Page 83 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 2

JULIAN

Thankfully, BJ’s wild momentum was stopped by a thick snowbank before he hit something worse like a tree.

It was clear from the way he landed he’d hurt himself.

He pushed himself up but winced in pain.

Parker got to him first, but I was behind him by only seconds.

I slid to a stop beside him and popped out of my skis before crouching down to help.

After a quick assessment, we both decided he’d most likely injured his knee. It was bad enough Parker didn’t feel comfortable moving him but not nearly bad enough for him to be howling in agony.

“I don’t think you tore your ACL,” Parker said, letting out a breath of relief. “Or you’d be writhing in pain. Hopefully, it’s just a sprain or something, but let’s keep it stable regardless. You wouldn’t believe some of the injuries I’ve seen.”

BJ’s energetic personality was subdued by the pain and fear of his fall. “I’ll bet.”

I reached out to hold his hand in mine. “It probably helped that you’re in such good shape and flexible.

They say flexibility and stretching is a critical component of avoiding injury.

Parker learned that from several trainers when he was an athlete.

” I knew I sounded stupid, but I remembered Parker telling me the key to keeping injured skiers calm is to stay calm yourself and talk to them.

Since I could see tears spilling out of the edges of his eyes, I knew he was in plenty of pain.

While Rocco helped BJ into a more comfortable position, Parker contacted his ski patrol friend, who promised to bring help quickly. Within moments, the engine buzz of a snowmobile greeted us as the ski patrol approached.

Parker’s friend Dallas hopped off the machine and raced over to assess BJ.

I knew BJ must have been more hurt than he was letting on because he didn’t spare a single sideways glance or flirty comment for the sexy, broad-shouldered man in the red parka.

When Dallas indicated he’d need to take BJ down the hill on the litter attached to the back of his snowmobile, Parker offered to help.

“Nah, no need. Ambulance won’t let anyone ride along. But he’ll want some company at the hospital later,” he said, looking between us.

Rocco lifted his hand to volunteer. “I’ll come. I’m his friend, and I’m staying with him.” He leaned down to speak quietly to BJ.

Rocco thanked us for our help and gathered up the remaining camera equipment before following the snowmobile down the mountain.

I wasn’t used to this much skiing anymore, so I sheepishly admitted to Parker that maybe this would be a good time for us to collect my stuff from the mid-mountain restaurant and go home ourselves. “I’d hate to wind up with a similar injury,” I admitted.

Parker stepped over to me and pressed a cold kiss to my lips. “If you hadn’t said it, I would have. I feel awful I didn’t notice him tiring sooner.”

We made our way back to the cabin, remembering partway there we’d promised to join our friends at the lodge for dinner.

When we finally arrived at Mikey and Tiller’s place later, I was jelly-legged and half-asleep. If it hadn’t been for Parker manhandling me into the shower back at my cabin, I would have still been stinky and half-frozen from the day on the slopes.

There hadn’t been anything sexual about our joint shower, but just seeing his hands on my body taking care of me had been a breathtaking turn-on.

But it had also felt bittersweet, like being told I could add as many toppings as I wanted to my ice cream sundae but knowing I’d wind up sick if I actually ate them all.

I’d almost been glad of the excuse to postpone the conversation I knew we needed to have.

When I stumbled on the lodge’s front step, Parker quickly slid an arm around my waist. “Easy.”

“How do you spend all day on the slopes?” I asked, already knowing he was used to it. “My legs are no longer functional.”

“Meth and cocaine,” he said casually. “Sometimes I even add a chocolate bar midafternoon.”

I elbowed him, causing him to make an exaggerated oof sound before reaching out to ring the doorbell. It had been days since Parker had been nervous enough to try to deflect things with a silly joke, but clearly, he was as hesitant to face our friends as I was.

We stood there side by side and stared at the closed door.

“We could let ourselves in,” I suggested. “They’re actually really good friends of ours.”

“It’s going to be bad, isn’t it? They’re going to grill us for details and try to get us to define this thing between us.”

I nodded without looking at him. “Really bad. Horrific.”

He dropped the arm he had around me and clasped my hand instead. I loved the feel of his strong hand in mine.

We continued to stare at the door.

Parker sighed. “They’re probably expecting us to let ourselves in.”

I nodded again. “Probably.”

“What do you want to tell them? We’re together. That’s all they need to know, right?”

I turned to look at him. “What do you mean, we’re togeth?—”

“ Hi !” Parker squawked nervously as the door flew open, revealing both Mikey and Tiller. Parker pulled me forward so quickly, I almost tripped again. “We’re here. Here we are. We have come. Here. To have dinner. With you. Here.”

Parker’s smile was maniacal, and for some reason, that calmed me down. We’d had an unspoken rule in our relationship for years.

Only one of us could be unhinged at a time.

And he was pretty fucking unhinged right now.

“Here,” I said, pulling the fancy wedge of cheese we’d brought them out of my pocket and slapping it into Tiller’s palm. “Cheese. For you. Well, for all of us, really. It’s just… cheese.”

Parker tilted his head at me and widened his eyes as if to say, Remember the unhinged pact?

I blew breath out between my lips and offered a sheepish grin. “Act normal. Everyone, just be cool. We’re cool, right? Everyone here is casual and cool.”

Mikey and Tiller stared at us like they’d just wandered into the most fascinating shitshow on Earth. But it was fine, because we were going to be cool about everything and talk about it later.

Parker let out a strange kind of distorted laugh. “It’s fine. I’m cool and you’re cool. They’re always cool, so…”

Sam’s voice came from the kitchen. “What the fuck is taking you so long, and why do I keep hearing the word ‘cool’?”

Tiller didn’t take his eyes off us when he shouted back. “Replace that wine with whiskey, Sam. Quickly.”

I flapped a hand in the air and kicked my boots off on the wide tray next to the door. “No, it’s really very fine. Nothing is happening. It’s all very normal. We’re normal. Everything is normal. See?” I gestured to my… solar plexus. “Totally normal.”

Parker’s eyebrows folded together as his boots joined mine on the tray. “Baby… I have some concerns about your definition of normal because, like I told you before, that sweater isn’t my favorite. I wanted you to wear the navy cashmere again, but?—”

I cut him off. “And I told you, it needs to go to the dry cleaner because of the marshmallow you got on me when I was wearing it. When I have it on, you can’t ever stop petting me. Sometimes it makes things… awkward around other people.”

“But I like petting you.”

Mikey’s voice took on an odd high pitch. “It’s happening. Oh my god, it’s happening.” He turned and shouted toward the kitchen while shoving us forward. “Sam, Truman, code red. I repeat, code red. It’s happening. ”

I leaned over to Parker and whispered, “What’s happening?”

Parker shrugged. “Maybe they’re excited about the cheese.”

We followed them into the kitchen, where every gay, pan, and bi man I knew in Aster Valley seemed to be waiting with eager anticipation.

“Hey, everyone,” Parker said, reaching for a shot glass full of amber liquid and passing it to me. I tossed it back without thinking.

Mikey nudged us over to the giant wooden table by the windows.

Most everyone else was already seated around the table enjoying a couple of trays of appetizers and predinner drinks.

Music was playing in the background, and a security light in the backyard illuminated a light flurry of snowflakes falling outside.

A fire blazed in the kitchen fireplace, and the smell of garlic and other savory treats filled the room. I let my shoulders relax—or maybe it was the whiskey—now that we were among friends.

“Sit,” Mikey said, indicating two empty chairs next to each other. At least they weren’t planning on using a divide-and-conquer strategy to grill us.

Or were they?

Before Parker could follow me into the empty seat, Tiller grabbed his elbow and turned him toward the pantry door. “Come with me for a second. I need help with something.”

I stared after them. Parker turned to look at me over his shoulder. His eyes were wide.

Stay strong , I thought with a silent but near hysterical giggle.

Mikey took the empty seat next to me and lulled me into a false sense of security. “I’m so glad you’re here because I need some advice.”

I blinked at him and looked around at the other guys who seemed to be listening in also. “O-okay…”

“It’s this friend of mine from Texas. Do you remember me telling you about Shannon from Hilltop Cafe?”

I searched my brain but found nothing, so I shook my head.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, waving his hand through the air.

“She’s the one who’s been flirting with this regular customer for like a year.

Every day, he brings his laptop after the breakfast rush and proceeds to work in a corner booth with breakfast and coffee refills until the lunch rush starts.

He tips her like crazy and makes great conversation when she’s free to chat. ”

I relaxed into the story. “That’s sweet.”

“Yeah, so he finally asked her out, and she said no, can you believe it?”

I glanced around the table to see if I could figure out why I was the one he was asking about this, but all I saw were blank faces. “That sucks. Did she say why? And why are you asking me?”