Sugar and Ice (Raptors Book 4)

by RJ Scott

  “Okay so pick the site and we’ll start roasting some wieners,” Penn shouted as he looked back to grin at us. The Jeep nearly ran off the road before he righted it. Apollo was halfway in my lap, his eyes wide as hubcaps. If not for the seatbelt he would have been wrapped around my neck like a scarf. “Roads. Who needs them? I say a man should make his own way in life! Do what he wants, when he wants, where he wants.”

  With that we went off-road for a few miles until we skidded up to a campsite that was far away from the beaten path. A lone grill stood next to a weathered log cabin camp. Since we’d not gotten a camping permit, we’d not go into the cabin.

  “Fuck yeah!” Colorado hooted, leaping out of the Jeep as I worked to peel Apollo from me. He was quite strong for such a small man. Finally, I got him loose and pointed in the direction of Henry who was paler than I had ever seen him. I leaned out of the Jeep and slapped Penn across the back of his head. He yelped. “Dude, seriously nasty way to harsh the buzz.”

  “Some of us do not appreciate bad rides,” I snarled, jerking my head at Henry who was holding Apollo close to him as one would a buoy in a turbulent sea.

  “Oh. Shit. Sorry man. Cy, you should have said something. Okay, no more off road for us! Grab the charcoal. I’ll get the tunes and the beer!”

  With that pronouncement our goalie raced off after lifting a cooler and his battered acoustic guitar out of the back.

  “I swear that man cares about no one other than himself,” I muttered to Tate who could do nothing but nod.

  We unpacked the Jeeps and began our manly day out with a game of touch Frisbee. Touch meaning tackle. The temperature was a dry seventy-two degrees, perfect weather to be outside. After the game, which my team won, we went for a long hike, Alex reading off facts about the park, flora and fauna from his phone as we walked. We saw cactus as tall as a giraffe, small birds, a king snake warming himself on a rock, and several pronghorn off in the distance. When we returned to our makeshift camp we were all starving. Thank the stars that Apollo had packed more than just hot dogs and mustard. There were dishes of spicy Mexican food that we dove into, followed by a tres leches cake that was so delicious I had three helpings.

  The memory of a small pool of crystal clear water nearby called to us, and so we all walked to it, hoping to work off some of the food we’d gorged on. The water had been warmed by the sun but was refreshing on bare feet and calves. Soon the boys fell into splashing and trying to dunk each other even though the pool was barely two feet deep. I was pulled in and then had to fight my way back to the rock where I’d been digesting my feast. Tate leaped onto my back, Ryker latched onto a leg, and Jacob plus Eli tackled me around the waist. It was the heft of the big farm boy and my defensive partner that knocked me off my feet. I came sputtering up, my clothes soaked, my lover scrambling to his bare feet. A small skirmish broke out during which I showed them all that the old dog still had what it took to handle the young pups.

  Colorado arrived at dusk, guitar in hand, and flopped down on the rocks we’d been stretched out on as we dried off. The rock star gave us all a smiling assessment.

  “You guys are like the rock center of my world.” He rapped knuckles with Ryker who was resting his head on Jacob’s belly. I found myself staring at Tate, who was leaning back on his arms, face to the softly darkening sky, hair knotted from water play. I’d never seen him so beautiful aside from when I was making love to him. It was now or never, I decided.

  “Tate and I are lovers,” I blurted out.

  All eyes swiveled from Colorado who’d been tuning his guitar to us.

  “Old news,” Eli said around a fake yawn.

  I gave him a look that made him snigger.

  “And?” Ryker asked, his cheek pillowed on his fiancé’s stomach.

  “And we would like you all to know because we feel you are all our rock centers as well.”

  There. I’d done it. I’d come out. Sort of. In a microscopic way. Tate sat up straight, his eyes moving around the small circle of our teammates and friends.

  “We really need you guys to keep it to yourselves though, okay? Vlad has some touchy issues with his family and his homeland and I’m totally tapped out with drama,” Tate said, his sight lingering on Apollo who was fussing with some chipped polish on his toe. Henry nudged him.

  Apollo’s deep brown eyes flew from his pedicure to the group. “Oh, yes, sorry. My toes are frightful. School is killing my downtime. Yes, of course. Do you think we would ever out someone who wasn’t ready to be out?” Apollo asked. We all shook our heads.

  “Thank you,” Tate replied for both of us.

  “Dude, we all totally get it. I mean I know what kind of hell Stan went through. We got your backs,” Ryker said, petting Jacob’s belly as one would a pillow, then nestling back in. The small group all murmured along in agreement.

  “I’m deeply touched that you two felt safe enough with us to tell us what we all already knew,” Colorado said as he began strumming, then launched into a song about friendships, rock centers, and cool desert nights. Then in front of them all I wiggled closer to Tate and put my arm around his shoulder. He let his head drop to mine. It was everything that I had ever dreamed it could be but a thousand times better.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tate

  Who knew I had an accent?

  “You sound like a Ewing,” Alex said.

  “What is a Ewing?” Vlad asked, and after that a games night at my place had deteriorated in a heated debate about eighties TV Shows, none of which we’d been alive for. Well, apart from Vlad who’d been born in eighty-six but I’m not sure how much of the US eighties had hit rural Russia, or even the nineties.

  “And then he was in the shower,” Eli read out from Wikipedia, poking at his screen and snorting a laugh, “And it was all a dream.”

  “A whole season?”

  “Who the fuck knows.”

  “That man was all hat and no cattle,” Colorado did a perfect Texan drawl. “Bit like our Tate hereabouts when ya’lls madder than a wet hen.”

  I think he was messing up his abouts and his y’alls, but he’d spent ten minutes working on his ya’lls from his y’alls and that had stopped the game of poker and deteriorated into me not being able to breathe through laughter. He was a funny dude, and somehow he had us all singing Dolly Parton songs until midnight in which we all had to pretend to be from Texas. Again, messing up the accents, and mixing Tennessee with Texas, but who the hell cared at this point? We just let Colorado do his thing and enjoyed the laughter it caused.

  My home was in Minnesota, and tonight was the first night of bye week, an entire five days off where Vlad and I planned on going back to stay at my parents’ place, meet up with Logan and Josie, and various nieces and nephews, and the dogs, and even though Vlad loved me, I wasn’t sure how long that was going to last after he got a good look at the rest of the Collins clan. Apollo and Henry were cat-sitting Obi, Frank was being cared for by Tom and Mona, our bags were packed, and we were flying to Minnesota early tomorrow. In fact, I wasn’t sure we’d even go to bed tonight.

  When everyone left, we cleared up a little, but not long enough to dissuade me from being tugged to the bedroom. So, it was a yes on the bed, then.

  “Your accent turns my insides out,” Vlad stuttered when we lay on our backs staring at the ceiling, hot and sticky and coming down from a high.

  I curled up on my side, and kissed him soundly. “So does yours.”

  I was right about not sleeping; there was no point, since we needed to be at Tucson International by five a.m., and it was already three. Grabbing our bags and locking up the house, we headed for the airport, chatting quietly in the new dawn, and taking our seats up front in first class. The flight was just over seven hours and Vlad was a big man, so this was my treat.

  After all, he was running the gauntlet of my family.

  “Big brother, Logan, wife, Gemma, two daughters, Lizzie and Bella. Middle sister, Josie, partner, David, not married, bu
t engaged, son Mitchell. Dogs, and various cats, your mom is named Elizabeth, your dad is Francis. Not shortened to Frank like my Frank.”

  “You can stop saying all that now,” I was amused at the way he was attempting to remember everything before he’d even met my family.

  He turned to look at me his pale eyes focused. “I will not mess this up.”

  I elbowed him, difficult with the distance between these seats, and he raised an eyebrow. “Big brother, Logan…”

  I tuned him out, disrupted by yet more food being offered, and a helpful attendant who was a hockey fan and wanted to know about the Raptors’ chance of getting to the cup run.

  “We will get to the playoffs.” Vlad was defiant, and at least it got him off the subject of my family and remembering their names.

  “I’m a Railers fan,” she began.

  “Someone has to be,” Vlad muttered under his breath, and I kicked him as subtly as I could.

  “I love Tennant Rowe, and Stan, he’s the best goalie. I think we have a good chance of the cup this year—”

  “Uhmm, could I get some more chips?” I interrupted, as kindly as I could without breaking every polite bone in my body.

  Vlad muttered something in Russian, but at least the attendant left to get me what I’d asked, and by the time she returned, I’d gotten Vlad back to repeating family names, added to which we only had another ten minutes until we landed. The Raptors had been having a good run of games, much to everyone’s surprise, winning five out of the last twelve games outright, and getting points in two others for taking the game to overtime.

  I knew the media were saying that I was the savior of the team, that it was me arriving which had changed things. After games, it was me who was being asked all the questions.

  But they were wrong; it wasn’t just me.

  Under Vlad, and with Coach, and the management behind us, this team was a unit. We worked hard, we laughed, we commiserated, we learned from our mistakes; it reminded me of all the positive team rebuilds of the past. Okay, so maybe this year we wouldn’t make it all the way to the cup, but we wouldn’t be bottom, and that was because we were a damn good team.

  As soon as the seatbelt light went out I was up from my seat and grabbing coats from the overhead bin. Minnesota was cold compared to Arizona, but when I passed the coat to Vlad he muttered again. He’d been doing that a lot, telling me that there was no way Minnesota was as cold as where he’d come from, and he’d been there before. Then he half smiled at me and shrugged on the coat, doing it for me.

  God I wanted to kiss him.

  “Good luck in the run to the cup,” our attendant said.

  “Yes, good luck to your Railers,” Vlad said very politely, and then I hoped to hell the poor woman didn’t speak Russian because whatever came next sounded a lot like what came out of the beak of an angry parrot called Frank.

  We made it to arrivals after a short wait, and there they were, the entire Collins clan, holding up a huge sign, Welcome Home Tot.

  I will literally kill my brother.

  The hugs were wonderful, and at first I encouraged Vlad right in there, but he was like this huge blond teddy bear, swinging up children, hugging my sister, doing this awesome bow and hand kiss thing to Mom, shaking hands in all seriousness with Dad. By the time we reached the convoy of cars in the parking lot, Vlad might as well have changed his last name to Collins.

  We were in Logan’s SUV, me wedged between Lizzie and Bella, and Vlad taking shotgun. It wasn’t as if his huge ass would fit in between my wriggly nieces, and this way I got to hear all about princesses and parties and how brilliant it was that I was here for Lizzie’s birthday and was I okay to dress up as a prince. Given that I would do anything for my nieces and nephews, I immediately said yes.

  Then I heard Vlad and Logan talking, and I zoned out on princess parties and focused right in on Vlad’s questions about me.

  “…so that is why he has a scar on his knee.” I heard Logan finish, and groaned. I so didn’t want Vlad to hear about the time I was on roller skates and ended up on my ass in a bramble bush in our old house. In my defense I’d been two at the time, and Logan had shoved me, but I bet he’d never added that part.

  “I have another question,” Vlad said.

  Logan laughed loudly, “Is it about why he can’t watch horror movies and the whole Woman in Black thing?”

  “Stop it Logan, that movie was scary sh—” I stopped myself swearing, but Lizzie glanced up at me with her nearly six-year-old wisdom and raised an eyebrow. Damn this family!

  “No,” Vlad said, “But we can come back to that. I wanted to know why do you call Tate this name, Tot.”

  I saw my brother side-eye Vlad. Fuck my life.

  Logan snorted a laugh. “Because he’s a Tate-r Tot.”

  “Tater Tot,” Vlad said, all serious, but I caught his gaze in the mirror and he was smiling. “Like those squishy potato things?”

  “Best food EVER!” Lizzie shouted.

  I groaned dramatically, and closed my eyes. I swore after this break, Vlad would never be able to look at me the same way again.

  “Did Tate ever tell you about getting drunk and wanting to adopt all the legless kittens of the world?”

  “No, please tell me more.”

  It was like that all the way back to Mom and Dad’s place, and by the time we arrived I didn’t think there was a single embarrassing story left to share.

  Dinner was loud, chaotic, a mess of love and hugs, and news about schools and work. Vlad and I didn’t come out and officially say we were a couple, but the adults knew, and it wasn’t safe to have PDAs in case one of the kids went to school and said something. I knew we were being paranoid, but that was what secrets did to a person. At least we sat next to each other and our knees bumped as we ate.

  Logan tapped a fork on his glass and one by one every person fell silent.

  “I wanted to raise a toast,” he began, and I helped Mitchell fill his sippy cup with some of the special juice that my sister had placed next to him. I didn’t know what we were toasting, but all of the family should be involved. Even Vlad picked up his water glass. “To Tate,” he began, and everyone stared at me as I blinked back at them in surprise. Then my brother, god damn his heart, looked right at Vlad. “And to Vlad.”

  “We’re so happy for Vlad and you…” Mom began.

  “… that the Raptors are doing so well,” Dad finished, as if they’d rehearsed it.

  They were toasting us as a couple, making it so it wasn’t obvious, and I wanted to thank them but all I could do was raise my glass in salute, the same as Vlad.

  “We will get a wildcard place,” Vlad announced.

  I didn’t disbelieve him, and by the nods around the table everyone else was utterly convinced.

  “There’s something else,” Josie said, before the table was reduced back to its chaotic state. She put her hand under the table and David, her partner, put his arm around her shoulder. She held up her hand to show the shiny ring, and then held up a hand when we all began to congratulate them. “And we’re expecting.” More congratulations, and then everyone went quiet when she suddenly burst into tears. “It’s twins, and I’m so happy.”

  Mom bustled around to hug her, and the two of them hugged it out.

  “She is happy,” David confirmed, “but she’s like super emotional. Last night she ate an entire tub of—”

  “Don’t tell them that!” Josie cried, and then began to laugh. When she and David hugged it was pure beauty and my heart ached with it.

  I was going to be an uncle again. I touched Vlad’s thigh hoping he would take my hand and hold it. He laced his fingers in mine.

  “I love my family,” I admitted, and when I looked into his gorgeous eyes, he smiled.

  “I love your family, too.”

  We were staying at my parents’ house, in two separate rooms, but that wouldn’t last long, and Mom and Dad knew. Not that we could do anything but hug because the thought of doing any
thing more freaked me out, but at least we were together.

  He proved it when he wore pointy ears at the princess party and pretended he was a giant. He also never said a single word when Lizzie demanded he allow ten six-year-olds to paint his face. They made him an ogre, with green skin, and his white-blond hair was flecked with red. They made sure his horns weren’t going to fall off, and he sat there and he stared at me and I was more in love with him with each second he didn’t move.

  The ogre was the hit of the party, particularly when he was vanquished and I couldn’t see him under a heap of Disney princesses. Which is when they turned on me and declared I was going to be a prince for real.

  When we snuggled into bed that night, we ended up finding just how much glitter there was on us both, despite showers, and how the green might not come off the bit behind his ear. I didn’t want to mention that I thought one of the girls might have been using a permanent marker.

  He patted the area. “It’s okay,” he rumbled, trying to whisper. “We will get to the playoffs, and my beard will hide it.”

  Playoffs were weeks away yet, we wouldn’t know if we’d gotten a place until April, and it would rest on so many factors as to whether we made it in as one of the ‘best of the rest’ wildcard places.

  Stranger things had happened in hockey history.

  We still had flecks of glitter when we wrapped up for pond hockey. On my parents’ land, not much more than an acre, but resting in front of the trees there was a large pond which was frozen solid, and already carried the marks of blades. Lizzie was a demon on her skates, and I exchanged glances with her dad as Logan rolled his eyes. Logan used to play shinny hockey in the winter just to stay in shape for baseball and Josie skated a little here and there when she wasn’t in an acting class or on a stage somewhere, Lizzie had the Collins genes, and we went toe to toe on a couple of occasions; she was a canny operator, using a combination of big woobly eyes, and her height to get past Vlad twice.