Summary:
They say you never get over your first love.
After a meteoric rise to baseball stardom, Chase Meadows’ dream is cut short and he’s back home for good, helping his brothers run the family bar while he finds his feet. Plenty of things have changed since he left for college. Although one thing he recognizes right away is Joel Levine.
From setting eyes on the skinny, stammering teen their first day of high school, until reluctantly parting five years later, the two of them had been inseparable. And now, Joel is definitely someone not easily forgotten.
But as Chase settles back into home town life, he finds that under the superficial differences—the leather jacket and tattoos—Joel is still the same person he fell for when they were fifteen. While they’re both older and wiser, Chase never stopped loving Joel. And as Christmas rolls closer, Chase starts to think that maybe Joel never stopped loving him either.
They say you never get over your first love.
Some people don’t have to.
Summary:
What could be better than a Christmas miracle?
Coming home from college to surprise his family for the holidays is one of Justin Meadows’ better ideas. Or so he thinks, until he steps through the door and gets a shock. Roman James is not someone he expected to see, but he’s still as beautiful and sweet and smoking hot as he was four years ago. It’s just a shame he’s the ex-boyfriend who ruined other men for Justin.
With Roman estranged from his family, and with nowhere else for him to go as Christmas draws closer, Justin has to pull on his big boy pants and endure the heartache of being around the guy he still dreams about. Worse still, as they spend more time together, it becomes clear the simmering attraction they used to share hasn’t gone away.
But as they finally talk—and Justin listens—little things start to add up, and soon they’re both questioning why they broke up in the first place. When the final piece of the puzzle illuminates what really happened between them years before, could the truth be enough to light the way to a glittering future?
What could be better than a Christmas miracle?
How about a second chance at love.
Tinsel Fixes Everything #1
"Don't forget to tilt the glass—"
Flipping the tap handle away from him, Chase cut off the flow of beer and his brother at the same time. "Believe it or not, I still remember how to pour a beer."
Tyler shrugged in that way he had that said he was older and therefore didn't give a shit what Chase thought as he pulled another couple of glasses from the rack. Turning to place them on the shelf, he said, "I don't know. I saw Collins get you in the head with that fastball last summer. Figured it must have knocked something out."
Chase huffed out a laugh. It stung a little to be reminded of what he'd lost, not that it was a particularly good memory but it hurt that he wouldn't get the chance to make any more to replace it. "Just my tolerance for your bullshit," he snarked, flipping the tap back on and making a point to angle the glass dramatically to appease his brother.
He hadn't forgotten how to pour a beer—hell, he'd been doing that since he was fifteen years old and Kyle would sneak him and Tyler behind the bar to show them the ropes—but it was true there was plenty for him to relearn.
Chase had barely been home since the bar he owned with his brothers had been remodeled so everything was in the wrong place as far as he was concerned. Plus, of course, all the prices were different. It hadn't mattered so much when he was a customer and earning good money—all he'd had to do was hand over his American Express—but as a bar owner, he needed to know how much things cost so he didn't undercharge people.
The only thing that hadn't changed was the customers. He'd spotted a few new faces he didn't recognize—some he suspected had only shown up to watch him from the dark corners behind the pool table as if he was a zoo animal on display. They seemed friendly enough, but most were regulars and friends he remembered from before he'd left town.
It was strange to be back home after almost eight years. There had been fleeting visits, of course—his brothers would have never let him get away with disappearing altogether—but he'd never really taken in how much the town had changed. Some things were as they'd always been. The garbage truck still woke him at five thirty every Tuesday morning. Mr. Garrison still ran the Gas 'n' Sip as if he resented every single customer. Teenagers still got drunk and swam in the fountain in Fairmont Park, even when it was the dead of winter.
But the arcade was gone, replaced with a wholefood store. And the two-screen movie theater had died thanks to the Cineplex opening up one town over. Chase thought maybe that if he hadn't had the money to buy the business out from the bank, the bar might have gone under too. But he had, so it wasn't really worth dwelling on. It meant that he had somewhere to come home to when the inevitable happened, at least.
Tyler glanced over. "It's not bullshit. It's brotherly advice that you will take and like it too."
Chase rolled his eyes and waited for the foam to hit the rim before flicking off the tap. Sliding a paper coaster underneath it, he placed the glass on the bar top. "What do you think, Earl? Am I out of practice?"
The barfly sat across from him considered the glass carefully, taking in the color and frothy head, before lifting it to his lips, and taking a long draft. He swilled the drink around his mouth like it was fine wine, not a mid-range lager, and then swallowed, and smacked his lips. "I don't know." Earl grimaced a little, though it was clearly for show. "Maybe you should top it up, son, so I can double check."
Tyler laughed and said, "Nice try, old man. Just give the boy his five-fifty," but shot Chase a look that clearly said, watch this one.
Earl grumbled and dug in his pocket, coming up with a handful of change. "You'd think with all that sponsorship money, you'd be able to give away the beer for free."
Swiping the money Earl had dropped on the bar top into his palm, Chase bristled. "Yeah, well," he muttered as he turned away, "I'm not a ballplayer anymore, am I?"
Earl at least had the good grace to look shamefaced, but mumbled, "Damn shame, boy. Damn shame."
Chase couldn't have agreed more. Thankfully, his brother slapped a conciliatory hand onto his shoulder. "Why don't you load up the jukebox before Hank makes us listen to 'Free Bird' on repeat for two hours again."
Chase nodded his gratitude for the reprieve and scooped some quarters from the till before escaping.
Being it was a Wednesday afternoon, he didn't have to fight his way across the floor like he would have had to on a Saturday night, though the place would get busier later once the after-dinner crowd came in. He had a clear run to the old jukebox, which had stood in the corner of the bar opposite the pool table for as long as he could remember. A guy would come by every now and again to put some new music in but they kept a lot of the old songs, the ones his parents had loved or that were sentimental for other reasons.
Chase stood in front of the machine, scanning his eyes down the list, opening his legs slightly to ground himself as he settled into the task while jiggling the coins in his hand. It felt a little stupid to be taking it so seriously but it felt important.
When he was a kid, this was his job, picking the music that would keep people drinking rather than drive them out the doors. That and helping in the kitchen. The bar had always been a family affair—his mom and dad pouring drinks, along with Kyle when he had turned twenty-one, Chase and Tyler happy to clear glasses or work the microwave in the kitchen. That changed after his little league coach had sat his parents down and talked seriously about natural aptitude and scholarships. Afterward, he spent less time wiping tables and more time at the batting cages. He'd thought he was letting them down by not being able to contribute to the family business but even after the car crash that had killed his father and the cancer that had taken his mother within the year, it was made clear he was doing what was needed for the family in his own way.
It seemed like yesterday, the three brothers sat around the bare kitchen table, listening to the ticking of the clock. Kyle—his face ashen, eyes still red from the funeral home, the weight of suddenly becoming responsible for two teenagers and his parents' business at twenty-three—shaking his head when Chase said he would be around more to help out. "No. It's your dream and it was theirs. Don't let them down, kiddo. Even if you don't make it, you have to try. They wanted you to try. We'll manage. I don't know how but we'll manage."
"How long you going to stare at that thing?" Justin, Kyle's kid or rather his stepkid, slumped against the side of the jukebox, chewing gum, and looking bored to death.
"I'm not putting Britney Spears on if that's what you're angling for."
Justin snorted. "No, thanks. I'm not into that vintage stuff. I'm trying to persuade Dad to put some Gaga on there. That might liven the place up."
Chase shook his head, partly as he knew that was never going to happen but also out of the swell of bemused pride he felt around the kid.
Kyle had met his wife, Kirsten, right before he became a cop and left the running of the bar to Tyler. Justin was eight at the time and, with no father in the picture, he took to Kyle like a baby duckling. They all loved him; it was like having another brother around.
When puberty hit and Justin sat them all down in a formal meeting to announce that he was gay with a look of terrified defiance in his eyes, none of them had batted an eyelid. In fact, he'd been more shocked to find out that Chase was gay than anything.
Now, Justin was confident and flamboyant in a way Chase had never been, maybe because baseball had been his life at fifteen and that kind of thing simply wasn't talked about. He'd never hidden his sexuality, never even had to announce his preferences—everyone had simply assumed and it was never a big deal. Of course, once Justin came out, Chase's insecurities followed. He felt stupid, pulling Kyle to one side to share a beer and gauge whether his brother blamed him for influencing Justin somehow. But Kyle was his usual laid-back self, hugging Chase tight, and telling him he was an idiot. "I need you more than ever now, kiddo," he had said, looking serious, to which Chase could only shrug and reply, "You've raised one gay teenager. I turned out okay. This should be no different." The revelation hadn't exactly brought Chase and Justin closer together, but a year later, the teen was pretty comfortable saying things to Chase he might not around his stepdad.
As Chase dropped a handful of coins into the slot and punched a couple of numbers, he heard the doors open behind him and felt a blast of cold air on his neck. He was too busy choosing the next track—listening to the forty-five slot into place and start playing—to pay any attention to the newcomers settling in. That was until Justin moaned next to him.
"Jesus. You think I could pass for eighteen yet? 'Cause I'm dying to find out if that's false advertising or not."
Chase scowled at Justin and muttered, "Don't let your mother hear you say that or she'll have you under house arrest until you're legal." Except when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw right away what all the fuss was about. The guy was sex on legs and even after all this time, he'd know Joel Levine anywhere.
Joel was already walking away, heading for the door with his leather jacket clutched in one fist. The tight jeans hugging his thighs were worn in places, and the chain that hung from his waist to his back pocket swung against his leg as he moved. The tight black tee shirt stretched over his shoulders—that showed off the tattoos covering his arms all the way to his knuckles—had something crude written on the back that Chase knew for a fact to be true. At least, it was the last time he'd seen the guy—five years and a broken heart ago.
For a second, Chase thought, hoped, that Joel was leaving, but an older guy he'd come in with—Eric, if he wasn't mistaken—grabbed him roughly by the neck and pulled him back about the same time Tyler's voice came from behind the bar.
"Justin, kitchen," adding, when the boy opened his mouth to protest, "Don't test me today. Kitchen." It was the no-nonsense voice that got his nephew moving although Justin did roll his eyes at Chase before he went. Chase didn't get yelled at but he headed for the bar obediently when Tyler crooked his finger at him.
"I need to get a crate from the cellar. You okay to serve?"
Chase clenched his jaw and glared at his brother. "You're shitting me?" he hissed out in a harsh whisper. "Don't do this. Please." He glanced over to the table full of bikers who were making themselves comfortable. Joel stood with his head down, nodding slightly while he listened to whatever Eric was saying. It looked a little like a dressing down but he couldn't make out the conversation over the music.
"All I'm asking you to do is serve some beer. You can do that, right?" Tyler's voice was steady and somewhat amused. Chase almost didn't catch the teasing tone in his panic.
"You bastard. You planned this. I don't believe you. You—"
Tyler smirked and cuffed him on the arm. "Gonna have to face him sometime. Just think of it as ripping off the Band-Aid."
Chase would have cussed him again but he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and knew exactly who he was going to see when he turned around.
Joel couldn't have looked more uncomfortable leaning on the bar if he'd tried. At least, he appeared that way to Chase but then Chase had always been able to see beyond the dour expression, intimidating body language, and the silence.
Clearing his throat, Chase forced himself to relax. "What can I get you?"
Joel appeared to twitch at the sound of Chase's voice and didn't look Chase in the eye when he mumbled, "Two p-pitchers. Six wh-whiskeys."
Chase nodded and was glad of the excuse to move away from him and find something to do. It felt as if the only way to get through this was to keep his eyes down and get it over with as quickly as possible.
"W-when did you g-get back?"
Joel's voice was stronger with only a hint of the stutter that used to plague him. Hearing the gravelly tone again did something to Chase's insides.
"A couple of days ago." He could have offered more but didn't want to draw this out. Joel clearly didn't have such reservations.
"You back for good?"
Chase closed his eyes for a second and had to catch his breath. "Yeah. Looks like."
He saw Joel nod and then look over his shoulder. Chase followed his eye line to where Tyler sat next to Eric, chatting and smiling, and watching the two of them at the bar.
Joel hunched back over and swore under his breath. It somehow made Chase feel a little better as he placed one of the pitchers on a tray and began filling the next. "Guessing this wasn't your idea either?"
Joel shook his head slightly and smiled, that small secret curve of his lips Chase used to see when they were curled up together half-naked in the back of his car, or sitting on the bleachers, close—but not too close—after school before practice started. Something between just the two of them. It hurt Chase's heart to see that private expression again.
"I'm sorry about your eye. It was b-bad luck. You didn't deserve that."
Chase could only shrug, as he had done for the last six months and more. There wasn't much else to say, other than, "Had to stop playing sometime."
Placing the other pitcher on the tray, he looked over to find Joel watching him, his startling gray eyes making the breath catch in Chase's chest. Turning away too fast, Chase reached for the shot glasses a little too quickly. He managed to fill them without comment; although the hairs on the back of his neck prickled knowing Joel was only a few feet away. It had been the same between them since the first day they had met in high school. After all this time apart, Chase thought he would have grown out of his crush but clearly nothing much had changed.
When he turned back, Joel was making his way over from delivering the beer to the table and was pulling a bunch of bills from his wallet. Chase frowned and crowded the shot glasses onto a tray. "I would have helped you with that."
Joel shook his head and pushed the money over the bar at him. "And risk you d-dumping them in Eric's lap? No, th-thank you."
Chase huffed out a laugh. "Fair point." The atmosphere felt easy between them for a second.
Joel sighed and pulled the tray off the bar. "You look good, Chase," he said, and then turned and walked back to his table.
Chase picked the money off the bar, counted it, and rung up the sale in a daze. It wasn't until he turned back to face the room that he saw Earl staring at him, opened mouthed.
"What?"
Glitter Fixes Everything #2
Emerging from his room in search of food, like a bear dragging itself out of its cave after hibernation, Justin didn't care much that he was wearing the sweatpants he'd lived in for the last four days, or that his hair was sticking up every which way being he hadn't even stopped to take a shower. It was amazing what he could do when properly motivated, and heading home for the holidays was certainly something he needed badly, so this last push to get his assignment in had been worth it. Probably.
Unsurprisingly, his roommate, Will, and his boyfriend were sprawled out on the couch watching a cartoon that was definitely not for kids. It was bitter outside, good for little else than Netflix and chill, so he couldn't blame them.
Will was usually the only person who got to see him quite so unpolished—with food on his shirt and unplucked eyebrows. They'd made a pact before they'd signed the lease when they had moved in together as sophomores that what happened in the apartment stayed in the apartment—no photography and definitely no ratting out each other's disgusting habits. Advanced warning of guests coming over had to be given and then the choice was down to the other party if they wanted to parade around with curry breath, in SpongeBob boxer briefs, or in Will's case, a sheer baby doll nightgown. Although that was only the once. More's the pity.
"You done already?" Will asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
Justin threw both arms above his head and did a little shimmy. "Done and done!" After dancing for a second, he lowered his hands, put them on his hips, and narrowed his eyes. "Wait a minute. Did you really doubt that I would—?"
"Yes. Yes, I did. Given your track record. Which, let's face it, is hardly outstanding in that department."
Justin huffed and stomped over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of vitamin water from the fridge, angrily cracking the bottle seal and taking a large gulp, wishing it was beer. "I'll have you know I haven't missed a deadline in, like, six months."
Will laughed. "Right. It amazes me that you can be so fussy about everything else, but your timekeeping is so unbelievably shocking."
It was true. Justin had spent much of the previous four years counting down the seconds and hoping his files had uploaded, or bursting into auditoriums and collapsing into his seat as the lecture began. It was his thing. In truth, he hadn't been sure whether he would be able to pull off this last miracle in time for the holidays, but he'd booked a flight home anyway. Pleading for an extension on one assignment while working his ass off to complete another meant he had done enough to get back in time to help trim the tree, help his mom bake her magical pecan pie, maybe even get a little drunk with his uncles at the bar they owned together. It meant too that he'd probably get volundrafted to work a few shifts but even that sounded better than spending another minute in his desk chair.
"Speaking of timekeeping," Justin said, looking at his watch. "You can still drive me to the airport later, right?"
Will's current boyfriend—a football player called either Chad or Brad, Justin could never quite make out the name being moaned through the walls—whined, and his head fell back against the couch in pure diva fashion. "I thought we were going to hang out tonight?"
Patting his muscular thigh, Will looked adoringly into his eyes. "And we will, babe. When I get back."
When Chad—Justin was almost certain his name was Chad—made another baleful noise, Justin was tempted to empty his bottle of water over him. "Stop your bitching. With me out of here, you'll have the place to yourselves, don't forget." With that, Chad's attitude improved and a wide grin spread across his freckled face. It was so comical Justin had to laugh. It was kind of adorable but also less than reassuring, as it was clear they would be banging on every surface in the place once his back was turned. "I've got to swing by the bookstore before we go."
Will frowned. "You have time? I won't break the speed limit just because you make us late."
Justin scoffed. "Like your car could make it to the speed limit. And yes, I do. I have to pick up the book I ordered for Mom." "After you've showered?" Will's question was less inquiry and more desperate plea. Justin shot him a look, hoping to convey that Will was crazy, as he sashayed back to his room. "You seriously think I would go out like this?"
The shower was divine. It was one of the reasons he'd picked the place and had never regretted it. The pressure was just the right side of peel-your-skin-off, and it was roomy enough that he didn't end up with bruises from bashing his elbows or broken toes from knocking his shampoo off the shelf either. Not that he was a clunky behemoth like Chad and his friends, but somehow he'd lost the twink physique, even at twenty-two, more of a twunk or, well, just athletic. Sue him if he liked working out. Even if his cheerleading days were over, staying strong and healthy was important to him, especially if he was going to be a sports physio like he'd always dreamed.
There wasn't much time to linger, only to scrub the bits that needed scrubbing and touch up his manscaping. Not that he held out much hope of getting laid once he was back home. Pickings were few and far between. And even if he did meet someone, it was more than likely they'd be a friend of his gay uncle, or worse, a fan of his gay, ex-baseball player, uncle. And he'd damn well learned his lesson about that.
Once he was primped and sufficiently beautiful, Justin pulled on his high-tops and headed out to grab his coat.
"Y'know," Chad drawled from his sprawled position on the couch, his arms glaring vacant, which had Justin looking around to see where Will had gotten to. "There's a guy on the team who would be perfect for you. You're just his type."
"And what would that be?" Justin asked, wanting to bite back with something truly bitchy but managing to keep his words to himself by artfully tying his scarf about his neck.
"Available." Chad smirked but it wasn't cruel. "No really, he's not out but he's cute and kinda fun. And his dick is like—"
"Don't bother," Will said, sauntering back from the kitchen in the nick of time with two beers and a plate of leftover pizza. Left over from when, Justin wasn't quite sure, but he didn't have to eat it so he wasn't the one risking food poisoning. "Justin doesn't date jocks."
The information didn't seem to compute and, for a long, amusing moment, Chad's face didn't quite know what to do with itself. "I don't…but…no, I…but everybody wants to date jocks?"
"Oh, sweetie," Will crooned. "Everyone but Justin."
Justin shrugged on his coat, pulling it tight around him, and smirked. "I'm an outlier, what can I say?"
"Say you'll let me give him your number?" If Chad had been any cuter, angels might have wept at the way he worked those baby blues and the perfect pleading puppy-dog eyes. But Justin was no angel.
"Not a chance." He laughed, pulling on his favorite cerise bobble hat and scouring the messy pile of winter wear dumped by the door for his gloves.
"He really is a nice guy." Chad persisted, not getting the hint. "And smart."
"If he was smart, he wouldn't let himself get hit in the head for fun."
"It's not for fun. He's on a scholarship."
That made Justin pause. He knew how tough it could be, playing sports to get an education, praying your body could hold out until you'd finished your four years. Every injury, no matter how mundane, was potentially life changing. He was lucky. Even with his good grades he wouldn't have been able to even think about such a good college without his uncle paying his way. Having a retired baseball star in the family wasn't all bad, especially one who was more interested in helping his family than flashy cars and first-class everything.
Although when Chase had first offered to pay his tuition, Justin had fought the suggestion, determined to make his own way. Only after his dad had sat him down and talked at him for what had seemed like forever did he relent. Even then he'd gotten a job right away to start paying him back. But he knew most kids didn't have that luxury, and the thought that he could hang out with Chad’s friend, someone who could probably use friendly support, with the bonus of a decent roll in the sack, almost had him saying yes. Almost.
"Sorry, Chad, I would love to, but I'm definitely going to be washing my hair that night."
"How about I give him your number and you can tell him no in person?"
Will laughed at that and clapped his hand over Chad's mouth. "Give it a rest, honey. He's never going to change his mind."
Justin nodded and threw up a peace sign before making his escape and avoiding any more awkward questions. Because it was inevitable the next question out of Chad's mouth was going to be "why not?" and there was no way in hell he was answering that. Will had gotten the CliffsNotes, of course, and maybe one or two others on this side of the state line, but he'd tried to leave that part of his life back in California when he'd left.
Putting thoughts of past loves out of his mind, he made his way out of the block and down the street. There wasn't far to go to reach the bookstore where he had placed his order weeks before. It was a cute little place that doubled as a coffee shop and did good business with all the students living in the area. The old-fashioned bell above the door tinkled as he pushed his way inside, glad to be out of the cold. When the aroma of coffee hit him, he was tempted to take a seat and order a latte, but he knew there wasn't time and simply headed to the counter.
The girl at the register smiled brightly, clearly recognizing him as a regular customer. In fact, as he approached, she ducked down and pulled out a small package from under the counter.
Justin put both hands over his heart and staggered in a dramatic fashion towards her.
"Thank god for that. I wasn't sure it would have arrived."
"Don't worry," the girl said. "You've got plenty of time before Christmas."
Justin shook his head and slid the package towards him with his fingertips. "Not me," he said. "I've got a plane to catch in a couple of hours."
"Well, then," she replied. "I guess this is your Christmas miracle."
"I guess it is," he said, feeling cheerful and finally as if he could relax.
He'd needed another miracle a couple of hours later when he was running through the airport to make his flight home, his coat flapping as he sprinted through the terminal, barely hanging on to his bags. Justin hadn't been joking when he'd said Will's car was slow. Then there had been an accident on the freeway. But with a little luck and a turn of speed on his part, he got to the desk just before it was about to close and slapped his ticket down in front of the amused flight attendant. His heart was still racing as he took his seat and relaxed back, thinking he could catch up on some sleep before the plane landed in Sacramento.
The fact he jolted awake when the wheels hit the runway proved he had slept, but the weariness that weighed him down had him doubting it as he trudged to collect his luggage. Navigating through the airport was something of a challenge, being that everyone seemed to have decided to head home that night but he pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the allure of the Starbucks and the Cinnabon and made his way to the bus terminal. He could have called someone to pick him up, or even hit up Casey for a ride, but he figured that would ruin the surprise as even his best friend couldn't be trusted to not let slip his plan before he turned up on the doorstep.
The bus was mercifully empty, so he was free to sprawl out on the seat. The journey was long enough for him to get comfortable and doze for a few hours, and once they reached the sleepy town, it only took a minute for him to jump in a cab and make the last leg of his journey.
It was something of a relief when the driver didn't recognize him. He was constantly amazed how many people did although that was mostly down to whom he was related to. When his uncle, Chase Meadows, had come back home he'd been somewhat of a celebrity, being that he had been an MLB superstar until he'd got injured out after taking a ball to the eye. And even after several years as the coach of the local high school baseball team, bringing them the same kind of success he had found in his career and putting them on the map, the celebrity status had stuck. Which had its good points. Justin had never tired of feeling proud of what Chase had done for the small town, but it was difficult knowing every free drink and proposition was more likely down to who he was related to you than who he was himself. Not that he said no, he wasn't stupid.
The driver didn't talk as they made their way through his old neighborhood. Justin was caught up in looking out at the familiar streets that hadn't changed at all since he'd been away. By the time they reached the house, his excitement had increased to the point that his weariness after eight hours of traveling had been obliterated by the adrenaline running through his veins. As he'd hoped, the house itself was frosted with a sheen of sparkling lights. There weren't any ornaments—not like the neighbor across the street who had a full nativity scene, Santa with every single reindeer, as well as what looked like a couple of leftover Halloween props wearing garlands of tinsel—but every inch of the Meadows' house was covered in lights, along with the trees and shrubs in the yard.
As he stepped from the cab and waited for the driver to open the trunk so he could get his case, he was struck with mixed feelings about being back, as he always was. He'd never thought he would be one of those kids to move to the other side of the country simply to get away from home. And in truth, it wasn't home he'd been running from when he'd decided to head for New York. Being back, waiting to see his family, he regretted making that decision, and not for the first time. But four years ago, it was the only thing he could have done. His only consolation was that his time was almost up and soon he would be able to graduate and move onto his master's degree somewhere closer to home. Not that the prospect didn't fill him with anxiety, but he didn't want to think about that, only wanted to enjoy his winter break before he had to return and put his nose to the grindstone again.
The cabdriver wished him an enthusiastic "Happy Christmas" when he saw the generous tip. Then all Justin had to do was wheel his suitcase a few more yards and he would be home. He didn't linger, practically breaking into a jog as he trod the familiar path to the side door, the key burning a hole in his pocket. But at the last second, he thought it would be much more fun to knock and see who answered. As he waited, he wondered if he had time to take out his smartphone and record the look on the face of whoever answered the door.
As it happened, he didn't. The door swung open and, as if he had arranged it, his mother stood there with a look of absolute shock on her face. Although the first words out of her mouth definitely weren't anything Justin would have scripted.
"Oh god. What on earth are you doing here?"
"Surprise!" he chirped. "Happy holidays!"
It took a minute but whatever had been bothering her slipped enough for her to laugh, opening her arms and gathering him in, noisily kissing his cheek and head where she could get at it under his large bobble hat. "Oh my god!" She squealed as she held him tight, rocking them both from side to side. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"Where would be the fun in that?" He laughed, rocking along with her.
"How did you get here? You should've called us. We would have come to fetch you."
Justin held her at arm's length, giving her a quick check over. She looked good, still a little tense but smiling and bright, the new bob he'd seen on Skype looking good, even though he still preferred her longer hair. He kissed her hard on one cheek, squishing her face. "I managed okay by myself," he said. "You gonna let me come in or what?"
His mom stepped back, dragging him through the utility into the kitchen by his sleeve. "Yes, yes. Come on in. Do you want something to eat or did you eat on the plane?" Not waiting for an answer, she screamed out for her husband to come, which he did, barreling into the room as if he were expecting a home invasion. Justin could imagine Kyle doing the same with his gun drawn, and his sudden and dramatic appearance made Justin laugh aloud.
Kyle wasn't Justin's biological father but it made no difference to either of them. Justin had called Kyle dad for a long time, and Kyle had never treated Justin as anything other than his own. No one had ever questioned the family relations, probably as Kyle's two brothers had accepted Justin as the nephew they'd never had from the first time they'd met.
When Kyle saw Justin was standing in the kitchen, he muttered something under his breath and stormed forward, taking Justin into a fierce hug that knocked the breath out of him.
"Why didn't you tell us you were coming?" he growled into Justin's shoulder.
"Surprise!" Justin mumbled, squeezing the tears from his eyes, feeling surprisingly emotional in the moment.
"It certainly is," Kyle said, stepping back but not before giving Justin a manly slap on the shoulder. "You eat yet?"
"Have I lost weight or something?" Justin asked with a wry smile.
Kyle laughed and cuffed him on the shoulder again before saying, "Not likely. It looks as if you've been eating your Wheaties to me."
"I guess we'll have to wait for Chase to come over to get a professional opinion." Justin chuckled. Admittedly, it wasn't the best of jokes, but Justin was surprised to be met by a series of worried looks and raised eyebrows between his parents. Which was a little disconcerting.
"Am I missing something?" When there was no reply, Justin frowned. "Is everything okay?"
The answer came when there were voices outside and, moments later, the door opened. Chase walked in and Justin gave him a wide grin, just as he would have for Joel, Chase's husband, who followed in behind. But his smile fell away when he saw who was with them. Of all the people he didn't want to see, Roman James was undoubtedly at the top of his list, and by the look of the way Roman's happy expression waned, it would seem Justin was on his list too. Evidently running away to New York wasn't far enough to escape the man who had broken Justin's heart.
Author Bio:After spending far too long creating stories in her head, Alex finally plucked up the courage to write them down and realized it was quite fun seeing them on the page after all.
Free from aspirations of literary greatness, Alex simply hopes to entertain by spinning a good yarn of love and life, wrapped up with a happy ending. Although, if her characters have to go through Hell to get there, she’s a-okay with that.
With only a dysfunctional taste in music and a one-eyed dog to otherwise fill her days, Alex writes and walks on the South Coast of England—even when her heart and spellcheck are in New York.
You can now find her dark m/m romance under Alexis Jane, if you like love…but darker.
Tinsel Fixes Everything #1
Glitter Fixes Everything #2
