Home and Away (9 page)

Later in the afternoon, Callum left them in the room—Rupert sprawled out on the couch with Oliver sprawled out on top of him, both zoned out to the Octonauts on TV—while he went for a long run, then spent a solid hour in the hotel’s gym. It didn’t have everything he needed, but it was better than nothing. A half hour in the pool afterwards felt like heaven.

He was coming around the corner to their hotel room door when he heard a child crying, his sobs loud even out in the corridor. Callum broke into a run, fumbling his keycard and swearing as he bent to retrieve it. Goddamn it, he should just knock the damn door down.

He finally burst into the room and almost upended the heavily-laden room service cart holding their dinners. Rupert was on the couch, milk-white and wide-eyed, staring up at Callum. Oliver was in his arms, sobbing.

Callum knelt on the floor at Rupert’s feet, his hand going to Oliver’s hair. “What happened?”

“I didn’t—I wasn’t—” Rupert patted Oliver’s back rapidly, awkwardly trying to soothe his brother.

Callum pressed Rupert’s trembling hand to Oliver’s back. “Please tell me what happened.”

“Oliver fell asleep and I needed to use the restroom. I didn’t think—” Rupert’s unsteady voice cut out. Callum wrapped a hand around the back of Rupert’s neck, his thumb rubbing under Rupert’s ear, and waited for him to collect himself.

“He didn’t wake up when I slid him onto the couch,” Rupert continued. “I should have woken him. I just thought after such a late night, he needed his rest.”

“Of course.”

“No, I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have closed the door. I’m so bloody stupid,” he said furiously.

“You’re not, Rupert. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s not, Callum. He woke up and he was screaming. Not like this. Like…like you can’t…
I’ve never heard anything like it
.” Something primal clenched deep in Callum’s chest when Rupert’s eyes filled with tears, his voice wrecked. “I tore out of the bathroom as fast as I could. It was like he didn’t see me at first. I didn’t know what to do, so I just grabbed him. I think I frightened him, but I’m afraid to let go. I’m trying to hold him the way you always do, but he won’t stop. He won’t stop crying.”

Rupert’s eyes pleaded with Callum to tell him he did the right thing. To forgive him.

Callum climbed up on the couch and pulled Rupert and Oliver into his arms. “You’re okay,” he whispered, again and again, rubbing Rupert’s arm and Oliver’s back, carding his fingers through their hair, repeating himself until Rupert was sagged against his chest and Oliver’s breaths barely hiccupped.

“God, I’m such a mess,” Rupert said in a wet voice against Callum’s neck.

Callum held back a repeat of his lecture about not letting Oliver see his fear. It was too late for that, this time. Instead, he kept rocking them and let Rupert have a couple more minutes to recover.

Eventually, Rupert sat up a little. “Well, I completely fuu—fudged it up on day one,” he said, resigned.

“You tried to take a leak, Rupert. That’s allowed, even for parents of young children. You’re hardly the first to complain about a lack of privacy, either.”

Rupert’s laugh sounded genuine, if a little freaked out. “God, what have I signed myself up for?”

The best job on earth.

Callum looked at Oliver and found one glassy blue eye staring back. He smiled and held out his arms. “Come on, let’s have our dinner before it goes cold.”

It was probably too late, actually, but Oliver climbed off Rupert and let Callum boost him into a chair. From there, it was relatively easy to prod both the Smythe men through their suppers and into their pajamas.

Callum changed too, even though it was only eight o’clock in London, and barely past lunchtime back home. His internal clock was so fucked up at this point that he figured he’d lie awake half the night, but Oliver seemed intent on keeping at least one hand on him at all times again, and what mattered most was that Oliver feel safe.

He left the last of the clean up to Rupert, who wouldn’t be able to resist anyway, and turned off all the lights but those Rupert needed. Not surprisingly, within seconds of lying down on the bed, Oliver was out cold. Rupert had been right that the kid needed more sleep. Tonight’s crying jag hadn’t helped, either.

It was reassuring to watch Oliver’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Callum was so mesmerized by it, he was startled when Rupert turned off the last of the lights and lay down on Oliver’s other side, facing Callum.

Callum had left the curtains open, letting in enough light from the city to see Rupert’s face. He looked sad.

“I never thought I’d have children,” Rupert said quietly, out of nowhere.

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, there was the bit about having sex with a woman.”

Callum chuckled, not bothering to suppress his shudder. “Fortunately, that’s not the only way to go about it.”

Rupert arched an eyebrow. “Fortunately?”

Callum’s brain caught up with his mouth and flailed. What the fuck was the matter with him? Rupert didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Callum’s stomach turned, because now he would have to lie
again
. “Oh. I just meant—”

“Do you want a family?” Rupert asked, unwittingly sparing Callum.

“Yes,” said Callum without hesitation. He just had to wait for hockey to be over. Then find someone who would love him after all he’d done. “I always wanted a big one, like mine,” he admitted, even though with each passing year, that dream seemed farther and farther away.

Rupert smiled at Oliver, curled against Callum’s chest, and the protective hand Callum pressed to his back. “You’ll be an amazing father.”

Callum swallowed hard. “Thanks,” he said, his voice rough.

“I’m not like you,” said Rupert. “I don’t have brothers and sisters. Or didn’t growing up, anyway,” he said, running a hand over Oliver’s shoulder. “But more than that, I didn’t have parents, really. Dorm masters, coaches, teachers—even roommates and friends—raised me, and it was fine. I can see from your expression you don’t believe me, but I genuinely had a good and happy childhood, for the most part. I never missed having a family. Didn’t know any different, did I? And I suppose that translated to not thinking I wanted one, particularly.”

“And now?” Callum asked.

“Now I have to figure out what to do. I watch you and I can see I’m not well equipped for this.”

“You have everything you need, Rupert.”

Rupert sent him an extremely dubious look. “How can I possibly?”

“You love him. That already puts you leagues ahead of his mother. Add in that big old brain of yours and some patience, and he’s a lucky kid.”
And you’re a lucky man.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Callum Morrison?”

A bark of laughter escaped before Callum could help it. He held his breath when Oliver’s eyes fluttered open for a second, then he promptly settled back to sleep.

“That sense of humor won’t hurt either,” Callum whispered.

Rupert smiled. “Thank you. And not just for saying nice things so that I don’t freak out.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. And you have been. If it’s any consolation, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Tell them what?” Callum asked, alarmed. Had he been obvious?

“That you’re a big softy,” Rupert said with a grin.

Oh god, he was. He totally was. No one
ever
saw it. “I do have a reputation to keep up,” Callum said, trying for humor.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

Callum’s smile wavered. “Thanks.”

He studied Rupert in the low light, his eyes heavy, his lips curved in a soft smile that made Callum’s heart beat a little faster.

He shouldn’t let himself be attracted. Should shove it down like he had for his entire adult life, fearing someone might catch him looking, see something they shouldn’t, couldn’t, on his face. But there was no one else here. And Rupert
did
have his number. Callum had let Rupert see so many things he’d kept hidden for years. Buried, because it was easier. Because he’d told so many lies that he was a stranger to almost everyone he knew. He didn’t have friends, except Michaela. What was the point, when he couldn’t tell them the truth? When he couldn’t be himself?

But now there was Rupert.

“I’m still not convinced Oliver might not be better off away at school than with me.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Rupert hesitated. “Don’t I?”

“I get that you’re scared, Rupert, but you can do this. You’ll get it figured out faster than you think, and in the meantime I’ll help you.”

Rupert put his hand over Callum’s on Oliver’s back. “You’ve already done so much.”

“I like kids,” he said with a shrug, his voice scratchy. “It will be years before I have any of my own. If ever,” he confessed slowly. He
wanted
to tell Rupert the truth, he realized, but he didn’t know how. Where to start.

“I don’t understand. Why years?”

“I have to wait until after hockey.”

“Why can’t you start a family before you retire?”

Callum retreated, hating the fear even as he gave into it. “Because I play hockey,” he said, scrambling for a way back.

Rupert knew bullshit when he heard it. “
And
?”

Callum swallowed hard, his stomach in knots, and did the unthinkable. He told the truth.

“I’m gay.”

Rupert’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open. “
Oh
.”

Callum closed his eyes and pulled Oliver close.

“Yeah.
Oh
.”

Eight o’clock in the morning, and already Rupert’s life was a total shit show. How did that even happen?

He could have guessed it wasn’t going to be easy to get them all through that special ring of hell that was the security line at Heathrow. And that traveling with a four year old, even one as easy-going as Oliver, was going to make that especially difficult.

But Callum’s total inability to make eye contact with him for longer than five seconds this morning really wasn’t helping.
The fucking chicken
.

Callum had clung to Oliver from the moment they’d woken up, probably believing Oliver would provide some protection from the questions practically gagging Rupert after Callum’s confession last night.

Seriously, who the fuck came out, then pretended to be asleep?

Rupert had lain awake, trying to make sense of Callum being gay—a concept that from
anyone else on earth
would not have made him bat an eye. And as if Callum’s whole bag of issues wasn’t enough, Rupert’s sleeplessness was
deeply
regrettable, since he had no idea when he would have a chance to sleep again. As it was, he could easily have nodded off while standing in the line to check in. And he didn’t think Oliver was going to be able or willing to entertain himself on the plane for seven hours. Or during their layover in Toronto. Or the shorter flight to Moncton. Or once they got back to his hotel room.

Holy shit, was he
ever
going to sleep again?

They finally collapsed into a row of seats on the main concourse, but as much as Rupert just wanted to shut his eyes for a moment, he couldn’t. Their flight was in an hour, and they still needed to eat and possibly find some snacks to take on the plane for Oliver in case he didn’t want whatever they were serving.

And really, who ever wanted whatever airlines were now serving? Not to mention Rupert still didn’t know what Oliver liked. Did he drink anything besides milk? Should he? Rupert had some vague notion that small children shouldn’t drink a lot of juice because of all the sugar. Maybe it made them hyper? Or was it that their teeth would rot?

He needed to figure this shit out before he went shopping. The fridge in his hotel room wouldn’t hold a lot, so he couldn’t just buy one of everything and hope for the best.

Which reminded him—Rupert pulled out his phone and opened the app he used to track his ever-growing lists. He needed to find a place to live in Moncton, an item that had been on one of his pre-Oliver lists, actually, but now was a priority. Oliver needed a home, not a hotel room.

Oliver also needed more clothes. And that food. And schooling. Would it be preschool? Was that public or private in Canada? How should he notify the Canadian government that Oliver was now a resident? He’d have to call his lawyers—he added that to the list. But first there was shopping. He needed books. And toys, and
oh, holy hell,
how were they going to get home from the airport safely—

“Knock it off,” Callum said sternly.

Rupert snapped his head up and glared at Callum. “What. I’m fine.”

“You’re really very obviously not. Are you even aware that you’re muttering aloud to yourself?”

“I am not.”

Callum snorted. “Tell that to airport security when they’re conducting the body cavity search.”

Rupert spun to look over his shoulder, searching for approaching uniforms, and noting the stares from the family who had been sitting behind them but was now moving away.

“Dude, I’m
kidding
.”

Rupert settled back into his seat. “You’re not funny.”

“Actually, I am. Ask anyone.”

Rupert gave Callum a look of total disbelief.

Callum was a cranky son of a bitch. Except, well, when he wasn’t. Like when he was flying around the world to help a virtual stranger, or coaxing a frightened boy to view him as his personal protection, transportation, and jungle gym, or holding Oliver to his chest and looking at Rupert like he was worried Rupert was going to crack up in the middle of one of the most tightly secured public facilities in the Western world. Because Rupert really was very obviously not
fine
. He was freaking out.

“Okay. You’re right,” Rupert conceded.

“I’m funny?”

“No.”

Callum smiled for the first time that day, actually
looking
at Rupert, and Rupert felt the responding tug on his own face.

“You’re a tough audience, duchess. It’s not my fault you don’t get me.”

Truer words had never been spoken.

“You shouldn’t call him that,” said a small voice from the vicinity of Callum’s chest.

Callum and Rupert both froze, then looked down at Oliver.

“What should I call him, then?” Callum asked gently.

“Earl.”

Callum cracked up at that suggestion and Rupert felt an almost hysterical urge to laugh right along with him. Instead he leapt to his feet. “Right. Shall I find us some food, then?”

Callum blinked up at him. “Sure?”

“Great!” Rupert said enthusiastically. “Oliver, what would you like? Do you see anything you want to try?”

Oliver peered around at the various storefronts before shrugging, silent once more.

Rupert kept his smile firmly in place as his eyes cut to Callum’s. They exchanged a long look and Rupert knew Callum felt the same mixture of hope and frustration he did. The tilt of his chin reminded Rupert to be patient, Rupert’s nod in return eliciting a small smile.

It turned out Callum and Rupert
did
have the magic necessary to hold an entirely silent conversation with a look.

Rupert tried to decide if that reassured or alarmed him while he dashed into the snack bar for a ridiculous variety of foods for Oliver to choose from, then to the newsstand to grab something for himself to read on the plane. He always felt vaguely guilty buying the gossip rags, but he couldn’t resist the red carpet photos and feel-good stories about celebrities saving the world.

He returned to Callum and Oliver in time for their flight to be called for priority boarding, then it was the stumble along the concourse and up the jetway. Rupert was never so relieved to be on a plane and settled into his seat early.

Oliver was mesmerized by something Callum had loaded onto his phone for him, and Callum had returned to studiously ignoring Rupert, so Rupert sat back and flipped open his magazine. On page seven he realized his mistake.

He stared at the glossy half-page picture.

Longtime partners Callum Morrison and Michaela Price at the Annual Price Foundation Charity Ball, which raised over $4 million for LGBT youth centers and homeless shelters. The question on everyone’s mind: When will these two lovebirds finally tie the knot?

Rupert glanced up and found Callum staring at him, his mouth compressed into a thin white line.

“Ask.”

Rupert swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. “It’s none of my business.”

“Ask.”

Rupert checked to be sure no one was close enough to hear. “Why did you tell me you’re gay?”

“Because I trust you,” Callum replied, completely taking the wind from Rupert’s sails.

He pointedly looked down at the magazine in his hands before turning to Callum with his brows raised. “You’re bi, then?”

Callum snorted. “No.”

“Have you told Michaela?”

“It wasn’t necessary. She figured it out within an hour of meeting me,” Callum said with a little smile. “Something about how I didn’t look at her boobs even once.”

Rupert grinned. “She sounds very clever.”

“She is. She’s the only one who has ever figured it out.”

“Did she train you up on proper cleavage ogling or something?”

Callum laughed. “She would, I bet, but no. Her solution was for us to
date,”
he said with sarcastic air quotes, “and women would assume I was too hung up on her to ever notice another pair of breasts.”

They both fell silent as a couple were seated in the row in front of them.

Rupert lowered his voice. “And she doesn’t mind? That you don’t…I mean, I assume that you aren’t…” Rupert grimaced, realizing too late that his question was far too intimate and absolutely none of his business.

Callum sighed. “We’re just friends. And it suits her, too.”

So many questions.
Though if asking about Callum was too intimate, poking into Michaela Price’s life was well beyond none of his business.

“That sounds…complicated.”

Callum scanned the line of people now crowding the aisle, then grimaced. “You have no idea.”

He looked like he was begging Rupert to understand, even while his voice sounded as though he didn’t expect Rupert to at all. And god’s truth, Rupert didn’t understand, but after the past couple days, Callum had earned the benefit of the doubt. For now.

Callum couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt more out of sorts.

Resolutely ignoring the looks Rupert kept sending his way, he focused on keeping Oliver entertained for the long journey. Rupert finally passed out for a few hours, and as much as Callum was desperate for help, he couldn’t bring himself to wake him up.

Callum was absolutely a huge fan of kids. And families. And all that went with that. But by the time they finally stumbled off the last plane at the Moncton Airport, he had to admit that international travel with a small child was maybe not the best part of family life.

Holy crap, it felt good to be home. Or what passed for home for the summer. He couldn’t wait to get Oliver settled in so they could start encouraging him to come out of his very thick and stubborn shell.

“Callum! Rupert!” Jack called from the other side of the security barrier.

Callum waved and walked—okay,
staggered
—faster.

“What’s Jack doing here?” Rupert asked.

“I asked him to meet us.”

“Wonderful. I looked like a warthog’s arse before being forced to stand next to
him
,” Rupert groused, even as he smiled and waved at Jack.

Callum snorted. Rupert looked as perfectly pressed and handsome as ever. “It was either this, or take Oliver home in a taxi. I asked Jack to buy a car seat and install it in my rental.”

Rupert stopped. “You what?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it. I thought of it while you were asleep somewhere over Iceland and texted him.”

“You’re very pushy, you know that?”

Callum smiled faintly. “All part of my charm?”

“God, it really is,” Rupert muttered, then fell against his chest and hugged him—awkwardly, thanks to Oliver being in the middle, but like he really, really meant it. “Thank you,” he sighed.

Goosebumps rose where Rupert’s lips tickled Callum’s neck. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice gruff. “Let’s get the heck out of here.”

“Yes, please,” came the soft response from Oliver, making Rupert and Callum laugh.

Jack was all smiles and raised eyebrows when they reached him, his eyes on Oliver.

“Oliver, this is our friend, Jack,” Rupert said. “He’s come to help us get home.”

“Hello, Oliver,” Jack said warmly, apparently unbothered by Oliver’s wide-eyed and silent stare in response. Then he looked at Rupert and wrinkled his nose. “I have bad news on the going home part, though.”

“Oh god, what?” Rupert almost whined, which Callum couldn’t blame him for at all.

“The contactors didn’t show up this morning.”

Callum’s shoulders slumped. It was Sunday, almost evening, and the contractors had promised to work through the weekend to help put themselves back on schedule. “Did they show yesterday?” he asked wearily.

“Um…no.” Jack looked sheepish. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he offered. “I spoke to Lamont about it and he said he’d come and deal with it. Only, aaah…he never showed either.”

“Reese said he’d come to Moncton? Today?” Rupert asked.

“Yesterday, actually.”

“By
himself
?” Rupert asked.

“Yeah?” Jack said, clearly as confused as Callum by Rupert’s reaction to this news.

Rupert stood with his mouth hanging open, apparently having lost the ability to speak.

“You okay?” Callum asked.

“He’s never left Nova Scotia without me,” Rupert said weakly.

Callum shook his head, certain he’d misheard. “What?”

Rupert snapped out of his stupor and glared at them. “This goes no further than the three of us, understood?”

Jack and Callum immediately agreed.

“Reese doesn’t go out. Not ever.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked.

“He hasn’t left his property more than a handful of times in years. And until recently, he hadn’t left Nova Scotia in more than five years. I was with him every time he came here. I’m not sure he can do it without me.”

Rupert was clearly upset, already pulling out his phone and muttering to himself. For the first time, Callum wondered if Rupert and Reese might be more than friends. The idea rubbed Callum the wrong way, though for no reason he was willing to examine too closely.

“What do you need us to do?” Callum asked Jack.

“We were supposed to have a meeting with the president of the construction company yesterday, which I put off until today, then delayed again when Lamont didn’t show.” Jack glanced at Rupert, who was leaving a voicemail for Reese to call him immediately. “The guy came all the way down from Quebec City, so I couldn’t put it off any longer. The meeting is now scheduled for seven o’clock tonight.”

Which was only an hour from now. And would be almost midnight London time, not that Callum’s body had really adjusted to there, either. In fact, his body didn’t seem to have any idea where the fuck it was anymore. All he knew was it wanted a bed. Now.

He’d been so hopeful when they’d gotten off the damn plane, like the last minute of a long, hard-fought game, with the score on your side, the end in sight. And now the opponent had tied it up.

Overtime
sucked
.

Rupert shoved his phone into his pocket. “Where’s the meeting?”

“The arena,” Jack answered. “I thought home turf would be better. And the option of walking the site if needed.”

“Smart,” Rupert said. “Let’s go.”

Jack had already installed the car seat and offered to drive, which was great, since Callum didn’t think he could safely operate a grocery cart in his current condition.