Page 2 of The Winging It Holiday Special

Gabe groaned. Christian laughed at the funny noise and hit Dante in the face with the soggy dragon-goat. “It’s just… he’s my dad, you know?”

Dante did know. “Yeah, it must be so weird knowing your father’s a total DILF.”

He could feel Gabe shaking with reluctant laughter. “I hate you.”

No, you don’t.“Seriously. How does it feel to know the eligible women of Ottawa threw your dad a fucking debutant ball?”

Gabe squawked, drawing an answering earsplitting shriek from Christian, which was softened with more stuffed animal. “One womaninvited him to a fancy party. You’re the worst.”

“You love me,” Dante said with the confidence of years of experience. “Your dad’s on a cruise with a nice lady. I’m sure they’re just playing bingo and drinking fifteen-dollar cocktails and courting skin cancer. It’s not the end of the world if the man has a little fun. Or a little romance. Nothing’s going to come between you.”

That was the real issue, he knew. Gabe’s mother had left her mark. Family could do that. Dante would know; it had taken him three years to get Gabe to marry him.

But it was the right thing to say. “Yeah, I know.” Gabe’s knee bumped his shoulder. “Thanks for the beer.”

Dante kissed his kneecap. “What are husbands for?”

2. Season Opener

THE SEASONstarted quietly. After so many years, Dante was used to it and didn’t freak out if the team didn’t fire on all cylinders right out of the gate.

Apparently he was mellowing in his old age. Ugh.

Not so much Gabe, who was sulking because Coach wouldn’t play him more than twelve minutes a night.

It wasn’t that Dante hadn’t known what “in sickness and in health” would mean when he promised it. It wasn’t that he didn’t know hockey players hated being injured, being sidelined, and not playing their best. He was one, and he would put his personal sulking skills up against anyone’s.

He maybe underestimated how much it would suck to see Gabe like that, though. Not just because he was grumpy, but because Dante felt for him.

On the plus side, when they bought the new house, they made a hot tub a priority, so at least they could enjoy Gabe’s sulk in comfort. Maybe Dante would even tempt him into something naughty.

The door closed behind them, and Gabe kicked off his shoes like he was too tired to bend. Bad sign. Dante nudged them toward the mat and took his husband’s coat, partly because he wanted to perform a sweet gesture and partly because it would be easier for Gabe’s shoulder. Dante kissed his cheek while he did it. “You want to go sit in the tub?” he suggested. “I’ll bring dinner out.”

The corner of Gabe’s mouth turned up—he definitely knew what Dante was up to—but he didn’t object. “Twist my arm,” heteased. Then his lips turned down again. “Actually, no, don’t do that.”

If he was joking about it, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Dante nudged him toward the back porch. “Go. I’ll be out in a minute.”

He got a little sidetracked inside with his phone chirping—messages from Yorkie, a grainy photograph from a bar with a definite NASCAR theme. If Dante squinted, he could just make out Kitty sitting at the table, maintaining a polite distance from two beautiful women who looked like they couldn’t wait to get to know him better.

EVERY!!! TIME!!!!Yorkie had written.

Dante snickered. The only thing funnier than Kitty being so picky about the women trying to wheel him was how salty Yorkie got about it.

When he stepped outside, only the tiny string of LEDs on the trellis was lit. Dante set down the tray with the warmed-up pasta from their meal service, handed Gabe a mug, then took a step back to pull off his shirt.

“Hot chocolate?” Gabe asked.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Dante skinned out of his pants and stepped into the hot tub. At this point the scent of bromine had a Pavlovian effect—as soon as it hit him, he relaxed. He sank into the hot water up to his neck and closed his eyes.

“Deal.”

Dante waited for it as they negotiated where to put their feet. He propped his right foot on the edge of the seat between Gabe’s thighs, while Gabe did the same. Their knees bumped.

Finally there was the telltale slide of ceramic on the plastic side of the tub, and then a slow exhale. A beat, and then—

“Jesus,” Gabe coughed, and Dante lifted his lids to see his husband blinking watery eyes. “What’s in this?”

Dante grinned. “Rum, mostly. Well, notmostly. But we’re out of Kahlua.”

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