31. Ethan

CHAPTER 31

ETHAN

Ethan would have been content to sit in front of his fire and mope all night. Mickey was working and probably wasn't going to text him back anyway. And yet, Ethan couldn't stand to be away from his phone, just in case. It had been no time at all since Ethan and Mickey had been tangled together, happy. Sated. But it felt like an eternity had passed since then. It was dramatic, and he knew it, but he couldn't help it.

The universe didn't intend to let Ethan mope all night, after all. A set of footfalls, several by the sound of it, banged up his front steps, stomping to kick the snow off their boots. At first, Ethan expected his kids, but when the door opened, it was their boyfriends who spilled into Ethan's house, letting themselves in as if they owned the place.

Ethan wasn't mad. Something like relief tugged at his frown, coaxing it into a smile. Nash and Damon appeared first, carrying boxes of pizza. Spencer and Milo brought up the rear. Spencer set one case of beer on the coffee table before slipping into the kitchen to put the others away. Milo quickly claimed a spot on the couch and shot Ethan a friendly smile.

Milo was an unexpected addition to Colby's life, but not an unwelcome one. He brought so much happiness to Colby's life and Ethan was glad that they'd found each other. He fit right in with the rest of the family, stepping into the big brother role with Taylor and playing mediator between Colby and Jonah, who still clashed from time to time despite being adults.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you, but…" Ethan let the question dangle.

"But what are we doing here?" Nash set down the stack of pizza boxes and flipped the top one open. "We're just following orders. You'll have to ask your kids."

Ethan swiveled his body to put the guitar back on its stand. "I thought I just did."

He took a beer from Damon and twisted the cap off.

"Awww, do you mean it?" Milo looked at Ethan with such hope in his eyes, that even if he didn't feel like these were his kids, he'd have said yes anyway.

"Of course I mean it." Ethan grabbed a slice of pepperoni. Having people around made him feel instantly better. Not all the way, because he still didn't know what was going on with Mickey, but at least he couldn't be accused of moping anymore.

Milo grabbed a beer and cracked it open. With a somber, watery-eyed expression, he held it out and Ethan brought his up to clink the bottles together. From what Ethan knew, Milo didn't have much in the way of family. Hell, neither did Ethan. He had his kids, and now their partners too.

"Seriously, though, not that I'm not grateful for the company, but what are you doing?"

"I think we're having pizza and beer with our adopted dad," Spencer said from his perch on the couch.

"Not adopted dad. Father-in-law," Nash said in a very matter-of-fact way. "If he was our adopted dad, then we'd all be dating our adopted brothers."

"There's a whole category of porn like that," Damon added, hiding a grin behind his beer.

"Jesus, Damon," Nash admonished. "No need to air your kinks. It's not show and tell."

Nash's statement made Milo cough and choke on his beer. Spencer gently patted him on the back and asked if he was okay. The other two didn't seem to notice what was going on, because they kept going as if nothing was happening.

Damon's face turned bright red and he knocked his shoulder into Nash's. "You're an asshole."

"And you're a pervert," Nash lobbed back.

"We'd tell you why we're here, but we don't know," Spencer told Ethan. "They just said to come over with pizza and beer and that they'd be along soon."

"This has Taylor written all over it," Ethan thought out loud. It reminded him of the sneaky way Taylor had smuggled more plants into his house. "And, by the way…" He cut his gaze over to Nash and Damon. "No more plants or I'll change my locks."

Their only response was to grin at him.

"Good God. There's no stopping him, is there?" Ethan deflated a little, foreseeing many plants in his future.

"Growing shit is his super power," Damon said. "And he takes his responsibility very seriously."

Ethan had finished his beer and was reaching for a third slice of pizza when he heard another group of footsteps. The door swung open and his kids piled into the house. As usual, Colby and Taylor were bickering animatedly with hand gestures that cut through the air, distracting Ethan so much that he almost didn't notice that four people entered the house. Not three.

Mickey looked sheepish. Small. His shoulders were curled forward like he was trying to be smaller. Taylor nudged him and said something, then Mickey was shrugging out of his jacket and Taylor was herding him into the living room like a collie herding a stray sheep back into the herd.

"Look who we bumped into," Taylor crowed happily, draping himself across Damon's lap.

"Bumped into?" Ethan raised an eyebrow at Taylor.

"Yeah, totally accidentally and shit."

"You're not in trouble for leaving work, are you?" Ethan asked.

Mickey shook his head. "Shane gave me the night off." He skirted around the edge of the room, carefully making his way through the over-stuffed living room until he was near the fireplace in his usual spot. Colby plucked a beer out of the case and handed it to Milo.

Ethan had no idea what he was supposed to do now. Everyone was here, and he was glad they were, but now that they were, he wanted them to go away. All of them except for Mickey. Mickey, he wanted to keep. He wanted to tuck him away into bed and curl up next to him and just breathe him in. Or maybe he'd strip him bare in front of the fire and—nope, not going there while he was sitting in a room with all his kids.

Setting his empty down, Ethan grabbed his guitar instead of another beer. He thought of Sarah the way he always did when he played a CCR song, but the thought this time wasn't a memory. It was the idea that she'd be happy for him. If somehow she knew that he'd found someone to love again, someone that made him feel again, she'd be overjoyed.

He cut off the CCR song and switched to one he seldom played. "Foolish Games" had been her favorite song, once upon a time. When he started to play it, his boys looked over at him and he could feel their shock radiate toward him. And when that song was done, without pause he played another. Conversation around him ebbed and flowed and Ethan wasn't aware of much of anything. Just the strings biting into his calloused fingers and the feeling of family buzzing deep in his chest.

And Mickey. He was aware of him. Always was. Even in the beginning when he'd tried not to be. Mickey sat nursing his beer, slowly eating a couple of slices of pizza like he knew he needed food, but wasn't hungry and had to make himself eat. Ethan wanted to wrap him up in his arms and kiss him until the shadows left his eyes again.

He played until his fingers hurt and his mouth was dry. He put his guitar to the side and reached for another beer. He was glad that his kids were here, trying and failing to be subtle about why they were here. Clearly they had decided to play Mister Fix-it and bring Mickey here so they could talk, so Mickey could see how accepted he was by them. Which was important to Ethan and Mickey both. It wouldn't magically remedy whatever had been ruffled between them, but Ethan was sure that it had helped Mickey feel accepted.

Not everyone would be okay with their dad falling for someone half his age. Someone their own age, in fact. But here were his kids, laughing and talking, telling Mickey stories from their childhood. Trying to one-up each other by telling the most embarrassing ones they could think of.

And then they were on their feet and shrugging into coats. Picking up empty pizza boxes and beer bottles. Tucking their mess away until there was only the beer Mickey was holding and not drinking and whatever pizza they'd left in his fridge.

Taylor was the last to leave. "I've got the diner covered tomorrow morning, Dad. Sleep in. Or something." He threw him a knowing glance. Before Ethan could protest, Taylor was out the door and the house fell into an eerie silence.

"So…" Mickey said after a few awkward minutes. Setting his beer down, he rubbed his hands on his thighs. Ethan waited for him to say something else, but the silence stretched, growing bigger and more imposing by the second.

"I'm glad you're here," Ethan said. Starting with the most basic truth seemed like a good idea. But Mickey flinched.

"I'm sorry I was avoiding you."

"I wish I understood why."

Mickey laughed, a quiet brittle thing tinged with sadness and self-recrimination. "Honestly, me too."

"It's okay to be overwhelmed. I just wish you'd let me help you."

"All you do is help me." Mickey met Ethan's gaze with round, water-filled eyes. The tears didn't fall, though, and Mickey managed to blink them back. "Ever since I met you, ever since that night I came into the diner, that's all you've done. My life has felt like one crisis after another. And I guess my fight or flight instincts kicked in when Mom showed up here unannounced. Again."

Mickey reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red piece of plastic. He rubbed it between his finger and thumb for a few moments before Ethan realized it was a guitar pick. That very first one Ethan had given him. Mickey had it and carried it around in his pocket.

"You still have that?" Ethan marveled. He itched to get closer to Mickey.

Mickey looked up at him. "I keep it on me all the time. It—for a long time I thought, I knew, no one cared about me. Lance was—well, he never cared about me. He liked what I could do for him. What I could get him. He loved manipulating me." Mickey traced the edge of the pick then tucked it back into his pocket. "It reminds me that I have someone who cares."

"Mickey—"

He cut Ethan off with a shake of his head. "I don't want to talk about her tonight."

"You don't have to talk about her ever, if that's what you want. I'd never make you."

"I know." Mickey sighed.

Ethan finally had enough of the distance between them. He reached for Mickey, holding his hand out, waiting for him to take it. "Come here," Ethan said.

Mickey's hand was clammy but Ethan didn't care. Touching him soothed Ethan and he tugged him into his lap. Winding his arms around Mickey, he buried his face in the curve of Mickey's neck. Breathing deep, Ethan finally felt right for the first time since Mickey left.

The way that he needed this man in his life terrified him. At any minute, Mickey could decide that he could do better and he could leave. But Ethan trusted him not to. He trusted that Mickey had meant what he said when he'd assured Ethan that he wasn't too old for him. And none of his kids had voiced any issue with it. They'd done the opposite, in fact. Going to get Mickey and bring him over, bring him home, for Ethan to comfort had been their way of showing him that they were okay with the two of them being together.

Mickey settled into Ethan's lap. He wound his arms around Ethan's neck and held on tight. "Now what?" he whispered.

Now they'd stay together. Build a life. Soothe old wounds. Make new memories. Make love.

"Now, we enjoy being in love," Ethan said, before pressing open-mouthed kisses to Mickey's neck.

"I think I can do that."