Page 49 of Speed

When he pulled back, I glanced at the phone in his hand. He’d chosen the picture of us together—the one where I was wrecked, but happy, and he was like the brightest part of my world. My heart skipped a beat as he passed the phone back to me.

The caption was simple:Boyfriends. There were a few hashtags beneath it—something about bisexuality, love, hockey, and racing—but I didn’t even read them. My thumb hovered over the screen, and I pressed send.

And just like that, I was officially out to the world.

And I had a boyfriend.

SIXTEEN

Noah

Boyfriends.

That there was monumental. For Brody. For me. For the Railers. For our families.

Families. Team. Shit.

“You know,” I said as my hands began a slow roam over his lean frame. “I really want to take you to bed right now.”

“I like the sound of that,” he replied before leaning in for a kiss. The man was temptation personified, but there were two pressing issues, and they weren’t our dicks straining against our zippers. Well, they were that too, but our pricks were going to have to chill for a few minutes. “But, we should call our families. Prepare them for the media frenzy that is going to strike. I need to call my agent too, and the Railers.”

He ran his fingers through my hair, combing the curls out, then watching as they bounced back. “I know that you’re right, but bed sounds so much better.”

“We’ll get there. I promise. After our calls, we will turn off our phones for the rest of the day and not leave my bed until tomorrow.”

He smiled and nodded. I tapped his phone, slid off his lap, and sat beside him as he brought up his contacts. Within seconds, he was connected. Sitting at his side, I could only hear his side of the conversation, but things seemed chill. It soon became obvious they’d discussed this scenario beforehand, which made me happy. Knowing he had his brother always at his side eased my concern for him. His pretty eyes moved to me then.

“They want to say hello,” he said, holding his phone out, then twisting his wrist to bring me into the frame. I was not ready for this, but the sight of three smiling faces erased my worry.

“Hey, so, yeah, I’m Noah,” I opened with, and they all waved back.

“My dad says that you have diabetes too. Is that right?” Avery blurted out as kids do.

Her mom and dad winced. I chuckled. “Yeah, that’s right, I do. I was diagnosed when I was like thirteen, so a little older than you. But it’s not slowing us down, is it?”

“Nope!” She popped herPloudly. “I’m going to sign up for softball in the spring. I have a good arm Dad says, and Mom said I’m a slugger. I hit the ball really hard last night. It flew over our fence and into the neighbor’s yard. He’s really grumpy and has a big dog that my dad likes to call Hercules for some reason, but that’s not the dog’s name at all. His name is Brutus, and he likes to eat pickles. I know that because sometimes Brutus will sniff at a hole under our fence, and I sneak him pickles that Mom gives me in my lunches because I don’t really like pickles all that much. So, I leave them in my lunch box or sometimes trade them with Connie Langley, she’s my best friend in the world, for her celery. I love celery! Do you like celery?”

All the adults laughed. “As a matter of fact, I love celery,” I told her as Brody beamed like a lighthouse. It was clear how much he adored his family. “Sometimes, we’ll have to share some celery and talk sports.”

“Yay! I would love that.”

And off she ran singing about veggies. “So that’s our Avery,” Logan chuckled. “It’s nice to meet you, Noah. And before anyone asks, yes, we got the ball back, but we had to promise the dog a gherkin for fair trade.”

That broke us all up. Brody talked to his brother for a bit longer, as I made the first call I needed to make. I called my fathers. My sisters would be third. Railers would be next, but I wanted to warn them all. Kind of like those sirens that go off along coastal areas to warn about an impending tsunami. That was what these calls were—an advance emergency social media alert. Although I imagine the media already had it.

I called Dad, as he was less prone to being all “I know people” than Pops. Also, Pops would want to speak to Brody, and that wasn’t what this was about. So, when Dad picked up, with a smile and rosy cheeks, I drew in a deep breath.

“Noah, this is unusual. I thought you kids would sooner die than make a call. Text or death, I think is what Margo has on one of her tees?”

“Yeah it is, but this is big. Can you get Pops into this?” I leaned back on the sofa, drew my knees up, and rubbed a nervous hand over the discoloration on my calf. Brody stayed tight to my side, his call now over.

“Sure,” Dad replied warily. His parent sense had been activated. “Stan! Can you come over here, please?”

Pops arrived with a dog in his arms, Misty, a little pug mix they’d adopted about a year ago. She’d fit right in with the other five dogs and Mittens. That mansion was more like a kennel than an elite estate, but Pops loved animals, and Dad loved Pops, so it was animal central.

“Hello, Noah, we are making party plans. I am thinking fish cake,” Pops exclaimed as he settled beside Dad. His dark hair, now peppered with silver, was cut short, as he liked it.

“Uhm, like fish-shaped or fish-flavored? Because I’m not sure the human guests would like fish-flavored cake.”

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