Page 123 of Give Me What You Will

Shit.

“I will be attending his title fight in Vegas next month. I expect an introduction then. Are we understood?”

He nodded, wondering how the hell Caz would react to being introduced to Thaddeus Kozlov of the Zokone gang.

“How would you like me to introduce you?” he asked.

Kozlov smiled, “As your friend. Because I do not wish to make you or your partner my enemy.”

Chapter 23

Two Months Later

Sam gripped the box, feeling his heart thrum with excitement.

They had finally finished setting up the house with Frankie’s things, and the last of the boxes had been unpacked. It had taken longer than anticipated because Sam had to pick up a few extra shifts due to Walsh’s temporary leave, and Frankie had to fly back to Boston a few times to finalize the paperwork for Joel and sell his house.

Frankie’s mom had been surprisingly difficult, too, refusing to let her only son move to LA without her. But luckily for them, Tony helped calm her down by bringing the twins over to her house often over the past month. Frankie was worried about her but knew that they had plenty of family to look out for her. And they had also agreed to come back for every holiday for the next two years to pacify her.

Lou had recovered well after his fall, and Frankie had told him point-blank that he was moving in with Sam because they were in love, and they never planned on visiting him again. Before the bastard had time to process the shock, Frankie had left without a word.

Frankie later told Sam that he didn’t want his father to have the last word. He didn’t want to hear his anger or shame about his choices because he didn’t matter anymore. Sam was proud of him for finally standing up to his father.

Sam, too, finally did something about his mom. He had arranged for social services to check on her, and had scheduled a house cleaner to come by twice a month. Whether she opened the door to let them in was up to her.

Sam was planning a housewarming party for next month and had already invited everyone from work, excited for them to see that he was finally happy. Frankie had invited over a few new friends he'd made as Caz’s coach, as well as Caz himself, who was currently on a winning streak, starting with his title fight win in Vegas.

Frankie had been nervous as hell to fulfill his agreement with Thaddeus Kozlov, but reported back to Sam that the introduction, though tense, went over fairly well. Relieved, Sam was grateful that Kozlov hadn’t reached out to them since, and he appeared to be a man of his word, with no intention of retaliating against them. But according to Frankie, Kozlov seemed a little fixated on Caz. They both agreed to keep an eye on the young fighter to make sure he stayed safe.

The box shifted slightly in his hands, bringing him out of his thoughts as he braced it against himself, smiling.

He hadn’t anticipated that life could feel this sweet, this good again, especially after a year of uncertainty and loss. His days were full of love, warmth, hard muscly hugs, and laughter. And sex. So much sex that he was beginning to wonder if they had a problem.

A fucking fantastic problem, he thought as he shifted the box carefully in his arms.

This would be their last box to unpack. Tonight they had John and Wyatt’s engagement party at the Bull Horn. He had been looking forward to it. Getting to cut loose, dance, and celebrate true love, because that was what John and Wyatt had, and now what he had with Frankie.

He found Frankie measuring the wall in the office, preparing to install a bookshelf, pencil in hand, black hair draped over his forehead, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“One last box,” he said upon entering.

Frankie snorted, “Never thought uprooting my entire life would require a million fuckin’ boxes.”

“This one feels light at least,” he replied, setting it down at Frankie’s feet.

Frankie slipped the pencil behind his ear, glancing at it, and frowned when it jostled on its own. His eyes snapped to his.

Sam leaned against the doorframe, casually folded his arms over his chest, and smiled. “Well?”

He opened the top folds of the box, and a brown and white puppy popped its head out. Frankie gaped, dropping to his knees instantly and gathering the pit bull puppy into his strong arms, melting like ice cream left out in the sun.

Sam’s throat clenched with emotion. “I figured we could name her Cali, or maybe Boston,” he said gruffly.

“Cali,” Frankie murmured, eyes misting. “She’s perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” Frankie choked out. “Come here.”