Page 143 of Icing on the Cake

“Well, yeah. It’s a refreshing change from the untouchable hockey god persona everyone bestows on you back at BSU.”

Elliot shifts, lifting one leg to straddle my lap. My breath catches in my throat as he settles his weight on me. His warm brown eyes soften as they gaze into mine.

“Gerard Anthony Gunnarson.”Gosh, if him full naming me isn’t hot as sin.“You are the most ridiculous, adorable, infuriating man I’ve ever met. And I’m glad that I did—meet you.”

“You mean that?” I hate how childish I sound, but I desperately need to hear his answer.

Elliot nods, his fingers playing with the short hairsat the nape of my neck. Goosebumps prickle my skin at his touch. “Of course I do. I love seeing the parts of your life I wasn’t around for.”

I tighten my arms around him as emotion clogs my throat. “Really? Even the time when I cried on Santa’s lap or made mud pies in the backyard…and then ate them?”

Elliot throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, Gerard. Yes. I love seeing and knowing all there is about the man I’m falling for, mud pies and all.”

He kisses me, showing me how much I mean to him. I quickly lose myself in the taste of Elliot, in the comfort of his body pressed against me and his fingers tangling in my hair. The rest of the world doesn’t matter right now.

A loud cough shatters the spell, and Elliot and I spring apart like scaredy cats.

I whip my head around to see my dad standing in the doorway with a new bottle of wine and a mile-wide grin. “Don’t stop on my account, boys. I can always go back to the cellar and search for that bottle of ’96 Bordeaux.”

I groan, burying my flaming face in Elliot’s neck as he shakes with silent laughter.

“That won’t be necessary, Gavin. I think I’m going to call it a night.” Dad chuckles and takes a seat as Elliot gets off my lap and heads for the stairs. “You coming?”

“In a few minutes. I want to talk to my dad about something.”

Nodding, Elliot disappears up the stairs to my bedroom, and I face my dad, who studies me from over the rim of his wine glass.

“I like him,” Dad says simply. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders. Sharp as a tack. And he cares about you a great deal.”

My smile widens. “I like him too, Dad. A lot. More than I’ve ever liked anyone before.”

It feels good to say it out loud. To acknowledge these feelings that have been growing inside me since I first saw Elliot in the library. It’s scary, like when you’re standing at the top of a ski jump with your heart pounding and adrenaline surging throughyour veins. But it’s also so amazingly exciting that I want to leap with my eyes closed.

Dad reaches over and claps a hand on my knee. “I’m happy for you, son. Truly. It’s about damn time you found someone who makes you light up like this.”

I duck my head. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”

We sit in silence, listening to the crackle of the fireplace and the distant sound of Mom’s off-key singing as she puts Lily to bed.

Dad leans forward, and his expression turns serious. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Gerard? Is everything okay?”

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just…Elliot mentioned something to me yesterday, and it’s been bothering me ever since.”

Dad frowns, concern etching lines into his smooth forehead. “What is it?”

“As we came into town, a bunch of people came up to see me. They were standoffish with Elliot, and he said it’s because he’s Hispanic.”

The words taste bitter on my tongue, and anger and disbelief war in my gut. I can’t comprehend how anyone could look at Elliot, with his kind eyes and brilliant mind, and see anything other than a wonderful human being.

Dad leans back in his chair and runs a hand down his face. He suddenly appears much older than his forty-two years.

“I wish I could say I’m surprised, but the truth is, Elk Valley has always been a bit…closed-minded. Set in its ways. Change doesn’t come easy to folks around here.”

I shake my head, frustration simmering under my skin. “But that’s not right, Dad. Elliot doesn’t deserve to be treated like an outcast. He’s one of the smartest, most talented people I know. He should be celebrated, not shunned.”

“I agree with you, son. Wholeheartedly. But you have to understand that a lot of people here have lived in this town theirwhole lives. They haven’t experienced other places or met people who don’t all look or think the same.”

I nod, absorbing my dad’s words. It’s difficult to grasp that the town where I grew up, the place filled with cherished memories, could also hold such narrow-minded views.

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