Harrison curled his arm around Jett’s waist, like he instinctively knew Jett was upset. “There’s no intruding. The house is yours from now until you want to leave. Jett had a separate guest house built for his dad last year that’s private, but nearby, so we’ll be fine there. We agreed that you guys should be as close to the rehabilitation building as possible when you started making plans with Jett to visit.”
That would divide their groups in a way that wasn’t overwhelming, but Quinn still felt awful for taking over the Killinger household. He had to remind himself that these guys—including everyone in the chat group—were like family now. He never thought he would find a family bigger than the one he’d built with Eren and Esme, but this cluster of foolish hockey boys kept proving him wrong every single day.
“Thank you—and I mean it,” said Quinn. He wasn’t a huggy person, but he opened his arms anyway and gestured the four of them closer. The hugs were a little too tight, and Harrison, who was almost as tall as August, teased him by lifting him off his feet, but it wasnice.
“I’m serious,” Quinn said, jabbing a finger into Niko’s chest. “Go. I’ll take care of him and Eren, and we’ll see you tonight or in a few weeks. If any of you die or get injured, I’ll kill you.”
Nollan and Niko were hesitant to leave, but Harrison swung an arm over each of their shoulders and began guiding them down the hall.
Jett waved one more time and paused before he followed his husband. “I doubt you and August are the nosy type,” he said, handing Quinn a ring of keys. “But just in case, stay away from the locked trunk in the closet. That’s where we keep all the sex toys.”
Quinn pinched his eyes shut and sighed. “Thanks for the heads up, Jett.”
“No problem, boss!” Jett saluted him goodbye and jogged after the other three, who were about to disappear around the corner.
Now that he had a plan and had secured the keys, Quinn felt more confident when he entered August’s room and saw him lying on the bed. It still hurt to see the man he loved wearing a hospital robe with his right leg in a brace, but he steeled his nerves and went to August’s side.
“Quinn…” August lifted his hand to the ceiling, like he was greeting Quinn in the sky. “You were gone for so long. They kept trying to take our sex ribbon off, but I wouldn’t let them.”
Oh. August wasn’t talking to the Quinn in the ceiling; he was showing off the bands of silk still tied to his arm.
“It’s not a sex ribbon,” said Quinn. There was enough space on August’s left side for Quinn to fit next to him, so he carefully got into the bed and put an arm across August’s chest, tucking his head on a broad shoulder. “How are you doing?”
August snorted and lowered his hand, settling it on Quinn’s ass. “I’m high as hell, and my nipples are tingling, but the nurse said that was cool, so I guess I’m great.”
Quinn pressed a hand to his mouth to stop his laughter, but his jerking shoulders gave him away.
“Not funny,” August groaned, squeezing Quinn’s ass in retaliation. “I wanted to have a date with you tonight. I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend, and then I was going to blow you in the restaurant bathroom and win you a cup. In that order.”
Quinn wasn’t sure what other order there was, but it had to be the drugs talking.
“That’s funny,” said Quinn. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“To blow you in the bathroom?” August said, rolling his head to the side and bumping it against Quinn’s. “I’m getting good at it, right? I could seriously cum in my pants just from sucking you off sometimes.”
Quinn’s face burned as he pushed himself up so he could look August in the eyes. “No, I wasn’t going to ask for a blowjob, and yes, you’re getting good at them. But I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend during the date so you could be motivated to kick Jett’s ass tonight.”
August whipped out his ridiculously effective pout, and his hand slid upward to rest on Quinn’s lower back. “You were? Shit…why are we here then? Let’s go to the restaurant so I can say yes.”
Quinn chuckled and cupped August’s face in his hand. The stubble of his playoff beard looked good, even if August complained that he couldn’t grow it long enough. “Just say yes now,” Quinn told him. “The restaurant isn’t a critical part of the equation.”
August nodded and gave him a dopey smile. “Quinn Harlow, will you marry me?”
Pulse stuttering, Quinn dropped his face onto August’s chest to hide how red his cheeks were. “You aresofucking high.”
“That wasn’t a no.”
“Shut up.”
They laughed, and Quinn took a moment to breathe in August’s scent. His aftershave was almost gone because of the sweating during practice and being cleaned up at the hospital, but it was there.
Maybe he was having an overreaction to the situation, but he was so happy that August wasn’t seriously hurt, and he was evenlaughing. Sure, surgery was scary, but it sounded like August would make a full recovery, and Quinn was so grateful that was the worst of it.
He picked himself off August’s chest and looked into his icy-blue eyes, fluttering his lashes in a way he knew would keep the man’s attention. “August Snow, will you be my boyfriend?”
August touched a hand to his chest and then lifted it to press against Quinn’s racing heart.
“I’ve been waiting ten years to answer this question. So, yes, Quinn. Yes.”
