Life According to Liam

by V. L. Locey

  I planned on keeping that promise. Past lovers had complained that I was too cold or not demonstrative enough to make them feel valued or special. Although I never had seen myself as aloof having several men say I was had made me see my faults. I’d not let my tendency to be remote cost me this man.

  The memories of that time spent along the beach bolstered me through some very difficult times after our return to civilization. My team hit this long, confusing patch lasting from the end of January to the end of February where we played, to quote Liam, like poopy heads.

  Things began to unravel a week after the All-Star break when we had been playing Philadelphia. The team from the city of Brotherly Love was always tough and physical so hard hits were the norm. One particularly violent check sent our captain to the hospital with a concussion. Upon review, the check was a legal one according to the league, but that didn’t make us any less angry about losing Brent for several weeks. Also, on a personal note, it shook me deeply to see one of my closest friends so seriously hurt. Yes, it’s hockey. Yes, we know it can be a violent game. Yes, we all understand the risks coming in. All that aside, when it’s a man you admire and care for wobbling around his home in obvious discomfort, it rattles you. It makes you think, and on some small microscopic level, it scares you, although you would never admit it to anyone.

  So, after losing Brent, the wheels sort of fell off the wagon as they say. There were changes to the lines to compensate losing Brent as if one could compensate the loss of a team captain. That set off some mistakes and errors on the ice as the new lines tried to find the cohesion they needed to perform well. We lost several games after Brent went down, and as much as I’d like to say it was all on the forwards it wasn’t. I also carried some of the blame. I’d let in a few soft goals over the past week or so, piddling little shots that a pee-wee goalie should have easily had. All the soft goals had eked through my legs, which was especially frustrating as I was rather well known for having a rather tight five hole—all jokes aside.

  The day after a rather distressing and uncalled for loss to North Carolina, I came home to an empty house after an afternoon charity event. It was becoming more and more obvious that I was quite unhappy with the current arrangement with Michael. I wanted him here with me all the time. I disliked how sullen I became when he wasn’t here to greet me. It was more than a little petty of me—and childish. Actually, I was acting more like Liam than Liam was. The lad had taken to his daycare routine with flying colors, for the most part, which freed Michael up during the day. I wasn’t sure if Michael was happy with all his free time since he seemed to be happiest when coddling others. He’d even taken to sending out applications to various web design companies in hopes of landing a part-time position to fill in his lulls in his independent work. He had the time now. Perhaps I could convince him to move in and coddle me. God knows I’ve been a petulant brat the past few weeks. How I had managed to keep a boyfriend with my miserable moods was anyone’s guess.

  I padded into my bedroom, fell to the bed, rolling to my back and sighing, my sight on the miserable amount of winter sun lighting my bedroom. Spring was still a good two months away. Perhaps I was experiencing some sort of winter disorder. I could then blame my horrid play and equally horrible mood on the lack of sunshine. Something uplifting was in order for the day. Perhaps I could call Michael and see if he were free for dinner complete with rendezvous. The cell vibrating on the nightstand pulled me from some rather salacious thoughts. As soon as I saw that it was Michael calling, I felt my dour feelings begin to live.

  “Good afternoon,” I said cheerfully.

  “Ugh, God, I wish. I dropped Liam off at the birthday party, late as usual because of some stupid fracas with Cap and Hawkeye. I don’t know what they were bickering about but somehow it ended with one of Liam’s snow boots being filled with cocoa cereal pops for Hulk’s dinner.”

  I softly chuckled, his oddly quirky but funny way of spinning a story amused me right out of my funk.

  “So no snow boots for Liam today?” I asked, lying on my back then letting my hand drop to my chest. “Was he mad because he won’t be able to play outside like the other kids if they get sent outdoors?”

  “Oddly no.” Michael cupped the phone to shout at someone. “So I ran some errands afterward and I get all the way to Franklin Park for this interview….no, I do not have Triple A!”

  I winced at the stress in his voice that I’d first thought was humor. “Is everything okay?”

  “No, my stupid car broke down, and I’m just now getting it hooked to a tow truck.”

  “Ah, babe, I’m so sorry. Would you like me to come get you?”

  “Later. Can you pick up Liam and take him home?”

  That made me sit up. “Uhm…”

  “I know it’s a huge thing to ask, and I wouldn’t foist if it wasn’t an emergency. The kids can only be there for two hours, Jamaal’s mother was very specific about that which, you know, I don’t blame her. Twenty kids under six inside for two hours would be enough to push any sane adult off the cliff of sanity. Kelly can’t leave work. I knew today was a rest day for you, but if you’re busy this evening I can try to see if I can find someone else to run out and—”

  “No, it’s my pleasure.”

  “Are you sure? I hate to foist but—”

  “It’s really not foisting. I’m happy to pick him up and watch him until you or Kelly get home.”

  “Thank you.” The relief in his voice was plain. “Kelly and I have both called Crystal and told her you were coming to pick him up, she knows who you are and that we’ve been dating.”

  Everyone in Pittsburgh now knew that Michael and I were a couple. He’d announced it on his blog and occasionally shared pictures of us when it fit into the topic of a post. Thankfully, he didn’t beat it to death or shout about it, he simply mentioned me as the man of his dreams, which I found to be a charming way of handling what could have been a major invasion of both of our privacies. His blogging was still mainly about Liam, though, which suited me well. I got enough face time with the media. Michael’s blog was his blog about his life. I didn’t wish to make his wonderful little space on the web about Bryn Mettler.

  “When is his party over?” I glanced at the clock on the dresser.

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “Shit,” I grumbled and shot to my feet. “Can you text me the address? I’m home.”

  “Oh sorry, I thought you’d still be at the children’s hospital.” Traffic roared past him, almost drowning him out as he spoke. “How was it?”

  “It was fine.” I paused on my way to the living room. There was no need to lie to this man. This was Michael. “To be honest, it was sad, terribly sad seeing so many sick children, but it all went well. I think I may have brightened a couple of lives so…”

  “You’re such a good man. I have to go. The car is finally ready to roll. I have no idea where this garage is, so I’m going to talk to the mechanic just a bit, and then I’ll grab a ride home.”

  “I can come get you.” Where were my keys? I jogged back to the bedroom and found them on the bed. They must have fallen out of my pocket when I laid down.

  “Nope, just go get Liam and take him home. He’ll possibly be a little cranky…”

  “Cranky is fine.” I shoved my arm into a thick woolen coat. “I’m out the door now.”

  “The address should be on your phone. Thank you so much, Bryn. I love you. See you soon.”

  “Love you as well.” I hung up, shoved my phone into my front pocket, checked to make sure my wallet was in my back pocket, and then hurried to my car.

  Finding the house was simple. It was a lovely little townhouse in Squirrel Hill North. The adults were thrilled to meet me and shook my hand for several minutes as Liam and four other boys ran in wild circles through the first floor. Somehow we managed to peel Liam away from the pack, get his coat and Ravens stocking cap on, and wave goodbye to his new friends.

  The first small problem we enco
untered was my lack of a child safety seat. I stood on the sidewalk, mulling the problem, while Liam made handprints in the snow piled along the walkway.

  “Would it be okay if we just buckled you in and made a quick run to the nearest store that sold car seats?” I asked the boy at my left.

  “No. Uncle Mike says safe superheroes ride in their car seat. I want a hamburger.”

  He gathered up some snow and threw it into the air. I thought to argue, but the child was right. We’d have to come up with something else, such as going back to the party house and begging the birthday boy’s mother to let us borrow a car seat, which I would promptly bring back on my way home. Thankfully, the woman was incredibly giving and within five minutes Liam was buckled into his borrowed car seat and we were on our way. I made a mental note to send the birthday boy and his parents tickets to an upcoming game as my thanks for their being so kind.

  “Where’s Uncle Mike?” Liam asked from the back as I pulled up to a red light.

  “His car broke down,” I explained, giving the lad a smile in the rearview. “And your mother is at work, so it will just be the two of us for a little bit. How is that?”

  “I want a hamburger.”

  “Didn’t you have cake and ice cream at the party?”

  “No.” He stared at me in the mirror, his pleading green eyes so similar to Michael’s that I found I couldn’t deny his simple request. His uncle had the same effect on me. So, we made a quick stop at a fast food restaurant where he got a bagged meal with a burger, some fries, a small soda, and a toy of some sort. I ordered a coffee and we went to a table to eat. I had no wish to have ketchup or greasy fries ground into the seat of my Mercedes.

  “Is your burger good?” Liam nodded, his mouth so full of meat and bun that his cheeks were ballooned out. “Wonderful. As soon as we get done eating we’ll go home. Do you want to watch something on the TV?” Several people walked past, giving me that ‘I know you!’ look but not stopping.

  “Ravens hockey.”

  That made me smile into my steaming cup of mediocre coffee. “Well, we’re not playing tonight but I think we can find an older game and stream it.”

  Liam nodded, shoved a fry into his mouth, and then stared at me intently. “You and Uncle Mike want to marry each other and have babies?”

  Thank God I’d not taken a sip of coffee. I gently lowered my cup to the small round table and gaped at the lad.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied with honesty. Michael always said that he tried to be as forthright with Liam as he could be about love and relationships. “I love your uncle a great deal.”

  “Then you should marry him and make a baby. Uncle Mike could have the baby put in his room.” Liam chewed another handful of fries, his eyes wide with anticipation, while I tried to decipher what he meant.

  “I’d think if we had a baby we’d give it a nursery, so we could have our room to ourselves.”

  There. That sounded like a good reply.

  “No,” the boy huffed with exasperation at my stupidity. “The baby need to grow in Uncle Mike’s room until it’s big and then Uncle Mike will go to the hospital to make the baby come out of his room.”

  I stared at the boy for several seconds before the light of realization came on. “Do you mean Uncle Mike should carry the baby in his womb?” He bobbed his head strongly, sucked on his soda, and then poked several fries into a glob of ketchup that he then managed to smear over his chin and hand. I decided to let him finish eating before wiping him off. “Okay, well…” I glanced at all the people around us, wishing someone would leap up and offer to explain this to Liam but not a soul did. “Your uncle can’t have a baby in his womb because he doesn’t have a womb.” I stopped, contemplated a bit about if I should try to explain how a transgender man could have a baby. Michael and Kelly were open and honest about the various people who resided under the rainbow banner. “Some men do have wombs, but your Uncle Mike doesn’t.”

  I felt quite proud of that explanation. It was perfect for a child his age and might hopefully divert him from—

  “Then how will you make a baby with him?”

  Damn. The child was determined. I shifted a bit on the bench. “I’m not sure we will make a baby, but if we did decide to perhaps we would adopt a child. Or—” I almost mentioned surrogacy but opted to not dive into that discussion at the moment. “Yes, we would adopt a baby who needed parents.”

  “Okay. When is you dopting the baby?”

  “Oh well, not for some time yet. Your uncle and I aren’t married yet.”

  “When is you marrying each other?”

  “Can you finish your hamburger and fries? This way we can go home and watch hockey.”

  “Okay. When is you marrying each other?”

  I blew into my coffee to stall and think. “I think we might try living together first.”

  “But Uncle Mike lives with me and mama.” His expression began to slip from curious to concerned. A smarter man, one more attuned to children, might have had the sense to divert but I was, obviously, an incredibly stupid man.

  “For now, but he would move in with me and then after a year or so perhaps we’d—”

  “I don’t want Uncle Mike to move in with you!”

  The explosion was loud and followed by a meltdown that rivaled Chernobyl. I had never in all my years seen a child go from chatting amiably to falling to the floor while howling like the nattmara, a sort of she-werewolf, that Swedish grandmothers told stories about. The boy was inconsolable, so I lifted him from the floor and carried him out to the car, sparing the patrons in the restaurant the best I could.

  He pouted and sniffled as I buckled him into his seat, the worst of the tantrum over, I hoped. I wiped his eyes and nose with a silk handkerchief and then climbed behind the wheel and took a calming breath. Perhaps the fantasy of having a child of my own needed reevaluating. I looked back at him, sniffling and scowling, clutching his Captain America stuffed toy to his chest.

  “Are you feeling less upset now?”

  His lower lip slid out even further. Fearing another spell, I focused on driving. Just ten minutes to Michael’s house. Then Liam, who was more than a bit cranky as Michael had predicted, might settle down for a nap. That would work.

  “Let’s find some music.” I smiled in the mirror at him.

  “Koko Bear and the Frogs.”

  I was familiar with the children’s group he was speaking of. Michael mentioned them frequently on his blog in glowing terms.

  “I don’t think I have them on a playlist but let me look.” I managed to find a few songs by Koko Bear and the Frogs on my music app, so we left the fast food restaurant behind, Liam mumbling along to some song about a turnip and a turtle. We’d gone about a block, maybe two, and I’d found myself relaxing enough to hum along with the turnip and turtle song when Liam, with no announcements or whimpers to let me know he didn’t feel well, vomited all over himself, the borrowed car seat, and the back of my neck.

  Yes, that whole child of my own thing just might be harder than I thought. And dirtier. So much dirtier…

  Fifteen

  Mike

  “Are you sure I can’t help in some way?” I shifted the clean towel from one hand to the other.

  Bryn glanced up and stopped scrubbing the back of his blue and white striped shirt—a Dolce & Gabbana he had mentioned a few dozen times under his breath—and settled those dark sensual eyes on me. He looked hot as hell bare-chested with his eyes simmering as they were.

  “Thank you but no.” He went back to working at the stain on the collar with a soft little scrub brush that I’d found for him.

  “Why don’t you let me scrub that for you? I feel as if I should be doing something to make up for—”

  Again, he stopped scrubbing to look right into my soul. “Thank you but no.”

  And back to the scrubbing. I sighed and leaned a shoulder to the doorjamb, our small bathroom filled with a disgruntled but too polite to say anything goalie.


  “Kelly and Liam are taking the car seat back. It washed-up nicely.”

  “That was very good of her, but I would have cleaned it up and returned it myself.”

  “Yeah, I know but we feel terrible about your shirt, and the car seat, and your car.”

  His head slowly came up, his manic scrubbing ceasing. He caught my gaze, which had drifted to his abs because they were tight and beautiful just a second before.

  “Michael, there isn’t any need to feel bad. The child threw up. It happens. This…” he held up the sodden shirt which cost more than my entire wardrobe probably, “…is just a shirt. The Mercedes dealer will clean the upholstery and carpeting, and I will send Jamaal’s family tickets to a game. Stop beating yourself up over an accident.”

  “Still…”

  He exhaled loudly, tossed the wet shirt back into the soapy water, and padded over to me. My eyes roamed over his face, settling on his lips, which were rather thin at the moment. With a sound tug, he pulled me into the bath, nudged the door shut, pushed me against it, and kissed me forcefully. I threw the towel over his shoulder and kissed him back. Then, as quickly and heatedly as the passion had ignited, Bryn tamped it down. He stepped back to the sink, picked up the shirt and tiny scrub brush, and went back to work. I clung to the doorframe, cock half-hard, lips still tingling.

  “Is that your way of telling me to stop being so me?” I shakily asked.

  “Yes. It’s fine, Michael. Truly. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I fed the child greasy food on top of what looked to be blue ice cream and cake, although it could have been blue frosting…” He lifted his shirt from the sink to stare at the stained collar. Then, with a sad exhalation, he let the ruined dress shirt fall back into the sink.

  “We should have told you about his new thing for hamburgers. He wants one every time we go in the car. I should have warned you not to let him work you for a treat because he’d been stuffed to the gills with junk already. I should have—”

  He gave me a firm look that sort of turned me on even more. My dick was fat and hard now.