Page 104 of Refraction

Tucker was going to have to limit his marks to places covered by briefs. He grinned. That would be okay. “Perfect. See you then.”

“You’re in demand, Cal. Don’t sweat it. Got me?”

It would have to be, for now at least. “Yep. Thanks.”

Michael hung up.

Tucker’s eyes were on his sketchbook, the images appearing like magic, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. “You need me to book you a flight, honey, just tell me when and I’ll take care of it.”

Tucker would take care of it because Tucker had some crazy stack of endless cash. His paintings must do very well. That much Calvin had worked out after being in Texas about three days. “You know that me working isn’t so much about the money anymore, right? I mean, I get that it isn’t an issue for you. If it was just money I wouldn’t go. You know that, right?” He might not go for work, but he’d have to go once in a while for his sanity.

“I do.” Tucker’s grin was more than a little self-deprecating. “Honey, if there’s anything I know, it’s needing to work. That’s sort of my thing.”

Calvin hopped off the counter and sat on Tucker’s lap—under the sketch pad so his lover could keep on scribbling—and kissed Tucker’s temple. “I do love you, tiger. And I do need a plane ticket.”

He heard Tucker offer to bookhima flight, notthema flight. This was going to need talking about. They were going to be spending a bunch of time in different places, on and off for… potentially forever. They had to figure that out. They had to make it work.

Had to.

“Whatever you need, honey.” Tucker tilted his face and took a kiss, sweet and soft.

“Mmm.” That was perfect, and he loved the tickle of whiskers on his face. Okay, Tucker didn’t seem worried. He’d try not to be.Ha. Right.He’d turned worrying into a hobby.

Tucker’s phone started buzzing on the table, and his lover frowned, staring at it like it was a bug. Calvin got it. Tucker’s phone never rang. Never. He wasn’t sure Tucker believed it was for more than texting, taking pictures, and surfing.

“Wrong number, maybe?” He reached for it and picked it up, looking at the display.

No. No, that said Momma.

Huh.

That wasn’t a wrong number.

“It’s your mother.” He showed Tucker the display and put the phone down on top of the sketch pad in case it tried to bite him. Tucker’s mom. Wow.

“Yay.” Tucker winked and picked the phone up like it was no big thing, but Calvin could see the tension in the lines around Tucker’s lips. “Hey, lady. What’s up?”

Calvin watched him carefully, rubbing his shoulders and keeping still.

“What? When? Oh, for fuck’s sake. Y’all know better than to just show up on me. I don’t like that shit.” Tucker’s lips pursed. “No, ma’am. Calvin isn’t a fucking figment of my imagination. I’m not delusional.”

Show up? Shit, this was a big thing if Tucker just swore at his mother. This wasn’t going to be pretty. He should disappear for a while maybe, hide up in the loft or something. For now he just kept rubbing Tucker’s back and trying to soothe shoulders that hadn’t felt this tight to him ever.

“Sure. Fine. Whatever. Y’all come on.” Tucker hung up the phone, eyes snapping. “Seriously? How hard is it to call an hour before and ask if we’re busy? That’s just rude. I swear to God, honey, she just aggravates the living shit out of me. You’d think she was raised in a barn.”

Calvin blinked at Tucker. He’d never seen his lover like this, never heard Tucker’s voice raised like that. He could feel himself going into flutter mode, and he swallowed. “Well. Uh. They’re like here, here? Like now?” Jesus, he was wearing bright pink underwear. That’d be a great first impression. “You want me to disappear for a while?”

“They’ll be here in about twenty, and no. They’re coming to see you, apparently. Although they sort of think I’m making you up.” Tucker grinned for him, all of a sudden. “The temptation to have you just run around in rooms they’re not and make spooky noises while I pretend to talk to an empty chair is huge. Boogala.”

Calvin stared at him a moment, until Tucker’s mischievous joy got him and he started to laugh. “I could totally pull that off.” He sobered up pretty quickly, though. “Coming to see me?” He hopped up off Tucker’s lap, sending the sketchbook to the floor. “Sorry. Oh God. What should I wear? Shit, I need to do my hair.” He turned and took a few steps toward the bedroom. Meeting Tucker’s parents? “Preppy conservative? New York chic? Flirty leggings? God.”

“Whatever makes you happy. You’re beautiful, no matter what.”

Tucker was not helping.

“And you need pants. Hmm? A shirt maybe too?”

“They deserve to have me as is. Assholes. They think I’m crazy. I mean, I love them, but they do. They don’t get me.” Tucker stood up, grabbing his sketch pad. “And I have ideas. Light pollution. It’s going to be a whole series. For sale. The ones here, those are yours. The blue series, I mean. They’re yours. For you.”

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