by K-lee Klein
“Now that was funny,” Devon replied. The kettle squealed its completion and Devon grabbed the tin of hot chocolate from the drawer. “No judging but on nights like this I think something hot and sweet is in order. But since I already got you off…” he paused to see Scott roll his eyes again. He was so adorably predictable. “We have to settle for chocolate.”
He was confused by Scott’s immediate look of horror. “You’re not going to…going to, you know…I’m not sure that’s something…” Scott stuttered then trailed off, suddenly very interested in what was at the bottom of his water glass. He was holding it so hard Devon worried it would break.
Winding one hand around Scott’s forearm, Devon cocked a hip against the counter. “I thought you liked chocolate?”
“Just not…on me, I don’t think.”
“What?” Devon chewed the inside of his cheek, his mind trying to wrap around whatever Scott was fretting about. Oh! “You think I want to lick it off you? Is that it?”
Color heated Scott’s cheeks again. “I…I’ve never … I don’t think I can do that.” His stammering was usually cute to Devon but not this time. He seemed genuinely upset.
“Definitely not asking for that.” Devon shook his head and shrugged. “Don’t worry. That’s not my thing either.”
Scott’s shoulders relaxed from where they’d been hugging his ears. “Oh,” he said, relief spilling from the single word. “Sounds good then.” He simpered sweetly, embarrassed, and Devon kissed him to quash the worries and hopefully reset the moment. When he eased away, Scott’s expression was soft again. “You like yours with whiskey, or some kind of liqueur? That’s a thing, right?”
“I suppose,” Devon answered. He dumped heaping spoonfuls of chocolate powder in both mugs then filled them with three-quarters water and the rest with the warm milk. “We’re a little fancier in this household though.” He ducked his head into the pantry, grabbing the bag of mini-marshmallows, quirking a brow at Scott. “What’s your pleasure? Three? Four? Five if you feel especially naughty.”
Scott’s face cracked, his eyes bright and lips stretched taut in a grin. “You never fail to surprise me. Five of course. Always feel naughty with you around, DuCaine.”
“A man after my own heart.” Devon plopped five sweet blobs into each cup. “I’ve got some of those cheesy cinnamon hearts we can add too if you want.” He was surprised when Scott reared back. “What did I say?”
“I was wondering if you’re purposely trying to kill me or if I didn’t tell you about my allergy.”
Devon stopped when he was doing, turning to fully face Scott. “Okay. I know it can’t be chocolate and you were okay with the marshmallows.”
“Cinnamon. I’m deathly allergic to cinnamon.”
“Like in a hives way or anaphylactic way?”
“My throat swells up. I do have an Epi-pen at home but not with me. Just the smell can make my throat tingle. More so if it’s hot.”
“Well shit. That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard. No offense,” Devon said. He palmed the bag of hearts he’d been saving special for tonight and propelled it across the room. It landed with precision, straight into the trash can. “A trip to the Emergency room wouldn’t be a great end to the evening. Any other allergies I should know about.”
Scott tipped his head to the side. “Cinnamon, nutmeg, all those popular Christmas spices.”
“You must be a hit during the holidays,” Devon teased, hopeful Scott would take it as such. He should have expected the self-deprecation.
“It is an easy out when you get tired of having me around.”
Devon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Don’t even joke about that,” he said, seriously.
Scott looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry. Bad habit.”
“Okay,” Devon replied. He smoothed a hand over his head, pausing a moment to calm the little burst of horror Scott’s statement had produced. “Guess I won’t be making you my world-famous cinnamon buns then.”
“You bake?” Scott gaped at him.
Crisis averted. “Hell no,” Devon told him with a smirk. He needed to get back on track and the lowering sun through the skylight told him they were on a time crunch. “Enough of that. You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Follow me then.”
“Back to your magic room?” Scott asked as he accepted his own cup with one hand and held Devon’s hand with the other. “Or do you have some more Meg Ryan to fawn over?” His top lip curled into a teasing sneer, but Devon didn’t take the bait.
“Just follow me, grasshopper.” Devon decided that the way Scott rolled his eyes was now one of his favorite things. But his grasshopper trailed along, fingers gripping Devon’s where he’d tucked them behind his back when the hallway got too narrow.
Scott hesitated when Devon pulled the big sliding door open, letting in some of the golden February chill. “Isn’t it a little brisk to sit outside?” Devon held up a finger for Scott to wait then with three giant steps grabbed two fluffy blankets from the box beside the door. “Well, okay then,” Scott backpedalled. “I suppose it is kind of pretty right now.”
“Almost sunset,” Devon said simply, leading Scott to the chairs surrounding the firepit. He pulled two side-by-side then waited until Scott was seated to toss the thickest throw on his lap. Scott looked up at him appreciatively as he settled more comfortably. “My mom always called it the golden hour. Not sure that’s a thing but Shadow and I grew up thinking it totally was.”
“I’ve heard it before. Suits the time of day for sure.” Scott pushed his glasses up his nose then blew on the rim of his mug. “This is a really nice spot, Dev.”
“My mom and I—no. Sorry. I get lost in too much nostalgia sometimes.” He peered apologetically at Scott. “Too many ghosts around here I guess.”
Scott reached for his free hand. “I like listening to you talk about her. Your eyes shine like someone totally smitten, and it’s, you know, very nice to see someone so in love with their mom.”
Devon ducked his head. “I always think it’s too much. But she was the most important part of my life for like, ever.”
“And she still is,” Scott said without judgment.
“She has competition in that department now.” Devon winked at him and in the light between night and day he got a glimpse of the happiness shining on Scott’s face. Mission accomplished. “We used to watch the sunset together whenever I was home, especially when we moved here.”
Scott wiggled closer to the arm of the chair, but they were thick and seemingly immobile. Devon knew differently though. “That’s lovely, Devon. Did Maureen join you or was this a private thing between you and your mom?”
“We had our own moments but other times Maureen or the guys would join us. Mom did like a good gathering, especially when she was usually the center of attention.”
“I’m sad I never met her.”
“Hey, how about we get a little more comfortable,” Devon said, brushing off the sadness in Scott’s voice. “If you stand up for a sec, I can make two chairs magically become one.” Setting his cup on the edge of the concrete firepit, he flipped a lever, pushing both armrests until they were hidden behind the backs of the chairs. Bringing them flush together, he snapped the levers back into place and—presto-chango!—a loveseat appeared. He’d had the chairs redesigned specifically for that reason since his mom had always liked the extra space to curl up.
Scott looked flustered. “That’s amazing.” He sat again, with Devon pressed close to his side this time, both blankets draped over their laps. “I could live in this place forever.” Devon didn’t comment right away. Deep inside he knew Scott would try to take it back, so he waited. His assumption was on point. Scott’s body went taut. “I don’t mean I want to live here, or you know, that you should invite me over or whatever…shit.”
Devon chuckled when he pressed his lips to Scott’s temple. “I think we might talk about that sometime—” Scott gasped quietly. “In the
future,” Devon continued. He wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulders, relieved when he relaxed against him. “You never have to be nervous about what you say to me, okay? I know that’s hard and I’m not trying to control you or any shit like that, but just know you can trust me with anything.” He bumped his nose to the side of Scott’s head until Scott turned and pressed their mouths together.
They drank their cocoa in silence, watching the flickering oranges and yellows and blues and purple take over the sky. “This is the perfect spot,” Scott said after a while. “Your mom must have been so proud of you.”
Devon rubbed Scott’s fingers where they wrapped around his mug. He shifted away from the brilliance of the sky so he was facing Scott. “I always judged my success or even my ability to be a good person on a scale I thought she’d approve of. There were times I disappointed her I’m sure, but she was my rock. Family is important for that I think.”
“I guess so,” Scott answered with a faraway look.
Devon squeezed his hand. “I get that your mother is a sore subject, but didn’t you have anyone in your corner growing up? You said your dad remarried. How old were you?”
“He’s on his third wife. I think I was in junior high when they finally did the right thing and got away from each other.”
“That doesn’t sound pleasant. He wasn’t around much then? Had to be hard to grow up that way.”
Scott licked his lips then brought his cup to his mouth. “I never lived up to his expectations either. Never figured out why since my dad’s not a sports or outdoor guy but…I try not to think about it.”
Devon set his mug down to drag Scott half into his lap. “I can’t even imagine how lonely you were. You must have a…I met your nephew, right? Kind of briefly and not in a great way?”
“Definitely an awkward situation.” Scott sighed. “Deanna, my sister, is ten years older. She was two when my parents adopted her because they were told they’d never have kids. Obviously, I was a big surprise. Deanna and I weren’t close back then. We keep in touch more now and I adore Eddie. but we’ve never been that game-night kind of family.” His voice trailed off, his mouth set in a straight line. “I love my parents in my own way. Maybe out of responsibility, or social norms, but it's not a comfortable thing for me. That makes me a terrible son, doesn't it? Only a terrible person doesn't love the people who raised him, right?”
Devon gathered Scott in his arms. “Nope. I don't believe that at all. I don't think you can force your heart to love anyone. And why would anyone want to anyhow. I was lucky to have my mom, my band, and a horribly touchy-feely extended family who insist on seeing me at least once a year.”
“Sounds terrible,” Scott muttered, his voice muffled against Devon's chest.
“I know I'm not family and we don't have a lot of history, but you have me, sweetheart. Hook, line, and endless lists. All yours.”
“I knew there was a reason I loved you, Devon.” Scott's words were stilted, each one pronounced slowly as if he was scared to say them. “You’re just a big old teddy bear with a heart too big for his chest.”
Devon snickered and cuddled him harder. “ Il mio cuore è in te.”
“Your accent needs work,” Scott muttered but then was silent as he pressed closer into Devon’s embrace.
They stayed still and quiet until Devon felt wetness seeping into his shirt. He pulled back to see more unshed tears in Scott’s eyes. “Hey,” he cooed. “Did I say something stupid again?”
Scott huffed a soggy laugh. “I've never met anyone like you.” He paused, swiping at his cheeks, avoiding Devon’s gaze. “If anyone ever told me I’d fall in love with a long-haired, leather-wearing, motorcycle-riding, screaming rockstar with charitable inclinations, an enormous admiration for his mother, a house out of a magazine, and an undying love for a grey cat, I’d have told them they were out of their mind.”
An uncontrollable burst of laughter shook Devon's whole body. Scott laughed with him, tangling their fingers while they rested their foreheads together. Their closeness and Scott’s quips only added to all the love rocking Devon’s insides. His mom and Shadow had always held the most important places in his heart and he’d never expected someone else to be included in those spots of honor but here he was. It was exhilarating yet scared the shit out of him.
“My mother used to say never settle for anything less than amazing,” Devon said when peace settled around them again. “And you freaking amaze me more and more every day, Scott.” He stopped to swallow the lump creeping up his throat.
Scott held Devon’s face between his hands. “You ever think of writing a book?” he asked, hint of mischief darkening his eyes.
“A book? Where’d that come from?”
“Not sure but I have the perfect title.”
Devon half-smirked at him. “Nothing to do with watersports or food fetishes I’m assuming?”
Scott rolled those beautiful eyes. “Behave. Want to hear it or not?” Devon pretended to zip his lips. “Devastation Caine’s Guide—no, wait. This is more a you thing, I think.”
“I’m all aquiver,” Devon teased.
“Devon DuCaine’s Guide to the Perfect Valentine’s Day.” Scott looked awfully proud of himself, but Devon had to add his own two cents.
“How about Devon DuCaine’s Guide to the Perfect Valentine’s Day with the Perfect Man. He was rewarded with an adorable eyeroll. “We might have to do a little more research though.”
Scott looked intrigued and amused. “And that would be?”
“How about we finish watching the sunset then I’ll show you?”
“I’m in.”
Devon turned his face to the mountains again. “That’s what I’m hoping too.”
With a whimper, Scott elbowed him in the ribs. “Why exactly do I love you when you say things like that?”
“Or I could be in you instead,” Devon added, beaming. Scott shook his head but the tint in his cheeks spoke volumes. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Scott. Love you madly to the moon and back.”
“Weirdo.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Hey baby brother.”
Scott nervously fingered his phone. If his sister was calling it couldn't be good. Despite promising Devon that he'd practice more positivity, he knew how the dynamic in his family worked. If his mother was angry with him, she tended to hassle Deanna out of spite.
“Deanna?” he asked hesitantly. “How are you?”
“Peachy,” was her droll reply but she ruined her ruse with a giggle. “Relax Scott. This isn't about Mother, but we will be having that conversation soon.”
“I'm sure we will.” Scott moved from the kitchen to the living room. Sighing, he sat down and waited for the punchline. Might as well get comfortable in case his sister was trying to pull one over on him.
“Do you remember what happens next week?”
Scott scrubbed a hand over his face. He was not in the mood for guessing games, but out of all his family, Deanna and Eddie were the most important. So, he played. “Next week? That horrible green holiday I love so much?”
“Besides that.”
“Green beer is so wrong, Dee.”
“Focus, bro. Eddie's birthday is the day before green day—”
“Is Green Day coming to town?” Eddie asked in the background. Scott heard Deanna move the phone away from her mouth.
“No. Stop eavesdropping. Say hi to your uncle.”
“Hey S-Man!” Eddie squawked.
Scott pinched the bridge of his nose, tugging his glasses off. “Happy birthday, Eddie.”
“Not getting off that easy, Scott.” Deanna chuckled again.
“Uh oh! You’re in trouble, S-Man!”
“Eddie! Homework.”
“Ah man.” Eddie's voice drifted away.
Scott sighed. It had been a long day involving a client who’d tossed coffee at Scott because the guy hadn’t received the tax numbers he’d been apparently—cluelessly—expecting. At least it had only been ha
lf a cup and it was cold. “I’m not sure what you mean. You don’t want me to give him a check this year? You know I’m not very good at choosing something appropriate. I suppose if you gave me some suggestions—”
“He wants something specific this year,” Deanna cut-in. “Something only you can get.”
“Is there another band coming to town? I can try to get tickets again but this time you're taking—”
“Devastation Caine.”
Scott pulled his phone away from his ear, staring at it as if it held all the answers. “Excuse me?” he finally managed to ask. Of course, his sister knew about him and Devastation—Devon, but what did that have to do with anything?
Deanna huffed into the phone. “Eddie cannot stop talking about him. It's Devastation this. Devastation that—“
“Devon,” Scott corrected. He dragged his glasses off his nose and tossed them on the sofa cushion beside him. “At least call him Devon.”
“Do I have to? That doesn’t have quite the mystique—”
“Deanna!” Scott interrupted with a little too much impatience. He liked his sister. He really did but… “It's a work night, you know? I have things to do before I call it a night.”
“Sorry, bro. Tuesday, right? Cleaning the fridge?”
“Yes, and I've got ice cream melting on the counter.“
“Since when do you buy ice cream?“
“Devasta—Devon likes it.“
“Oh, you are hooked, aren't you?”
“Dee.”
“Eddie wants Devon to come to his birthday.”
The request not only came out of nowhere but was absurd. Why would Devon want to even do that? “Does he want something signed? Because I'm sure Dev would be happy to do that. Something specific in mind?”
“Yeah. Devon. He wants Devon for his birthday.”
Scott took a deep breath. It was late, and he was too tired for this, and he didn’t bother to hide that fact. “That's ridiculous. Can't you take him to Chuck 'E Cheese or something?”
“He's turning fourteen, Scott.”
“Don't they have a teenager one?” What the heck did Scott know about teenagers anyway?
