No, just bored. Go snuggle up to Daddy.
Sighing, I tip my head back until it thumps against the wall. Admitting defeat, I go to my recent calls—which is almost entirely made up of calls to Nate—and press his name. He answers on the first ring, because I’m predictable and he knows exactly what he was doing.
“Don’t say it,” I warn him, because I’m pretty sure hearing the words Daddy Desmond will send me into anaphylactic shock.
“I won’t, I won’t.” He yawns, which sets me off in response. I play with the corner of my book, staring down at the shirtless man on the cover. “What are you doing?”
“I was going to read a little before bed.”
“I wish I could go to bed, but Vas is over and Atlas’ roomis right next to mine. I’m lying down on the couch because I don’t know what they’re doing in there.”
“Oh, I see how it is. Vas gets privacy, and I get Daddy Desmond jokes.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I groan. Nate cracks up laughing.
“You’re so red right now,” he comments as though he’s in the room and can see that yes, my face is on fire.
“What’s Marcos up to tonight?” I ask, combatting the embarrassment with the tried and true method of changing the subject.
“Nothing. He’s at his place.” He pauses, jaw popping as he yawns again. “Practice ran super late, though, and I try to spend one night a week at my house and not his.”
“Why?”
“Just to prove that I can,” Nate replies stoutly, making me laugh. “I’m an independent man, Micky Mouse. I can go to bed without a kiss goodnight.”
“Can you?” I ask, amused.
“Dude, no. I don’t want to be an independent man, I want Marcos to put a ring on it.”
I snort so violently, I throw myself into a coughing fit. Nate laughs as though I’m not fighting for my life.
“Jesus,” I say on a gasp, “I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”
“You’re welcome.” He groans dramatically, fabric rustling in the background as though he’s leveraging himself up off the couch. “I really do need to go to bed though, I’m tired as hell. You coming to the game this weekend?”
“Yeah, probably.” I perk up a little bit, thinking that maybe I could go with Parker. Desmond said he’s not super into hockey, but that he had fun the time he sat withAnthony. “Maybe I’ll see if Parker wants to go, so Desmond doesn’t have to get a babysitter.”
“Daddy Micky,” Nate comments. He’s mid-laugh when I hang up on him.
Deliberately, I count down thirty seconds in my head. Heart racing, I open up our text message thread.
Jack
I’m sorry I hung up on you.
Nate
I’m honestly impressed. Who are you and what have you done with my Micky??
Jack
I’ve never hung up on someone before.
Figured you were safe to practice on.
Also, you deserved it.
Nate
Night, Micky Mouse. Talk to you tomorrow.
