Chapter 10

Trace Kalecki

Iwas ready to collapse. It wasn’t that late, around ten PM, but the birthday dinner and the busy service that had followed had drained me of energy. Tension too, in the birthday dinner’s case. I’d had these pent-up worries, and now they were just gone.

I yawned and walked out of the bathroom with my towel wrapped around my hips.

Ben was still busy sorting through gas receipts in the front room, so I made a beeline for the kitchen to put together a snack. I was still full-ish from his dinner, but I wanted a little something.

“You snackish, hon?” I hollered, opening the fridge.

“Always, but Ma gave me a spiel about how I gotta take care of myself since I’m so fucking old.”

I chuckled and hauled out fixings for more waffles. One toaster waffle wasn’t going to kill him. But Elsie probably had a point. We should both eat better.

“Pick me up after work tomorrow, and we’ll go by Aldi’s together,” I said.

“Speaking of, work approved a garage space closer to here,” he mentioned. “Now I don’t have to walk seven fucking blocks.”

“That’s good news.”

He was a stickler for doing shit right with the company vehicle, which I obviously understood. The garage space in question had to be covered by their insurance, seeing as cars like those often got broken in to for the tools.

After preparing two waffles, smothering them in whipped cream and strawberry preserves, I headed for the front room and sat down next to him.

He had an old Sox game running in the background, and Ziggy was dozing off between his feet.

“Not too shabby,” he said, adding the last receipt to the smallest pile. “Forty-six bucks in personal gas expenses.”

I bit into my waffle and bobbed my head, agreeing that was low. I mean, we used the car quite a bit. Especially him when he went out to Elsie and Alvin.

“That’s cheaper than the CTA,” I said.

He bit into his waffle, too, and hummed appreciatively.

I side-eyed him and smiled faintly.

This was gonna be our new normal. He and I together, doing our thing as a team. But it would be nice to have it confirmed verbally, as awesome as the kiss had been outside the bar earlier.

He got whipped cream on his upper lip, and my smile widened.

“It’s you and me now, right?” I asked. “We’re together and shit?”

He coughed around a mouthful of waffle, grinned, and reached for a paper towel on the table.

He wiped his mouth and chewed faster. “I was tryna pace myself till you got outta the shower, and then you pounce when I’ve stuffed my face?”

My bad?

He swallowed the last of it and gave my thigh a squeeze. “I want nothing more, Trace. Just be patient. I’m…I’m struggling to accept that this can happen to me. A few months ago, I was out on the streets, hoping the next snowstorm was gonna kill me, and now I have a steady job, a home, and…you. You’re…” He let out a breath and shook his head.

I set aside my plate and scooted closer, and I grabbed his hand in both mine.

“I’m your bright spot?” I tried to keep it light.

The corners of his mouth twisted up. “You’re a bit more than that. You’re my jackass too.”

Very funny.

Then he got serious. “You make me wanna live for myself, not just to be there for my boy.” He leaned in and rested his forehead to mine, and I let the blanket of peacefulness fall over us. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to describe what I feel because I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”

Neither had I, and I was pretty sure I knew what he meant. It could be overwhelming. Several times a day, I found myself having a knee-jerk, violent reaction to a random thought, only because he made me feel so fucking much.

I knew what Dad meant back in the day now. How crushes made you wanna keep that person to yourself so you could overdose on them, all while…love… Love made you wanna shout from the rooftops.

“That makes two of us,” I murmured. And now I had to show him. “Come on. I wanna show you something.” I rose to my feet and held on to his hand. “I understand about the patience. You’ve been through a lot—you gotta let things settle. But you also once told me that you have to be quick on your feet and think about the consequences of every step Alvin takes. So this is me trying to do the same thing.”

He followed me out of the room, and I threaded our fingers together.

“My plans will probably scream impatience,” I admitted. “But I hope you’ll see it another way. I have all the patience for how these plans will be executed—I just want you to know I have the future on my mind, and that I’m not taking any of this lightly.”

We came to a stop outside the bedroom farthest down the hall.

I spotted Ziggy in the doorway to the front room. The lazy little shit wasn’t curious enough to tag along.

“This can be Alvin’s room.” I leaned against the doorframe and scanned the empty walls.

“Trace, you?—”

“No, please lemme do this.” I cleared my throat and swallowed a flurry of unease. He had to hear what I had to say. “We have a home, Ben. He wouldn’t have to go from one place to the next in a single day. He can come here, spend as much time as he wants—hell, we’ll put in a fish tank or whatever. Give him something that makes him wanna come back over and over until he’s ready for a sleepover, then two and three. I don’t care how slow the transition is. We have all this space—we should put it to use?—”

“Please stop.” Ben withdrew from me and scrubbed his hands over his face.

Fuck. My stomach became a knotted mess, and my eyes burned. Like, what the fuck? All of a sudden, I was terrified? And mortified. I coughed and folded my arms over my chest, and my ears started ringing. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’d missed something. This wasn’t what he wanted. I was a fucking idiot?—

“Christ.” The word left him in an exhale, and he let his hands fall to his sides as he peered up at the ceiling. Then he dropped his gaze to mine again, and for a moment, he looked so raw. Older, tired, vulnerable, scared, and frustrated. “Trace, I… You’re telling me everything I wanna hear, at the same time as those exact things scare the fuck outta me, ’cause…what happens if you change your mind? What if all this becomes too much for you? You call this our home—and I can’t describe what that does to me—but it’s still yours. In the event we break up, it goes without saying that I’m the one moving out, and then I gotta pack up my autistic son too. I already did that once.” He swallowed, and his eyes turned a little glassy. “When Lindsey died, we couldn’t afford a slow transition. I had to immediately drive him to my folks, and that was that. He had to go through an incredibly traumatic year because of that move alone. He didn’t even grieve his mother’s death until months after the funeral, because he was balls deep in chaos that pushed him in and out of panic and apathetic periods.”

“In the event we break up, I’m the one moving out, and then I gotta pack up my autistic son too.”

Those words went on a loop in my brain, and as much as they stung, I couldn’t fault him for being cautious. A good dad functioned that way. I understood his fears. I understood he wouldn’t risk his son’s mental health. But he didn’t understand what I was getting at.

He’d said I was telling him everything he wanted to hear, right? I clung to that—desperately. Because it meant I only had to work against his fears, not what he wanted.

I closed the distance between us and cupped his face in my hands. “Baby, the patience part will make you trust me. I’m not moving him in here tomorrow. I’m talking about a space he’d like to visit.”

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

“A year from now, I think you’ll know I’m serious,” I continued quietly. “Maybe even in six months. I don’t know. All I wanted to show you was my vision. That I’m in this for the long haul and that you’re part of a package deal—and I’m ready to prove it. With time.”

When he opened his eyes again, he almost looked broken. As if I was fighting the last piece of resistance.

“Why are you doing this?”

Wasn’t that obvious at this point?

I smiled. “Because I love you, you fucking dingbat.”

“But—” He exhaled an emotional chuckle, as if the words just now settled, and he rested his forehead to mine. “It’s a big sacrifice.”

“No.” I touched his cheek. “You’re not the only one who’s found something new worth living for. I love the Clover, but I don’t want it to define who I am or take up every weekend.” I inched back so I could look at him properly. “I didn’t meet your family today for your sake, Ben. I scoped them out to see if they would fit in my family one day, and shit’s looking promising.”

He broke out in a tearful smile and hugged me to him. “You little fucker.”

I grinned and?—

“I love you too, by the way.” It was his turn to cup my face in his hands, and he kissed me quickly. “Fuck, do I love you. It feels good to say that.”

It felt damn good to hear it.

A brand-new sensation seeped into me, slowly filling me up, and I could only describe it as a combination of elation and calmness. Fucking harmony. My frazzled nerves healed themselves as we met in another kiss, and this one was slow, deep, and perfect.

“You cut me off earlier,” I mumbled between kisses. “The other room’s for your ma.”

He sighed through a shudder and backed me up against the wall. “You wanna be stuck with me in the front room?”

I shrugged and kissed his jaw, locking my arms around his neck. “It’s big enough, and you can install doors or something.”

Because we needed our privacy too.

He gave me a swift, drugging kiss. “That’s a lot of changes for a young bachelor.”

I hummed. I wasn’t a bachelor anymore, and neither was he. Bring on the crazy. All the changes, new furniture, shit on the walls, life everywhere, complications, beauty, two families merging. I was game.

“Start building,” was all I said.

We were done talking after that.

Ben was…in a hurry. At long fucking last. He kissed me brutally hard and ripped off my towel, and I got with the program and yanked up his tee. He broke away to haul it over his head, and desire bolted through me at the sight of the hunger in his gaze.

Without a word, he spun me around to face the wall, and he sank to his knees and grabbed two fistfuls of my ass. I sucked in a sharp breath and rested my forearm against the wall. The heat from his exhale so close to me made me shiver, and thank fuck he didn’t keep me waiting. He buried his face in my ass and pushed his tongue inside me.

Holy fuck.

I moaned, an onslaught of sensations buzzing through me. Pleasure from the contrast of his soft, wet tongue and his stubble… Honestly, a bit of shock too. I clenched my jaw. So the man could eat ass well. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, the way he slid his tongue in and out and around and so fucking shamelessly was gonna make me lose my mind.

“Just like that,” I groaned. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up, baby. I’m busy.”

Hnnngh.

Yes, he was. Yes, yes, yes, he was.

I fisted my cock and rested my forehead against my arm, and he went to fucking town on me.

He kneaded my ass cheeks roughly and soaked me in saliva. “You have the tightest, most perfect little ass.” He flicked his tongue against my hole. “Now that you’re mine, you’re gonna have to put up with me spending a lotta time down here.”

Yeah, okay.

“Fuck…” I exhaled and stroked myself faster. “What if I need your big cock?”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I’m ready to beg.” I threw that out there. “Lemme suck you till you’re coated.”

He cursed and teased my opening with the tip of his tongue.

“Please, Ben,” I moaned. “If we’re gonna fill this place with family members, I want you to rail me in every square inch before we gotta stick to our room and the bathroom.”

He chuckled huskily and didn’t respond.

For a while anyway. Maybe it was coming later.

A violent shudder pushed through me, like thunder rolling in from the lake in the summer, and he kept tongue-fucking me. But slower now. More sensually. He was back to being too patient.

“Ben…” I may or may not have whined.

“Mmhmm…?”

“Fuck me, please,” I begged. “I need it.”

“What exactly do you need?”

“You. Your cock.”

“Only me? Only my cock?”

God yes. Was he getting possessive? Because I could get on board with that. Holy shit, every day of the week.

“Only you, only your cock.” I couldn’t help it; I arched my back and pushed out my ass, needing more. “Please, baby. I need you.”

In a heartbeat, the heat disappeared behind me, and then I heard and felt him near my ear. I fucking shook.

“Get on your knees for me,” he whispered.

I couldn’t obey fast enough. I spun around and sank to my knees, and I peered up at him as I pulled out his cock from his sweats. Fuck yes, rock hard and ready.

“Only me,” he murmured.

I nodded and sucked him into my mouth, immediately hollowing out my cheeks and easing him down my throat.

He drew in a sharp breath, muscles tensing, and wove his fingers through my hair.

“Nice and wet,” he whispered.

I hummed and swirled my tongue around him, making sure to get him properly coated. And that was evidently all he allowed. Within seconds, he wanted me to face the wall again, so I sucked him real quick, just needing a taste?—

“Now, Trace.”

Fine, if he was gonna bring out the bossy tone…

I stood up again, and I popped a kiss to his lips before I turned around, and I caught a brief glimpse of his smile. Then he was behind me, rubbing his cock between my ass cheeks, and I knew this would go fast. I braced myself—oh, fucking hell, there we go.

I screwed my eyes shut and slammed my fist against the wall. Not for the first time, I cursed myself for getting so fucking turned on by that initial fireball of pain as he buried himself all the way in. The hurt blazed through me with such intensity that I couldn’t draw breath.

“That what you wanted, bright spot?” he whispered in my ear. His voice was strained and rough, and I whimpered in response. And to his question. I nodded a little too, and my whole body broke out in a fever.

He owned my body with that cock of his.

While I recovered, he started fucking me in deep, unhurried thrusts, and he brought my free hand down to my cock. A silent request.

I finally managed to draw a ragged breath.

He fucked me.

I stroked myself.

He sucked on my neck.

I moaned embarrassingly loudly and began meeting every push.

With a tight grip on my hips, he yanked me out from the wall a bit, and then he picked up the pace.

“Jesus fuck,” he bit out.

Yeah. That. Holy fucking something—we were done with lube. The added friction when we just used spit intensified the burn, and I was rendered useless. It felt like the entire fuck was a long orgasm, or at least a wild buildup I couldn’t get enough of.

“Harder,” I moaned. “Fuck, I love that—just like that. Oh God.”

He groaned, fingertips digging painfully into my hips, and he drilled into me as if he couldn’t stop, as if there was no tomorrow. And then he hit another angle, and I cried out before I pressed my mouth against my arm.

“This is all mine, Trace.” He gave my ass a solid thwack and squeezed the flesh.

I couldn’t keep up with what was happening inside me. The storm surged too quickly and pushed me to the brink long before I was ready, but I couldn’t help it.

“I’m fucking coming,” I gritted out.

He grunted and slammed into me. “Let it all go.”

I was already there. I flipped my lid, and I had just enough wits about me to rub my cock through the orgasm. Fuck, rope after rope splattered against the wall, and I couldn’t breathe. My lungs were burning—my ass was burning. And the sensations grew hotter when he got off a beat or two later.

He slid his cock in and out of his release, fucking his climax deeper into me.

Why couldn’t I hear anyth—never mind. There was this rushing noise, but it faded slowly, until I heard our panting. Christ, I hadn’t even noticed I was breathing again.

Ben plastered himself to me, still buried deep, and pressed his face against my neck.

His chest heaved.

I swallowed dryly and let go of my cock.

Fuck, I had come everywhere.

“Ow,” I whispered as I tried to relax. My legs were cramping up.

“Want me to carry you to bed?” He smiled into the kiss he pressed below my ear.

I chuckled, out of breath. “How about a shower first? I feel like I’m covered in sweat and come.”

He rumbled a warm chuckle and cupped my cock. “Mm, perfectly sticky.”

I grinned to myself and inspected the wall.

What a way to christen the hallway.

* * *

One sacred Monday in the beginning of June, Sarah nearly ruined my date night by asking if I could watch Chip for a couple hours. She had a work event at some hospital association on North Wacker or thereabouts, and her man was at home with his flued-up kid.

Luckily for Sarah, Ben and I could switch from one beef joint to another, because a new place had opened up across the Franklin-Orleans bridge, and it was possible we’d already been there twice.

While we waited for Sarah and Chip, we walked along the bridge, surrounded by skyscrapers and city lights, and I did my best to cheer up my man.

He was a little down because it was Ziggy’s last week with us. He’d made the decision that Zig would be better off with my folks in Florida, though it still stung. More so for Ben than me. But yeah. We’d gotten attached; there was no denying that.

“On the flipside, it won’t be a permanent goodbye,” I said. “We’ll see him every time we head down there and whenever they visit us. Ma won’t be able to leave him with a dog sitter, I know that much.”

Ma was over the fucking moon.

Ben smiled faintly and threaded our fingers together. “Do you see us visiting a lot?”

I blew out a breath, thinking about it. And I came to a stop at the center of the bridge, where I leaned back against the railing.

“I usually drive down there every August,” I replied. “It’s the only time I can take a couple weeks off—and then I’m home again before football season starts.”

This year was out. In no way was I ready to leave Ben behind for two weeks, and it was way too early for Alvin to consider that journey.

He nodded with a dip of his chin and planted his hands on each side of me, caging me in. “What car do you use?”

“Dad’s old truck,” I said. “He left it at Sarah’s. He won’t set foot on a train.”

He chuckled.

I pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Maybe our visits will be shorter for a few years. I don’t know. But once Alvin gets used to the traveling, I think I’ll have him on my team. We’ll vote for a two-week vacation there every summer, and you’ll have no choice but to tag along.”

He smirked. “I thought you hated Florida.”

I widened my eyes. “I do. Don’t get it twisted, man. It’s stupid hot. But it’s nice when you have someone to share that beach with. It’s a nice beach. And you’ll look sexy as fuck in trunks.”

He dipped down and kissed me, and I slipped my fingers underneath his suspenders. It’d become my thing. When he was in his work clothes, I held him close. Literally.

“I don’t dislike the idea of two weeks in the sun one bit,” he murmured in between pecks.

It was settled, then.

“Good.”

He brushed a finger along my jawline. “Will you wear somethin’ skimpy on the beach?”

I laughed, and he grinned.

“Sorry, you won’t catch me alive in a fucking Speedo,” I said.

“Pity.” The amusement lingered in his gaze, and we just watched each other for a while.

It was insane how happy he made me. Even all the changes. Maybe especially them. Or some of them. Like Sundays and Mondays, when I was off now. That was right. I had two days off. And Ben had most weekends off, and when I worked late on Saturdays, he hung out with me downstairs anyway. Unless he was filling in for Armas at the door. Turned out, Ben made one sexy security guard.

“Say something,” I said.

“What do you want me to say?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Something cute.”

He flashed one of his “I can’t deal with you, baby” grins and smooched me. “All right, uh…you, uh… You make me feel like I’m starring in a fucking rom-com.”

I let out a laugh and nuzzled our noses together. “That’s a good one. But if this was a rom-com, we’d have a drone circling over our heads to catch us making out.”

“And all the skyscrapers. With an appropriate song blaring,” he added.

He got it.

We mirrored each other’s smiles and met in an unhurried kiss that only the Spawn of Satan had the balls to interrupt.

By fucking catcalling. “That’s what I’m talking about, big brother!”

Ben laughed through his nose and dropped his forehead to my shoulder, and I looked over to where she was walking closer with a skipping chipster.

“Hi, Uncle Trace!” he yelled.

“Hey, buddy.” I gave him a genuine smile before I turned to my sister and scratched my eyebrow with my middle finger.

She just smirked and rolled her eyes, her ponytail flinging from one side to the other. The rest of her was dolled up in a dress.

“Hi, Ben!”

Ben straightened and held out a fist for Chip. “How are ya, champ?”

“I’m awesome!” Chip bumped his fist to Ben’s, and they both made an explosive sound. ’Cause they had their own thing now.

It was cute as shit.

“What’s this event you were talking about?” I asked Sarah.

“Oh, I’m just there for my boss.” Sarah thought that was eye-roll-worthy too. “He can make his case better if someone working the floor is with him. Enter the nurse.”

Ah.

“He better not make a move,” I told her. “I actually like the dude you’re with now.”

I even remembered his name. I was fairly sure it was Chris.

“I assure you, my baby-maker is reserved for one man only,” she commented dryly. “My boss is also hella married.”

I snorted. “Yeah, ’cause that never stopped people from crossing the line before.”

“I think Sarah can handle her own,” Ben noted.

Sarah beamed.

I furrowed my brow. “Is this how it’s gonna be? You automatically side with her?”

He cocked a brow. “Didn’t you just say you were gonna make sure Alvin’s on your team?”

“How the fuck is that relevant? Don’t change the topic. We’re talking about you.”

His response? He shared a look with my sister, like they had some inside joke going on. With a side of, “You see what I have to deal with?”

Troublesome development.

“Okay, can we eat now?” Chip asked. “I want beef, beef, beef!”

“Yes, we can,” I said. Since I was clearly not getting any support here. I turned to Sarah, setting our sibling bickering aside. “Text me when you’re done. I’m not sure where we’ll be. Ben and I have turned into hand-in-hand, lose-track-of-time walkers lately. Yesterday, we walked like twenty blocks for no reason at all.”

She snickered and reached up to kiss my cheek. “That’s sweet. I’ll text you.” She turned back to her boy and bent down. “I’ll see you in about two hours, baby. Be good to your uncles, okay?”

Uncles.

I shot Ben a smile, and he squeezed my hand.

“I promise to try,” Chip said firmly. “Bye, Mommy.”

Sarah straightened. “I feel so dismissed.”

“I think that was the point,” I supplied helpfully. “Bye, Sarah.”

Sarah looked up at Ben. “Remember, no returns on this one.” She jerked her thumb at me.

Ben exhaled a laugh and draped an arm around my shoulders. “Unfortunately, he’s reeled me in for life, but I’ll do my best to tame him.”

He’d do no such thing. He didn’t want me tame.

I liked the “for life” part, though.

* * *

Half an hour later—’cause fuck, the place had a line—we finally had our beefs and managed to snag a table in the window just as a couple left. So hard work was already paying off.

Chip was clearly in a chanting mood, and as I unwrapped his food, he shook his butt in his seat and went, “Wet beef, wet beef, wet beef for the win!”

“You can barely tell he spent his first few years in Boston now.” I was proud.

Ben grinned and bit into his own beef. He and I wanted ours dipped, though.

“Okay, remember to hold with both hands.” I carefully handed Chip his beef, and he grabbed on, sending some meat flying.

It happened to the best of us.

Before long, all our focus was aimed at the food, and we only took breaks to get more napkins and drink our pop. And discuss next weekend a little.

Alvin was visiting for the second time, and Ben had worked on his future room all week. Officially, it was a guest room, of course. A place Alvin was going to help us decorate. There was no bed yet—because Ben knew Alvin would want as much of his old furniture as possible—but we’d found two small fish tanks for cheap. Ben had also fixed up an old desk, and he’d bought a desk chair. Same kind Alvin already had.

Ben’s hope was to ask for Alvin’s advice on a color for the walls, because the kid loved blue, but they weren’t allowed to paint the walls at Elsie’s place. So maybe that would sway Alvin just a bit.

“Can I meet Alvin?” Chip asked. He’d given up on holding his beef and was now dipping his face into it, taking bites from it. “How old is he?”

“He’s eighteen, and one day, yeah,” I replied with my mouth full. Fuck, this was good. Some of the best giardiniera I’d had. “You know how I don’t like people very much?”

“Ya, except for me and some people,” Chip said.

I nodded. “Alvin’s like that. He likes people, but too much noise is painful for him. He gets tired and worried.”

“Oh.” Chip probably didn’t get it, but I didn’t wanna tiptoe around the topic either. Bit by bit, he’d understand eventually. “I thought he was little like me, but he’s old like you. Eighteen is big. Mommy’s almost a hundred.”

Ben and I did our best to stifle our amusement.

“I see where he gets his math skills from,” he said under his breath.

“Hey, fuck you,” I laughed.

Chip gasped. “You said fu?—”

“Don’t even think about it,” I replied quickly.

This wasn’t my first rodeo.

“But if you can say it, then I can?—”

I shook my head. “No. You said it yourself, I’m eighteen—I’m a grown man. And your ma’s a hundred. When you turn eighteen, you can swear all you want.”

He scowled at me.

I mock-scowled right back.

“I’m gonna say a bad word,” he whispered. “Jagoff.”

Oh, but… “That’s fine.” I shrugged. “Jagoff ain’t really a bad word. Mommy just says so, and she’s a hundred years old.”

“You’re gonna milk this too much,” Ben chuckled. “Meanwhile, I’m gonna go find someone who’s at least in his thirties.”

The fuck he would. He earned the next scowl, and there was no mocking about it.

He puckered his lips at me.

Jagoff.

* * *

“Dad, I’m only gonna have five more,” Alvin said. “Stop me if I try to take extra.”

In other therapy news, Rose was teaching Alvin to set boundaries for himself, and it was affecting his intake of pretzel sticks and Nutella.

“I’ll stop you,” I promised. “In fact, return the bag to the kitchen.”

He nodded and rose from the desk chair. “That’s clever.” He took the Nutella with him too.

I wiped some sweat off my forehead and then bent down to drag the roller through the paint. A beat later, Trace was back with our water.

“Why was Alvin muttering to himself that he should’ve said ten instead of five?”

I grinned and accepted the glass. “He limited his pretzel obsession.”

“Unwise. It never works.” He shook his head and picked up his own roller.

I watched for a few seconds, because Trace Kalecki doing handyman work was my new fantasy come true. He had some blue paint on his jaw, his hands might as well belong to a Smurf, but he got the job done without streaks on the walls. That was all that mattered.

I chugged my water as he bent over again to get more paint.

“Enjoy the view while it lasts, hon. I gotta get to work in half an hour,” he said.

“Oh, I’m enjoying it.”

I was gonna spend the rest of my life with that ass.