz searched the kitchen for something that needed putting away, washing, or throwing out. Damn them all for efficiency. After a moment of silence under his mother’s stare, Oz said, “We’ve been on two dates.”
Hal rolled his eyes and dug a mixing bowl out from under the cabinet. “I promised Lacey I’d let her whip the cream.” He shook his head as he brushed past Oz.
What the hell was the headshake for? He wasn’t living like a monk, no, but he wasn’t about to drag the girls into another mess because his family thought it was time for him to move on.
His mom stepped up and put her arm around Oz’s waist. “Baby, did you ever question whether or not your dad and I loved you?”
He hugged her. “No. Not at all.”
She felt far too light in his arms, and he held her more gently.
“And yet we managed to live a full life ourselves. Before you and your sister were born, while you lived with us, and after you moved out.”
“I wish it was that simple.”
“Did I say it was simple?” She flicked a finger against his cheek. “But that’s never stopped you before.”
Chapter 13
JAX BANGED out through the door of the coffee shop and into the frigid February air. Anger warmed him for his first few steps until the wind howled through the cavern of Manhattan buildings, piercing the coat that had barely kept him from frostbite for the past three weeks in Vancouver.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. For over two months he’d been missing Oz, missing his friends, trying desperately to come up with something that could justify flying east—something more tax deductible than a desperate need to get a certain dick up his ass. But he’d dropped everything and grabbed a red-eye to get here to help when Gideon said Theo needed them.
And for what? A half-hour-long showdown in that coffee shop had gotten them nowhere. Theo blindly insisted on marrying his chorus boy anyway, accused them all of being judgmental, and then left Jax to get caught in one of those Dane Gideon crossfires where everyone ended up bleeding. He ducked into the next chain coffee shop he saw. If he’d known he was going to be free by noon, he’d have texted Oz before getting on the plane. As he stood in the line to order, he typed Unexpectedly in the city. Would love—
“What can I get started for you today?” The barista, a cute guy a bit younger than Jax, winked behind dark-rimmed glasses.
Jax automatically smiled back. “Tall Americano, thank you.”
The guy’s pen hovered over the cup. “Can I get a name?”
Jax gave the one on his birth certificate, “Jackson,” and stepped aside. While he waited, he studied his interrupted text, backspacing out love. After the scene with Theo, the word felt a little too loaded.
Unexpectedly in the city. Would be great to see you. He added an emoji wink, then deleted it, deciding that hanging out with the guys didn’t actually mean he was a teenager again. Instead he finished with All of you. In person.
Satisfied, he hit Send.
“Tall Americano for Brian Anderson.”
Jax had already wrapped his hand around the blissful heat before the name registered. He looked up. The young girl who called out his drink was back to filling orders. He glanced at the name on his cup. Brian Anderson. With a heart and a phone number. Christ. Jax had been made and hit on and been oblivious to the whole thing.
If it was just the recognition, Jax would have posed for a pic, signed an autograph, whatever. But responding to the other invitation was exactly what he’d been avoiding most of his life. He glanced back at the barista, who grinned and gave him a thumbs-up, mouthing Happy Valentine’s Day. Jax offered a wave and ducked back out into the cold. His phone buzzed, and he scooped it out of his pocket with his coffee-warmed hand.
Call you in 10? Oz had sent.
Jax tapped Ok back and kept heading downtown in search of anonymous warmth.
OZ PUT his phone facedown on the table and looked back up to find himself the focus of his mother’s and sister’s gazes. Sunday dinner or not, he sometimes needed his phone. He spread his hands in confusion.
“Thought maybe you chased him off.” Angela cupped her chin on her hands as if expecting him to share all the details.
Wasn’t he allowed to get text messages that did not invite comment? “What? I mean—”
“Your face,” Angela explained.
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“Absolutely nothing, baby.” Moms’s voice was full of laughter.
He stood up and started to clear the table, popping a leftover candy heart from a Valentine cupcake into his mouth. “He’s been working. Out on the West Coast.”
It seemed like an innocent enough statement. God knew Oz had accepted it from Joaquín enough in the past. To his mother and sister, that explanation was apparently some sort of signal to pepper him with questions.
“Does he live there?” From Angela.
“What does he do?” That was Moms.
Oz still didn’t know. If he ever did have to answer that question for the present company, he hoped like hell he could say model instead of porn star. He’d been tempted more than once to run a Google search, even without Jax’s last name. A reverse image search would have all the answers, if Oz were the kind of person who would keep or take pictures without permission.
“He’s been in Vancouver for the past month.” Oz hoped carrying things into the kitchen would stop them.
“Doing what?” Angela kept at it.
“We don’t talk about our jobs.” How was your day? Boring and annoying.
“Oh, honey.” His mom put her hand on his back as he straightened up from loading the dishwasher. “Is this the same thing all over again?”
“No.” Great. How to explain a just-physical relationship to his mother?
Angela leaned over from where she was rinsing stuff at the sink. “I don’t think they’ve passed the booty-call stage yet, Moms.”
His forehead got hot enough to fry an egg on. Oz was pretty sure he knew why mortification shared the same root as the Spanish word for dead. Because having his mother looped in on a conversation involving her baby boy and another man’s booty made death by humiliation seem possible. In fact it couldn’t happen fast enough.
“That’s what he thinks, but I know that look on his face,” Moms said, like Oz wasn’t right there in the room, which wasn’t a bad idea. They could tease him just as effectively if he ran away. He headed for the backyard.
Angela called after him, “Let me know if you need me to watch the girls.”
Oz had his phone out as he hit the door.
“Hey.” Jax’s smooth voice had a way of taking the tension out of the back of Oz’s
neck.
He crunched through the small patch of frozen grass next to the trash bins. “Hi. How long you going to be in town?”
“I don’t know.”
The familiar tension crept back in, and Oz rubbed the base of his skull. He wished he hadn’t asked.
“Friend needed help, so I grabbed the first plane. Got in this morning,” Jax went on.
Pretty decent of him. Oz eased off the Joaquín comparison. “Is your friend okay?”
“Yeah, I think. It’s more of a here if he needs me, I guess. I got a pretty strong mind your own business this morning. So how long I’m here depends on how things go with him and whether I need to go back for work.” Jax’s tone shifted, becoming both softer but more intense. “I’d really like to see you while I’m here.”
“I’d like that too.” God, how Oz wanted that. “Where are you staying?”
The sound from Jax was caught between a laugh and a sigh. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Where are you?”
“Freezing my nuts off. Walking down Columbus Avenue in the Upper West Side.”
There was something like regret in Jax’s voice. Oz wondered if mind your own business hadn’t been an understatement.
“Can’t have that.”
“What?”
“I like your nuts where they are.”
Jax laughed.
What if he had to—or decided to—go back tonight? The girls didn’t need to know. He and Jax could waste time over logistics, or— “I know you’ve already traveled a lot today, but feel like taking a trip to Queens?”
“I’m hailing a cab. Gimme an address and I’m there.”
Chapter 14
CLIMBING THE stairs with Jax behind him had left Oz dry mouthed and sweaty palmed like a teenager about to get his first taste of dick. He sure as hell hadn’t been this nervous, this self-conscious, since then. As soon as he shut his bedroom door, Jax stepped into him, kissing him, and Oz knew he hadn’t been this horny since he was fifteen. His dick, his balls, even his thighs ached for a touch of skin, a hand that wasn’t his. Like he’d explode if he did, explode if he didn’t.
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