Page 40 of Like the Season
Chapter Twelve
Caleb fought the urge to bounce in his seat like a kid as the plane made its final approach to Portland. This week had sucked, and their family leisure weekend had turned into a work weekend.
Worth it.
Totally.
He’d even driven Boyd’s car to the airport at the man’s suggestion because it was larger and would be more comfortable for Ella to ride home in. Caleb couldn’t wait to turn his phone on when they landed, to find out where Boyd awaited him, to find out if Ella had been discharged yet.
To see if the baby was okay.
Yes, his life had taken a seismic shift. The plans he and Boyd originally thought would happen had changed, and changed again now.
He didn’t care.
They had a family—a good, loving, accepting family, not the Dumpster hellfire he’d grown up in. And he still hadn’t heard anything from his family, which he was beginning to look at as a total win.
As soon as the plane finally touched down, he switched his phone on and stared at it, awaiting his text messages. It was the last one he was most interested in.
Waiting just outside security area. Love you.
He quickly texted him back.
On ground, see you soon. Love you, Sir.
Boyd loved him for who he was. Despite what others might think were strict demands on him in some ways, they were all demands Caleb felt perfectly fine with. He loved being Boyd’s slave, because he loved Boyd.
He never thought he wasn’t “enough” for Boyd. Boyd wasn’t constantly trying to change him or remake him.
He’d felt far more freedom as Boyd’s slave than he ever had while growing up, or even after moving out of his parents’ home.
Being seated near the middle of the cabin, Caleb had to wait what felt like forever before he could get out, grab his carryons, and head for the door. On the jetway, he wanted to stampede over a couple of slowpokes who were in his way.
At least he hadn’t checked any bags. After the developments of last night, he’d left everything except his tablet behind and used his carryons for what he’d need that weekend. That way, Ella could check a bag in his name for the flight back to Florida on Sunday.
Following the signs, he found his way out to the main terminal, and there stood Boyd, leaning against a column. He practically threw himself at the man, relishing his embrace, in no hurry to move after a week apart.
“Hello, boy,” Boyd whispered against the top of his head. “I missed you so much.”
He squeezed Boyd tighter. “I missed you, too, Daddy,” he whispered. He deeply inhaled, comforted to have the man back in his arms.
“Any checked bags?”
“No, Sir.”
Boyd patted his back and Caleb finally looked up into his smiling face. “Let’s go out to the car.” He leaned in for a quick, public-appropriate kiss.
Out in the car, once they were both inside, Boyd pulled him into his arms for a longer, deeper kiss that left Caleb wanting to blow him right there.
“Thank you for not saying, ‘Fuck this shit,’ and bailing. I wouldn’t blame you for it.”
“Never. You’re stuck with me, Sir.”
“Did your parents give you any hassles?”
“Radio silence from them.”
“So she probably didn’t tell your dad.”
