Irons and Works: The Complete Series

by E M Lindsey

  Niko hummed, and Sam could hear him drumming his fingers on the desk. “I have an idea,” he said after a second. “It’s in Denver, and I’m driving. I can pick you up in half an hour.”

  Normally, Sam hated surprises. Mostly because half the time, surprises never accommodated someone in a wheelchair. He’d been forced to abandon romantic dates on rooftop restaurants because of stairs, or shopping centers where the doors were too small, or the crowds were too thick. Once, Derek tried to surprise him with a wine and paint night in Boulder, only to find out that the studio had three steps up without a ramp. When they did get his chair inside, all the canvases were on chest-high tables he couldn’t reach.

  Derek had beat himself up for days about it, though Sam never blamed him. But it was still a symptom of a greater problem, and exactly why he almost never said yes to people wanting to take him somewhere without letting him investigate first.

  But, tonight, he wanted to take a chance. Something in him wanted to trust that Niko would be the person to get it right on the first try. “I’ll be ready,” he told Niko.

  “Great. See you soon.” He hung up before Sam could give his own goodbye, and Sam couldn’t help smiling at how eager Niko seemed.

  He headed into his bathroom to get ready, glad to have the half hour since he’d need at least that to sort himself for an evening out. It felt good, in spite of the anxiety over not knowing what was to come. An adult night out—something that felt akin to a date, even if he couldn’t entirely let himself think of it that way—to get his mind of the literal shit-show which was on its way.

  The one thing he didn’t want to think about for the next twenty-four hours was Maisy’s biological grandparents. It was inevitable, and he knew Beth would probably take him up on his challenge to get a court order allowing them unsupervised visitation, but he owed himself time off from the stress.

  After scrubbing off a little and throwing some product into his hair, he moved to his bedroom and rummaged in his dresser. Jeans weren’t always the most comfortable for him to manage, but he found himself wanting to look nice for Niko. He paired them with a soft grey Henley which hugged his pecs in all the right places, showed off the little bumps of his nipple rings which were always a conversation starter. He wheeled in front of his standing mirror and turned his chair from side to side, not hating what he saw.

  He knew he was a good-looking guy, and he knew that in all honesty, he’d probably have something far more long-term by now if he’d let himself open up to people. But tattooing had come first for so long—helping Tony get the shop off the ground, getting the newcomers established, creating the family he was never privileged enough to have growing up. Then Maisy came along, and she’d become his whole world, and he just wasn’t sure how he’d ever be able to juggle loving her and someone else at the same time. As ridiculous as it was, he didn’t think he’d ever meet someone willing to accept that she came first in all things.

  And if he lost her well…he wasn’t sure he’d ever be whole enough again to give someone what they deserved in a partner.

  With a sigh, he dragged his hand down his face, then pulled his sleeves to his elbows and wheeled back to the living room to wait. Niko was due in only a handful of minutes, which was enough time to get himself calmed down without getting worked back up.

  Exactly on time, his phone buzzed with a text from Niko, letting him know he was outside. Sam grabbed his things, then headed out, hitting the button on his automatic lock before heading down the pavement to Niko’s car. It was an SUV, but lower to the ground than some of the other monstrosities, which helped Sam relax about taking the ride from him.

  Niko was standing outside of it, his hip propped against the back-passenger door, arms crossed over his chest. He was gorgeous in the fading sunlight of the late afternoon, gold rays painting his features, giving his black curls a halo. His mouth was set in a small smirk, and it made Sam want to drag him down into a kiss, one full of tongue and softness. His stomach ached with wanting him, and he was having trouble remembering why going there wasn’t a good idea.

  “Hey, you,” Niko said, taking a step away from the car. “Can I help with anything?”

  Sam shook his head with a grin as he reached for the handle. “I’ve got it. Years of practice.”

  Niko hesitated, then nodded and walked back around the car as Sam lifted himself into the seat, situated his legs, then grabbed his chair to detach the wheels and shove it all behind his seat. He appreciated the room for it, and the softness of the seat beneath him. In fact, the car was more luxurious than he was expecting an accountant to drive, though he knew it would be rude to ask how Niko could afford it.

  He was quiet as Niko got behind the wheel, and neither of them said anything until they were on the road and heading for the freeway. “So, Denver?” Sam finally questioned, searching for a way to break the silence.

  Niko glanced at him briefly, then shrugged. “I had a couple ideas, but I had to make a few calls first to make sure we could do it.”

  Sam’s gut squirmed a little with anticipation. “You’re still not going to tell me?”

  Niko licked his lips, looking at him with a nervous expression, then he laughed softly. “If I asked you to trust me, would you?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said, half playful, half serious. “Do you know how often I’ve had to cancel plans because I can’t get in and out of a building?”

  “Yeah, I uh…I sort of figured that,” Niko confessed, and despite himself, Sam felt his insides go a bit soft. “And I know you said you weren’t really into sports, but let’s just say that’s the theme of the night.”

  “Seriously?” Sam asked dryly. “So what, we going to a hockey game?”

  Niko laughed again, shaking his head. “No, not a hockey game. I wouldn’t do that to you. The Avalanche didn’t exactly make it to playoffs this year, and I didn’t think you’d want to be away from Maisy long enough for a road trip.” He turned his head and winked. “Now if the Stars were playing tonight, I might reconsider. I might even still have enough connections to meet some of the guys after the game.”

  Sam rolled his eyes, but he laughed anyway. “I’m going to hold you to that, man. I’d like a chance to see that butt up close and personal.”

  Niko laughed, his cheeks dimpling with his huge grin. “I’ll see what I can do. For tonight, though, I happen know that the best way to keep your mind off shit is to keep your body busy. If it sucks, if you totally hate it, we can leave. But I have two things planned, and then maybe some dinner if you feel like it. Uh…I didn’t ask when you were due back so…”

  “Later,” Sam told him. “I have time for dinner.” He was a little afraid, only because the more time he was spending with Niko, the more he was wanting, and the harder it would be to let go when he didn’t have a choice.

  Yet, he needed this. He was going to self-care the fuck out of this night because it was only going to get worse from here on in.

  “Alright, Master Yoda, Jedi-mind-trick this night and make me forget.”

  “Oh my god,” Niko said in a near whisper. “Such a nerd.” But he didn’t seem upset about it at all. At least, not if his grin was anything to go by.

  * * *

  If you asked Sam, he’d say it was difficult to surprise him. First, he was fairly good at reading people, and he’d thwarted every single surprise party attempt in his history. Second, most of the people he knew were creatures of habit. If the night had been left to Derek, they would have ended up at his studio, throwing ceramic plates at the brick wall in the alley, or making a mess of finger paints on a giant canvas. If it was Mat, they’d find some chair-accessible hiking path near Broomfield and throw rocks into the creek. If it was Tony, they’d end up at the damn aquarium petting the sting rays for long enough to turn their fingers pruny.

  With Niko, it was new, uncharted territory. When they pulled up to the batting cages, Sam was startled enough that he didn’t move, not even after Niko opened his door. When Ni
ko noticed his hesitation, his cheeks pinked a bit and he turned to face Sam fully.

  “Was this a bad idea? I uh…I do this sometimes. Smacking the ball to the back of the cage always helps me work out my frustrations, and I thought it might be fun to give it a try.” His voice was full of hesitation, and Sam felt a little bad for letting him spiral like that.

  But honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was feeling. “You know I probably can’t do this, right? I’ve been to the cages before, and most of the machines don’t go down low enough.”

  Niko bit his lip, nodding. “I know. Which was why I had to call around to six different places to find one that had a machine or two that would adjust. This place has one that adjust to wheelchair height, not just to a kid’s height, which I was told there was a difference. They seemed to know what they were talking about, but if it’s not a good idea…”

  “No,” Sam said, feeling something unfamiliar burning in his chest. He cleared his throat, then shook his head. “No, I…let’s go.”

  He reached behind him to assemble his chair, and by the time he was transferred, Niko was waiting for him up on the curb. They weren’t far from the ramp up, and Niko led the way with some purpose in his step, though Sam had a feeling it was more nerves than it was confidence.

  He pushed ahead of Niko right as they got to the door, and he grabbed the handle first, smiling up as Niko gave him a quirked brow. “After you,” he said with a tiny smirk.

  Niko laughed, the sound deep and rumbly which Sam wanted to feel against his body. Preferably his naked body.

  “Thank you,” Niko told him softly.

  Sam fought back a blush as he pushed in after Niko and followed him to the check-in desk. They both had to sign waivers, Sam’s a little different, but the fact that they had one specifically for their disabled customers let him know this wasn’t an unusual occurrence. He briefly wondered if maybe he’d been hiding too long in his bubble, keeping to what was familiar, not trusting that people were expanding their horizons.

  He kept the feeling—the light, curious feeling—as they followed the attendant outside to the cages. Theirs were booked at the far end of the corridor, and they were each given helmets and an array of bats to test. Sam hadn’t touched a bat in years. The only time he ever bothered was when he was fucking around with the guys in James’ back yard, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be good at it. But as he glanced over at Niko’s face, he realized that good or not, it was probably going to be fun.

  Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe this is a start to something.

  “Okay,” the attendant said, handing them each a pair of batting gloves. “You get one hour, the machine will set automatically, and you can control the speed and frequency with the remote.” He handed those off, too. “Yours,” he said, addressing Sam, “has the adjustment. We recommend our wheelchair users move off to the side and fire off a few balls first to see where they’re landing so you can find your ideal height. If you have any questions, just push the red button and an attendant will come out to assist you. Have fun.”

  And that was that. Sam took in a breath, shakier than he expected it to be, and he looked up at Niko who was watching him with a careful expression. “Too much?” Niko asked.

  Sam shook his head. “I’ve never done this, but I like to think I’m at least somewhat athletically inclined.”

  Niko’s brows shot up. “Bet on it?”

  Sam perked up, intrigued. “Name your terms.”

  “Most balls to make it past the counter sensor wins. Loser buys the first round.”

  Sam stuck out his fist. “It’s on.”

  Niko bumped it, and Sam couldn’t deny the rush of warmth in his arm when their skin touched. “Let’s do this. May the best accountant win.”

  “Oh, fuck you,” Sam said with a grin, then moved inside. Niko called over about doing a quick warm-up, which would give Sam enough time to test the height and his swing before they began. He swapped his wheelchair gloves for the batting ones, then tested out a couple of the bats until he found one that fit comfortably in his hands. It took him a few tries to get himself sorted, to keep his balance with the low backing of his chair, and to find his distance so he didn’t get clobbered in the face by the ball.

  But eventually, he found his stride. When he made contact twice in a row, he heard Niko’s soft chuckle as he called through the fence, “Ready, Sam?”

  “Babe, I was born ready,” Sam told him, the words flowing easily. He glanced over to see Niko’s surprised grin, and the faint pink on the apples of his cheeks. Their gazes met—a little heated and a little soft—and then Niko nodded.

  Sam turned his attention back to the machine, because above anything else, he liked to win. He hadn’t been the star athlete anything back in high school, but he’d maintained a competitive streak that got him on the JV team during his Freshman year and bumped him to Varsity by Sophomore. It was the same streak that gave him the edge to take his first steps out of his chair, unaided by anything except his walker. It was the same streak that kept him going, even as everything with Maisy felt like it was careening over a cliff.

  Sam didn’t give up. Ever. Not in his personal life, and not here.

  Crack. The first hit was a success, the ball flying to the end of the cage where it hit the wall and the little number on the top went from zero to one. Crack. A second. And then a third. He hit more than he missed, and he suddenly found himself lost in the rhythm of it, and the burn in his arms from the work out. He found himself tuning out the sound of Niko’s machine going, the crack of his own bat, losing count on both Niko’s and his own. He determinedly ignored the counter, instead staring at the far end of the cage where he imagined a nameless, faceless figure of a person trying to take his daughter was standing. He pelted them with ball after ball, indulging in a furious, pained fantasy of beating them down and down until they felt the same pain he did with the constant threats of losing his daughter.

  His chest started getting hot, throat tight, eyes burning with unshed tears as he swung his bat harder and harder each time. He was going to be sore, aching with how hard he was working himself, but he didn’t care. He ignored the sweat dripping on his brow as he increased the speed.

  He would have gone on. He would have pushed past his limits. He might have even started crying if it weren’t for the hand that fell on his shoulder, and the fingers that plucked the remote from his hands and shut his machine down.

  Niko was in front of him then, kneeling to look him in the eye, one hand cupping the side of his neck with a pressure firm enough to bring him down, but soft enough to keep from suffocating him. There was no judgement in Niko’s eyes, just a quiet understanding.

  “You beat me. By like twenty hits,” Niko told him.

  Sam licked his lips, surprised to find his mouth so dry, and his gaze flickered over to the counter to see the glowing eighty-seven. He suddenly felt the sting of overworked muscle as he tried and failed to lift the bat again, and he couldn’t help his grin when Niko laughed at him.

  “I think I’m going to have to cancel our next outing. I’m guessing your arms couldn’t take it.”

  Sam blinked. “What was it?”

  Niko looked thoughtful, like he might actually keep it to himself, then he stood back up and stretched his arms. “Ice skating.”

  Sam felt shock jolt him, a little disbelief as he rolled his chair back and blinked up at the other man. “Ice skating.”

  “Well, hockey,” Niko clarified, and there was a sudden vulnerability in his tone that kept Sam from giving a harsh reminder why he couldn’t actually take the ice.

  “Uh…look, you do realize that I can’t get on skates, right?”

  “There’s a thing called sledge hockey,” Niko said, his voice still somewhat brittle. “I did a couple of charity events when I was in Quebec. They’re sleds specifically designed for people with mobility issues. You sit in them, and you use these specially designed sticks to propel yourself across the ice. It’s actual
ly really fun.”

  Sam vaguely registered the knowledge about it. He’d heard of it years ago, but ice skating? Hockey? That had never really been his thing, and he’d never given it much thought. He remembered what Niko had told him, though, how hockey had been his world and his future, until it was ripped away.

  He cleared his throat, then leaned over to rest the bat against the side of the cage. “Look, if you still want to, I’d be happy to give it a try.”

  Niko gave him a wry grin, the hesitation gone from his expression. “Trust me, if we do that and you pull something in your arms, you’ll hate me forever. I had fun here, and I’d like to do this again. So, next time?”

  Sam felt like there was something more riding on this— like there was something deeper than just fun when it came to taking the ice with Niko, but he didn’t want to push it. So instead, he nodded and grabbed his wheels to push toward the exit. “I can live with that. Besides, I could use a beer and according to our wager, you’ve got first round.”

  Niko groaned, but there was a grin on his face as he led the way out, Sam following behind feeling strangely lighter than he had in weeks.

  Chapter Eleven

  Niko was more than grateful when Sam gave him silence on the way to the pub. He half expected it to be awkward, but there was a companionship to it he wasn’t expecting. Before this, Sam had been giving off signals that he was attracted to Niko, but not interested in doing anything about it. Now, it felt like something between them had shifted. There was a tension there that wasn’t before, a wire set taut which Niko knew he could break if only he took the first step. He wasn’t going to, of course—at least, not without tacit proof Sam wanted something beyond the shadow of a doubt, because Niko wasn’t ever going to be that guy to push boundaries.

  Skipping the ice for the pub had given Niko a little bit of relief. He hadn’t been on the ice since the day he left the arena for the final time, and he would gladly do it now—for Sam, to bring the guy some peace and distraction—but he couldn’t deny his appreciation for the reprieve. Still, he found himself a little surprised at how willing and ready he did feel, knowing Sam would be the one taking the ice with him.