Page 154 of Slew Foot
“How about we give them some privacy, Tanner?” Catherine said. “How would you feel about coming over for dinner?”
“I mean, you’re a great cook,” Tanner replied. “And I’d love that. But I went all the way across town with Rafe, and I was kinda hoping to try the cake …”
“I am sure there will still be some left when you get back later,” she assured him, their voices getting more distant as they left the kitchen.
“Fine,” Tanner said, raising his voice. “But I think it’s kind of rude I’m getting kicked out of my own apartment …”
Mickey laughed against Rafe’s mouth, but when the door closed a moment later, Mickey gently pushed Rafe back against the fridge and deepened the kiss. When they finally came up for air, Rafe’s hair was mussed. Mickey stole another glance at the cake.
“I can’t believe you did all that for me,” he whispered.
“I’d doanythingfor you,” Rafe said.
Mickey smiled because he thought Rafe probably would. “So you talked to my mom, huh?”
“Yeah, we, uh, actually kinda kept texting?” Rafe said. “Oh, and I have a group chat with your sisters now too. Hope that’s okay.”
Mickey was going to have a lot of questions about that later but at the moment, he was torn about whether he wanted to eat cake or drag Rafe into the bedroom more.
When he said that aloud, Rafe shrugged. “I mean, you can do both.”
It wasn’t a bad suggestion, so Mickey stepped away and lifted the lid of the box. The scent was so familiar he couldn’t help but smile. “It looks exactly like Oma’s cake,” he whispered, touched by the gesture all over again.
“Good. That’s why I needed your mom’s help. There were like … waaay too many types.”
“So you found a bakery that madethistype?” Mickey asked, pulling out a knife to cut it with.
“No,” Rafe said. “None of the bakeries actually make it. They said it wasn’t really sweet enough for most people around here so it never sells well. But I found a place with a lady who had an old German mother who had a recipe that sounded like the one you liked, and I talked her into making it. She said it’ll be even better in late summer or early fall when the right kind of plums are ripe.”
Mickey smiled as he lifted two generous slices onto the plate. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t wait.”
“I thought you could use something nice right now. You’ve seemed … I mean, I think talking about what you’re going through has helped but you’ve still seemed kinda down.”
“I am,” Mickey agreed. “But I’m trying to be hopeful.”
“I know.” Rafe smiled at him. “But I figured cake couldn’t hurt.”
“No, it can’t,” Mickey agreed. He took Rafe’s hand, towing him toward the bedroom while he carried the plate of cake slices in the other. “So the question is, do we want cake and then sex or the other way around?”
Rafe pulled off his shirt. “Cake, sex, cake?” he suggested, his tone hopeful.
Mickey laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”
They stripped down to their shorts, then settled on the bed. The cake was firm enough to pick up and eat with his hand and for a moment he stared at it, transported to his grandmother’s kitchen and the comforts of home and family.
But Rafe—and yes, even Tanner—were family now too. They were a part of Mickey’s comfort and home. If it wasn’t for them, Mickey wasn’t sure he could have made it through this. He couldn’t have done it without Catherine O’Shea and Connor and Jesse’s quiet support either.
And he thought even if the worst did happen, even if he couldn’t play again, he’d be okay. It would be hard, but he’d get through it. He’d figure it out.
“Is the cake okay?” Rafe asked. He sounded anxious.
“It’sperfect,” Mickey whispered and took a bite.
And it was. From the soft but slightly chewy base to the sharpness of the sweet-sour plums and the hints of sugar and cinnamon, it was everything Mickey remembered.
And more.
He offered a bite to Rafe who ate it, looked thoughtful as he chewed, then said, “Yeah, it’s good but I’d like it to be sweeter.”
