It Was Only Thirty Minutes: an A Touch of Maple bonus scene
SPOILERS ABOUND!
This scene is best enjoyed after reading A Touch of Maple.
Word count: 2560 words
It Was Only Thirty Minutes
This scene takes place about a month after the epilogue of A Touch of Maple.
AUGUST
“What do you think?” Bellamy asked, forcing himself not to bounce on his toes in excitement as he stood with Jason in the breakfast nook of a two-story home in Burlington’s Hill Section neighborhood. This was the eighth—ninth?—home that their real estate agent had shown them in the past few weeks, and it was The One.
Bellamy was sure of it, and they hadn’t even been upstairs yet.
Jason, however, had the same expression on his face that he’d had the last eight—nine?—times they’d toured a house.
He bit his lip, looking uncertain, and peered into the black-tiled kitchen.
The house was already empty, its owners having moved out last month, so the kitchen was bare of gadgets and small appliances, but Bellamy could picture the granite countertops peppered with crumbs, notes and reminders tacked onto the fridge, and the cabinets hanging open by an inch because Jason never closed them properly.
Bellamy was especially a fan of the wooden-floored breakfast nook connected to the kitchen, with its sliding glass doors that looked out over a covered patio.
Jason, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be a fan of anything, not in this house or any of the ones they’d viewed previously.
Bellamy was beginning to suspect his reticence wasn’t a house thing, but a them thing, and he was trying not to panic about that.
Did Jason not want to move in together? They were engaged—had been for a little over a month—so it was natural to move in together, right?
“Sorry about that.” Catherine, their real estate agent, clacked her way into the room in two-inch wedge sandals. “I’ve been waiting on that call all day. Shall we tour upstairs?”
Upstairs, the hardwood gleamed in the hallway and in the three bedrooms, and the windows let in natural light that made the house feel bigger than it was.
“There’s a washer/dryer combo here,” Catherine said, gesturing to it. “And a linen closet there. There are two full bathrooms up here, including the en suite.”
Jason was silent as Catherine showed them around, her voice echoing like the last notes of a ballad. Bellamy tried to read Jason’s mind. Failed.
The high of finding the perfect home had faded to a numb acceptance by the time they exited the house. Catherine locked up with instructions for them to get back to her soon before getting in her car. A moment later, she was rolling down the tree-lined side street, careful of the kids playing street hockey in the middle of the road.
Bellamy smiled to himself. What would those kids think when they had an actual professional hockey player living on their street?
If, Bellamy reminded himself. First, he had to have a conversation with his fiancé to find out what was going on inside that too-smart brain of his.
The house they’d been touring had a narrow driveway that led into a one-car garage, but since Catherine had already been parked there, Bellamy had parked on the street. The house sat at the very end of a dead-end street that was sectioned off from Main Street by a wooden fence. Bellamy was pretty sure the building on the other side belonged to the University of Vermont.
Convenient, being so close to the college, considering Jason had been eyeing their master’s program in plant and soil science.
As if one master’s degree wasn’t enough.
Bellamy’s overachiever hopped onto the hood of his car. Bellamy joined him, cursing under his breath as the hot metal burned his skin. Propping his feet onto the bumper, he twined his fingers with Jason’s. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Jason blew out a breath and tightened his fingers on Bellamy’s. “I like this place.”
Hope rose, fast and furious, and Bellamy ruthlessly tamped it back down. “But?”
“I can’t afford it, Bel. I can’t afford any of the places we’ve looked at.” He scratched his cheek, his gaze going to the street hockey kids. “The reason there was such a large gap between completing my undergrad and starting grad school was because I wanted to save up enough money to pay for grad school, which I did. And I’ve been saving up since graduating, but I don’t think what I have is enough for a place like this.” He turned to look at the house over his shoulder.
The fist gripping Bellamy’s heart loosened, and he rested his shoulder against Jason’s.
So it wasn’t a them thing at all.
Thank Christ.
“We can wait,” he said. “We don’t have to buy a house now or next month or even next year. There’s no rush.”
“You said you wanted to move out of your place, though.”
“True.”
After his first season with the Trailblazers had ended, he and Dabbs had finally moved out of the organization’s lodgings and rented a ground-floor unit together near their arena. It had two bedrooms—and more importantly, two bathrooms—and tons of yard space for Dabbs’ dogs to run around in.
But Dabbs and Ryland had bought a place together before they’d gotten married, leaving Bellamy on his own. He was totally fine with that scenario, but the longer he lived in a rented space, the more he craved something that was his.
His and Jason’s. Somewhere they could both hang their hats—or muddy boots in Jason’s case—after a long day. Where they could decorate it to their liking and Bellamy wouldn’t have to call the landlord to ask permission to make a tiny hole in the wall to hang a new picture frame.
“I’d really like to buy you this house, Jase.”
Jason whipped his head back toward him, his eyes huge in his face. “Bel . . . there’s no way. You’re already going to be paying for most of our wedding. I don’t want you to be making all of our big purchases. I know you’re raking in the big bucks, but I still want to contribute.”
“I get that,” Bellamy said, trying not to grin like a goof at the thought of the wedding they were planning for next summer, which would take place in Jason’s favorite meadow on the farm. The same place his dad and Sheila had gotten married. “But to be honest, what you give me is worth ten times this house. You make it okay for me to be me. You make me feel safe enough to be vulnerable with you. You’re the first person I want to talk to in the morning and the last person I want to talk to at night. No one gets me like you do or understands when to push and when to give me space. You make your accomplishments my own and you make my challenges yours too. With you I know I’ll never have to do anything on my own again. So if I can give you this—”
Jason kissed him. Bellamy didn’t see it coming, so it lacked finesse and was more teeth than anything. Then Jason gentled the kiss, pouring all of his emotions into it. Bellamy tasted love most of all—love and devotion and a confirmation that everything Bellamy felt was reciprocated.
“Get the house,” Jason said when they came up for air.
Hope rekindled again. This time, Bellamy let it. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jason said on a long-suffering sigh. He was smiling, though, as he rolled his eyes and hopped off the car. “Now go ask those kids if they have an extra hockey stick like I know you want to.”
“I’ll only be, like, five minutes,” Bellamy called over his shoulder, already making his way toward them.
“Liar,” Jason said, laughing.
It was more like thirty. But who was counting?
* * *
Jason owned a house.
Well, he and Bellamy had made an offer on a house, which wasn’t at all the same thing, but it sure felt like the same thing.
After Bellamy had spent an hour playing street hockey with a bunch of kids—Bellamy kept insisting it was only thirty minutes, but it had definitely been an hour—they’d driven back to Bellamy’s apartment, debating their strategy on the way.
Should they lowball?
Offer asking price?
Go higher?
Neither of them had ever bought a house. Jason still lived at home. He worked on the farm with his dad, and just because it wasn’t sugaring season didn’t mean there wasn’t anything to do. There was tree care, forest management, equipment maintenance, farmers markets, planning and research for next season. Plus, his work with the University of New Hampshire and the New Hampshire Department of Agriculture, Markets and Food, while mostly remote, took him to Concord for progress meetings once a month.
And Bellamy had never owned a home because, with his upbringing and then swinging from NHL team to NHL team, he’d never been secure enough in his environs to even consider home ownership.
Bellamy had never said that out loud, but Jason could read between the lines.
Now that Bellamy had made it through more than three seasons with the Trailblazers and had the clauses in his contract that would keep him there, he wanted something that was all his.
Theirs.
Jason couldn’t blame him. Bellamy wanted to put down roots—it was clear as day. And it was also clear that it wasn’t only because of the Trailblazers or his grandparents—it was because of Jason too.
The man was never allowed to make him teary-eyed while sitting on the hood of a car on a hot Friday afternoon ever again. Like, what the fuck, Bellamy?
“What color do you think we should paint the primary bedroom?” Bellamy asked now as he stood at the kitchen and flipped the pages of a well-loved honest-to-god cookbook.
Jason had never met a younger millennial who owned a cookbook until Bellamy.
“What’s wrong with the color there now?” he asked. The primary bedroom was painted in a very light shade of green that somehow fit the house but lacked personality.
“It’s kind of boring,” Bellamy said.
“How about yellow?” Jason offered. Bellamy had landed on a dish that was all meat and vegetables, so Jason began removing the veggies from the fridge.
“Oh, I like that. I was thinking blue, but that’s better.”
In the end, they’d offered asking price. Jason hadn’t argued, seeing as it was Bellamy’s money. Except, when he’d pointed that out, Bellamy had scowled at him from the driver’s seat. “My money is your money, forevermore.”
It was a nice sentiment, but . . .
Well. Jason couldn’t think of a but. Logically, he knew that was what most people in committed relationships did—share finances.
But he’d assumed he’d eventually be sharing finances with someone who made roughly what he did, not someone who was worth several million dollars.
He had no idea why it was only occurring to him now that he’d never have to worry about money again. Probably because he and Bellamy had never made such a large purchase before.
Of course, the house would be temporary. A five-year house, they’d been calling it. Eventually, they’d move to Maplewood permanently, but while Bellamy was still playing hockey wasn’t that time. With his schedule, it made no sense for him to be going back and forth between Burlington and Maplewood. So they were purchasing a house here, in Burlington, until he retired, and then they’d reassess.
It meant Jason would be the one going back and forth between Burlington and Maplewood. But with Bellamy traveling for away games for half the season, Jason wouldn’t have a reason to be in the city, so he’d be splitting his time between the two areas far less than Bellamy would be if they’d bought a house in Maplewood.
Plus, Jason was planning on applying for a master’s program at the University of Vermont, and if he was accepted, having a place to stay in Burlington would come in handy.
“We could buy a house in Maplewood too,” Bellamy had said earlier as he’d parked in his building’s lot. “That way we can stay there next summer.”
Jason had nearly choked on his own spit. “Let’s just see what next summer brings, okay?”
Bellamy hadn’t liked that answer, but he’d agreed.
“What’s that for?” Bellamy nodded at the pile of vegetables Jason had placed on the island.
“Whatever you’re making.”
“I don’t need tomatoes for it. I was saving those for the guac tomorrow.”
Jason wrinkled his nose. “Guac?”
“Yeah, I was going to make it for Roman’s pre-season potluck tomor— What is that?” Bellamy waved at Jason. “What’s with the face?”
“What face? This is just my face.”
“You made a face.” Bellamy gasped dramatically. “Wait. Do you not like guacamole?”
“I do not, in fact, like guacamole. Tastes like slime in my mouth.”
Another dramatic gasp. “But you eat my guac.”
“Do I? Are you sure?”
Jason put the tomatoes away while Bellamy thought about that one, then rounded the island and kissed Bellamy’s stubbled cheek. “You know how you looooove camping? That’s how I feel about guac.”
“Huh. How did I not know this?”
“I’m full of mysteries.”
“Does one of those mysteries explain why you want to do the master’s in plant and soil science instead of the doctorate?” Bellamy asked neutrally, his gaze on the cookbook.
He’d been trying to get an answer to that question for weeks, but Jason had kept dodging.
Mostly because he didn’t have a good answer.
“It feels . . .” Jason worked his mouth, attempting to translate nebulous thoughts into words. “It feels like reaching too high.”
The fear of failing, of feeling like he wasn’t good enough—they liked to rear their ugly heads when he least wanted them to, but—
“They’d be fucking lucky to have you, Jase.”
But they tended to have a soft place to land when they did.
“Why don’t you make an appointment with one of the faculty members whose research complements your interests?” Bellamy turned to face him, leaning one hip against the island. “Have a conversation with them and see where it takes you. They might be able to guide you toward the master’s or PhD program, depending on your past studies and interests. I can come with you if you want.”
Heart melting, Jason kissed him once, twice, three times. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Bellamy placed a barely there kiss to the corner of Jason’s mouth, then grabbed the onions from the vegetable pile. “Want to chop the onion?”
Jason scoffed. “I don’t love you that much.”
Bellamy laughed, and it was a good sound. The best sound. Jason’s favorite sound. If he had his way, Bellamy would always be laughing.
Jason, somehow, was the lucky son of a bitch Bellamy had chosen to spend his future with, and Jason would get to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life.
He couldn’t wait.
And when Catherine called to tell them the house was theirs and Bellamy whooped and cheered and laughed while he twirled Jason around the kitchen?
Jason knew it was just the beginning of something great.
* * *
THE END
Copyright 2025 Amy Aislin. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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