Page 124 of The Goalie in Room 1

“They were special. The team always did a White Elephant gift exchange in addition to actually exchanging names.”

“And you got stuck…?”

“Fuck no! I stole those things fair and square.”

Snickered laughs turned into full-body belly-roll laughter. When he calmed, he said, while wiping away the tears, “We might need to change that. That little green scrap of fabric is burned into my brain. I won’t say they’re the first thing I think of, but anytime you wear navy or green…”

“Yes,” I said with a smirk. “And the rest of the story…”

“Jerk off. The fucking things are pornographic.”

The rhythm of his breathing, the steady thump of his heart, and the soft roar of the ocean lulled me into a light doze. At some point, Thad nudged me. “C’mon. Bedtime.”

He helped my sleepy ass up, threaded his fingers with mine, and walked me through the house, pausing to close and lock the wall partitions before guiding us into my room and shutting that door too.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep.”

“In here?”

Thad looked at me, his eyes bouncing between mine. “Do you…do you not want me to sleep here with you?”

Stress over what it would mean held the “yes” I wanted to shout from the roof top captive.

The expectant look on his face fell, and he sighed.

“No! I mean, yes,” I cried out, latching onto him like a crazy thing.

“Which is it, baby boy? I don’t want⁠—”

“Yes. I want you here. I’ve wanted this since I saw you in the club. Please don’t go.”

Lifting the bedding, he motioned for me to get in. He followed me under the blankets. My back to his chest. My head pillowed on one big beefy bicep. His other arm clamped over me, holding me to him. The prickle of his chest hair on my back was a welcome sensation.

I sighed. Everything between us felt only slightly settled. I worried about what the morning would bring and if he would regret what happened between us.

“If your brain spins any faster, we’re going to lift off and hover over this damn bed like a helicopter.”

A small laugh rose in my chest like a popped bubble. “I’m worried.”

“Me too. Sex isn’t a cure-all. Now we have to figure out how and if⁠—”

“I hate that fucking word.”

“Which word?”

“If. It’s such a cop-out. I don’t want any ifs between us.”

He pressed his lips against the juncture of my neck and shoulder. “I don’t either, baby boy, but our relationship didn’t start the least bit normal⁠—”

“Fuck normal. Would I rather have met you without losing my career? Yes, of course, but that didn’t happen, and what-ifs are as stupid as ifs. If ifs are a cop-out, what-ifs are a thief, and life has robbed me of too much without giving it free rein with what-if scenarios.”

He nodded. “When you put it that way, I get it. I do. But…”

“Nope. None of those either, Daddy. Not unless⁠—”

He laughed . “It’s your butt.”