Home and Away (14 page)

“Are you done?”

“No. I want to talk more about this thing you have going with Callum.”

“I do not have a thing going with Callum. There is no thing,” Rupert said firmly. “Nothing is
going.
”

“Lies.”

“It’s true,” Rupert said, albeit weakly. “And you’re right, he’s not my type.”

“No, he’s exactly your type. What he’s not is
safe.
”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Reese’s eyes narrowed. Rupert felt a sudden desire to flee his own office.

“Rupert, I’ve know you for most of our lives. I know what you like, and for as far back as I can remember, that’s been big, athletic men. The same men you shared locker rooms with and who, unfortunately, terrorized you. You didn’t used to fear them. You used to
want
them.”

“And look where that got me,” Rupert snapped, cursing his accelerating pulse. “Terrorized is right.”

“Because most of them were assholes. And young. And stupid. And none of that excuses what they did. But did you ever wonder if some of them were looking back at you? They were probably too afraid of their asshole friends and of breaking the mold you were very clearly never going to force yourself to fit into.”

Rupert slumped against his desk, resisting the urge to reach down and rub his right knee. “And for that, I paid a price.” A steep one, which had come with nightmares of being locked in a utility closet for almost twenty-four hours, or forced out into the snow in nothing but a towel, still wet from the showers.

Reese touched his shoulder gently. “You did. And I’m sorry.”

“You were the one to save me, more often than not,” Rupert said, his voice flat.

“But not always. Not enough.”

Rupert hated this old argument. “Still not your fault.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Reese conceded. “But more importantly, Rupert, it wasn’t yours.”

Rupert knew that, but he also knew it changed nothing. It certainly had nothing to do with Callum and the thing that
wasn’t
happening between them.

He frowned when Reese pulled him to his feet, shocked to be caught up in another hug.

“What are you doing?” Rupert asked, truly stumped.

“You said it made you feel better. I thought I’d give it a try.”

Rupert wrapped his arms around his oldest friend, his best friend, and held on. Because, damn it all—and Callum in particular—it
did
help.

Reese’s hand came to rest on the back of his neck. “It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated quietly, tucking him closer.

“I know,” Rupert sighed.

“Then take it from me—running from what you fear doesn’t make it go away.”

Rupert had about twenty things he wanted to say in response to that, but before he had a chance, his office door flew open.

“Seriously,” he muttered, “doesn’t
anyone
knock anymore?”

“Oh, ah…sorry. I didn’t meant to interrupt.” Callum, with Oliver riding piggy-back, sort of flailed in place before backpedaling out the door.

Rupert sighed and stepped away from Reese. “It’s fine, Callum. Come in.”

Callum hovered in the door. “No, that’s okay. We can come back later.”

“Get your arse in here and close the bloody door,” Rupert snapped.

“Okay,” he said carefully, doing as Rupert asked while Reese cackled like an idiot.

“Callum! Oliver! It’s good to see you both,” Reese gasped once he’d gotten himself under control.

“Lamont,” Callum said coolly before turning to study Rupert’s face.

Reese grinned gleefully at Rupert over Callum’s shoulder, waggling his eyebrows like the complete idiot he was. Rupert felt a foolish urge to blurt out that he and Reese were just friends and it wasn’t what it had looked like.

This was ridiculous.

“Reese was just about to tell me why he’s barged in on me today,” Rupert said with a meaningful look at Reese.

It was, of course, a totally wasted effort.

“Oh, yes, I came to look for a place to stay here in Moncton and stopped by to see how you all were getting along,” he offered with an emphasis on
getting along
Rupert fervently hoped Callum didn’t pick up on.

“We’re fine, obviously,” Rupert said. “What’s this about you getting a place in Moncton?”

“I thought I might need to spend a night or two here, what with you living here now, Rupert.”

Had Reese intentionally said Rupert’s name with so much warmth? He made it sound like—

“Is that so?” Callum inquired, his cool tone at odds with his ferocious scowl.

Rupert glared at Reese. “How unlike you,” he said pointedly.

“Yes, well, I’m trying new things,” he said with a grin. “Do you need another hug?”

Callum hitched Oliver higher on his back. “I’m just going to go.”

Rupert’s office door burst open.
Again.

Rupert threw his hands in the air. “Honestly. I’m going to put a deadbolt on that bloody thing.”

“Oliver!” Alexei shouted as he charged in, uninvited. “Sheila told me you and Callum were back.”

Because yes, as if Rupert’s life weren’t strange enough right now, Alexei and Oliver had become fast friends.

Oliver smiled brilliantly at Alexei and squirmed until he was let down. Alexei promptly swung him up onto his hip. “Michael and I were going to have an adventure and sneak a look at the construction. Do you want to come with us?”

Oliver’s enormous smile was clear assent.

Alexei glanced at Callum. “It’s okay?”

Reese pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows as Callum gave permission for Oliver to go off on this adventure. Rupert sent him a bland look in return. He and Callum had already discussed that Oliver’s interest in spending time with other people was a good thing and should be encouraged, even if one of those people was Alexei Belov.

And as much as Alexei loved to smash all of Rupert’s buttons with a big, meaty fist, Rupert trusted him. Alexei’s obvious affection for Oliver would melt even the coldest heart, and Rupert certainly wasn’t immune.

“I’ll join you, if that’s all right?”

As one, all eyes swung to Reese.

Alexei smiled, completely unaware of the fact that Reese didn’t go on adventures,
ever
. “Sure. It is good to see you again. Reese, right?”

They’d met only a couple times before. To date, Reese had managed to visit Moncton without letting anyone, even team management and the players, know he was one of the team’s owners, the one everyone believed to be a recluse. Who
had
been
a recluse until very recently.

“Yes. Reese,” Reese confirmed awkwardly. Rupert could see Reese screwing up his courage as he closed the door, sealing them all inside like a pack of sardines. “Reese Lamont, actually,” Reese said with a wince.

Alexei’s expression went blank. “
Edwin
Reese Lamont?”

Reese held his ground admirably in the face of Alexei’s dead-eye stare. “Yes. The one.”

Alexei looked between Rupert and Reese. Rupert was alarmed by the slow smile crawling across Alexei’s face. “You two are so
sneaky
!”

Rupert stood up straighter. “I beg your pardon.”

“You make us think that Reese is just your boyfriend, but he’s Edwin Lamont! The asshole who nearly sold the Wild Cats to crazy people!”

Reese’s mouth dropped open while Rupert’s face heated to what he assumed was a ridiculous shade of red. Why did everyone think he was sleeping with Reese?

“Please do watch your language in front of Oliver,” Rupert said, woefully snippily. He had hoped the team would have somehow forgotten about that whole bad-deal a few months back. It had, after all, all been a big misunderstanding. And they’d fixed it.

Alexei nodded, somehow managing to look contrite while still grinning. “Yes. I’m sorry. I forgot myself when I learned your
boyfriend
is our
boss
.”

“He is not my boyfriend!” Rupert snapped.

He was probably imagining that Callum looked relieved.

Alexei definitely looked dubious. “No?”

“No. I should think I would know,” Rupert replied.

Alexei’s smile turned sly. “I suppose you would.”

Wow, he’d managed to load that with a lot of innuendo. And why was Reese grinning? Honestly.

“Indeed,” Rupert said primly, refusing to rise to the bait. More. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have work to do. Enjoy your adventure and do be careful.”

Alexei and Oliver led the way out of the room. It wasn’t until the door shut behind Reese that Rupert realized Callum had stayed behind.

Callum had never seen anything sexier or more ridiculous than Rupert obviously flustered and wary. Goddamn, there had to be something wrong with Callum that he found it so arousing. So adorable. But Rupert was usually so poised, so
civilized
, and all Callum wanted to do was wreck him.

He wanted to make Rupert look as messy as Callum had felt since they’d kissed.

His hands were on Rupert’s face, their hips bumping together, before Rupert could do more than squawk. Then it was all lips and tongues and, holy shit, Callum had no idea what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop doing it.

Why had he been avoiding this? He couldn’t remember. It must have been because he was a fucking idiot, because this was as good as he remembered. As good as he’d been pretending he’d imagined. Better, maybe, because this time he wasn’t just letting it happen. This time, he shoved his fingers into Rupert’s hair to learn it
was
as soft as he’d guessed. This time, he traced his fingertips against Rupert’s scalp, along his ear and down his neck, delighting in how Rupert shuddered against him. After a week of ignoring how much he wanted this, he let himself wallow in it. Let himself taste and touch and
know
.

It was amazing. And terrible. Because now he was dangerously close to coming in his pants, which wasn’t something he’d ever done before, and, as it turned out, wasn’t on the embarrassingly long list of things he wanted to try.

He ached for some relief. Some goddamn
friction.
The little noises Rupert made, which Callum swallowed, made his hips jerk, seeking. They stumbled back until Rupert’s shoulders hit the door and he gasped into Callum’s mouth, the sound strangling off when their bodies met and smashed together from knee to shoulder. It still wasn’t enough. Callum cupped one of Rupert’s perfectly round ass cheeks in his hand and ground Rupert into the door.

“Callum,” Rupert groaned between kisses, the sound firing straight down Callum’s spine, his cock jerking in a desperate bid to answer that plea.

He curled his fingers into Rupert’s hair, holding fast, and kissed along Rupert’s cheek and down his neck, drawing on everything Rupert had done and all the ways Callum had imagined turning that back on Rupert in the days since. He licked behind Rupert’s ear, nipped the lobe, then sucked his way down the strong muscles beneath until he reached the edge of a starched collar. He buried his nose there, taking in a deep draught of cologne and shampoo and detergent and
Rupert
, imprinting the scent on his brain.

God, Rupert was totally fucking him up.

Rupert pushed at his shoulder and Callum growled, trying to stay right where he was. A strong grip in his hair yanked him back, but before he could object—or possibly finally succumb to the need to come in his pants because, yeah, turns out hair-pulling was fucking hot—Rupert sealed his lips over Callum’s and Callum was lost. Drowning. Chests pressed tight, hips grinding. Seeking. Fucking desperate for
something.

His heart stopped when someone pounded on the door.

Sheila’s muffled voice barely reached them over their panted breaths. “Rupert? Mr. Smythe? Are you okay?”

Rupert tipped his head back against the door with a thunk, still clinging to Callum. Callum buried his face in Rupert’s collar once more.

“Yes, Sheila. I’m fine. Is anything the matter?” Rupert called out politely. Callum smiled against the warm skin of Rupert’s neck and wondered if everyone in the office could hear the rasp in Rupert’s voice.

“Garrick is on the phone,” Sheila replied. “He said he couldn’t reach you. He sounds a little freaked out, boss.”

Callum vaguely recalled the buzz of Rupert’s phone on his desk. His own phone had gone off in his back pocket and he’d ignored it completely.

“Shit,” he whispered, carefully stepping away from Rupert.

Rupert’s hand grasped the doorknob, as if he needed it to hold himself up. “Tell him I’ll ring him in a moment, please,” Rupert called through the door.

Callum wished everyone could see Rupert’s hair standing on end, his lips pink and swollen, the pleat of his trousers utterly ruined by the erection tenting them. He dragged his eyes back up to Rupert’s face and met his hot blue gaze.

“We’re going to come back to this,” Rupert promised softly.

Callum smiled. “Okay.”

Rupert looked somewhere between eager and surprised, and Callum felt a pang of guilt. He’d been an asshole,
again
, so worried about what an idiot he’d been, how obviously inexperienced and pitiable, that he hadn’t considered that Rupert might have been left wanting, too.

He never wanted Rupert to be wanting. Not for anything Callum was able to give.

Rupert’s hands would barely cooperate enough to retrieve his phone from his desk and dial Garrick’s number. He’d missed three calls.

Garrick answered before the phone had even rung on Rupert’s end.

“You have to help me.”

“What’s wrong?” Rupert asked, alarmed. Garrick wasn’t given to hysterics.

Callum came close, his hand brushing Rupert’s hip hesitantly. Rupert grabbed hold of it and kept it there.

“I need to find Callum.”

Rupert frowned. “Then why are you calling me?”

“He isn’t answering his phone, either!” Garrick growled. “Jack says you two are all but inseparable, so I thought you might know where he is.”

Rupert wanted to object, but he really couldn’t, given Callum was standing right there. “Hold on,” he said, then held his phone out. “It’s for you.”

Rather than take the phone, Callum tapped the screen. “You’re on speaker, Garrick. What’s up?”

There was a pause, then, “Was he standing right next to you?”

Rupert rolled his eyes. “You got lucky. Jack doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Callum shot Rupert a curious look but Rupert refused to explain. He didn’t really have any good explanations, and none that he was willing to discuss with Garrick listening in.

“What’s up, Garrick?” Rupert asked, diverting attention back to where it belonged.

“I totally fucked up. I just got a reminder that I’m supposed to do a thing with a local scout troop. I completely forgot about it.”

“A scout thing?” Callum asked. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is I’m in Boston,” Garrick replied and Rupert thought there was little cause for him to speak to them as if they were mentally deficient. “The problem is that I promised to run a skating clinic if they raised enough money for the LGBT Youth program at the Pathways Center. Which they did.”

Rupert still didn’t get it. “Okay, so?”

“So, the clinic is in
one hour
.”

“Oh shit,” Callum said, succinctly.

“Yeah, oh shit,” Garrick agreed, then perhaps finally realizing now wasn’t the time to be a snarky bitch, smoothed out his voice. “Callum, I’m so sorry to spring this on you, but is there any way you could—”

“Yes. Of course,” Callum agreed before Garrick could finish asking, and Rupert smiled gratefully, squeezing his hand.

“Thank you so much,” Garrick said, his voice tinny over the speaker, but his gratitude coming through clear as day. “When we first started the construction, I had all the summer bookings moved to the University arena. Can you get there in time?”

Callum looked at Rupert blankly. “I have no idea.”

Rupert did the calculations quickly. “Yes. The rink is only fifteen minutes from here. We’ll need to find Oliver and swing by our hotel room to get your hockey bag, but we should just make it.”

Callum was already yanking open the door. “We got this, Garrick. Don’t worry!” he called as he ran in the direction Alexei had taken Oliver and Reese.

“
Our
hotel room?” Garrick asked in a slow drawl.

“Uh,” Rupert stammered, wondering if he could just hang up and blame it on the wireless company. “Mine and Oliver’s, I mean.”

“Uh huh.”

“Right-o, I do have to run now, Garrick. I’ve got to get Callum to the arena. Do excuse me,” he said, hanging up on the sound of Garrick’s laughter.

Callum found Mike, Alexei, and Reese looking at the new ice floor and quickly explained that he and Oliver needed to run and why.

Oliver wrapped his arms around Alexei’s neck and would not let go.

“Oliver, please,” Callum begged. “We have to go quickly so we’re not late.”

“But I want to stay with Alexei,” Oliver said.

Callum smiled, always happy to hear Oliver’s voice, his adorably crisp accent, even if he was being a pain in the butt. Callum looked at Alexei and Mike. “Do you guys mind watching him for a couple hours while Rupert and I go to this thing?”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Rupert is going, too?”

“Yes,” Callum said slowly, seeing the dawning panic in Oliver’s eyes. He reached out a moment before Oliver dove toward him.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, clinging to Callum, his lip quivering as he looked back at Alexei longingly.

Mike looked devastated. Alexei folded like a house of fucking cards. “We’ll come too,” he offered. “If that’s all right?”

Oliver’s smile lit up his whole face. “You will?”

At some point, Callum thought as they ran toward Rupert and the parking lot, he was going to have to speak with all the adults in Oliver’s life about not letting him manipulate them so easily.

“I’ll see you all later,” Reese said, once he’d found his car and driver out front.

Callum looked over his shoulder. “Dinner tonight?”

Reese smiled, delighted. “Text me where to be and when.”

“Will do,” Callum agreed, winking at Rupert when he flashed Callum a grateful smile.

They zipped back to the hotel and grabbed his gear bag, then headed to the rink. He was relieved to see the boys were in street clothes, not all geared up for hockey, and already out on the ice. Callum handed Oliver off to Alexei and Mike, who had taken their own car and were waiting in the bleachers when they arrived, and yanked on his skates. When he stood to go out on the ice, the chatter from the group Callum assumed were the kids’ parents abruptly ceased.

“Holy shit,” whispered someone.

Callum dove out onto the ice. He was here for the kids, was happy to give up his precious anonymity for them and for the good work they’d done, and he was already late.

He clapped his hands, the sound echoing in the rafters. “Okay, guys, let’s get started! Line up on the blue line.”

The kids all came toward him, doing as he’d asked. It wasn’t until they got closer that they realized something wasn’t right.

“That isn’t Garrick LeBlanc. He’s
way
too short.”

Callum stoically didn’t wince. It wasn’t his fault his presumed future brother-in-law was a freaking giant.

“He looks familiar, though.”

“He looks like—”

“Holy shit. Is that—?”

“Hi!” Callum said brightly, hoping he wouldn’t have to kick off today’s clinic with a lecture on swearing, which, coming from a professional hockey player, seemed like the height of hypocrisy anyway. “Garrick couldn’t make it today, so he called and asked me to fill in. My name is Callum Morrison.”

The silver-tongued boy’s eyes bulged. “Holy fuuu—”

“
Fadoodle
!” Callum supplied.

Fifteen mouths dropped open. Callum refused to acknowledge the laughter coming from the stands, though he would address Rupert’s particularly loud giggle later.

“Okay,” he said with a big smile. “Let’s watch the language, all right?” The boys nodded, still trapped in varying stages of shock and awe. “Right. Good. Then let’s get started. Was there a particular drill you wanted to do? A skill to work on? Stick work? Face-offs?”

He wasn’t sure what to make of the troop’s reaction. A couple of the kids look pissed. A few nervous. At least half of them were looking at a one kid in the center of their group.

“It’s a
skating
clinic,” said the young man garnering so many looks from his troop. A group of boys on the far end of the line began to snicker, while others shot them furious glares.

“Okay?” Callum said, confused.

“Not a hockey clinic,” the spokesman explained, sliding forward.

It was then Callum noticed that the kid was wearing figure skates.

Shit.

“Stupid little faggot, what does he think he’s doing?”

The words hung over the bleachers for a pregnant moment, silencing everyone. Rupert turned to see one of the men in the audience scowling at the ice, the parents around him split between amusement and horror.

Rupert kept his face carefully blank and reached to take Oliver from Alexei and Mike, intending to take him as far away as possible.

Mike and Alexei were already standing. Rupert didn’t know what he expected their reactions to be, but they both look sickened.

“We’re going to move,” said Mike, pointing to the visitor’s bench, halfway down the ice and separated from the rest of the audience by Plexiglas.

Rupert put a hand on Alexei’s arm and smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

Alexei nodded, casting a final look at the arsehole who’d spoken such filth. If the guy had any sense, he would be terrified by Alexei’s scowl. Alexei pressed a big hand over Oliver’s exposed ear, the other ear pressed to his chest, ensuring he wouldn’t hear anything else.

Rupert’s shoulders eased, seeing how Alexei kept Oliver safe.

Alexei looked back at Rupert. “You’re coming with us, too.”

Apparently Alexei’s protective instincts reached beyond Oliver. Rupert had never given Alexei any reason to think Rupert could take care of himself. Just the opposite. Instead of being embarrassed, though, Rupert was warmed to know Alexei was looking out for him. Mike, too, judging by the gentle hand against Rupert’s back, guiding him to their new seats.

Rupert glanced out on the ice, to Callum smiling at the young man with the figure skates, at the rest of the troop jockeying behind him. It seemed some of the boys had his back. Others not so much.

Rupert felt a rush of empathy for the young man.

“Actually,” Rupert said, coming to a halt, “if you don’t mind, I’m going to run to my car to get something.”

Alexei glared at the bleachers again. “Do you want one of us to go with you?”

Rupert suppressed a sudden desire to hurl himself against Alexei and hug the stuffing out of him.

Honestly, what had Callum done to him? He never used to want to hug anybody.

“No, I’m fine,” Rupert promised. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Fortunately, he had what he needed in his trunk from this morning’s workout, the one that was only possible because Callum was so generous about getting Oliver up and fed and out the door while Rupert snuck out and let Callum believe he was headed to the gym. Which sometimes he was. More often, though, he was coming here.

When he returned to the arena, Rupert made a point of plunking his gear down on the aluminum bench right in front of the group of parents, catching the eyes of the arsehole and his smirking friends as he yanked his skates out of their bag.

The already subdued group went silent again. The hairs on the back of Rupert’s neck prickled, standing to attention as he bent to lace up. He stood, unflinching in the face of their frowns, to shuck his tie and jacket and tuck his shirt in tighter.

He really wanted to tell that horrible man to fuck off. To force him to apologize to the parents of the child he’d just spewed his ignorance and hate about. But Rupert’s bravery had limits. Lots of them. So instead, he turned toward the ice.

“Callum!”

Callum’s head snapped around as Rupert sailed over the boards, blatantly showing off as he swung his feet through the air then landed on the ice gently. He loved this moment, the sound of his blades cutting through the surface beneath him, the particular smell of the cold air that hovered just above the ice.

He never felt more at home, more surefooted, than when he was wearing his skates.

He stopped short right next to Callum, snowing Callum’s pant legs and eliciting giggles from the scout troop, as he had hoped.

He smiled. “I thought you might be able to use my help.”

Callum took a moment to stare down at his skates, his
figure skates
, then up at Rupert’s face. Rupert arched an eyebrow and waited.

“You said you didn’t skate.”

“No, I agreed when you accused me of never having played hockey.”

A collective gasp went up from the group.

“
Never
?” came from the boy in the figure skates, of all people.

“Never,” Rupert said with a firm nod, trying not to laugh at the positively scandalized looks from everyone but Callum.

One boy whispered, “How is that even possible?”

“You heard his accent. He’s not Canadian!” deduced another, and everyone immediately nodded, as if this explained all of Rupert’s sad life choices.

Callum bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with laughter. Rupert’s heart flipped over in his chest.

“Well, then,” Rupert said primly, “Shall we begin?"

One of the bigger boys, who to this point had mostly been left scowling in the back of the group, came forward. “What can you teach me about skating in those things?” He gestured at Rupert’s skates with transparent disdain. “I play hockey, and I don’t need any of that twinkle-toes gay crap to be good at it.”

Rupert felt a compulsion to pull the boy in figure skates closer. To keep him safe. His friends, though, closed ranks faster than Rupert could blink, lining up at his back and glaring at the other boy.

“Let me be perfectly clear here,” Callum said, his voice sterner than Rupert had ever heard it. Every boy before them snapped to attention. “There is no room for hate on this ice. Not with me here, not ever, do you understand?” Heads bobbed, particularly the one who’d spoken out. Apparently satisfied, Callum took a deep breath and settled back on his skates. “Now, let’s be real. You can learn more about skating from a figure skater than you can from a hockey player any day.”

Rupert tried really hard not to look surprised, or to beam at Callum and make his affection blatantly obvious to everyone in the arena. And possibly from space.

“We can?” the hockey player returned with extreme dubiousness, but he was listening.

“Yes. In fact, there are a number of NHL players who were junior champions in figure skating before they decided to focus on hockey alone. Just like your friend here…” Callum paused and looked at the boy in figure skates.

“Christian.”

“Christian. I bet you’ve played hockey some, right?”

“I still do.” Christian’s sad smile almost broke Rupert’s heart. “It’s not like I have a choice,” he finished with a mutter.

Callum blinked, but didn’t break. “And do you think you’re a better hockey player because of your figure skating?”

Christian shrugged, but one of his friends clipped him on the shoulder. “Come on, dude. You’re an awesome hockey player.”