Page 62 of The Long Game

A laugh escaped Jack before he buried his face in Colton’s hair.

“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” Grady asked, his offended tone utterly belied by his grin.

“Yeah,” Colton said as he sat up, wiping his eyes. “I can even help you with your ice cream problem.”

“I don’t have an ice cream problem.”

“It’s sad you believe that,” Colton said, expression full of pity. He stood. “Ugh. I need to go splash water on my face or something.”

Grady pointed him in the right direction. As soon as Colton closed the door, Grady stood and pulled Jack to his feet.

Jack was afraid to look at him, afraid of what he’d see. He believed what he’d told Colton. He’d come to terms with his past. Hell, the lion’s share of the shame he’d once felt had been put on him by other people and a society and culture that vilified sex work at every turn.

He couldn’t stomach seeing any of that in Grady’s expression.

But Grady was pulling him in, folding his arms around Jack and holding him tight. Jack sagged against his chest, burying his face against Grady’s neck and letting out a breath he’d been holding for years.

Four years, to be exact.

Grady ducked his head and rubbed their cheeks together. “Spend the night?”

“Yes.”

12

They spent most of the day on the couch, talking about next steps, watching the game, and recovering from the morning’s revelations. Jack’s heart felt sore from their talk and for some reason he couldn’t shake a case of the nerves. He felt itchy. Sometimes—like when he looked at Grady—maybe even a little frantic. He wanted to curl into Grady and ask him to hold on, but also run out of that apartment and all the way back to his.

He didn’t do either.

He sat calmly and talked about lawyers—Grady had already left a message with the ones Callum had suggested—and custody agreements and all the careful steps they would take to ensure Colton’s transition to Grady’s home would be as aboveboard and ironclad as they could manage. Colton was, not unreasonably, worried he might get sent back to his parents.

Jack and Grady weren’t going to let that happen. No way in hell.

Unfortunately, the first step would mean Colton’s parents learning where he was and who he was with. Colton acceptedthat with an expression of grim determination, and even Grady looked bleak at the prospect.

Once the game ended, they took a walk that somehow, miraculously, brought them past the Dipsy Doodle Dangle Café. Colton ordered a drink that nine out of ten dentists didnotrecommend.

Jack ordered a decaf because the last thing his electrified brain needed was any additional charge. The walk helped settle him, but when Colton asked to go back to Pathways in the early evening, Jack practically leaped from the couch and offered to drive him.

Grady gave him a long, measured look, during which Jack realized they absolutely could have done this as a group activity. Then Grady nodded, his smile uncertain but his gaze warm.

“Sure. I’ll have dinner waiting when you get back.”

Colton sighed dreamily, like it was the most romantic thing he’d ever heard. “He sounds like he’s going to do backbreaking work over the stove for you, Jack, but in reality he’s got every restaurant in town on speed dial.”

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” Grady reminded him over Jack’s laughter.

“Nah. Have to get in some more shelter food before I move in to Casa de Delivery.”

Jack ushered Colton out the door, trusting Grady to get something he liked.

Colton was quiet on the drive and that was fine with Jack, since he had his own thoughts to sort out. He felt relief at being out of the apartment, and that didn’t make sense when he also wanted to hurry back and come up with a good reason to go to bed early.

Fuck, he was all mixed up.

His phone chimed as he was pulling into the lot at Pathways, but he ignored it until Colton was safely through the doors.Then he saw it was the group text he had with Garrick and his partners, Savannah Morrison and Rhian Savage.

Garrick: Meet your goddaughter. Fiona Heather Morrison. 8lbs 4 oz, 21” long.

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