Page 19 of Matthias’s Protective Embrace (Cardinal Falls #3)

I think about it for a few minutes, not about the day so much as what I should say.

He’s not really asking. No one wants to hear a sob story, especially the guy who lets me hang out in his living room.

It’s not like we’re friends. Or maybe we are, but barely.

There’s something in the way he asks, even over text message, that makes him seem sincere.

Me

Kinda sucked. Family stuff.

Matthias

Want to come over?

I have leftovers.

I probably can’t eat anything he has, but the offer’s too good to turn down. I want out of my house. The fact that the reason is to go hang out with Matthias only makes it that much better.

Me

You sure?

I don’t want to assume he doesn’t have anything better to do than babysit me.

Matthias

I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t. I’ll be waiting.

Shit . I remember to send a thank you message before I rummage through my closet for something nicer to wear.

Our family events are loungewear casual.

I didn’t bother changing out of my pajama pants this morning, enjoying a day of relaxation.

That won’t cut it now. Going to someone’s house for Thanksgiving—after Thanksgiving? —feels formal.

Sadly, I have zero formal attire. Something to work on after the holidays.

Or when I win the lottery. The closest I can come is a pair of black jeans and a grey button-up.

All of it is slightly too tight, stretching over my muscles.

There were times years ago when I would’ve killed for this problem.

Now, I wish I had something that didn’t feel so confining.

I do my best to situate the fabric so the buttons don’t gap.

A final glance in the mirror and attempt to tame some of my hair fails, so I forget about it and head up to the kitchen.

“I’m going out.” I holler into the living room. If I’m lucky, I’ll make it to the front door before anyone can reply.

“But what about our movie?” my mom calls after me. If they want me here so badly, all they need to do is act like it. It’s not worth sticking around simply because it’s tradition.

“I’m going to watch one with some friends.” Well, a friend. Friendish? Maybe we can work on a definition.

I hear some mumbling but ignore it in favor of making a beeline for the car. The sooner I’m out of here, the sooner I’m with Matthias.

MATTHIAS

I don’t know what possessed me to invite Frank over tonight. My family treats holidays with an open-door policy. If I thought for one minute that he needed a place to go, he would have spent the day at my parents’ house, seated right next to me.

Over the years, many of my friends, acquaintances, dates, and business associates have held that spot.

My parents taught me from a young age that we should open our doors to those who are less fortunate.

I don’t recall a single Thanksgiving or Christmas when someone didn’t join us.

Some came once, and I never heard their name again.

Some, like Aaron, came often and were basically family.

After a long day at my parents’ house, tonight would normally be spent alone, decompressing.

Once January rolls around, things pick up at work.

While others might focus on year-end goals or preparing for the holidays, the downtime between Thanksgiving and the New Year is an opportunity for me to get my life in order and rest.

When Frank’s text came through, I could hear the way he’d say fine .

In that tone that makes it clear that the situation is anything but.

His family isn’t the most warm and fuzzy from what he’s told me, but I’m angry that his holiday is ruined.

Especially when I know he could use the break to recover before finals.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. He usually lets himself in, so I wait a moment. When I don’t hear anything, I get up from my spot on the couch.

“Hey,” I say, answering the door to find him standing on my front porch.

“Thanks for inviting me over.”

“Anytime. Come on in.” He strips off his jacket and hangs in on one of the wall pegs.

All my energy goes into not laughing at his attire.

Frank’s typically in either work clothes or casual wear.

Today, he’s wearing the fanciest thing I’ve seen on him.

He looks ready for a business dinner rather than a casual hangout.

“You’re in sweats,” he says, looking me up and down, his gaze lingering a little longer than necessary.

“I am. It’s the end of the day, so I thought we could relax.

” My father insists that we all dress up for holidays.

I wear enough suits and ties on a day-to-day basis.

Given the option at home, I much prefer casual clothes.

Now that I think about it, I’ve been avoiding changing into my sweats until after Frank leaves each night.

“Shit.” I get the impression that this outfit is not what he wore all day.

He stares down at his black pants, wiping his hands on the fabric.

Those things are nearly painted on him, making him look even more muscular than usual.

If he went to a club like that, he’d be snatched up in a second.

Even thinking about someone else getting to him first sets off my inner alarms.

Stupid since he’s not mine. “Do you want to borrow some clothes?” Though clearly I’m doing a fantastic job of not claiming him, given that I’m nearly giddy at the idea of seeing him walk around dressed in my clothing.

“Could I?”

“Of course, come with me.” I lead him through the house to my bedroom.

It’s only once we’re inside and I’m rummaging through the dresser that I realize what I’ve done.

Frank’s in my bedroom. I swallow hard and turn to look at him.

He’s standing right in front of my bed, arms crossed over his chest. In all the time he’s spent here, I’ve been careful to keep him out of my private space, except for when he was half frozen.

Now that he’s here, it’s easy to picture him sprawled out on the duvet, body open and waiting .

I clear my throat. “These will be a little big, but they’ve got a drawstring.” I hand him a pair of joggers and a top. “You can change in there.” I point toward the en-suite bathroom.

His hand grazes mine as he grabs the pile from me, and I swear there’s electricity between us. As he heads to the bathroom, he looks back over his shoulder.

Did he feel it, too? For a moment, I swear I can see the same thoughts running through his head, but it’s over far too quickly as he ducks behind the door.

As soon as I hear it latch, I let out a big sigh and run my hand through my hair.

Fuck . I’m really doing a piss poor job of handling things tonight.

Bringing him to my room, dressing him in my clothes, having him change in my space?

It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

Either I need to make him mine or cut my losses before my heart is overly involved.

I’m not sure what the right answer is, but I know I’m not going to find it staring at the bathroom door. “I’ll be in the living room,” I call out, not wanting to be here when he comes out.

There’s plenty to busy myself with, and I figure there are better things to help with a long day like a relaxing movie.

With snacks, of course. I get out a bunch of options, not knowing exactly what he’ll be in the mood for.

Now for the movie options. Personally, I tend to go for hardcore action movies on rough days, the ones where there’s more explosions than dialogue.

It’s a safe bet, so I scroll through the listings looking for something mindless.

“Thanks, these are much better.”

I snap my head up to find Frank standing in front of me.

The clothes aren’t as bad as I thought, partly because the joggers don’t come all the way to my ankles.

Frank still swims in them, but he’s done some creative maneuvering to make it work.

My chest warms watching him. But it’s the way my cock twitches that really gets my attention.

“I was so out of it that night I took a bath, I swear I thought I dreamed that your bathtub is that magnificent. Now I know it’s all true. I’m gonna be fantasizing about being in it again.”

My tongue nearly falls out of my mouth. I’ve had that exact same fantasy, only in mine, he’s not alone. It’s plenty big enough for two people and to allow me to wash him slowly.

“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t say that.”

“It’s a very nice tub.” The image of him soaking, his naked body stretched out, is burned in my mind. “So, I thought maybe we could do snacks and a movie?”

“I love that idea,” Frank says. “It’s a family tradition to watch a movie on Thanksgiving night.” I see a hint of sadness in his eyes as he says it, one I’d do anything to take away from him.

“Do you have a particular movie in mind?” Between all my subscriptions, I can make almost anything happen. There are a few options pulled up on the screen, featuring my usual blend of car accidents and exploding bridges.

“None in particular.” Frank bites his bottom lip. I wish I could do something to stop that terrible habit. Maybe give him something else to do with his mouth. “It’s always a Christmas movie.” He almost whispers the last part, but I hear it well enough to start making plans.

“Lucky for you, I love Christmas movies.” It’s an overstatement, but I think he needs the reassurance. Whatever we end up with, I’m sure I’ll like watching it with him. I flick through the menus, exiting out of the action films and looking for Holiday Classics.

“Really?” He looks like I told him I secretly worship trees in the forest.

“Of course. It’s the best thing about the month of December.

” Not quite, but close. I love enjoying the seasonal things.

Though my go-to Christmas movie is Die Hard .

Tomorrow, I’ll break out the small number of decorations I keep in a back room, turning this place from boring into medium Christmasy.

It’s a personal tradition on the day after Thanksgiving to make sure to put them up.

If I don’t do it, then it doesn’t happen.

Then they come down on December twenty-sixth.

“Go sit and see if anything gets your attention. I’ll grab snacks.

” I hand off the remote, unwilling to make the selection.

If there’s a family tradition, I want him to be able to carry it on. I hope it’s nothing too atrocious.

Frank still looks skeptical, but I leave him to go grab a bunch of things. It takes three trips from the kitchen to the living room before I get everything settled on the coffee table.

“I did eat dinner,” Frank teases.

“Well, whatever we don’t eat will keep for another day.

” I hand him a plate. The usual snacks might not require it, but there’s also Thanksgiving food that may need a little more support.

My mom sent me home with enough leftovers to feed a platoon.

It’s like she thinks a small army lives at my house.

Years ago, I could eat all of this and not notice it on my waistline. Those days are long gone.

Frank eyes the stuff on the table. I can see the mental work he’s doing to decide what might or might not be edible for him. I hate how much effort it takes for him to do something simple like enjoy a movie with food.

“So, the popcorn I made myself. It’s plain, with a bit of salt.

The chips and salsa are straight from the packages, which are still in the kitchen if you want to see them.

The stuffing is vegan, as are the mashed potatoes.

You can blame my purist mother who doesn’t like to add anything to the food except turkey gravy.

My father thinks she’s crazy, but she swears it’s better this way.

” He adds his own butter, plentifully, while staring directly at her and making it uncomfortable for everyone.

After forty years of marriage, some might expect him to give up, but nope, he asks what’s in them every year and gets the same answer.

“I can eat everything on this table?” His eyes well up, and for a moment, I freeze, not knowing what to say. Did I fuck it up? “This is… thank you.”

I let out a breath. “It’s nothing.” None of this even went out of my way. Sure, there are other items I could get out—including dessert—but it’s not fair to eat them in front of him. If we’re still hungry later, I can find more. Something tells me we won’t get to that point.

“No one ever makes sure I can eat the food.”

I don’t… I don’t know what to say to that.

It’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard.

I don’t have any food allergies, but my mom is allergic to shellfish.

We never take her out for seafood or have it in our home.

I’ve had plenty when I’m not with her, but it’s not worth risking her health simply because I like lobster.

Sure, getting rid of that many items isn’t as simple as avoiding one restaurant, but the sacrifice should be worth it for anyone who cares about him. “They should.”

I turn back toward the TV, afraid my feelings for Frank are about to boil over.

We sit quietly while he scrolls through the options on the screen until he finds a movie he likes, a cartoon I don’t think I’ve seen before, featuring a range of Christmas characters.

It’s not really my thing, but Frank seems excited.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Of course.” I’d let him watch anything tonight, especially if it put that big grin on his face. The one I’ve come to adore.