Page 75 of Don't Puck Up
“I’ll give you a hand,” Locke offered. He eased Chris’s blankets back and insisted on helping him lift his legs over the side of the bed. Then once he was steady, he helped him stand. Chris grumbled that he wasn’t an invalid, but Locke wouldn’t give an inch. He wanted to look after him—he probably needed to given the state he’d found Chris in—and I was happy to watch Locke take care of our man.
I smiled. Locke Ledger was ours. It was surreal. The one man Chris and I had truly fantasized over had just told us he was in love with us.
Locke was careful, touching Chris gently and making sure he was steady before guiding him toward the attached bathroom. Chris closed his eyes and exhaled heavily after his first step, and they made their way slowly, arm in arm.
Locke opened the bathroom door, and Chris tilted his head, taking notice of his clothes for the first time. “Dude, what are you wearing?”
He unbuttoned the trench coat to reveal a lightweight karate gi. No wonder he’d been freezing when he walked inside. “I was in the middle of a sparring session when Kam called me. Sensei insisted I listen to her message given how much of a basket case I was, and after I listened, I called her back. I dropped everything, went straight to LAX, and got on the first flight out here.”
“You were walking around LAX and Boston Logan wearing a vigilante trench coat and a karate gi?” I asked, biting back a grin. It was the first smile that had cracked my lips since we’d seen him last. The weight that had sat on my shoulders loosened.
“You needed me.” He shrugged and smiled shyly at me.
“Locke,” I called. He and Chris paused, and I returned his smile. “I only loved you as our secret because that’s how we got to have you. For the record, I always wanted more.”
“Thank you. For clarifying.”
I bit my lip, and the flutters in my belly increased until I was practically floating. “I love you too.”
“Me too. I love you too,” Chris said, leaning gently against Locke. He pressed a kiss to Locke’s lips, then gestured to the bathroom with a tilt of his head. “But I really need to go.”
I giggled, and Locke apologized, color creeping up his throat.
Chris used the bathroom, and then Locke helped him back into bed while I organized a personal shopper to get us all a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. We were going to be here for another couple of days—I wasn’t leaving to get our luggage, and Locke didn’t have anything close to warm enough for a Boston winter.
“So…,” Locke started. “About us—”
“I’ve already told Chris that he doesn’t make the decisions here. We all do. We’ve already said how we feel, and Chris came out to the people he had been in the closet for—”
The knock on the door sounded just before it was cracked open. “Can I come in?”
“Dad, what are you doing here?” Chris asked tiredly, relaxing into the mattress.
Locke didn’t hesitate. He strode across the room, a thunderous look on his face. He yanked my father into the room and pinned him up against the wall with a hand around his throat. Dad’s cane clattered to the floor, and he instantly put his hands up in a surrendering motion. But Locke wasn’t seeing it. His eyes were locked on Dad’s, and he’d closed his free hand into a fist. He snarled, fury boiling in him until he was red-faced and breathing hard.
“No,” I screeched. I rushed over and wrapped my hand around Locke’s fist, trying to stop him from striking out. “Locke, this ismydad, not Chris's. He’s checking on him.”
"Oh, fuck," Locke cursed, immediately letting Dad go. He stepped back and raised his own hands in a gesture of peace. "I mean, shit. No, I mean, sorry, sir."
"Son," Dad greeted with a croak while rubbing his throat.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were—"
Dad nodded. "I know, and I'm glad you reacted the way you did—it's exactly the way Kam reacted and how I would have twenty years ago, but my cane makes it difficult.” Dad gestured to the floor where his walking stick lay.
"Oh, God. I'm so sorry," Locke bumbled out. He bent over and picked it up, then handed the old-fashioned timber cane to Dad. Locke was flustered, his cheeks flushing an adorable pink. It was the sweetest thing and so very different from the man he’d been a moment earlier. He held his hand out for Dad to shake and added, “I’m Locke Ledger, sir.”
“I know who you are, son. Everyone who’s turned on a television does.” Dad shot him a smirk and added, “John O’Leary.”
Locke offered Dad a chair, and he sat down slowly.
“Are you okay, Dad?” I asked.
He smirked and shot back, “I’m okay. Locke here didn’t hurt me, but truthfully,youhit me so hard that I still haven’t found my second testicle.”
Locke froze and Chris blinked. “What?” Chris asked.
“I kind of, maybe, punched Dad in the nuts so I could get outside to you.”