Page 28 of Something to Prove (Smithton Bears #2)

WALKER

Poor Ty. I truly felt sorry for him.

I’d obviously undersold how manic and overly friendly my family could be.

Aunt Kay greeted him like a long-lost son, hugging him warmly and shoving a huge roast beef sandwich in his face within minutes of his arrival.

She then proceeded to grill him about his entire life from his first memory to today while sliding a medley of apple-y desserts in front of him… because, “Walker said you love apples.”

Uncle Richard was no better. He and my cousin Jack wanted to talk hockey. Nonstop. My cousin Eric and his girlfriend, Nina, lived in Miami for a year, and wanted to discuss all things Florida. And Jack’s wife, Amelia, wanted him on her Pictionary team because he had good hands.

“You can draw. I just know it. I love this bunch of bananas, but they’re hopeless…the whole lot of them,” Amelia had joked.

And of course there was a slew of distant cousins in the area or people related to the family on Uncle Richard’s side who popped in for a glass of holiday cheer.

The house was loud and boisterous with kids and dogs, and smelled of homemade bread and apple pie.

To me, it was a wonderland. I’d grown up with quiet holidays marked by fancy meals cooked by a Michelin-star chef and occasional visits from stuffy relatives.

In contrast, this rambling old Victorian house smack in the middle of a working orchard on the outskirts of the city felt like a real home. A loud one.

Ty wasn’t fazed.

“My ears are still ringing from a few days with my family. I’m fine. This…” He scanned the open-style great room filled with comfy furniture and walls lined with family photos. “This is nice. And they…know about us?”

Yes. Aunt Kay had put it together well before I’d asked if it would be okay if Ty joined us for a couple of days.

The constant texting and my moony expression had tipped her off.

She’d been delighted at the prospect of meeting my “beau”—her words, not mine.

She was a teensy bit surprised to know Ty played hockey, though.

“Like your dad. Interesting,” she’d singsonged.

More like a coincidence.

I nodded. “Yes, they know…or suspect.”

“Okay…cool.” That was it. No worried frowns or trace of regret…just, “cool.”

And it was.

Aunt Kay wanted to know if we were sharing a room, and I’d gone out on a limb and said yes. If Ty had any strong objections, it was an easy fix. I had to admit, it was surreal to lie in bed with him…to sleep. No, I was not having sex while my family was snoring nearby.

A sneaky a hand job or blowjob didn’t count, though, as long as we were super quiet. Anything more would have to wait till we got home.

But whispering in the dark under covers like kids at a sleepover was kind of perfect.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” I slipped my leg between Ty’s and snuggled close. “What did you tell your family?”

“That I was going to visit a friend.”

“ Hmm . So easy,” I hummed.

Ty’s smile dipped a notch. I didn’t press. I didn’t want him to remind me that we really were just friends. I enjoyed living in a fantasy land. It was nice here. Why muck it up with truth? The real world could wait.

“I can see why you love it here,” he commented lazily.

“It’s special, isn’t it? The holidays are nuts, but it’s usually very peaceful. The house is far enough from the city that you don’t hear planes and traffic noise. The sky is huge and in the summer, it’s the prettiest shade of blue…and it goes on and on.” I spread my hand wide.

Ty caught my wrist and kissed my knuckles. “If you like small towns, why go to New York City?”

“Content, connections. I can’t stay in Smithton forever. My mom would have told me to go to DC. That was where she started. I’m not into politics, though.”

“What about your aunt and uncle? What do they think? And have I told you how freaking cool they are?”

I grinned. “You have. They think I should follow my heart. Aunt Kay says the Clomsky side of the family are dreamers. She wanted to live on a farm and…now she owns an orchard. My dad wanted to play hockey and…he did.”

Ty frowned and opened his mouth as if to say something. He closed it again and glanced up at the ceiling. “That’s cool.”

I flattened my thumb on his brow. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

I rested my head on Ty’s shoulder and draped my arm across his broad chest. “Go to sleep, love.”

Oh, geez.

Love.

Yes, I heard that. It was nothing. I swear.

Just a little friendly term of endearment between one hopelessly infatuated man to his unbelievably handsome temporary lover. No problem.

No problems here.

This was all good.

The following few days were magical.

Snow blanketed the property to the horizon dotted with bare trees and a red barn in the distance.

We had snowball fights, made a misshapen snow creature, fed the chickens, and played family games that involved drawing or miming a clue.

We watched endless movies, argued over our personal top ten holiday songs, and laughed ourselves silly making apple people from apple peels.

It was three days with minimal contact with the real world. Three days of laughter, discovery, and sweetness. Three nights of falling asleep in Ty’s arms, three mornings of waking up next to him.

Day four was when it all went sideways.

“My dad is coming…today?” I asked Aunt Kay through a frozen phony grin.

She slipped an arm around my waist and hugged me.

Aunt Kay was tall and lean with short gray hair and rosy cheeks.

I looked for similarities between us sometimes, but I was my mother’s son, through and through.

I’d inherited Mom’s stubborn willfulness, her single-minded tenacity, and her hair.

It would have been nice to be more like my aunt, who could make anything seem like… well, not the worst thing in the world.

“Oh, honey. It won’t be so bad. You’ll see.”

I was hoping we’d miss him. Terrible…I know. But our bags were packed and we had an hour-plus drive to the airport. Our window was closing. Which was why I didn’t mention the possible Ketchum Clomsky sighting to Ty till the last second.

As in…the second the large black SUV pulled into the driveway.

Ty glanced out the living room window. “Maybe I should move the rental car. I think more cousins just arrived.”

“Nope, it’s my father. Surprise.”

I chewed the side of my thumbnail, feet firmly planted on the carpet. I had to greet him. Say hello, how are you? Would he be nice, would he remember me? Would he?—

“Your dad?” Ty squealed.

“Yeah.” I patted his forearm absently. “Don’t be nervous. He’s…sorry, I-I don’t have time to explain now, but I will later. Just smile and nod, and it’ll be okay. I think.”

Ty sputtered. It occurred to me that he didn’t seem very excited about meeting his hero, but I couldn’t worry about that now.

I shuffled toward the front door, my heart thumping an unnerving beat. Voices drifted on the breezes, boots on gravel, climbing the porch steps.

The flashback hit me out of the blue.

I was six years old, waiting at the door of another house for the big man with the fast red car.

He said it matched my hair and it made me laugh.

I wore a yellow jacket and shoes that lit up when I jumped.

A Superman backpack doubled as an overnight bag.

Toothbrush, underwear, PJs, and a book about hockey.

I couldn’t wait to show it to him. I was so excited and it was impossible to sit still.

I could tell my mom was exasperated, but she was always exasperated with the big man.

She didn’t like him, but I did. She didn’t like that he called me Sunny.

I didn’t mind. We were going to do something fun.

He’d said so. Go to the zoo, go to the fair, go to the rink.

I didn’t care. Anywhere was fine with me.

He’d never shown up.

But here he was now.