Page 19

“Gabriel,” Mom declares as she throws the door open, then opens her arms wide, “darling, I’ve missed you.”

I’m pulled into a tight hug before I can so much as say hello. Mom is short and plump, and she always smells like cookies or whatever sweet thing she’s been baking. I inhale as best I can while having the life squeezed out of me, and I’m hit with a pang of nostalgia.

I haven’t gone to a college too far from home, but with how busy life gets between classes, looking after my nieces and nephews, hockey, and now Justin and Owen, I haven’t gotten to see my parents anywhere near as often as they’d like. Maybe not even as often as I would like, either.

“Come inside,” Mom demands once she releases me, as if she’s not the one who accosted me right at the doorway.

She takes a step back and rakes her gaze over my body, her lips turning down.

“You’re looking far too skinny, Gabe. Do you get a chance to eat at that school of yours?

That hockey team isn’t working you to the bone, is it? ”

“Mom,” I groan, but I’m cut off as she turns on her heel and heads down the hallway towards the kitchen at the back of the house .

“I’m making your favorite,” she throws over her shoulder. “ Paprikás csirke . Your nagymama’s recipe.” She pauses and winks. “My mother’s, not Dad’s mom’s.”

I snort. My mom has always had a frosty relationship with her mother-in-law.

Mom and Dad are first generation Americans, with their parents fleeing from Hungary during World War II.

My parents grew up together in a small Hungarian community in Cleveland but moved to Tucson after they got married and Dad got a job out here. They’ve been here ever since.

My paternal grandmother has always seemed to resent my mother for taking her son so far away, even though it was Dad’s job that brought him out here.

So, Mom and my dad’s mom have always had a rocky relationship.

Even now, with my grandmother still in Cleveland, my mom has to get her little digs in.

“Don’t let Dad hear you dissing her,” I tease and she sighs.

“Mama’s boys…” she mutters, before turning to frown at me again. “I love you, Gabe, but you don’t need to follow in his footsteps like that, okay?”

“Well, I doubt you’re going to be a monster-in-law to my boyfriend, so—what?”

We’ve made it to the kitchen and even though I tower over her, she shoves me hard onto a kitchen stool at the island and says, “Boyfriend? This is the first I’m hearing of a boyfriend.”

“I mean,” I try to backpedal, “I was kind of talking in a hypothetical sense.”

She plants her hands on her soft hips and scowls. “Gabriel Tomas Nagy, I know all your tells when you’re not being truthful. Now, when were you going to introduce us to this boy?”

“Man,” I shift in place, uncomfortable with her coming so close to our kink roles, even though her comment was purely innocent. “And…soon. Ish. I guess.” To be honest, I have been enjoying having Justin to myself for the most part.

“You guess?”

“It’s still new,” I explain. “And our family is pretty big and loud. He’s not used to that.”

Since we’ve been dating, I’ve learned bits and pieces of Justin’s life.

His own parents thought he was throwing his life away when he had his son, and Owen’s maternal grandparents seem more interested in looking after Owen than in Justin’s well-being.

I’m not entirely sure what the dynamic there is all about: he’s been a bit vague on the details, and I haven’t wanted to push.

As long as it’s working for him, I’m not going to be too nosy.

But, all-in-all, Justin is clearly used to a more solitary existence. I think bombarding him with my family would be cruel, even if he has met one of my sisters at Owen’s school.

“Who’s not used to what?” Dad’s voice cuts into our conversation and I smile in greeting as he strides up beside Mom and wraps his arm around her shoulders.

At 5’10”, he’s taller than her, but not as tall as me. I’ve inherited his more olive-toned skin, Mom’s darker hair and Dad’s brown eyes. I do look more like Dad than I do Mom, but, like my mother, my dad is…cuddly. I guess a lifetime of being fed Mom’s rich cooking would do that to anyone.

But because my entire family equates food with love —a mentality passed down from generation to generation— I try to be a little more careful about how much I eat when I’m home.

I can’t afford to lose my edge on the ice and therefore my scholarship so close to the end of my degree, simply because my mom’s cooking is too tempting to pass up .

“Gabriel has a boyfriend,” Mom answers my dad while I’m mourning all the delicious food I can’t allow myself to eat right now, “and he has kept him a secret because he’s afraid we’ll be too much for him.” She raises a pointed eyebrow my way.

I laugh and shake my head at her dramatics. “I didn’t put it quite like that…” Turning to Dad, I explain, “We haven’t been together long, and he’s…shy.”

Memories of his first few experiences in Little headspace filter through my mind.

He’s always sweet, but there’s something tentative in the way he tries new things; cautious and almost skittish.

And I know my boisterous family can be overwhelming even without having the pressure of being one of the first guys I’ve dated long enough to introduce them.

“Invite him over,” Mom insists. “We want to meet him.”

“I haven’t told you anything about him yet,” I chuckle with a hint of incredulity.

“He has the good sense to date you,” Dad shrugs, then winks conspiratorially. “He already gets points for that.”

Mom nods, adding, “But we want to know about him. What’s his name? Does he go to the same school as you? What is he studying? How did you meet?”

“Actually, we met before the semester began. At Ma’s diner. Justin —that’s his name— was trying to calm his son down and I stepped in to help.”

“Son?” Dad blinks. I can tell that it surprises him, and I wonder how many conclusions he’s jumping to. But instead of voicing any of them, he asks, “How old is his son?”

“Oh, wait,” Mom interrupts before I can answer. She bounces her index finger in the air as she muses aloud, “Mandy said something about you seeming interested in a dad at Brian’s school. I just thought she was trying to tease me about you or get you in trouble.”

I snort. “I mean, she would do both those things, but…yeah. Owen’s five. He’s in Bry’s class.” I can’t help but smile when I think of the little boy. “He’s a really cute kid, actually. And Justin’s twenty-seven. He’s been raising Owen alone ever since Owen’s mom died.”

My mother’s eyes go wide with compassion. “Oh, the poor thing. Now you have to bring him around. We’ll get your sisters and brother here and they can bring their kids, so you know Owen will be entertained and Justin can have a break.”

My lips quirk. “A break while you interrogate him?”

Mom waves me off. “I am nothing like my mother-in-law.”

“Of course not. You’re a cool mom.” I tease playfully.

She picks up a dishtowel and whips it in the air in my direction. “You watch your tone, Gabriel, or I might just push you in front of a bus.”

Dad clears his throat before I can offer another movie-themed rebuttal. “So, if not a college student, what does Justin do for a living?”

Even though I know we’re not really doing anything wrong (ignoring the sex on company time, anyway), I bite my lip. “Funny story…”

***

“Hey, baby,” I grin, leaning against Justin’s doorframe.

His lips curl into a welcoming smile and he takes a step back to let me in. “Hi, Daddy. ”

After spending yesterday with some of my family at my parents’ house, it’s nice to come back to the comparative peace and quiet of Justin’s place. “Is Owen in his room?”

He nods. “He’s playing with his trucks as usual.”

I grin. “Good. That means I can do this.” I swoop in for a searing kiss, pressing my Boy up against the nearest wall, and he returns the kiss eagerly, his tongue twirling around mine. I have to remind myself to stop at just the kiss. To not rut my swelling cock into his softer tummy.

It’s hard to have willpower around him. I don’t think he realizes just how wrapped around his little finger I am already.

“Mmm,” he murmurs as the kiss tapers to an end, “not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“I just missed you,” I answer honestly, and he laughs.

“We see each other practically every day.”

It’s true. On the days where I’m not at hockey practice, I’m trailing him and Frankie around their jobs, trying to get some practical experience for my degree.

A couple of the guys from the team are being monitored for muscle strains and other minor injuries, so I get to sit in on their appointments and even help out with some of their treatments, too.

The paperwork side of it all is much more boring, but watching the pink tip of Justin’s tongue peeking out from between his lips when he concentrates makes even that part of the whole experience entertaining.

However, it’s all still work, and I have to keep my hands to myself.

“But that’s not the same,” I answer blithely. “I don’t get to do all the things I want to with you.”

Justin scoffs. I love the way his nose crinkles adorably when he does. “Like you didn’t blow me in a storage closet just last week. ”

“My Boy is my good luck charm,” I shrug. “The orgasms make it easier to focus on the game.”

“My orgasm made it easier for you to focus?” He arches an eyebrow and his lip quirks. “I don’t understand how that works.”

“Who says I didn’t also come, sweetheart?”

“You did not play an entire game of hockey while wearing cum-soaked underwear.” Now he squirms, probably thinking about how uncomfortable that would have felt under my hockey gear.

“No, I didn’t. I cleaned up in the bathroom before I made it back to the locker room.” It really would have been too uncomfortable putting my protective cup into a jizz-coated jockstrap. “I think things through, baby, I swear.”