Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

TY

Sounds come from every direction of the crowded convention center's vast hall. I flip through the row of colorful comic books, my gaze jumping between the issue numbers on the books and the numbers on the printed list I compiled.

Finding everything on my wish list is likely too much to hope for, even at the largest comic book collectors convention on the West Coast, but if I can score at least a few issues before the weekend is over, I'll consider the entire trip to LA well worth the cost of the plane tickets and hotel room fees.

The convention has drawn people from all areas of the country. Multiple accents mingle in the sea of people weaving around the grid pattern of vendors' tables. Aggressive, laser-focused seekers dodge and dart around those content to meander and explore every item they encounter.

I reach the end of the bin. Great issues, but nothing I need. Nodding at the vendor, I turn away from the table.

Groups of friends and families pass by, a reminder that I need to check in with my friends. Scanning the tables covered with comic books, memorabilia, artwork, clothing, and accessories, I spot Slater and Noah standing a few vendors away. My bag tucked tight against my side, I make my way over.

Having them along for the trip has eliminated the loneliness that usually accompanies my forays to various cities for conventions, but the couple's frequent PDAs are a tough reminder of my solo relationship status.

"Ty!" Slater's red T-shirt emblazoned with a lightning bolt stretching across his muscular chest rivals the brightness of his ginger hair. He holds up a comic book in a protective bag like it's a trophy and a triumphant grin lights up his face. "Look what I found."

"No way." I recognize the rare edition's yellow and green cover at first glance. That issue is one of the most coveted of those missing from my own collection. A thin blade of envy twists in my gut, but I smile and focus on happiness for my friend. "Want to discuss a trade?"

Slater's eyes bulge for a moment before he laughs and shakes his head. "Are you kidding? I've been looking for this issue for years."

"Same." I roll my shoulders and shrug away the disappointment. The convention still has two and a half days to go. Plenty of time left in my quest to find a hidden gem like one of the other rare comic books on my list. And if I don't have any luck by Sunday afternoon, I'll drown my sorrows by buying something fun and impractical like the life-size replica of Thor's hammer gleaming on the table to my left.

Noah slings his arm around Slater's waist, the tattoos decorating his biceps and forearms are on display thanks to his short sleeves. "Sorry, Ty. The guy who sold it to me said it was the only copy he had. No idea if he was bluffing though. I didn't know you wanted it too. We can go back to see if there's another one."

"I doubt he'd have another, but I'll check out his table anyway. Maybe he'll have something else I need. I haven't made it anywhere near that side of the room yet."

"Did you find anything on your list?"

Shaking my head, I pull the sketchbook from my bag and then flip through the pages. "I got an idea for the project Slater and I are doing and wanted to get it down, so I spent most of the past hour sketching. Have a look."

The project, a collaboration sparked by Slater's idea for a comic book series about a hockey player who gains super powers, has taken over most of my free time for the last few months, as he and I take advantage of his hockey league's summer break. Most of our sessions, held at Slater and Noah's place, end with me stumbling to their guest room at the end of a late night. At this point, I feel like their extra, sometimes absent, roommate.

Noah's eyes widen as he scans the sketch. "You did all of that in the hour since we last saw you? Damn, you're talented."

A flush creeps into my cheeks. "Thanks."

Slater leans down and peers at the page. "I love it. The clashing of the hero and villain facing off on the ice would be a great scene to start off the next issue."

"I thought that too." Thinking along the same lines has worked well for our plans for the series.

He holds up his hand for a high-five. "Awesome."

I raise mine in response and overshoot the connection, my palm passing by Slater's. Laughter stealing my breath, I shrug at my friend and hold up my hand to try again. This time, I keep still and let Slater do the action. We connect with a clap .

From his place in the middle of our trio, Noah lays his hands on both of our shoulders. "That has to go into the story. One of your superheroes could be a little uncoordinated. Think of how funny you could make things. "

My inspiration sparked, I nod at Noah and then jot down ideas on a fresh page. "A little uncoordinated, or we could go bigger and make him a walking disaster. A little like me. Crashing into things?—"

"And flying into things," Slater adds, his blue eyes shining. "You aren't a walking disaster, Ty, but we could embellish some of the things that have happened to you. It's going to be so good. Great idea, Noah."

"I'm glad I thought of it. You guys have been working on the stories non-stop, and I've felt bad not having anything to contribute to help." Noah scuffs the toe of his sneaker on the concrete floor. He often spends the hours while Slater and I work, close by, lost in a book. The man is a voracious reader. "I feel like I'm out of my element when you're both hardcore into planning worlds and characters."

Slater bends his head and kisses Noah on the temple. "Just having your support means everything to me. Both with the series and with being here now. I know this convention isn't your thing or your idea of a mini-vacation, but I'm glad you're here."

Love shines bright in Noah's eyes as he leans into his boyfriend's side. "Are you kidding? I'm loving watching you get so excited over everything here."

Their lips meet in a brief kiss and something deep within me aches to find that level of love. The two of them together are sweet. Besides being boyfriends, they are best friends, roommates, and teammates on Buffalo's pro hockey team, the Bedlam.

Unable to ignore the stab of loneliness, I flip the sketchbook closed. Work has consumed all of my time. Maybe when we return home, I can steal some hours from my schedule and try to get back out there and meet someone new.

Noah turns to me and swings a friendly arm around my shoulder. "Come on, we'll help you find one of the books on your list."

"Thanks. I appreciate having a second, or I guess third, set of eyes and hands to check." I fall in step beside Noah and allow Slater to lead the way.

In the six months I've been friends with the couple, I've appreciated how they always look out for me. I met Slater first, at a bar when we were both nursing broken hearts and we bonded over a shared love of comic books. Lucky for Slater, he and Noah worked out their problems. And lucky for me, I gained two supportive friends.

After a few unsuccessful stops at tables, we wind our way to the far side of the room. Large sponsor logos line the wall, interspersed with larger-than-life cut-outs of superhero figures, and the foot traffic isn't as heavy as it is in the rest of the convention.

Slater pauses under a giant vinyl banner with the convention's name. "We need to get a selfie with this. Come on."

Used to his penchant for photos and social media, I crowd in close to the pair and grin at the image the three of us make on Slater's phone. "I want a copy of this."

"Sure." Slater tugs Noah against his side and they place me in the center of the shot. He takes a few photos, and as we part, his fingers tap away on his screen. Seconds later, my phone vibrates with the new messages.

Murmuring my thanks, I hold out my hand, indicating I want Slater's cell. "I'll play photographer. Let me get a wider range shot of you and Noah, so you get the whole banner in the background."

My gaze on the pair through the camera's lens, I back up several steps. Something solid smacks into my foot and lower leg, knocking my feet from under me. Arms flailing, I fall backward, fear flipping through my stomach. I catch the expressions of horror on Slater and Noah's faces and their dash toward me. Too late to help.

My back slams into a hard and unyielding surface and it tips backward, taking me along. Breath catches in my lungs. The ceiling rushes by amid the sounds of chairs scraping the ground and footsteps pounding. My meeting with the concrete floor is imminent. Legs in the air, I tuck my chin to my chest and cradle my head with my arms. A storm of colorful pamphlets rains around me.

Bracing for impact, I wish I embodied any one of the superhero powers I've given my characters.

"I've got you," a deep voice calls.

The swish of a dark cape obscures my vision. Strong arms wrap around me, and a hard body softens my landing.

We slam into the floor. My back bows and I wince at the pull in my muscles. The stranger's hold ensures that my head stays safely away from the unforgiving concrete. I lay, gasping for breath, heartbeat galloping away strong enough that the stranger can probably feel it through his gloves.

"You okay?" That deep voice speaks again. The cape slides away from my face, but those strong arms stay around me.

"Yeah, thanks. Are you ?" I crane my neck. The only bits of him I can see are black pants and gloves.

Slater jumps over the upended table and lands in a crouch at my side. "Ty! Are you okay?"

"I think so." I grasp hold of his extended hands. As Slater pulls, I attempt to get my legs under myself, and push the rest of the way to standing.

Next to Slater, Noah reaches to help my rescuer.

Readying my thanks, I turn.

And stare.

My mouth falls open .

"No freaking way." Dropping to my knees, I hold out my hand to assist in hauling the man from the floor. The guy's Batman costume looks like a top of the line model. I'd briefly priced those last Halloween before learning that my ex had no intention of joining me at the comic book store's party. I went alone as the Joker. "Um, wow. Dude, thanks for saving me."

Brown eyes as warm as whiskey peer at me from behind the mask. A smile curves lips marred by a scar that runs from his lower lip to the cleft in his chin. "Anytime."

Our hands meet and clasp, and together with Noah's help, we pull the guy to standing.

"I…" I drag my gaze away and survey the damage I've caused.

In addition to the upended table and what appears to be hundreds of pamphlets covering the floor, I knocked over posters, two life-sized superhero cutouts, and a tablet.

Embarrassment covers me like a heavy blanket. Heat flushing through my body, I rake a hand through my hair and blow out a breath. "I'm sorry. I'll help clean it all up."

"Hurricane Ty strikes again." Smiling, Slater rights the table as though it weighs nothing and heaving the large object costs him zero effort.

I take the two steps to close the distance between myself and the stranger. "As my buddy said, I'm Ty. Did you get hurt?"

"Craig. And I'm fine." Craig clasps my hand again, encasing me in soft leather and a secure grip. "I think you tripped over one of my boxes, so what happened was my fault. It must have gotten pushed out from beneath the table."

I have to tilt my head back a bit to meet Craig's gaze, which puts the man somewhere in the six-one or six-two range. Craig smiles again, and sparks of attraction tingle through my blood. I want the mask gone so I can see all of Craig, uninterrupted. "I should've been watching where I was going."

"Let's call it even."

I nod and as I hold Craig's gaze, an electric thrill shoots through me, hot and lightning fast. The world around me dims to Craig and then to the strong fingers holding mine tight.

A shout sounds from somewhere behind me and the world flares into brighter focus. Sounds and scents creep in along with the realization that he and I are still joined together, and we have an audience. I force myself to release my hold. Muscles quivering, I stagger a step and then bang into Slater. Either Craig has dazzled me or I'm still feeling the surge of adrenaline from my fall. "Uh, these are my friends Slater and Noah."

As the guys shake hands, I crouch and begin gathering pamphlets. They advertise a foundation that sends volunteers dressed as superheroes to visit sick children in hospitals, houses for those bound to home care, and other charitable endeavors. And Craig, in his costume, is right there in the center of the picture.

Damn it.

I feel even worse.

"Um, Ty." Slater's hesitant voice pulls my attention.

I glance to my left, then to Slater lifting my sketchbook from a puddle of coffee.

"No." Horror and panic flashing like strobe lights, I rush to the book. My bag, which had slipped off my shoulder during the fall, is open. Beside it, a to-go coffee cup is on its side in a pool of tan liquid.

Dread increasing, I take the book from my friend's hands. Coffee drips from the pages. Helplessness wells as I sink to my knees, searching for something to wipe off the mess and stop further damage. I don't spy anything aside from my canvas bag, which wouldn't be a smart idea.

"I'll grab paper towels from the restroom," Noah calls, sprinting away.

Nodding, I leaf through the book to assess the damage. Parts of sketches have bled. Pages are sticking together. Hours of work, gone. I press my hand to my forehead. "Come on, no."

Craig crouches beside me. The warmth of his hand seeps into my shoulder. "I'm sorry. Is any of it salvageable? It seems I owe you a sketchbook. That was my coffee."

I sit back on my heels and fight through the tangle of feelings, forcing myself to focus on the positive, not the negative. Everything can be drawn again. It will take ages, but can be done. I'm lucky the entire book hasn't been ruined. Most lucky of all is that neither Craig nor I had been hurt during the fall. "It'll be okay. I owe you a coffee."

The sound of sneakers pounding over concrete announces Noah's return. He thrusts a wad of towels at me. "Here."

"Thanks." The rough, folded papers are thin and coffee soaks through faster than I can change them. Craig joins in, passing me towels and helping to wipe the book's exterior. Murmuring my thanks, I begin the task of layering the towels between the stained pages, careful not to tear any of the weakened sheets.

His heated touch lands on my shoulder once more, but is gone in the span of a heartbeat. "You worry about saving what you can of your book. I'll get the rest of the coffee."

Craig mops up the coffee in between handing me extra towels. Slater and Noah are slowly straightening the mess around us. Guilt over my friends restoring order to the chaos I've caused hits hard and fast. I owe them at least a drink for their trouble. With the last of the paper towels, I line the bottom of my bag, in case any drips work their way out of the dampened pages, then tuck the book inside. "Craig, I'm sorry about all of this. I can be a walking disaster."

"Hence, the nickname." Slater props one of the cutouts at the far end of the table. "But we love you, Ty."

Craig once again extends his hand and helps me to my feet. His glittering gaze and small smile invite me to play. "Then I guess you might need a superhero around all the time?"

"I wouldn't turn one away." That spark of attraction flashes bright. Craig's fingers tighten for a moment before he lets go of my hand. Blowing out a breath, I force myself to focus on the mess, not on flirting. I glance at my T-shirt and jeans. No coffee splashes, thank goodness.

We gather the rest of the pamphlets and I straighten the stacks of glossy paper until they are perfectly aligned, working side by side with Craig while Slater and Noah capture wayward papers that drifted into the foot traffic.

When everything is back in its proper place, I glance at Craig, not ready to say goodbye. "All done. It's like I was never here. Sorry again that I was a human wrecking ball."

"I'm not. Ending up with you in my arms was the best thing I've had happen in a long time." Craig takes a step closer, closing the distance between us. The intensity and interest in the gaze raking over my face sets off twin buzzes of hope and desire. "If you're not busy…"

"Yes?" Quick and eager, the response bursts from my lips. I don't care if my friends give me a hard time for having zero game later, as long as Craig's next words are something that keeps me in the man's company.

Craig gestures at the display table. "I'm finished my shift here. And I'd like to make up for your sketchbook. Can I offer you a ride in a replica of the Batmobile? It's parked outside. "

From the way he lowered his voice, I figure the offer isn't one he extends easily or often. My excitement level soaring, I force my voice to match the same hushed tone. "Are you kidding? You drive a replica of the Batmobile?"

"It's not mine. It belongs to the foundation. Whoever is dressed as Batman drives it when visiting the kids or doing appearances. The car adds to the fantasy. You should see how excited the kids get. Makes me smile every single time." With a smile, he waves at someone behind me. "I have to return it to the foundation's headquarters. Come take a drive with me. My car's there so I can take you back to your hotel afterward."

"Um, yes, absolutely. I'm there." But then I think about my friends, and how much the experience would mean to Slater. "If you don't mind, I know Slater would love to see it, too."

"I would love to see what?" Slater walks up behind us, followed by Noah.

Craig turns toward Slater, his cape swooshing in the breeze from an overhead fan. "I have a replica of the Batmobile out back."

"Seriously?" Slater's eyes light up and his gaze bounces from Craig to the exit and back again. "And you're letting us see it? That's so awesome."

Noah slips an arm around Slater's waist. "You've made his year, Craig."

Excitement shifts to something softer and warmer as Slater shakes his head and gazes at Noah. "No. Noah, you've made my year, but yeah, Craig, this will be a close second."

Feigning indignation, I cross my arms over my chest and raise a brow. I can't help teasing Slater. "And what about me? Where do I fall in your list of hits for the year?"

"Um…" Slater pauses, and I can practically see the wheels turning as he tries to figure out a diplomatic answer. "A tie for second, as my best new friend?"

Shaking my head, unable to keep my smile from showing, I shoulder my bag and then nudge Slater's arm. "I guess I'll take it."

Two people dressed as Black Panther and Captain Marvel arrive at the booth. Craig introduces them as his replacements and then explains that most of the foundation's volunteers will be taking a shift at the table during the convention.

"Ready?" Craig flashes me another smile.

"Definitely." I fall in step beside him. So many people stare at us as we walk through the crowded hall. I know that's due to his costume, but the man's presence is magnetic regardless. Behind us, Slater and Noah debate restaurants to try for dinner tonight. Craig asks which hotel we're staying in and offers suggestions of cafes and restaurants frequented by locals.

The heavy double doors of the exit come into view. Craig shoves one open and gestures for us to pass. Nodding my thanks for him holding the door, I slip by him. Bright, blinding sunlight greets us. Wincing, I shade my eyes and wait until he's by my side once more. The four of us fan out, walking in a line, and though there are people in the parking lots and sounds of traffic streaming from the roads, it's nowhere near the level of noise we experienced inside the convention center.

Tucked in a private parking area, the replica Batmobile gleams in the sunshine, black and sleek and amazing.

"It's…" My fingers itch to touch the car. I glance from the car to Craig and back again. "I don't even have words to describe it."

"I do." Voice hushed, Slater reverently runs a hand along the hood. "It's awesome. "

The tips of Craig's fingers brush my skin from my biceps to my forearm, raising goosebumps in their wake. "You can touch it. Or get in. Whatever you want."

The spark from the contact zips right to my dick. For a moment, I hold still, gaze locked on Craig's warm brown eyes, suspended by the fireworks erupting through my system. When Craig lowers his hand and gestures to the car, I take a breath to get a hold of myself, open the door, and slide into the driver's seat.

The steering wheel's leather is smooth under my palms. I check out gadgets, gauges, and everything in the interior. "It's so cool. I can picture us zooming off to fight crime somewhere."

"Right?" Slater takes photo after photo, including selfies with Noah, Craig, and me. "You should start thinking about your superhero name."

Craig smiles and leans his hip on the hood. "I kind of like The Hurricane."

Phone in hand, Noah works his way around the car, pausing every few steps to take another photo. "Appropriate considering the levels of destruction they cause and Ty's love of the villains."

"Ha ha." But I grin and climb out of the car so Slater can have a turn in the driver's seat and I can take some photos of my own, including one of Noah leaning into the car kissing Slater. "You should get inside with Slater, Noah. That'll make a good picture."

He complies, rounding the car and climbing into the passenger seat. Slater puts his arm around Noah's shoulders and they both smile for me. I capture the image. Slater looks over the moon happy and Noah's eyes are filled with love as he watches Slater geek out over the sleek ride.

Noah pushes the car door open. "Don't worry, Ty, I got a bunch with you sitting in here too. I'll send them to you later."

No matter how many times Noah and Slater have done considerate things, both little and big, I am continually surprised and never expect it. They are damn good friends, and I'm grateful for them. "I appreciate it."

"No problem."

Slater exits the car. "Thanks, Craig. Sitting in that is something I'll never forget."

"Want to go for a drive in it? We can take it around the parking lot." The way Craig's eyes are crinkling at the corners, he's definitely enjoying how much we're all savoring this experience.

Letting out a whoop, Slater rushes around to the passenger side of the car and grins at Noah and me. "I get to ride in the Batmobile. Someone pinch me. I better not be dreaming."

"I'll take a video," Noah promises as Craig climbs into the driver's seat. The engine roars to life and Slater waves, then blows Noah a kiss, which Noah returns. As I wave them off and Noah taps the video button to start recording, he glances at me. "Thanks for including us in this. You didn't have to do that."

"Are you kidding? I couldn't have just gone with Craig and not shared this with you guys. I knew how much this would mean to Slater."

He returns his focus to the screen and smiles at Slater grinning and chatting with Craig. "You don't even know how much. We found a place out here that does exotic car rentals and they actually have a replica just like this one, but it wasn't available this weekend. Slater was pretty bummed. So, him getting to experience this is really special."

I watch Craig's profile as the car zips around in a loop. I can't wait to see him unmasked. "And it wouldn't have happened at all if I hadn't literally crashed into Craig's space today."

Still recording, Noah pulls his focus from the screen. His expression turns serious and he lays his other hand on my shoulder. "You shouldn't label yourself as a walking disaster, Ty. You beat yourself up too much."

The label has stuck for so long, I've had more years with it, than without. All I can do is shrug. You hear something enough, you begin assuming it's true. "I guess."

"You do. Way too hard on yourself. Besides, I think Craig likes you just as you are."

The car comes to a stop in front of us. Slater hops out, wearing a mile-wide grin. "All yours, Ty."

I take a moment to capture the image of Craig in the costume and the car in my mind. Things like this don't happen to me. Ever. With a heady rush of anticipation, I bid my friends goodbye and climb in.

Craig smiles and brushes a gloved finger along the back of my hand. "Ready to go?"

Body buzzing, I suck in a breath. "I'm ready for anything."