Page 88 of The Long Game

Jack was about to tell his mother to ease up—in French, if that would make her listen—when she sniffed and said, “Well, perhaps if you do, I could help you.”

Jack’s mouth fell open. He was honest-to-god dumbfounded.

Colton glanced at him, did a double take, then stuck his straw in his mouth to hide a smile. After a long sip, he said, “Merci,Maman Chevalier. I’d like that.”

And damned if Jack’s mother didn’t appear genuinely charmed.

Jack didn’t know what to do with his mother being…sweet? He was shocked, but also proud of her, which was disorienting after a decade of little more than forbearance. On both their parts.

“Jack’s quite good with numbers,” his mother added, at which point Jack probably looked like Wile E. Coyote had dropped an anvil on his head. “Perhaps he’ll be able to help you with math.”

Colton turned to Jack. “Would you?”

Jack snapped his mouth closed. “Sure. I’d be happy to.”

“You’re a good boyfriend,” Colton said, managing to sound both snarky and sincere. “Grady is a lucky guy.”

Jack thought that might be Colton’s way of saying he was lucky to know Jack, too, but Jack was too struck by the idea that he was somebody’s boyfriend to think too hard on it.

His mother’s eyebrows went way up. “What’s this?” she asked in French. “Are you with the Mountie?”

Colton exclaimed, “Oui!”before Jack could respond.

Jack braced for a sharp remark, but his mother just looked thoughtful.

This whole day was getting weirder and weirder.

When it came time to leave, Jack and Sam had to practically drag Colton out of the house with promises he could come back and visit again. Jack’s mother didn’t seem at all alarmed by the prospect.

Fucking Twilight Zone stuff going on.

Jack just wanted to be home with Grady and the boys, and he wasn’t going to spend too much time thinking about the fact thathomewas no longer his apartment on the other side of town.

17

Grady slumped onto one of the stools that had mysteriously appeared beneath his breakfast bar. It had been a long couple of days between work, phone calls with lawyers, and the endless list of tasks that needed to be accomplished to settle one teenager and one young semi-independent adult into their new home in Moncton.

The hockey clinic that afternoon had been a nice break and a way to clear his head. Then he’d come home to a house full of people who were happy to see him. He used to love the quiet, the privacy, of living alone but now he couldn’t remember why. For the first time in years, he remembered what it had been like to return from school on break and have the whole family waiting, happy to see him.

For the first time in years, those memories didn’thurtso much.

He tilted his chin toward the large box Jack had hauled inside and was now poking through on the countertop. “What’s that?”

“Just some things you’ll need to survive,” Jack said distractedly, pulling out a handful of large, brightly colored utensils.

“I need a whisk to survive?” Grady asked, secretly pleased he knew the name of one of them.

Jack waggled his eyebrows. “It depends on what we do with it.”

Grady grinned, then laughed when Jack’s cheeks went bright pink at his own behavior. “Oh,really?” Grady drawled.

Jack shook his head and put the whisk and the rest of the utensils in the drawer that used to house Grady’s lonely wooden spoon and spatula. Said spoon, however, now resided with five friends of various shapes and sizes in a ceramic container to the right of the stove. Grady…wasn’t sure when that had happened.

“You’ve been busy,” he observed, squinting at the spoons. He was pretty sure he’d previously seen them and the container in Jack’s kitchen.

Jack shrugged. “We got a lot done today. The boys were a big help.” He lifted a retro aqua-blue toaster out of the box and placed it on the counter near the fridge.

“You can’t leave that here,” Grady protested, recognizing the colorful appliance.

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