Page 110 of Him
That’s when I snort, and Jamie looks up. “They’re pretty ridiculous, right?”
“I think they’re…” I have to swallow hard, because I’m so happy for him. “I think they’re great.”
He shrugs. “I spent my whole life trying to stand out from the crowd. I swear to God, I could announce I wanted to live my life as a transsexual vampire yeti, and they’d still say ‘Oh, Jamie. You’re so cute.’”
It’s a challenge for me to swallow again, but this time because of the massive lump obstructing my throat.
As always, Jamie senses my distress. This man knows me, inside and out. He always has. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…” I speak past the lump. “You’re really lucky, Canning. Your family loves you. I mean, they really, truly love you, and not just because you’re related by blood and they have to love you.”
His brown eyes soften. I know he’s thinking about my family, but I don’t give him the chance to make excuses for my folks.
“My mother is a trophy wife,” I say roughly. “And I’m a trophy son. Neither one of my parents ever saw me as anything more than that, and they never will. It…sucks.”
Jamie tugs me toward him. “Yeah, it sucks,” he agrees. “But here’s the thing about family, Ryan…blood doesn’t mean shit. You just need to surround yourself with people who do love you, and they become your family.”
I sink down on the couch beside him, the plastic crinkling beneath my boxers. He slings one muscular arm around me, then brushes his lips over my temple. “I’m your family, babe.” He takes the phone from my hand and taps the screen. “And these crazy maniacs? They’ll be your family too if you let them. I mean, they’ll fucking drive you bananas sometimes, but trust me when I say it’s totally worth it.”
I believe him. “I can’t wait to meet them,” I say softly.
His mouth travels along the edge of my jaw before hovering over my lips. “They’re going to love you.” He kisses me, slow and sweet. “I love you.”
I rub the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip. “Loved you every summer since I was thirteen years old. Love you even more now.”
Our lips are millimeters from meeting again when he says, “I need to know something, and you have to promise to be honest.”
“I’m always honest with you,” I protest.
“Good. I’m holding you to that.” Those gorgeous brown eyes gleam. “Did you throw the shootout?”
I know exactly which shootout he’s referring to. My lips quiver, so I press them together to keep from grinning.
“Well?”
I shrug.
“Wesley…” There’s a warning note in his voice now. “Tell me what happened during that shootout.”
“Well.” I hesitate. “I really don’t know. I was terrified to win, because I knew I’d have to let you off the hook. And I was terrified of losing, because I wanted to touch you so bad, and I was afraid you’d figure that out.”
His face is full of sympathy, but I don’t need it anymore. It’s water under the bridge now. I lean closer and kiss him on the nose. “So, those last two shots? I hardly remember what happened. I was all—Jesus, take the wheel!”
Jamie laughs at me. And then he kisses me. I lock my hands at the nape of his neck and tug him closer. Warm skin slides against mine, and I know I’m home.
Because home is with him.
EPILOGUE
Wes
Thanksgiving
“Ryan Theodore Wesley! Put that knife down this instant!”
I freeze like an ice sculpture as Jamie’s mother barrels toward me, one hand planted on her hip, the other pointing to the chef’s knife in my hand.
“Who taught you how to chop onions?” she demands.
