Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Declan

I'd done more laundry the past few weeks than at any point in my life, including my teen years when my parents had a color-coded chore list. But four dirty T-shirts, a hoodie, and a pair of jeans were the perfect excuse for a trek to the basement. I'd clomped down the stairs around nine, and now it was nearly eleven. We'd made it through my laundry, his laundry, and now a load of sheets.

And still, we were talking. Since the door was closed, we could have been sneaky kissing or more, and I figured we'd get there eventually before I snuck back upstairs, but right then, I was enjoying leaning against the warm dryer, quizzing Jonas on his unusual upbringing.

"How many siblings do you actually have?" I asked.

"I don't know." Jonas screwed his face up like he was thinking hard. I had no idea how one could have so many as to not know every name, birthday, favorite ice cream flavor, and more. "Some kids undoubtedly arrived after I was kicked out, but when I left, there were…seventeen? Eighteen?"

"How do you explain that at school? Or the hospital?" I shook my head, imagining a whole bus load of kids coming to visit a new baby in the hospital or a classroom with half the kids related. "That's a lot of half and full siblings."

"And cousins." Jonas shrugged. "And we were homeschooled and coached not to talk to outsiders, ever, or reveal any details about the plural marriage. Heck, when I was first sent away, I didn't trust anyone and barely knew how to talk to people not in our sect."

"That's terrible." I reached out to pat his arm. "At least you got over the not-talking thing."

"Yep. And as for hospitals, pray you don't get sick. And pray the group has access to a decent midwife."

"Wow. Practically pioneer living." I couldn't keep the horror from my voice. Had they even had indoor plumbing? "Makes my having the one sister and growing up in Seattle seem easy."

"There were things that weren't so bad." Jonas stretched as he moved the sheets to the dryer where I stood. "Always someone to play with. Never lonely."

"You like being surrounded by people, don't you?" I leaned in for a quick kiss while he was close, loving the pleased sound he made every time I was the one to initiate contact or kissing. His obvious delight made it far easier to keep touching him.

"Yep. Eric accuses me of needing to be needed too much, but I've always liked doing things for others." Jonas offered a crooked smile, which earned him another fast kiss. "I was one of the middle siblings, and it was kind of nice taking care of the younger ones or running errands for the older kids."

"Work." I shook my head at the notion of having so many siblings to manage.

"How about you?" Jonas asked, tickling my side lightly through my T-shirt. "Would you rather spend an afternoon alone or with others?"

"With you." I grinned at him, proud of my spot-on answer, but he groaned.

"Be serious."

"I am." I held up my hands. "You're my current favorite person to hang out with. It doesn't feel like work. I like the energy of groups and parties, but I hate feeling like I'm on the outside looking in. And social obligations, like the Fan Zone on race days, can pump me up, but they're always exhausting. Gah. I sound like such a?—"

"Introvert." He captured my hands in his before I could call myself a loser. "It's okay to not be a people person, and it's definitely not something to beat yourself up over."

"You make being a homebody fun." I went for the flip answer because the truth was I had beat myself up over social stuff for years. But with him, it was all so easy. It felt warm and natural to spend time together, not like solving complex equations.

We'd been playing music on his phone to cover our talking, and a goofy oldie came on, and of course, Jonas started singing along, nailing the deep baritone perfectly.

"That is the worst song in the history of songs," I teased, rolling my eyes at him.

"You're just too young." He wagged a finger at me as he added a shimmy to his singing.

"Am not." I stuck out my tongue, which probably proved his point, but making him laugh was worth it. "Maybe you just have bad musical taste."

"Maybe." He leaned in for another quick kiss.

"At least your music is better than my dad's." I chuckled thinking of every car ride growing up. "I swear he listens to the most grandpa of grandpa music."

"Speaking of our favorite firefighter, have you seen your dad lately?" Jonas phrased the question too carefully to be spontaneous.

"Some." I spent a lot of time trying to avoid thinking about my dad.

"How are the cats?" Jonas seemed to have no such difficulty.

"I haven't been inside their place lately," I admitted with an airy wave. "It's more just seeing each other in passing."

"I see." Jonas gave me a pointed look.

I grinned in response, forcing a light tone. "I don't want him—or anyone else—guessing what we're up to."

"Doing laundry?" He held up a stack of folded T-shirts.

"You know what I mean." I gave him a pout that wasn't proving my maturity, but I so didn't want to talk about my dad.

"Trust me, I don't want him knowing about us— this —either, but you could talk to him about…other stuff." Jonas had been quick to correct himself, but perversely, I liked that us. I liked being a duo with him, even if we couldn't have anyone knowing about it. But the idea of talking to my dad? Please no.

"You mean come out?" I went ahead and called Jonas on what he was inevitably getting at.

"To him. To a counselor. Some other trusted queer friend. You can't keep everything all bottled up."

"I don't." I glared at him, hating how he sighed.

"Declan…"

"I'm not repressed." I pulled off my T-shirt because conversation was overrated. Some more kissing was needed, and pronto. "And I know what I like. And what I like is you." I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Isn't that good enough?"

I swallowed his frustrated huff, offering him sweet kisses that quickly turned heated until I heard the creak of the basement door and footsteps on the stairs.

Crap. I'd forgotten to lock the door.

"Hey." I grabbed my basket, trying to look like I did laundry without a shirt all the time. "I'm just…finishing a load."

Of course, I'd been planning a different type of load. But now I had no choice but to head upstairs.

"Take your time." Eric waved a hand as he set his basket near the empty washer. "Nice to see you feeling up to doing the stairs."

"Yeah, being more active feels great." I adjusted my basket, trying to hide my very active boner. Needing to redirect, I motioned at the navy sweater on top of Eric's basket. "That's a cool sweater."

"Oh. That. Yeah. Montgomery always did like me in navy blue." Eric's cheeks turned pink. "It's probably too nice for drinks with my crew…"

"Wear the shirt." Jonas put on his stern voice. It was always fun to watch him and Eric bicker like brothers. "Have a good time. Maybe stay out past your bedtime."

"No more lectures about socializing." Eric threw up his hands after he finished loading the washer.

"You need it." Jonas wagged a finger back at him.

"Declan, save me!" Eric let out a frustrated laugh.

"Ha. I like going out sometimes." Even now, owning up to my homebody nature to anyone other than Jonas felt a bit…weird. "And maybe I like Jonas's lectures."

"Do you now?" Eric's eyebrows shot up.

"I was joking," I mumbled, but there was absolutely nothing funny about my feelings for Jonas. I'd never been this serious about anyone and that was a big problem, indeed.