Page 12 of The Best Parts of Him
Ryland turned toward him, his brows pulled low. “Did he hurt you?”
“He was a bully. Verbally abusive. Mean. The kind of guy who’d find fault with perfection.” A moth flew past Dabbs’ face. “I had a friend from school over once, and while he was there, my dad went apeshit over a sand pail that my youngest sister had left out. Totally lost it. Called my sister lazy and told her she was old enough to put away her own toys. Accused my mom of purposefully leaving it out for him to trip over. My friend told a bunch of the other kids at school what had happened, and none of them wanted to come over after that—not that I could blame them.”
“Sounds like a swell guy, your dad.” Ryland’s sarcasm was unmistakable. “Are you still in touch?”
“No. He once told me that if I wasn’t a top three overall draft pick, what was the point? I blocked his number after that.”
“Probably a smart move for your mental health.”
They lapsed into silence for several moments, the crickets chirping loudly around them. Hanging his head back, Dabbs looked up at a sky silvered with stars.
He hadn’t thought about Dimitri in years and had never quite forgiven him for telling all of their school friends that his dad was—to quote Dimitri—“so scary.” It had made Dabbs the oddball among his friends with their perfect home lives, and he’d never quite fit in with them after that.
Ryland mimicked Dabbs’ position, elbows on the stair behind them and legs kicked out. Their shoulders brushed, sending a flurry of goosebumps up Dabbs’ arms.
“You mentioned sisters,” Ryland said. “How many?”
“Two. Both younger.”
“So you’re the oldest of three? I’m the youngest of three. Do you know what that means?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“It means we belong together. Like cupcakes and sprinkles.”
“Oh yeah?” Dabbs chuckled. “Says who?”
Ryland smiled winningly. “Me.”
Dabbs rose with a grunt, amused despite himself, and held his hands out to Ryland. “It’s not a good idea.”
Ryland placed his hands in his. “Why not?”
“We play for different teams,” Dabbs said, pulling him up.
“So?”
“So . . . ” He faltered, briefly lost for words as Ryland’s chest collided with his. He couldn’t bring himself to step back. “We’d never see each other.”
Ryland’s eyebrow went up. “That’s your main concern? I know plenty of hockey players in long-distance relationships with their partners. You probably do too.”
“We’re also . . . too different.”
Cocking his head, Ryland regarded him for a long moment. “You think so? Hm. I’ll just have to prove otherwise. Now come on. Let’s go back to bed. My nieces will be up at seven regardless of whether we’ve had a good night’s sleep or not.” He sauntered away, an extra sway to his hips.
Dabbs hesitated. “I really don’t want to get back in that tent.”
“Damn.” Ryland paused. “Now that you mention it, neither do I.”
“We could use one of the other tents?”
“But the sleeping bags are all in the main one. Fuck it. Let’s go inside and sleep in an actual bed. At least my back will thank me in the morning.” He strolled by Dabbs with a teasing grin and climbed the porch steps. “My bed’s big enough for two.”
Dabbs shook his head. “You don’t let up, do you? I’ll take the couch.”
“Spoilsport.” Ryland pushed the front door open, which his parents had kept unlocked in case anybody needed a real restroom in the middle of the night. “At least use Jason’s bed,” Ryland said quietly. “The couch is way too short for you.”
Since he had a point, Dabbs followed him through the darkened living room and up the stairs, several of which creaked under their feet. In the upstairs hallway, a nightlight illuminated their path to the bedroom at the end of the hall.
