Page 34 of Coach’s Son (Twin Cities #2)

My eyes devour the silhouettes in the room. All of the men are wearing near identical dark color tuxes, varying shades of black and blue, making it impossible to pick out Drew or Charlie. Not to mention that all of them are like six feet tall, pretty much carbon copies of one another.

My chest aches to speak with Charlie, but if I stumble into Drew, I might make a break for the lake to yak my stomach contents to the bottom feeders. I’d rather swim with the fish, than confront him with the truth—that I want nothing to do with his arrogant arse.

A waiter strides by with a polished silver tray of cocktails. I pluck two before he can finish his spiel. “Lemon Drop Martinis,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” I say, offering one to my mother before taking a giant sip of mine. The sugared rim is a little pick-me-up for my blood sugar. And of course a bit of vodka to take the edge off my nerves.

“These are delicious,” my mother laughs, as she licks the sweetened edge.

“Pace yourself, they hit harder than they let on,” I warn, my eyes darting from figure to figure, my blood rushing as I see a man with a mullet identical to Drew’s. My throat tries to swallow my Adam’s apple.

Then the man turns as he laughs to reveal his side profile, a nose far too angled and an olive complexion.

Fuck, what I would do for a propranolol right now. Anything to help me chill the fuck out, to keep my nerves from trying to spring out of place.

I didn’t disinvite Drew or Charlie… but I know for a fact that the viper will stroll in to show his presence. To assert his dominance. And to tempt me with his bared teeth.

Charlie’s the wild card though. He has a sense of decency, a developed moral compass of right and wrong. It would be quite bold of him to show himself.

“Oh honey, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m probably better off being drunk today than sober,” she says. “A tad of liquor helps to soothe my GERD, believe it or not. My doctor doesn’t really approve of my methods.”

I shake my head. “Whatever you say, just please don’t make a scene.”

“I’ll consider your request after I utilize the bathroom,” she snickers, heading off toward the designated ladies' room for the evening.

I make my way to the outdoor deck for some fresh air. Plus, it’ll be a lot easier to see Drew coming than in a room full of matching tuxedos.

My lungs yank in a heavy inhale of the brisk air sliding in off the lake. There is a strong marine odor to it, but not too potent. Just the right amount to let your nose be aware that there are walleyes and lily pads close by.

Out on the water, a few boats zip out in the distance of the lake, enjoying the glory of speedboating before the ice claims its annual domain.

Then a voice breaks my train of thought. “Well, well, well… Look who it bloody is. Austin Schmidt in the living flesh. My brother nearly took you out. Huh?”

I turn, my heart wiggling in my chest from the sight of him.

Charlie.

My Charlie.

His classic cheeky smirk on display paired with the British zing that takes my breath away.

“Your brother really took me to the last piss you know,” I manage, my lips forming into a smile.

“I warned you… didn’t I?” he asks, stepping closer, his breath reeking of malted hops. An essence that is devastatingly mouthwatering and groin expanding.

“Perhaps, I can recall something of that sort.” I tease, licking my lips, trying to play it cool even though my stomach is bouncing up and down like my insides are on a trampoline.

“Did you enjoy the thrill?” He says as he arches his brows, his smirk saying everything my cock is asking for.

I hesitate for a second, every nerve itching under my skin like a wave of hives. “No… I’ve missed you Charlie. I’ve missed everything about you…”

“Oh really?” he sniggers, with a dash of posh attitude. “Did you miss me when my wanker of a brother was balls deep in ya?”

I stutter inaudible syllables, the words blanking from my consciousness. My mouth gapes open, shocked from his candor.

“I warned you that he was exceedingly mad… that he would do anything. You let him slither inside. Let him brand you like rancher does his bloody cattle.”

“I’m sorry Charlie… I truly am. I know I don’t deserve this. I don’t even deserve to be talking with you after what I’ve done.”

His eyes darken with an uncharacteristic intensity. “You are lucky I’m a stupid fucking bloke Austin. Because I’m obsessed with you. Obsessed with your duplicity and your filthy bum. I don’t give a rat’s arse if my brother’s had his way with you. Can’t get you out of my fricking head.”

He moves closer, his breath sharing the same air as mine, my heart swooning to hear his words. “I’ve thought about you every day. I wanted to visit you—night and day—in the hospital, but I know you needed space. You needed some time to reflect who’s really the best choice for you…”

My brain gushes with glee, a bountiful surge I can’t embrace enough.

He doesn’t hate me. He aches for me, just like I crave him.

For his tenderness and warmness to wrap around me like a protective cocoon.

To take me back and protect me, as we were.

When life was simpler and I hadn’t met his son-of-a-twat brother who wormed his way into my skull like some parasitic brain leech—hissing lewd temptations in the dark, nearly offing me in the process.

I would do anything to get Charlie back—even vacation in bloody Manchester if that's what it would take. Anything to prove that I’m his for real. That I’m not leaving again. No matter what Drew mumbles in my ears in the dead of night.

I prepare my lips to compress against his, to finally taste him after what has seemed like an eternity apart but the piercing clinking of glasses interrupts the moment.

“A toast to the grooms!” Martha shouts, her smile beaming, showing off her shiny pearls. She raises her champagne glass high, the bubbly fizz nearly pouring out. “The ceremony will begin in fifteen minutes. Everyone please head to your seats and be prepared to witness real love in live-action!”

Laughter spreads through the crowd and a few claps arise throughout the room as the guests shuffle towards the chairs set up in the backyard.

Damn. She must be getting paid a fortune, because there’s no way you could coerce me with enough money to be as enthusiastic as she is for someone else’s wedding. Unless she’s on blow… Who knows. Her left nostril just looks awfully inflamed.

“Oi, I guess we can chat during the ceremony. You are sitting next to me right, yeah?” Charlie asks, his voice as smooth as silk.

“Of course,” I stammer, trying to contain my heart’s fluttering.

We stride over to the seats of the front row, I wave to my father who’s cheesing like a kid on Christmas morning.

His shoulders are loose in his bright white tux, his whole body free from the stress and secrecy of living in the closet.

Watching him paints a smile on my face. It’s great to see, even if the price of his freedom has caused fractures in our family.

Like cracks in a concrete foundation that can never be repaired, but weather over the years until they become little imperfections barely noticeable to the eye.

My mom settles into the seat beside me, her satin dress brushing against me.

Dad’s face freezes in standstill, the color starting to disappear from his cheeks, until my mom offers a smile towards him.

As if she’s saying it’s okay. That she understands.

That she accepts him for who he is, even through the pain that she endured.

“You know you are coming back to mine tonight, don’t you?” Charlie whispers into my ear.

“Of course.” I lick my lips, trying to hide the excitement he’s causing to blossom inside.

He presses his thigh into mine, pushing the boundaries of what I can hide. His musky cologne almost pushing me off the ledge. I can’t. Not here, not right now with both my parents.

Shhhh… Deep Breath. In and out. I tell myself, trying to wrangle my lungs under my will.

My cock twitches as he grazes my forearm with his fingers. Fuckkkk. He’s barely doing anything. My body’s reacting like he’s the last man on the Earth that could fuck me to the heavens.

Then the chatter quiets, a pianist starting to hit those beautiful notes. Here comes the groom. The tune flooding the crisp October air. My head turns in sync with Charlie’s to witness Jackson walking down the aisle with his Aunt Katrina in tow.

Damn. He looks stunning in the white tux—bronze skin glistening under the autumn sun, tousled blond curls, and deceptively blue eyes. The kind of aesthetic that belongs on a Milan runway and makes you hate him.

Maybe, I’ll forgive him completely someday. But not today.

He strolls leisurely to the front with his cocky swagger to take his place next to my father, their eyes glued to one another like lovesick puppies. It’s disgusting.

A minister steps forward to address the crowd, coughing to clear her throat.

“Today we are here to witness the holy matrimony of Brad Schmidt and Jackson Hicks. Thank you, family and friends, for being here today.”

As if I have a choice…

My mom shuffles in her chair to whisper in my ear. “Wow, Jackson is handsome. No wonder I didn’t stand a chance.”

I huff out a breath, shaking my head. My lips part, ready to respond, but I’m not going to feed his sense of self. I can picture his ego being stroked every time someone whispers a complement about him. His confidence is already sky high. I don’t need to send him to outer space.

The minister continues on with announcing the vows. “Brad Schmidt, do you promise to remain faithful in good times and bad?”

“I do.”

Then—boom. The doors of the patio slam open against the house, a crack that causes every neck to turn toward the sound.

“Sir, you can’t go out there. The wedding is—” Martha stumbles, her voice wobbling between professionalism and panic.