Page 44 of From Coast to Coast

“Hello,” he says, giving my hips a little shake and tilting his chin up suggestively.

His proximity has my skin tingling with pleasure, nerves waking up and taking notice of who just walked in the door. Resigned to the fact that feelings for Remy were probably inevitable and it’s pointless to fight it, I lean down and kiss him.

He’s wearing a faded California Hockey tee, soft beneath my palms when I brush a hand down his side. I raise an eyebrow at the logo and he shrugs cheekily.

“What can I say, I’m attached to my roots. You can take the boy out of California, but you can’t take the California out of the boy.”

He slings an arm around my waist when I would have stepped back to lead him into the kitchen.

“Food is almost done. Five more minutes.”

He sits at the counter watching as I put the finishing touches on dinner. Every time I look over,he’s staring at me and smiling softly, chin propped on a hand and cellphone lying discarded facedown on the counter. The unwavering attention makes me feel a little off-kilter, particularly since he’s not trying to fill the silence with inane small talk, but is content to sit and watch me work. I’m oddly embarrassed about my choice of meal. I probably should have gone for something a little more impressive than salad, pasta, and chicken.

“Do you want to eat in here or…” I clear my throat, trying to dispel some of these nerves. He’s still watching me and still smiling. Maybe I should just kiss him again.

“Let’s eat at the table,” he says, back-nodding toward the dining room table. “That way it’ll feel like a proper date.”

He’s grabbing the salad bowl and turning around before I can reply. “Proper dates” don’t seem like something that fuck buddies do, but I’m sure as hell not going to say anything. I gather as much as I can carry and follow him. Keeping with the date theme, I serve Remy his food before taking a seat. He looks delighted, smile wide as he watches me, face tipped upward toward mine and a heat in his eyes that probably has nothing to do with the meal.

“Thank you,” he says with so much feeling in his voice, I blush a little bit.

“It’s nothing special.”

“It is to me,” he replies firmly, scooting his chair closer to me and pressing his foot to mine underneath the table.

“Well, you’re welcome. I like having someone to cook for.”

“Did your mom teach you? Or, do you have a mom? Sorry, I have no idea what your family situation is.” He laughs shakily, concerned that he’s offended me.

“Yeah, it was my mom who taught me. My dad is a prettyfair cook as well, actually. My parents were big on shared household duties when I was growing up—as soon as I was big enough to do them, I was given weekly chores.” Remy relaxes a bit as I talk, eyes intent on mine. He barely seems to be paying attention to dinner, only looking at his plate to scoop up another mouthful before lifting his eyes back to me. “I’m an only child, so they were concerned about me being well-adjusted.”

He laughs. “Me too! I’m actually adopted. My mom is such a badass. Decided she wanted a kid without having a husband and adopted me when I was a baby.”

“Wow. She raised you as a single mom?” I’m impressed. I can imagine a little Remy—barefoot, shirtless, and tan—terrorizing the neighborhood. The thought makes me smile and brings with it a sudden desire to see where he grew up.

“Yeah, she’s awesome. She’s one of those barefoot, hippie types; always mailing me crystals and essential oils. She was also big on open communication, so I’m one of those rare adult men who can actually talk about emotions without going into cardiac arrest.”

“I might have noticed that about you,” I joke. “It’s nice, though. My family isn’t big on emotions—we’re more of the stiff-upper-lip variety.”

“Did you ever wish you had siblings or were you happy as the one-and-only kid?”

“Actually, I sort of did have siblings, eventually. We billeted hockey players once I started playing, so there were quite a few years that felt like I was part of a bigger family. Troy was one of those, actually.”

“Troy Nichols?”

“Yeah, that’s how we met.” I fidget with my fork, turning it over in my fingers. I haven’t talked aboutTroy’s time with my family before—not to someone I was on a date with, anyway. But Remy will understand, and more than that, Iwanthim to know. “I asked my parents to adopt him, actually.”

Remy’s eyes soften and he places his hand on my forearm. I grin, trying to downplay just how much I wanted it and how disappointed I was when Troy was sent back to America.

“We hit it off right from the get-go. He was also the only gay kid I’d ever met, and boy was that eye-opening.” I blow out a hard breath, remembering how shocked I’d been when he told me. I hadn’t realized you could be gay and play hockey. “I wasn’t the kid who knew exactly who they were when they were young. As far as I knew, I was into girls and that was the only way to be. It wasn’t like my parents were homophobic at home or anything, but straight was definitely the default, you know?”

Remy nods, but doesn’t interrupt. His hand is still on my arm, fingers brushing gently.

“I was the quintessential confused kid until Troy came along. And don’t get me wrong, he never shouted about who he was, but if you asked him directly, he would tell you. I will never forget the night my dad made some comment about the girls liking Troy, and him telling my family he preferred boys as nonchalant as though he was commenting on his diet preferences. I swear to god, Remy, my first thought wasI didn’t even realize that was an option.”

“What did your parents do?”

I smile. “They didn’t do anything. We just kept eating dinner and chatting. Troy didn’t act like it was a big deal, and they didn’t either. They were never anything but kind to him, and when I eventually came out, they treated me thesame as they always have. Still haven’t forgiven them for not adopting Troy, though.”

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