Page 41 of Mr. Frosty Pants
Joel had already had more to drink than he normally had in a month, preferring to avoid the substance that had turned his father so mean, though there was no evidence it did the same to him. Still, he could have a soda while Casey had a beer. “Sure. But I pay.” He didn’t know how, but he would.
“Let me get it.”
“No. I’m paying. It’s final.”
Casey lifted his hands in surrender, and then grabbed Joel tightly so he wouldn’t fall on the slippery ice. “Okay, you win. Let’s go.”
Joel leaned against Casey as they worked their way back to the exit of the rink. His feet threatened to shoot out from under him the whole way, but Casey’s solid presence reassured him. The familiar scent of Casey’s skin and laundry detergent warmed him more than his jean jacket or the cheery lights and music.
Casey’s strong arm around his middle woke a strange need in him, something he’d ignored for a long time: a need to be cared for, to be protected. It swelled in him, huge and uncomfortable, pressing at his skin and threatening to burst through in a sudden, inexplicable wail. He shivered hard, cold terror creeping into his gut.
He swallowed again, shoving down the lump in his throat, and stumbled off the ramp from the rink, desperate to get away from Casey’s touch before he did something stupid like let himself need it or, worse, pretend he could get used to it. He hurried to a bench and sat quickly, hoping Casey would keep his distance until he could regain his equilibrium.
Casey didn’t seem to notice Joel’s reaction as he dropped down beside him and started to casually remove his skates. Joel flipped his collar up on his jean jacket to hide his face as he bent down to work at the laces that had somehow become knotted. He took slow breaths, annoyed to find his fingers shaking again.
“Hey, about your dad—”
“Not now,” Joel said. “Drinks first.”
Casey squeezed Joel’s shoulder reassuringly and then went back to removing his own pair of skates.
It was a date and nothing more. If he got another kiss from Casey, that would be enough—more than he ever expected to get anyway. Anything else was as impossible as it had ever been. He knew that, and he didn’t really need for it to be anything other than what it was. A holiday fling was plenty.
Maybe when all was said and done, if he didn’t let himself hope with Casey, he’d finally be able to move on. Though, honestly, deep down, he didn’t want to. In the most secret part of himself, he knew he’d given his heart to Casey forever ago, and he had no idea how he’d ever take it back.
Once again, being honest was something he didn’t plan to be.
He’d let Casey have this fling and give himself the gift of having the man he’d never thought he’d be with. It’d be a Christmas present to himself. Surely he deserved that much.
Maybe they both did.
And then, when it was over and Casey had returned to New York, he’d go back to his regular life. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’d have memories to savor at least. And this time, he wouldn’t blame Casey when he left. This time, he’d let him go with grace.
The knot came undone, and he quickly unlaced his skates. Tugging them off his feet was harder than he anticipated.
In the end, Casey had to help pull them free, laughing as he wrestled with them. “Some things go on easier than they come off!”
“Like Band-Aids,” Joel muttered.
And you.
Chapter Thirteen
Preservation Pub overlookedMarket Square and boasted Knoxville’s only rooftop bar. Once upon a time, Joel had played a few shows with local bands in the downstairs pub, but he’d always preferred the open-air space above. The snow from earlier had turned into the occasional flurry, but there was almost no accumulation, so everyone was bundled up in their coats on the roof, enjoying their liquor and beer.
Serendipitously, there was an open table giving a great view of the square, and Joel steered Casey into it, taking hold of his elbow familiarly. The overhead twinkle lights strung between the buildings on either side lent a glow to Casey’s skin and hair, making him even more handsome than usual.
As Joel settled in the seat across from him with his soda, he smiled gently, remembering yet again the night Casey kissed the Virgin Mary figurine. “Do you remember Mr. Maples? I ordered a set of Nativity Blow Molds like his to sell in the store.”
“I saw.” Casey’s eyes shone as he sipped his pale ale. “Do you make out with the pretty Mary when everyone’s gone home at night? Or is it handsome Joseph for you?”
Joel laughed, tilting his head back and letting the giddy anxiety he’d been holding back rush through his veins.
“Oh, so you do.” Casey laughed too, leaning closer.
“No, I’m afraid you still have the sole honor of having kissed the Mother of God.”
Casey took another drink of his beer, lips and eyes curved with his smile. “I was an idiot.”
