Chapter Twenty-Eight
Taine
December 24
At three in the morning on the twenty-fourth of December, Taine had been lying in bed attempting to convince himself to stop thinking about Freddie. He’d driven out a few days earlier to spend Christmas with Father Wilson. The Christmas Eve Mass at midnight extended until they’d returned to the house at half past two.
In the two months or more since the evening at Freddie’s flat, no less than five people had ripped him a new one for abandoning the nurse without bothering to call or text him. Taine had meant to reach out to him. He had.
Yet, I haven’t.
Remi suggested that perhaps since retiring from rugby, the great Tens had lost his nerve. Scottie asked for Freddie’s number. Caddock, Graham, and Dr Williams all lectured him on several occasions for making their happy bunny friend sad.
Bollocks.
I’m an arse.
A cowardly tosser of an arse.
Is that physically possible?
“Andrew?” Father Wilson knocked on the door before opening it. He held out a set of keys. “You’ll be needing these, won’t you? I’ll pray for your safe journey to see your young man.”
“Father?” Taine sat up and swung his legs around to sit up. “I’m here for Christmas.”
“You’ve spent three days wandering about lost in your thoughts.” He sat on the mattress, patting his adopted son on the knee. “Your friend Remi gave me a ring yesterday morning. He told me about this nurse, Freddie. For most of your life, I’ve been proud of how generous in spirit you are towards others. It’s unlike you to simply never contact someone again. You like him.”
“He’s young.”
“You’re young.” His aged hand on Taine’s knee tightened with surprising strength. “What do you have to lose by spending time with this Freddie? You might not have talked about him, but you’ve had him in your thoughts since the night you walked out of his flat.”
“Are you sure you were called to be a priest?” Taine asked tiredly. “It’s twelve hours to Cornwall if I don’t hit traffic and I don’t stop for the loo more than a couple times.”
“Well, you’ll be there in time for Christmas supper.” Father Wilson pushed himself up with help from Taine. “I’ll prepare a basket of some of the cheese and shortbread the ladies brought last night. You shouldn’t show up uninvited without bringing a gift.”
He’d been on the road for an hour when his brain eventually caught up with what had happened. Father Wilson had not only approved of his choice of a much younger man, but had actively encouraged him to show up on Christmas to see him. He could only hope the door wouldn’t be slammed in his face.
When Freddie’s dad had lit into him, Taine’s initial reaction had honestly been to put him on the ground. He wouldn’t usually allow anyone to get away with calling him a paedophile. But a confrontation with the parents of a lover could have no winners, not really, so he left to avoid creating further drama.
He wouldn’t apologise for leaving. Given all the options, it had been the wisest move to make. Freddie could handle his dads—they weren’t abusive, just misguided.
The mistake he actually intended to apologise for was what happened next. I should’ve called him, or texted, or better still, gone to see him at the hospital. They’d shared a brilliant holiday and had sexually connected on a deep level, after all.
Halfway through the journey, his phone beeped with a message. He ignored it. Safe driving, that’s me. It continued to go off periodically until the person finally called him instead of texting.
He hit the speakerphone button. “What?”
“Well, morning to you, Tens.” Scottie sounded halfway to drunk at ten after nine. “Been to church yet?”
“I’m not in Scotland.”
“Why aren’t you in Scotland?” Scottie suddenly appeared less boozed up, never a good sign. “You’re going to Cornwall, aren’t you? To see the bunny.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“I was going to tell you to stop being a daft twat and find your bollocks long enough to call the bunny.” He paused to clear his throat loudly and nauseatingly. “Seems I don’t have to. Drive safe.”
“Don’t call—”
A sudden beep told him not to bother asking Scottie not to tell the others. He’d already hung up. No doubt to immediately begin gossiping with all their friends, who would be calling him to take the mickey soon enough.
Bollocks.
The constant calls did make the remaining seven hours of the drive go by faster. His GPS led him straight to the long drive into the Whittle family farm. He sat in the car, staring at the house all decked out in white and blue lights.
He wondered idly if the family celebrated both Hanukkah and Christmas. It would’ve made for loads of presents in December. And now I’m trying to prolong the agony. Is Remi right? Have I lost my nerve?
“Are you lost, love?”
Taine blinked several times to find a woman who had the same hair and eyes as Freddie climbing into the vehicle with him. “Not lost.”
“You sure? You must’ve been lost to ignore our Freddie for two months.” She smiled at him, and her smile reminded him of her nephew as well. “I’m sorry my brother and his husband lost their minds. It’s stupid of them. They’ve struggled with seeing their son as an adult. I think you owe Freddie an apology.”
Taine could only nod his agreement. “I’m aware.”
“Well, good then, we’ll get along brilliantly. C’mon. Let’s get inside before the snow starts.” She peered out the windscreen at the ever-darkening skies. “Well? What are you waiting for? You’ve had a long drive, I’d imagine.”
He found himself bundled into the house with the basket from Father Wilson clutched in his arms. Freddie and his fathers were all seated in the den by the fireplace, watching Doctor Who. It appeared to be a family favourite from the rapt attention they were paying to the telly.
“Lads? You’ve a visitor.”
Freddie glanced idly over his shoulder and froze in place. One of his fathers, Adam, reached out to grab the arm of his other dad to keep him from moving off the couch. Given the last time they met, it might’ve been a wise decision.
“Happy Christmas.” Taine held out the basket in the general direction of all three Whittle men. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You are—” Fred Whittle trailed off when his husband elbowed him hard in the stomach. “You are most welcome.”
Freddie grinned brightly at his fathers before turning to scowl at Taine. “Did you lose my number?”
“Excellent question, cariad,” Fred interjected.
“You started the mess, so keep out of it this time.” Freddie turned his narrowed eyes on his fathers. He stood up and waved for Taine to follow him. “Let’s go see if it’s snowing.”
It was snowing, freezing cold as well. Freddie shoved his hands into his pockets and stamped his feet on the ground a few times. Taine didn’t know if an offer of body warmth would be welcome at the moment.
“I’m sorry.” Taine decided to get the easy words out of the way first. “I’m sorry for not calling or texting for two months.”
“Not for leaving in the middle of the night?”
Taine shoved his own hands into his coat pockets. “No, we haven’t known each other long enough for it to be wise for me to get between you and your fathers. Also, it was good for them to see you stand up for yourself.”
“True.” Freddie paced a small circuit in front of him. “It’s freezing out here, but if we go inside, they’ll eavesdrop on us.”
He nodded his head towards the faces pressed against the kitchen window. “They’re trying anyway.”
Freddie strode away from the house towards a barn in the distance. “C’mon, it’s warmer in here anyway.”
They stood awkwardly in the only mildly warmer barn, staring at bales of hay. Taine didn’t regret coming. He wished they could skip past the initial conversation, but knew he only had himself to blame.
“Would a text have killed you?” Freddie hopped up on one of the bales. His legs swung back and forth. “I mean, really, you could’ve called me.”
“I’m sorry.” Taine strode forward until he was within kicking distance. “I am so sorry, not for leaving but for allowing my doubts about age differences to cloud my judgement. I missed you. Thought about you.”
“Not enough to text?”
Taine gripped him by the knees, spread his legs, and stepped forward between them. “Forgive me, Frederick?”
“Why?”
“Because you missed me?”
Freddie tilted his head back to glare up at him. “Try again.”
“Because I missed you?” Taine worked his hands further up the younger man’s legs to massage his thighs gently. “Will you forgive me? I’ll make it up to you.”
Freddie’s lips twitched slightly and then pressed tightly together. “Are you staying for supper?”
“I’ll be buried in the pasture if I say no.” Taine could well imagine the Whittle family coming together to punish him for hurting their Freddie. “I’d rather be buried in you.”
Freddie snorted loudly and leaned forward until his head rested against Taine’s jacket. “I did miss you. Why didn’t you text?”
“I’m an arse.”
“True.” He wound his arms around Taine’s waist. “I only started talking to my fathers at the beginning of December. It took them that long to admit they were wrong.”
They stayed in the barn for several minutes—hugging. None of his friends would ever believe he’d spent time cuddling in a farm building with hay and animals. Freddie called it a cwtch and told him to shift closer.
The atmosphere in the house hadn’t warmed any. It became clear that Adam and Anna had told off Fred while they were outside. The three sat, avoiding each other, pretending not to notice Freddie and Taine’s return.
Freddie veered off from the living room to find the basket Taine brought with him. He peeked inside it and immediately came out with one of the items. “You brought cheese.”
Taine chuckled at the enthusiastic shout from the younger man. “Happy Christmas.”