Page 124 of On Thin Ice

“Yes, well, good news is not many people know who that is,” he said, chuckling under his breath. “It’s probably just my landscaper or kids selling Girl Scout Cookies.”

“That’s no kid,” Finn said, tilting his head as the knocking intensified again.

“Big doors, lots of sound,” Jacob said.

Finn looked at him again, and Jacob sighed. “I’m not getting out of going to see who it is, am I?”

Finn shook his head. “And when you do, bring a baseball bat or something.”

“Abaseball bat?”Jacob laughed, even though he wanted to cry about how unfair it was, as he slid out of his warm, soft bed with its gorgeous, naked occupant. “I can do one better than that.”

Which is how he ended up in only sweatpants and carrying a hockey stick to open the door.

It was not his landscaper. Or the Girl Scouts. Or a crazed fan, desperately wanting an autograph or a selfie at seven in the morning the day after Christmas.

It was Morgan, and he looked angry enough to spit nails.

“Shit,” Jacob said reflexively and closed the door in his face.

“What is it?”

Jacob glanced behind him, and sure enough, there was Finn. He hadn’t even bothered with sweatpants, only his briefs, but he had run downstairs to the gym to grab another of Jacob’s hockey sticks.

Because of course he had.

Jacob’s heart wanted to clench at how sweet, howthoughtfulthat was—and also how insanely fucking hot it was that Finn’s first instinct was to protect him—but he couldn’t do that now, because Morgan was standing right outside the door and had resumed his pounding and was now yelling.

He took a deep breath. “It’s your dad,” he said. Morgan’s voice was now loud enough that he could hear some of the words through the heavy wood of his door. Jacob caughtbetrayedandmy sonandfuck. The last one a whole bunch of times.

“Morgan ishere?” Finn’s face turned red and then white. His fist clenched around the hockey stick and Jacob didn’t miss that he hadn’t put it down yet.

Well, maybe theywouldhave to fight their way out of this one.

Morgan sounded pissed enough.

“Yes,” Jacob said. Pretending wasn’t going to make their Morgan-sized problem evaporate.

“And he knows.”

Jacob didn’t answer right away. Just listened. And yeah, it seemed inevitable, because there was a whole litany going now, ofhow dare you, you fucking backstabbing pedophile—that one was a little much, but Morgan was clearly worked up and nobody had ever said that Morgan Reynolds didn’t go overboard in the midst of a meltdown—andhe’s too young,andyou’re too old. Something additional about being too old to get it up, too, and Jacob almost smiled at that one.

Almost.

“Yeah, he knows,” Finn said heavily.

“How did he find out?” Jacob asked, mystified. They’d told almost nobody.

“Does it matter?”

“Well,yeah, it does,” Jacob said, though maybe not. Maybe it was just easier to contemplate how their boat was leaking than to consider how many different ways Morgan was going to attempt to kill him in the next five minutes.

“Positively,” Finn said, “we’re in your house and he’s not.”

“I don’t suppose he’s going to calm down the longer he’s out there,” Jacob said.

Suddenly the doorknob rattled, and they both jumped back.

“I know you’re in there,” Morgan yelled. “Come out and face me like a man.” The doorknob rattled again. “Or I’m coming in.”

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