Paul let Ace lead him to the couch, where he fell into Ace’s arms. Lola, naturally, had snuck into the house between their legs and settled back into place on Paul’s lap.
Ace stroked his back and neck, wishing he could make things better with words, but he doubted their effectiveness at this moment.
He was filled with a sudden, deep appreciation for how well his sister had handled it when he came out to her. What would he have done if Sonya had just walked away from him?
“The first person I came out to was my sister,” Ace said softly.
“How did she take it?” Paul’s voice was rough and muffled by Ace’s shirt.
“Incredibly well,” Ace said. “All the women in my life have been cool about this, almost from the beginning.”
“Girls are like that,” Paul said.
“Well, except my mom,” Ace said. “It took her a little longer. But only a little.”
Paul twisted his head to look up at him. “What happened?”
“Fireworks, tears, shouting, slammed doors. Ruined Thanksgiving.”
“That was all your mom?”
“No, mom was only the tears. Dad did most of the damage.”
Paul sat up fully and turned his body on the sofa toward him. “Was he like that before you came out?”
“We’d been having some teenage-related tension since my senior year of high school, so it was kind of in the air.”
“Rebellious little Acelin?”
“Sort of, but not without a cause,” Ace smirked. “My dad’s an architect, and he assumed that I would become one too. Family legacy and all. But I insisted on majoring in interior design with an art minor. He was, in a word, displeased.”
“Fathers can be like that.”
“Every holiday was a rerun of that argument. The ‘you’re wasting your talents’ argument.”
“Officially, he’s wrong,” Paul said. He leaned over and gave Ace a sweet, closed-mouth kiss.
“Anyway,” Ace continued, “so that’s the base we were working from. Then came Thanksgiving of my sophomore year of college. Mom passed the potatoes and asked how classes were going, and Dad started up again with how worthless my major was and how he wasn’t paying for them to turn me into a limp-wristed fairy decorator.”
“Oooh, bad choice of words.”
“No kidding. I think he’d gotten into the wine early. So I slammed the potatoes down and loudly announced to everyone that he couldn’t blame the classes for that.”
Ace shook his head at the memory. “Everything stopped. My grandpa left his arm in midair, holding a bowl of bread. The seconds just ticked by, like I could plainly count them coming from the hall clock. Then my grandma leaned over to him and asked, ‘What did he mean, Joseph?’ And grandpa said, ‘He’s a fairy, Margaret.'”
Paul snorted out a laugh, then covered his mouth. “Sorry, that’s not funny.”
“Actually, in retrospect, it was hilarious, especially the gentle, exasperated way that Gramps said it. But at the time, it just set off an explosion.”
“The tears and slamming.”
“Yup. I tried to explain myself, but the volume got away from me. So I just took off. Went to a park for a few hours, sat on a cold swing feeling sorry for myself. Sonya found me eventually and brought me a container of food.”
Paul sighed. “What would we do without these wonderful women in our lives?”
“Amen.”
“When did everything calm down?”
“By Easter. I didn’t even go home for Christmas that year. Went to a friend’s house instead. But by the spring, my mom had calmed everything down. She’s a great mediator. She gave me time off from family, but then she called me back in, no excuses.”
“There’s no quitting family, huh?” Paul sounded both resigned and relieved at that thought.
“Not from my family, no,” Ace said. “And not from yours, I imagine. Holly won’t allow anything like that. She’s like a tiny, fierce version of my mom.”
Ace pulled Paul into a tight hug. “You’re going to be okay, you know that?” he whispered into Paul’s ear. “This is not the end of anything. It’s a beginning.”
Paul let out a ragged breath. “Not looking forward to finishing that beginning.”
“Well, here’s the lesson you can take from me,” Ace said. “Don’t come out during a major family event, like Thanksgiving dinner, for instance. Because I have to endure teasing every damn year when I go home and everyone tells the story of ‘remember when little Acelin announced he was a fairy and dad nearly choked on his cranberries.'”
Paul laughed at the same moment his stomach rumbled. Ace felt it echo up their embrace.
“Another country heard from?” Ace grinned. “Have you not eaten dinner?”
Paul shrugged. “I guess I lost track of everything after, well, after,” he said.
“Let Dr. Ace handle this diagnosis.” Ace disentangled himself from Paul and stood up. “I prescribe Chinese food and silly-stupid movies. May I suggest, as a lead-off batter, ‘Caddyshack’?”
Paul’s face melted into a soft grin. “Whatever you say, doc.”
“And that’s only the first part of my treatment plan,” Ace grinned. “The second part involves a variation on ‘turn your head and cough.'”
Paul laughed, full and deep and echoing. Ace really liked that sound. “Now just relax and let Dr. Ace take care of you.”
Ace ordered their favorite dish from Happy Garden, which he intended to feed to Paul by hand rather than eat any himself. He was still full after his dinner with Erik.
While they waited for the food to arrive, Ace reversed roles and gave Paul a backrub, albeit less thorough than that first massage the chiropractor had given him.
“I can see I’m going to have to give you lessons,” Paul rumbled, his head bent low and loose as Ace dug his thumbs into Paul’s upper back.
“Picky, picky,” Ace murmured. “Know what they say about gift horses and mouths?”
“They bite?”
Ace chuckled and lightly bit the side of Paul’s neck. “Something like that.”
The doorbell rang, earlier than Ace had expected. “Damn. Thought I’d have more time to play here.”
They groaningly rose from the couch. “Why don’t you get us beer or wine or something equally strong?” Ace said. “Tonight calls for adult beverages, I think.”
Paul headed toward the kitchen, and Ace took a moment to adjust his half-hard dick in his jeans. He was digging into his pocket for his wallet and looked up in the open doorway to see possibly the last person in all of Kansas he wanted to see.
“Tanner.” A dull spike of fear pinched Ace’s chest.
“Have you been avoiding me?” Tanner said, so sure of himself, so confident. “I call, I text. You playing hard to get?” He stepped into the foyer, causing Ace to take an involuntary step backward. “Cause it’s working.”
“Tanner.” Ace worked to keep his voice low and panic-free. “You need to leave. I’ve got ”
“Oh, I know what you’ve got,” Tanner interrupted. “And I want it.” He ran one hand up Ace’s chest while the other snaked down to his crotch.
Ace managed to not yelp at that unexpected and unwelcome touch. He wanted desperately to get rid of Tanner before Paul ever knew he was here. He hadn’t told Paul about this persistent frat boy, and now was definitely the wrong time to air that news.
“Hmmm,” Tanner grinned. “Someone’s happy to see me.” He squeezed Ace’s package, still semi-hard from playing with Paul.
He grabbed Tanner by the arms and tried to walk him back to the door. “You need to leave. Now.”