Chapter Eleven

“ARE YOU really mad that I didn’t tell you about my Christmas plans?” Riley asked as the plane began its descent. Ethan was certain that Riley was asking him just to distract him from the fact they were landing. Even in their comfy, roomy first-class seats, Ethan still hated that part.

“You mean, am I mad I heard you telling Sloany and Becker you didn’t have Christmas plans and were going to stay in our apartment by yourself?” Ethan hit him in the arm. “Yes, asshole.”

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to invite me home with you,” Riley said. He leaned back against the seat. “Which is what you did.”

“Of course it was,” Ethan said, gripping his armrests. Fucking airplanes. He almost wished they’d decided to drive after all.

When he heard Riley say that he wasn’t going anywhere, Ethan had told him that he could come home with him—and did he mind doing some driving to get there? Because by the time Ethan tried to book his flight home for the holidays, they were all so expensive that he couldn’t afford it.

Riley’s parents, his younger sister, and her boyfriend were going to the south of France for the holidays, so Riley couldn’t borrow the family plane. Ethan would rather drive, because a small plane felt more dangerous than a large one and besides, he’d die if he showed up at home in a private plane. But it was cool to think about, because it made him feel like Tony Stark. Although he’d rather just have that Iron Man suit and fly himself. Since both of those options were out, Ethan’s great idea was that he and Riley drive to New York.

If they took Riley’s car, they could spring for a hotel room or two and not have to sleep at a rest stop. His mom wasn’t pleased to hear Ethan’s plan, and told him about a show she’d watched about teenage runaways who were kidnapped and had their fingers cut off. That was the plot of the last season of The Killing, but Ethan didn’t bother pointing out that he knew that. It didn’t even seem to make Maura Kennedy feel better to know that Riley would be there, too.

Despite never having met Riley, Ethan’s mom thought of Riley as the responsible one. But she still hated the idea of them driving. Ethan hadn’t told his mom that Riley was his boyfriend. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing you should spring on your mom over the phone. Much better to do it when you were home for Christmas, in front of your whole family. Way more dramatic—which was the Kennedy way.

Two days after springing the “we’re driving home” plan on his mom, Riley skated up to Ethan at practice and said, “Hey, Kennedy.”

“Hey, Hunter.” Ethan tapped his stick on the ice. “I’m going to score three, four goals on you today. Ready?”

“You’re not scoring a goal on me.”

“Now that you said that, I’m totally going to.”

Riley crossed his arms and looked fierce and hot in all his goalie gear. “You can say it all you want, but you won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you never score on me.”

Ethan leaned in and said in a low voice, “I did last night.” He winked.

Riley rolled his eyes. “Not twice, though. Do better.”

“I’m about due for a hat trick,” Ethan agreed. “What’s up?”

“I did something and you’re going to be mad about it,” Riley said. “I’m telling you now so you can’t hit me.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

“I bought us two round-trip tickets to New York.”

“No,” Ethan said immediately. “Fuck you. You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can.” Riley’s chin went up, and he looked as stubborn as he did in goal. “That’s not all.”

“Fucking hell. Really?”

“I called your mom and told her.”

Ethan was speechless. “Low. That’s low, Hunter.”

“She called last week and told me she’d rather talk to you on Skype on Christmas Day than worry herself sick about us driving. She sounded so upset, Ethan.”

“Of course she did, idiot,” Ethan growled and banged his stick on the ice. He liked hockey. There were plenty of ways to throw temper tantrums and lots of useful equipment with which to throw them. “She’s my mother. Where the fuck do you think I get it from? I bet she told you all about the kidnappings and the missing fingers, huh?”

“Yeah. But that was the plot from The Killing last season,” Riley said, and Ethan remembered he was in love with Riley and hit the ice harder with his stick.

“Those aren’t free, Kennedy,” Spence yelled.

What was the problem? Couldn’t a guy have a heated argument with his secret-billionaire boyfriend at hockey practice without an audience?

“Look. I did it, and we’re going.”

“I didn’t want you to do that.”

“Yeah. But I don’t want to spend all that time in a car with you either. So it’s really for me. Merry Christmas.” Riley skated off before Ethan could yell at him anymore.

That night at home, Riley pinned him to the floor and teased the fuck out of him until Ethan was panting and tried to buck up against him with all his strength. He was completely unable to make Riley do what he wanted.

Riley stared down at him and waited.

Finally Ethan called him a litany of foul names and gave up. “Fine. Fine. Thank you. That’s going to mean a lot to my family. I hate you so much. Would you please get me off now?”

Riley kissed him and then sucked him off. Which was great. But it wasn’t until they were boarding the plane that morning that he casually mentioned, “Oh. By the way we’re flying first class. They were the only seats left.”

Stupid Riley.

Who wants to fuck me.

Every time Ethan thought about that, it made him all hot and flushed. Riley hadn’t brought it up again, but Ethan couldn’t stop thinking about it. The other night when Riley had him pinned to the floor, Ethan was so tempted to say “Do it. Go ahead,” because he kept thinking maybe he’d like it.

But that was not what he should be thinking about when they were about to go meet his family. “Oh, hey,” Ethan said. He grabbed Riley’s arm as they made their way off the plane and toward the baggage claim. “I forgot something.”

“Like I forgot to tell you how they were first-class tickets?”

“We’re not all manipulative assholes, Riley,” Ethan muttered, but he smiled and bumped Riley’s shoulder with his own to show he was teasing. “I’m gonna tell them. My family. About me and you.”

Riley stumbled a little, which made it the first time Ethan had ever knocked him off-balance. Success. “You are?”

“Yeah.” They followed the crowd into the loud, noisy baggage claim area and searched for their carousel. “I can’t not tell them. Okay? They’re my family. And they know me. Also, it’s a small apartment. What if someone catches me kissing you?”

“Blame it on the mistletoe?” Riley cleared his throat. “Please never tell anyone I just said that.”

Ethan snorted, but his face was serious when he asked, “Is it a problem, if I tell them?”

“Not for me,” Riley said. “Just don’t do it unless you want to. You don’t have to, I mean. For me.”

Ethan spotted his sister a few seconds later. He immediately jumped up and waved his arms so madly he almost knocked over a sullen-looking teenager who was wearing giant earphones.

And people thought tattoos made you look like a punk. Geez.

“Wait. They’re here at the baggage claim?” Riley asked, looking a bit pale and shifting his bag to his other shoulder as Ethan’s family made a beeline for them. “Why?”

Ethan stopped his frantic signaling. Something sad twisted inside him at the genuine confusion on Riley’s face. You gave me a Christmas present. Now I’m going to give you one.

Holy shit. Being in love was seriously damaging his tough-guy cred. He better get a pair of those earphones and a few more tattoos, just to be safe.