Pucking Ever After(Jacksonville Rays, #2.5)

by Emily Rath

“Marsh! Show Tiffany our babies,” Caleb calls. “Show her Tuo.”

“And I’m married to my shexy hockey man,” Caleb calls. “I would be married to Marsh too, but he only loves Rachel. Noooo love left for Caleb. He won’t even touch me, Tiffany. Can you believe that?” I glance over sharply at him.

“He’sh just sho beaui’ful…and sho shmart...and sho fucking shexy. But I can’t make him want me—” His voice breaks and my eyes go wide to see that he’s crying.

Stepping around Tiffany, I move to his side, my hands making contact on his hip and his elbow as I lower my face towards him. “Aarre, don’t cry.” Caleb drops his hand down, wrapping it around my waist as he smiles up at me through his tears.

He’s still gazing up at me like I hung the stars and moon. “I wan’ed you sho bad, Marsh. Hey—can we shtop for ice cream on the way home?”

His face drops forward and he inhales, his nose brushing the fabric of my t-shirt over my stomach. “Fuck, I wanna live inshide your shkin.” “Okay, Aarre,” I say, pulling away from him with a smile.

“Let’s just get you upstanding, joo?” He laughs. “Joo. Tha’ means ‘yesh’ in Finnish, Tiffany,” he says at her. “Marsh ish Finnish. And Finnish ish shooo hard, Tiffany. You have no idea—”

“You’re welcome to hang out here a little longer. Once he’s ready, you can go.” “I’m ready now,” he says, pushing up off the table and getting to his feet.

“Hey—” My hands hold him tight as I shift to his side, getting my left arm around his waist. “Put your arm around my shoulders, Aarre.” Caleb turns, wrapping his right arm around me, his grip firm, even as he sways.

“I like peppermint in my coffee. Tell her, Marsh.” “Yeah, he’s part Christmas elf,” I say, focusing on carrying half his weight as we walk.

“It’s sho shweet and shooo good. Hey, remember when Jake got me shome peppermint lube for my birthday and we—” “Oookay,” I say over him, squeezing his hand. “Say goodbye to the nice dentist, Caleb.”

“Up you get.” I open his door and help him into the truck. He climbs up my body, his hands all over me, knocking my hat off as he pulls himself inside the cab. “Seatbelt,” I say.

He whines, his arms limp at his sides as he rolls his head against the seat to look at me. “Can you just do this one thing for me? God.”

Swallowing my grin, I step up on the truck rail and lean over him, clicking his seatbelt in place. As I crowd his space, his hands reach out for me, pulling at my hips, stroking over my ribs. I go still and he groan...

“You smell so fucking good,” he says, his tone tinged with aching need. “Sometimes I jerk off using your body wash. I pretend the gel is you.” His hands slide back down my sides, gentle caress. “I rub your cum into m...

Taking a step back, I swallow a groan of frustration. A minute ago, this was charming, if a little annoying. Now it’s turning dangerous. He can’t say these things out loud and not mean them. It’s too cruel. And Caleb is never cruel to me.

So, he can’t mean them. He’s drugged. He’s not himself. My protective instincts flare, a flame burning bright. In this moment, he’s mine to comfort, mine to keep safe.

Inside the cab, Caleb presses his hand to the glass against mine. “I miss you already,” he shouts.

A laugh escapes me, and I shake my head. Shifting my fingers on the glass, I make the sign of the Vulcans. Caleb mirrors me, smiling like a loon. “Hey, Mars…” I lift a brow at him. “Live long and suck my dick.”

I snort, dropping my hand away from the glass. My broody Caleb is still in there somewhere, clawing his way to the surface t...

I’m the only one who truly appreciates listening to heavy metal outside of a gym, so Caleb finds the playlist Jake made for me called ‘Jake Approved.’

“I know,” I say, turning the song down a few clicks with a roll of my thumb on the steering wheel dial. “Noooo,” Caleb wails, his hands raised in alarm.

“Cay, what the fuck?” I bark at him. “You turned the song down,” he whines, throwing himself forward to adjust the volume dial. “This is our song, Mars. You can’t just turn it down. Are you fucking kidding me?”

The girly pop music blasts in the cab as he turns it back up far too loud. I glance down with a grimace and read the screen. “Since when is ‘Say Don’t Go’ our song?”

His face takes on a look of surprise that shifts to pure loathing as he glares at me. “If you diss Taylor to my fucking face right now, I will file for divorce so...

I fight a smile as I turn my attention back to the road. Now is not the time to remind him that we’re not legally married so his threats are empty. Besides,...

“Okay,” I soothe, reaching out a hand. He snatches for it like it’s a lifeline and he’s drowning. He weaves our fingers together, sighing in relief. His other hand wraps around our clasped hands as he sings the chorus. His voice is deep and melodic as he harmonizes with her.

My eyes narrow as I piece together the lyrics. She sings of a love unrequited, a love full of longing and hopeful waiting, even as the words speak of growing resentment and frustration. This is our song? Is this how Caleb feels about me?

“Oh fuck, here comes the bridge,” he shouts, dropping my hand. We pull to a stop at a red light, and he turns, tears in his eyes, and belts out the words as if he wrote them himself. My eyes go wide as he grips at his chest. He mimes tea...

I didn’t know he was such a fan of Taylor Swift. This has to be the drugs, right?

“Do you get it now?” he says as the song fades out. “Do you see it, Mars? Do you feel it?” He presses his hand over his heart. “She should have just named the song ‘Say Don’t Go, Ilmari Price.’”

He holds my gaze, his expression wholly open and disarming. “Jake tells me to be patient, and I am being patient, Mars. I’ll keep waiting. I’ll keep pretending it’s enough because I know you’re not ready and maybe you never will be.

But I’m gonna keep waiting, Mars. And maybe someday you’ll look at me the way you look at Rachel, and then I’ll know I don’t have to wait anymore. Because we could be so good together, Mars.”

Meanwhile, I feel like I’ve just been checked into the boards. My chest is empty of air as I try to breathe out. I want to say this is still the drugs talking. I want to believe he doesn’t mean a word.

Because the alternative would be for me to admit that I’ve apparently been torturing him slowly for five years, unable to see or understand that he needs more.

Fuck, I need more. I suppose sometimes you don’t know you nee...

“You sound like a Viking king when you speak Spanish,” says Caleb, his tone taking on a hint of delirium now. “Finnish,” I correct again.

“I miss your hair,” he says over me as we start up the stairs. “Rachel does too. You were so fucking sexy with the long hair.”

“And you? Do you find me repulsive with shorter hair?” “Fishing for compliments is weak sauce,” he mutters, dropping my hand to move by himself over to the bed.

I duck down and his hand brushes over my shorn hair. I cut it short just before Tuomas was born. I know I annoyed them when I cut it, but I wanted a change. Caleb’s touch is gentle, like a caress.

Aside from his full arm sleeve, he only has two other tattoos. He got the names of our sons inked on his left ribs below his heart shortly after each of them was born.

He’s such a good father, patient and protective. He’s a good partner for the same reasons. I may be Jake’s port in the storm, but Caleb is mine.

I want him looking at me the way he was looking at me in the car, full of raw hope and desperation. I want him ground...

Rachel is the slow beating of my heart, essential to living. Jake is the breath of fresh air in my lungs. But Caleb? He’s become my second set of ribs. He’s our protector, o...

I glance around his room, noting the position of his personal items on the desk and shelves. I want to stay in here with him. I want to hold him in my arms and ...

But he has to let me in. He has to really want that from me. He has to say it again in the harsh light of day. Soberly, decidedly. No drugs. No doubts. Because if we tak...

“Say it,” I whisper. It’s wrong of me to ask now, but I can’t help myself. “C...

I go still, following the line of his fingers down his arm to his shoulder. He’s being so attentive.

“I made soup for you,” he replies. “It’ll reheat quickly.” I blink. “You made soup just for me?” He glances over his shoulder. “You sound surprised.”

Grilling with Mars is one of Jake’s favorite things to do on his days off.

<3