We all laughed, and Gavin ran his fist under his nose as he stared down at the crisp lines of the number one stitched onto the front of the jersey. “I think this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” He lifted his watery eyes to Archer. “Thank you.”
Archer’s voice was rough when he answered, his eyes slightly red. “You’re welcome.”
Gavin didn’t hesitate, launching himself at Archer, who caught him with a startled laugh.
He’d given him so much more than a scrap of fabric, more than team colors or a number on his back. Archer was giving Gavin the kind of love and acceptance that Archer himself had never been given at this age.
Healing had a ripple effect, something that could be felt by more than just me and Archer. Not just in gifts or unscripted acts of benevolence. It was the feelings that spread as a result.
It was becoming abundantly clear that I’d need to reframe my inability to be surprised, because this one would’ve knocked me on my ass. Appropriate, I thought, considering that was exactly what Archer had done since the very first night.
Pops caught my eye and winked again.
Archer stayed at the house for the rest of the day and well into the evening, hanging out, watching TV, he and I sneaking kisses when no one was looking.
We made Archer watchThe Sandlotbecause he’d never seen it. A tragedy, in the Sinclair house.
Gavin won a series inMario Kart, and I came in second, despite Archer’s claims that I was cheating. Pops beat them soundly in a couple games of Clue, while Archer cleaned house on an intense game of Monopoly that lasted well through dinner (which I had delivered,because all three of them put up a ridiculous protest when I said I’d grill some chicken and veggies).
“You’ve never even tried my cooking,” I said to Archer when he insisted on paying for the food, handing a generous tip to a wide-eyed delivery person, who took it with her mouth hanging open.
As he eased the bags of Chinese food from out of my hands, he gave me a sweet kiss. “I’ve heard about it, and I think that might be enough for me.”
“Fromwho?”
Gavin hid his giggles behind his hand, and Pops covered his smile with an obnoxious cough.
“Hey, I’m good at other things,” I protested.
Archer served up some beef and broccoli and handed me a bowl. “Lots of things,” he said quietly, eyes glinting with double meaning.
I narrowed my gaze, and he gave me a wicked smile and walked off to enjoy his food.
Payback came later, after Pops and Gavin went to bed, and I forced Archer to watch me strip in my bedroom without allowing him to touch.
His heated gaze tracked over every inch of my body from where he sat with his back against the headboard of my bed. He absolutely dwarfed the space, and I smiled, imagining us trying to keep quiet with people sleeping on either side of the house.
“Come here,” he commanded in a low voice.
I ran my hands over my breasts and down my stomach, watching with delight as his expression glazed over when my hands hooked into my lace underwear and tugged them off. “I thought you didn’t want to enjoy my offerings,” I said lightly.
“Remi,” he growled, palming his hard-on through his shorts, giving himself a slow tug that made my stomach flip, “get over here.”
“Take off your shirt.”
He complied instantly, and the stacked muscles on his stomach pulled a whimper from my mouth. There was just enough hair on hischest and running down his stomach, like an exclamation point to just how fucking masculine he was.
It was my turn to wonder if I was dreaming. If my subconscious hadn’t conjured the perfect man and was teasing me with what life could be like.
Not that it would always be like this—hours of relaxing and laughing and kissing when no one was watching, holding hands under the table and counting down to when we could be alone. It would get harder. We’d miss each other.
That was a strange sort of privilege, though, wasn’t it? To miss someone and know they’d come back as soon as possible. To bicker and know that there was love underneath. To walk through the everyday stress of life and know they had your back, even if the fantasy faded in the face of the mundane.
But that fantasy wasn’t fading today.
Today we could bask in how good this felt, and how right it was.
With his attention fixed solely on me, I climbed up onto the bed and swung my legs over his hips, settling on his lap while his palms skimmed my waist, his fingers ghosting over my nipples as he gave me a tongue-heavy kiss that lifted the hair on my arms.