Page 21 of Phantom Faceoff (Daddies of the League #5)

Chapter Nineteen

Malachi

When I need to get out of my head, I go on the search for new indie bands to binge. It’s a rabbit hole that requires minimal brain power, and the music serves as an excellent distraction from the mess of feelings I’ve shoved down in the corner like laundry.

Tonight’s deep dive? BLU. An independent artist who travels the country in his recording studio/camping van.

Every song is a location recording that incorporates the sounds of wherever he’s based at any point in time.

There’s songs recorded to the patter of rain, echoing like it’s being played in a party bathroom.

I lose several days of socialization, and while the distance is making me feel human again—not obsessively lost inside of my growing feelings for Zander Hale—it completely slips my mind that I wasn’t the only person in that room.

I’m not the only one having to deal with a whole onslaught of new emotions.

It’s a quarter to midnight, and I’m busy playing with random songs and matching them with ASMR thunder and jungle noises. It doesn’t make sense, but it scratches the brain itch.

In the lull between songs, I hear a quiet noise like a bubble popping. I pull my earbuds out, and just before deciding it must have been my imagination, I hear it again. Followed by a sniffle.

I ping my gaze to Julian’s bed, where he’s huddled with the blankets wrapped tight around him. The main light is off, and my laptop isn’t bright enough to illuminate more than the notebook in my lap, so I can’t see beyond vague shadows.

“Jules?” I set my laptop to the side and frown at the realization that my bed looks like an elementary school paper mache project. “You okay, love?”

There’s another sniffle followed by a balled up piece of paper launching from beneath the covers. I catch it and unfold it to see one of Julian’s coloring pages.

Another ball smacks me in the shoulder.

“Julian.” I laugh and am subjected to an onslaught of paper balls. “Hey now. That’s enough.”

“Fuck you,” he squeaks, voice raw and cracked.

“That’s no way to talk to your Daddy.”

He goes quiet, and then there’s another bubble pop.

A hiccup.

My brain switches from amused to concerned in an instant. I cross the short space between our beds, sitting on his, and tugging on the Julian shaped lump until his face pops out with red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks.

“What’s wrong, love?” I ask, brushing my thumb through his streak of tears.

He sniffles again and bats my hand away.

“Did something happen?”

He curls in tighter and buries his face in his knees.

“Did someone hurt you?”

He swallows a deep breath and sighs it out with a garbled huff.

Brat. If he won’t answer, then I’ll have to meet him where he’s at.

I find the edges of the blanket and shove it off his shoulders, fitting his jaw between my fingers, and tugging his wandering attention my way.

“Julian Tate.” I steel my voice, even if it cracks slightly from disuse. “I asked you a question.”

My eyes have somewhat adjusted to the dark, and while I can’t see much, I can read the clear defiance in his.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” he says in a small but firm voice.

“Too bad,” I say, tilting his face up further and resting my forehead on his. “Spill, baby.”

His demeanor cracks; the tough exterior shatters. Tears flow down his cheeks like a waterfall, and he readily throws his arms around me.

“Mal.” He presses in close. Squeezes me tight. “Mal. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I say back slowly, stroking a hand down his back. “You’re freaking me out.”

He laughs—part awkward and part incredulous.

“ You’re freaking out?” He huffs and scrubs aggressively at the tears on his face. “I had the second biggest revelation of my life, but you’ve been too checked out to notice!”

I pause, lips parting. “What are you talking about?”

“You.” Julian shoves at my shoulders but pulls me back in to press his face to my chest and groan. “The sex.”

That’s a pretty straightforward way to describe it, I guess.

“Jules?” I don’t make him move, but I do tug lightly on his curls and meet those pretty, green eyes. “I thought you were okay with what happened?”

“I was! I am.” His hands slip under my shirt to dig into the skin of my back, and though it stings, I don’t fight it. “I’m not okay with pretending that it didn’t happen.”

Is that what he thinks I’m doing? Oh no.

“It’s not you, love,” I say with a sigh that I feel deep in my bones. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. I guess I’ve just needed some time to … process.”

“Well, process faster!” His words are muffled by my shirt, and I bring my fingers to his hair to gently massage his scalp.

“Is this about the kiss?”

Julian had been overwhelmed—emotionally, sensory—and he’d needed to be grounded. He’d needed his tether, and in that moment our mouths had been the most accessible option.

It was sweet. Calming.

I vaguely recall the taste of Zander’s sweat on his tongue.

Julian had initiated—it hadn’t occurred to me that it could be bothering him.

“No.” He shoves away, lips pursed. “Yes.” His eyes narrow into a glare, but he honestly just looks like a frustrated child. “That’s why I need you to get your head out of your ass and help me.”

I’ve never heard Julian whine like this. Never had him be this level of demanding.

“Hey now. You don’t have to be mean.” I bring my hands to his cheeks and watch the anger fizzle out until he drops his weight on me and pushes his face into my neck. “We should have talked about it right away. I’m sorry.”

Julian’s hands curl into my shirt, and with some minor adjustments, I manage to pull him into my lap, arms locked tight around him.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up,” he mumbles, then goes quiet again.

We sit there in the silence of each other’s company until Julian heaves a heavy sigh. “It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.”

His words are slow, throat a parched rasp.

He’s right, though it’s been years since we were each other’s firsts.

“Jules,” I say, hugging him to me. “I care about you.”

He half chuckles and half snorts. “I care about you too, dork. I know that hasn’t changed.”

I twist him a bit to make looking down at his face easier. “Hasn’t it? It’s been changing ever since …”

A sadness fills his eyes before he closes them. “The Little thing.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” I say. “I’m just realizing I do care about you a little differently. I feel more protective. Connected.”

At the roll of his eyes, I pinch his cheek. “I might actually be a little sad when you don’t need me to be your Daddy anymore.”

“I think you’ll have your hands full with Zander.”

I’m mildly relieved to hear the teasing note in his voice; I’ve been half convinced I ruined something between the three of us.

“We’re not talking about Zander right now; We’re talking about us.”

Julian hums, and it vibrates against my chest. “I love you like you’re my best friend,” he says. “When I was lying on the bed with Zander, half in and out of Little space, I felt like I was floating and drowning at the same time. Zander is a sweet, attentive lover, but I needed …”

He snakes his arms around my neck. “I needed you, Daddy. Not sexually, but emotionally. I needed our connection.”

I smile and kiss the top of his head but don’t offer him any words. The gears turning in his head are nearly audible.

“I realized that I want more. Not from you, but from the dynamic. I knew I always did, but this felt more … decisive. I want to be taken care of in every sense of the word. I want to be loved and fucked by my Daddy. It scared me a little how good it felt.”

He wiggles away to aim his chlorine green eyes right up at me. “I liked having you both. I liked the attention. I want more of it, but not specifically from the two of you. No offense.”

“None taken.” I ruffle his hair.

Julian smiles, and it’s so innocent and child-like that it lifts the worry weighing on my heart. “I was scared that I fucked up. Asking you to kiss me. Zander said you’ve been AWOL, and I guess I got worried that I … dunno, broke you two up?”

It’s hard to break up when you aren’t dating, but no, this is entirely on me.

I clear my throat, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m glad we did it. I just … felt more than I expected. For Zander.”

There’s no use hiding anything from Julian. He knows me better than I know myself most days.

“He’s not going to hurt you, Mal,” Julian says, leaning his head on my shoulder. “Not like Mack.”

Mack.

My chest aches like a motherfucker.

“It’s just sex. I’m not looking for anything else.”

Julian scoffs. “You are the biggest, dorkiest closet romantic on the planet. You wouldn’t have slept with him in the first place if you didn’t have feelings for him.”

When I frown, he gently pats my shoulder. “Would you have a threesome with him again but with a stranger?”

The thought makes my skin crawl.

“Exactly. You need that emotional connection. Just like I do when I’m Little. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you can’t pretend like fooling around with Zander is just fun. You care about him, and that’s okay.”

He leans up to place a kiss on my cheek, and then scoots out of my lap and stretches like a cat after a long rest. “He cares about you, too, you know. A lot. You should go see him.”

I know Julian didn’t mean right that moment, but after returning to our respective beds, I couldn’t convince my mind to settle.

Me

Any chance you have time for a ghost with an apology?

It’s been twenty minutes, and logically I know he’s sleeping. Between school and hockey, Zander keeps an insanely demanding schedule. How he ever finds the time for me in the first place is a mystery.

Still, it hadn’t occurred to me that my silence may have hurt his feelings. He messaged me once or twice, and I gave some quick, curt responses, but it honestly felt like we were all just taking a moment to breathe.

Knowing Julian spent that time spiraling worries me that I may have read Zander wrong, too.

I’m no stranger to insomnia, but the minutes ticking by with no sleep in sight feels like torture tonight.

The ceiling is starting to look like a conglomerate of faces when my phone pings. It could be any kind of notification, but my heartbeat still picks up as I swipe the screen open.

Wildfire

Depends. Does this apology include kissing?

The knot of anxiety is still there, but I manage a smile.

Me

It can.

Wildfire

Right now?

Me

Don’t you have practice in the morning?

Wildfire

Don’t care. Want to see you.

Me

Why didn’t you say so before?

Wildfire

Didn’t want to push. What we did was hot, but it was a lot. Sucks, though. I miss you.

My fingers speak before my brain has a chance to catch up.

Me

I miss you, too.

I hold my breath, and the next message comes quickly.

Wildfire

Meet me in the quad? Willow tree.

Zander is sitting against the tree when I get there, the moonlight filtering through the willow catching on his hair and making it appear almost white. When he spots me, the softest, most indulgent smile graces his lips, and it’s like a vice squeezing around my ribcage.

Something has shifted in us. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but it pulls me closer, snuffs out the hesitation trying to sneak it’s way in.

I sit cross-legged on the ground in front of him, the nipping night air drawing goosebumps on my exposed arms. A tank top and pair of flannel sleep pants are all I threw on before the anxiety ushered me out the door.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, and even just hearing his voice lights up the pleasure receptors in my brain.

“I often don’t,” I say, wringing my hands together, unsure what to do with myself.

Zander’s expression grows contemplative, his chin resting on his fist while his eyes roam the empty quad.

“I don’t like when we don’t speak,” he says. “I’d rather take sex completely off the table than have you ghost me like that.”

The words hit me in the chest so hard I stop breathing. It’s only for a second, but it creates a burning in my airway that spreads into my heart and through my gut until my entire body feels like it’s on fire.

“I don’t know you that well,” he goes on. “Not as well as I’d like. So, I don’t know what your hangup is, but I want to respect it. If that means we stop fooling around, so be it.”

“So you can go fool around with someone else? Hard pass.”

It doesn’t register that my voice reeks of jealousy until Zander’s shocked expression flips into an amused one.

“Feeling possessive, Daddy?”

I close my eyes as a full body shiver takes over. If there’s one thing that night with the three of us unveiled, it’s that there’s something deeper for me with this Daddy desire. And Zander ticks every box I discover.

“I wasn’t quiet because of the sex. Or because of Julian.” I nip and gnaw on my lip, trying to piece the words together. “It was after. When we were all lying in bed together.”

“You didn’t think it was nice?”

“No, I did. Too nice. I realized I wanted …”

Zander reaches over and threads his thick, calloused fingers through mine. “What do you want?”

To hold you. Kiss you. Tease you. Protect you.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend I didn’t have to hide.”

The couple in charge of the group home were homophobic as shit, and every time they caught me so much as looking at the other boys, they beat me. I hid it as best I could from Julian, so he wouldn’t be afraid, but it was Mack who patched me up. Who promised it wouldn’t be like this forever.

“Malachi Blanchard.” Zander’s voice is teasing, but I can hear the awe behind it. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

I squeeze his hand. “I’m asking you to be patient. And saying that I wouldn’t mind … expanding our relationship.”

He grins so wide I have to look away. “You’re so stuffy sometimes. Just say you like me, Malachi.”

My skin tingles when he says my name. Is that what this is supposed to feel like?

“Take what you can get, Wildfire,” I grumble, and he yanks me forward by the hand until I fall into him.

Sprawled on top of him, he clasps an arm around my middle. His fingers take hold in my hair, and he draws my mouth to his with a firm decisiveness.

“If you can’t tell,” he says between swipes of his tongue, refusing to let either of us breathe, “the answer is hell yes.”

There’s a pressure building in my throat, emotions so strong I’m half afraid they’ll consume me.

“I also,” I pant into his mouth, taking several gulps of air, “really like when you call me Daddy.”

He presses his smile to my lips, moaning so softly it makes my body buzz. “I already knew that. I like it, too … Daddy.”

I’m not ready to admit just how much I want it. What all I want to give him. Want him to give me.

If he’s willing to wait, I’m willing to put my heart out there.

I just need to finish finding all of the pieces first.