The Play of His Life epilogue

Riley hesitated. The big, white door blocking his entry into Christian’s Vancouver apartment loomed ominously in front of him, a wall that said “You can’t have him!”

Or maybe that was his insecurities talking.

His phone went off in his pocket, an obnoxiously loud hockey goal horn. Christian.

Packing is finally fucking done. Fuck, who knew I had so much fucking stuff?

Three F-bombs in only two sentences. Even for Christian that was a lot. He must really be sick and tired of packing. The phone buzzed in his hand before Riley could type a reply.

I can’t fucking wait to see you.

Definitely his insecurities.

According to Riley’s research, the quickest drive from Vancouver to Oakville was through the northern United States. Quickest being relative, at only 40 hours of driving time, not including food and pee breaks and sleep.

Which meant if Christian left tomorrow like he was planning, he’d arrive in Oakville in, oh, about way-too-damn-long-for-Riley’s-sanity.

Riley wasn’t having it, which was how he’d found himself here late on a Sunday afternoon in early February: in Vancouver, outside Christian’s apartment. It’d been over four weeks—thirty-two whole days but who was counting?—since they’d seen each other. He couldn’t take another day.

Yet, for some reason, he hesitated before knocking on the door. Four weeks ago, Riley had thought that Christian’s move to Oakville would only take a week. Fast forward to the present and the delays in Christian’s move had Riley questioning whether his boyfriend actually did want to move back home.

Stupid, of course. They spoke twice a day, sometimes more, and texted copiously. Riley knew Christian was coming home but his brain wouldn’t turn off the doubts and what-ifs. He’d kept himself busy since Christian left, hoping to keep his mind occupied. He started a new job, hired a new manager for Warm Glow, hosted his parents for a brief visit in mid-January, made a point of getting together with his former teammates, played a couple of hockey games with his rec league, visited Christian’s mom, and even took up a new hobby in an effort to pass the time: he was now embarrassingly addicted to Pet Rescue Saga.

Sucking in a lungful of air, he raised his hand to knock.

“Riley?”

Startled, he almost choked on oxygen. A guy a couple of inches shorter than him walked toward him from the elevator. Riley had met him…shit, probably eight years ago or so, when he’d flown to Vancouver to see Christian on one of his very few weekends off during university. Eric had been Christian’s roommate at the time.

“Hey, man!” Eric held his hand out for a shake. “It’s good to see you. Chris didn’t mention you were coming to make the trip with him.”

“Yeah, uh…” Riley scratched his temple. “He doesn’t know.”

“Aw.” Eric grinned at him. “He’s gonna be so happy to see you. He’s been a grouchy bastard since he got back from his Christmas vacation.”

Christian was always a bit of a grouchy bastard, but if Eric was pointing it out, then his man must’ve been even grouchier than normal.

Eric walked right into Christian’s apartment as if he owned the place. Riley frowned, not liking that one bit.

“Yo, Chris!” Eric shouted into the barren apartment.

The only signs that someone sort-of lived here were the nails hammered into the walls where pictures or art must’ve once hung and the boxes stacked next to the front door, all neatly labeled. There were less than Riley would’ve thought, but he knew that Christian had decided to sell the nonessentials: rugs, dishes, pots and pans, his couch, TV, and bed. Riley already had everything at his place. All Christian needed was himself, his clothes, and his personal items.

There was one fairly large box with Riley’s name on it, but he didn’t have a chance to wonder further before Eric yelled, “You have a visitor.”

“If it’s my landlord again,” came Christian’s muffled response from a bedroom to the left, “tell him I’ve already taken care of everything.”

Riley’s stomach did something funny at Christian’s rumbly voice.

“It’s not your landlord,” Eric said, hopping up onto the kitchen island.

“Did you bring food?” was Christian’s reply.

“Was I supposed to?”

A sigh from the bedroom.

“You know,” Eric said to Riley. “I’m almost glad you’re taking the grouchy fucker off my hands.”

Riley could tell he didn’t mean it. He was smiling, but his eyes were sad.

“Please, you know you’ll miss me.” Christian emerged from the bedroom in old sweats, a T-shirt, and the T necklace Riley had gifted him for Christmas. He held an anorexic roll of packing tape and scissors. Riley’s heart jumped into his throat when his boyfriend’s icy blue eyes latched onto his.

Christian froze. Riley’s doubts doubled. Then Christian’s face went through a series of expressions that had Riley’s worries finally fizzing to a quick death: surprise, disbelief, shock, amazement, gratitude, and then, to Riley’s delight, excited pleasure.

“Riles,” Christian whispered. He thrust the tape and scissors at Eric, then headed for Riley at a clipped pace.

Pulse racing, Riley dropped his backpack and met Christian halfway. Christian’s hands framed Riley’s face and his lips took possession of Riley’s, gently, as if reacquainting himself.

God, the feel of Christian under Riley’s hands, the smell of him, the taste… Riley’s senses overloaded and he let out a sobbing breath and deepened the kiss. 

The past four weeks had been torture, thrusting him back in time to his college years. Him in Denver; Christian here, in Vancouver. Constant texting and phone calls and planning short visits around their busy schedules. Doing the long-distance thing until Christian broke up with him because he couldn’t handle the separation anymore.

Not that they’d really been doing a long-distance thing this time around. It was temporary, only temporary, while Christian packed up his stuff for the move. Sure, try telling Riley’s insecurities that. If he’d constantly worried over the past thirty-two days that Christian was going to change his mind and break up with him, well, it wasn’t his fault.

But now he was here, in Christian’s arms. Christian smelled so good and tasted so good. Riley gave up any pretense at a civilized hello kiss and attacked Christian’s mouth. Christian groaned and wrapped his arms around him, inserting a muscled thigh between Riley’s. Riley’s dick thickened in his jeans. Inevitable given the past few weeks of nothing but his own hand and phone sex.

“Jesus,” Eric muttered from his perch on the counter. “Get a room, guys.”

They ignored him.

Christian’s lips were soft yet insistent against his, his tongue firm and wet in his mouth. Riley made a throaty sound deep in his chest that had Christian squeezing his ass and driving their semis together. He kept running his hands over Christian’s back, his shoulders, up into his hair, reacquainting himself with his boyfriend.

Riley felt like he could finally think again.

There was a thump when Eric jumped off the counter. “I’m going to wait outside. Don’t take too long.”

The door closed behind him. 

Christian pulled back, only to place a quick kiss on Riley’s lips.

“Hey, T,” Riley said.

Christian chuckled. “Hi.” He pecked another fast kiss on Riley’s lips. “What are you doing here? Actually, you know what?” He brought Riley in for a hug. “I don’t even care. I’m just so fucking glad to see you.” His breath whispered against Riley’s neck, making him shiver. “I missed you so fucking much.”

Riley buried his own face in Christian’s neck and inhaled sharply. “I missed you, too.” He slipped one hand under Christian’s T-shirt to run a hand over bare skin. “I thought you might like company on your drive east.”

“Yeah?” Christian dropped tiny kisses along Riley’s jaw. Riley sighed in bliss and ran his fingernails along Christian’s spine. His man shuddered, pulling back the barest inch, enough so that they could see each other. “What about work?”

“I took a couple days off,” Riley said. His hands wandered over Christian’s chest, his sides, his stomach.

Christian’s abs tightened against his touch even as his eyes darkened with concern. “Is that a good idea?” he asked. “You only started working there two weeks ago. I’m surprised they gave you the time off so soon.”

Riley shrugged. “There’s no practice today or tomorrow. I’m only missing two practices and the game on Thursday night.”

“You might make Thursday’s game,” Christian said.

“Maybe if we leave early tomorrow. But I already told them I wouldn’t be there, so…” He shrugged again. “I’ll be back bright and early for Friday morning practice.”

Christian’s eyes seemed to glitter and he ran his knuckles over the scruff Riley hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. “I missed this face,” he whispered to himself.

The joy Christian’s words produced made Riley feel like he was flying. He closed the inches between them and kissed Christian again, softly, just lips on lips.

When he pulled back, Christian said, “Had I known you were coming, we could’ve left today. But I promised Eric a last night hanging out before I leave.”

“That’s okay. Oddly, now that I’m here, the urgency to have you home has faded.” Christian grinned at Riley’s words. “I’m sorry I’m intruding on your night.”

“Don’t be.” Christian kissed his temple. He couldn’t seem to stop kissing Riley. Not that Riley minded. In fact, had Eric not been here, Riley would’ve dragged Christian straight to the sleeping bag Riley knew he was using as a bed since he’d sold his bed frame and mattress last week.

“Where are you guys headed?” Riley asked, wondering if he’d be invited (of course he would, who was he kidding?) and whether or not he’d be suitably dressed in jeans and a T-shirt seeing as those were all he’d brought with him in addition to a toothbrush.

“Nowhere.” Christian jerked his head to an open box against the wall. “We’re staying here.”

Riley finally released Christian to peer into the box, and couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re staying in to play board games instead of going out and getting rip roaring drunk?”

“Yup.” Christian took a game called Name 5 out of the box. “I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow and Eric doesn’t drink. We’ll probably play this one. Last time Eric couldn’t name five dog breeds.”

“Who doesn’t know five dog breeds?” 

“In my defense,” came a voice from the other side of Christian’s closed apartment door, “I’m more of a cat person.”

Christian told his friend to come in. Riley watched them argue about whether or not Christian had told Eric to bring food, and breathed easily for the first time in thirty-two days. 

* * *

Watching his man coach hockey was hot as fucking hell, but holy shit, Christian was tired.

“Fuck,” he groaned into the couch cushion. “Why am I so tired?”

He’d fallen face-first onto Riley’s couch as soon as they’d finished unloading the truck and hadn’t moved since.

“Because we’ve been driving since Monday.” Riley’s voice came from above him. “Anyone would be tired after four days of driving. Here.”

Christian rolled his head and saw Riley holding out a sweating beer bottle. He almost salivated.

“God, I love you,” he said, sitting up to take the bottle. “And not just for the beer.” 

Riley chuckled and sat next to him, feet on the coffee table.

The brew was cold and refreshing after a long few days hauling his crap across the country. Having Riley as company had made the trip infinitely more fun, but it had still been long, especially since he’d done most of the driving. Riley could only drive for so long before his old knee injury made itself known.

“Why do I feel like twice run over roadkill,” Christian said, “and you look spry as a fucking daisy?”

Riley tipped his head back and laughed. “I’m not not tired,” he said. “I’m just…”

He didn’t seem able to find a word, so Christian filled it in for him. “High on adrenaline?” He poked Riley’s foot with his toe and laid his head on Riley’s shoulder. “Your team won tonight.” Miraculously, they’d made it on time for the seven o’clock game. Of course, it meant that it was almost ten by the time the game ended and Riley was free to leave. Then the twenty-minute drive home and unloading the truck in the dark, in weather that froze their fingers and toes. It was now almost midnight and Christian was wrecked.

“Yeah,” Riley said. Christian could hear the grin in his voice. “I can’t take any credit for that, though. I’ve only been on the coaching staff for two weeks.”

“Your goalie’s already playing better, though,” Christian told him.

“You think?”

“Definitely.”

“I thought I was just seeing what I wanted to see.”

“Compare tape from tonight’s game with one from last month,” Christian said. “You’ll see.”

They sat together for a few minutes, relaxing, eyeing Christian’s boxes next to the fireplace. Riley eventually maneuvered them so that he sat with his back in a corner of the couch, Christian resting against him with his back to Riley’s chest, feet tangled on the coffee table.

Being here with Riley, in his home—their home now—was surreal. He felt the stress of quitting his job, packing his belongings, selling his stuff, renting his apartment, just…fall away. It was crazy how everything they’d been through since they’d met in second grade had brought them here, to this point. Together again, still madly in love but still best friends too, sexual chemistry off the charts. 

Speaking of sexual chemistry… Riley was warm and solid behind him and he felt lust pool in his belly. He wasn’t that tired that he didn’t want to christen his new home. He set his beer on the table, but a deep sigh from Riley and what felt like an unclenching of every muscle in Riley’s body had Christian pausing.

“You were worried,” he realized.

Riley snorted an unamused laugh. “Seems stupid now.”

“It’s not stupid,” Christian protested. Riley’s left arm was around his shoulders, his hand resting on Christian’s chest. Christian raised his palm to his lips for a kiss. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize.”

“It is stupid,” Riley argued. “I mean there was this part of me I couldn’t shut off that was afraid you’d break up with me again, but at the same time I knew you wouldn’t. So, see? Stupid.”

Christian’s heart squeezed for him. “I wish you would’ve told me.”

“No. ’Cause like I said: stupid.”

Christian smiled and placed a second kiss on Riley’s palm. “Okay, I get it. You’re stupid.”

“I’m not stupid,” Riley corrected. “My thoughts are stupid.”

“Same damn thing.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too,” Christian said cheerfully, matching Riley’s tone. Behind him, Riley’s chest shook with laughter.

“Hey, what’s in that box marked ‘crack whore’?” Riley pointed with his foot.

“My bong.”

“Your…what?” Riley sounded shocked and insulted and faintly horrified.

Christian patted his leg. “Don’t worry, I never used it.” He’d played hockey in the same leagues as Riley until university. Even as kids they’d known drugs could seriously fuck them up, and they’d needed to stay in shape, so they’d promised each other early on that they wouldn’t put that shit in their bodies. “I have a friend who does glasswork and she did a show once,” he explained. “I felt bad leaving without buying anything, so I got a little mini bong.”

“Seriously? There wasn’t, like, a bowl or trinket dish or something equally mundane you could buy?”

“Well, I guess I sort of did get a bowl,” he quipped.

“Har har,” Riley said blandly. “You’re such a weirdo.” His words were gentled by a kiss to Christian’s head.

“I’m weird?” Christian tickled Riley’s palm. “Says the French Canadian with the first name Riley.”

“That’s not my fault.” Riley trapped Christian’s hand against his chest. “I didn’t name myself. And I don’t think Christian is French either.”

“It’s more French than Riley.”

Riley released a sound of disbelief. “If you say so.” He pointed with his foot again. “Why is there a box with my name on it?”

Damn. So much for hoping Riley wouldn’t notice. 

“I’ll show you tomorrow,” he hedged, and hid a cringe when he realized his mistake.

“Oh, you have to tell me now,” Riley said, laughing. He tried to get up but Christian pressed his back against him and trapped his legs on the table. “Ooh, you don’t want me to see! That means it’s gotta be good.”

They tussled on the couch for a few minutes. By the time Riley had successfully managed to extract himself from Christian’s clutches, Christian was half hard and wishing Riley would forget about the stupid box. Didn’t Riley realize they had a bed to christen? Not that they hadn’t had sex in Riley’s bed before; they totally, definitely, mind-blowingly had. But now that they lived together it was different. More permanent, more solid.

He stretched himself out on the couch, head pillowed on his bicep, and watched Riley move a couple of boxes out of the way to get to the one with his name on it. Despite obviously wanting to get in there, he looked back at Christian with a raised eyebrow.

Christian’s sigh was full of resignation, and he waved a hand at Riley. “Go ahead.” Might as well get it over with.

Grinning, Riley sat on the floor with the box between his legs and peeled off the packing tape. The smile on his face went from gleeful to confused when he saw what was inside. He pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in snowman-covered wrapping paper, another with black and white polka dot wrapping, another with a blue-and-green plaid pattern, and yet another with cartoon reindeer.

“They’re all wrapped,” Riley said. Brow furrowed, he peered into the box, where Christian knew there were at least ten more wrapped boxes. “Why? Who are they for? Are you donating them to a charity or something?”

Christian go with that excuse and save himself the humiliation that was to come, but he’d never lied to Riley and he wasn’t about to start now.

A great sigh escaped him and he heaved himself off the couch to take a seat next to Riley on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“Don’t laugh,” he warned Riley. “But I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sure you already know that I missed the hell out of you over the past few years.” Riley quit playing with a rip in the snowman wrapping paper and looked at him. “I shouldn’t’ve broken up with you, and… This was just my way of feeling close to you.” He realized how pathetic he sounded but Riley already knew what a goner he was over him.

Riley blinked at him, his mouth forming a little ‘O’ of surprise. “These are…all mine?”

“Seven years, give or take, of Christmas and birthday presents.”

Riley looked like he had trouble deciding between crying and ripping into his gifts. He did neither. Instead, he dropped the box he was holding, crawled to Christian, pushed him onto his back, and kissed him.

Christian made a sound of surprise. Then he got with the program and hugged Riley closer. Their tongues danced, their legs tangled. Riley’s kiss was slow and sweet and filled with longing. Christian’s heart thumped in his chest.

Riley pulled back and stared at him, his heart in his eyes.

“What?” Christian rasped. 

But Riley just shook his head. His thumb traced Christian’s wet bottom lip, swept over his stubbled jaw, brushed his cheekbone. The amazed look on Riley’s face, wide eyes, unsteady breathing, mouth opening and closing without a sound… It almost looked like Riley couldn’t believe Christian was actually, finally, here.

Christian understood how he felt. He’d spent every day of the past few weeks—every day since he’d returned to Vancouver after New Year’s—wondering if Riley had been a dream, if he’d made up their reunion over Christmas. But no. To his astonished wonder, Riley still loved him too.

“I wanna take you to bed,” Riley whispered, thumb still tracing Christian’s face.

“I want you to take me to bed,” Christian said, his hand finding its way into the back of Riley’s jeans.

Riley sat up, and as if Christian was tethered to him, he followed. Yet instead of standing, Riley straddled Christian’s lap and kissed him quietly, lazily, like he had all the time in the world. The only sounds in the room were their labored breathing, the scritch of Riley’s hands on Christian’s shadowed jaw, the whisp of Christian’s hands flitting over Riley’s T-shirt, lifting it up. They broke the kiss only long enough to get the shirt over Riley’s head.

“T?” Riley said when he pulled back, voice hushed.

The T necklace around Riley’s neck caught Christian’s attention. His heart melted at the sight of it and he ran his fingers over the worn metal. It didn’t even matter anymore what the T stood for. Besides, he had a feeling knowing would make it lose its mysteriousness.

Didn’t mean he wouldn’t spend the rest of their lives bugging Riley about it, though.

“T?”

Christian placed an open-mouthed kiss on Riley’s shoulder and felt Riley’s full-body shiver against him.

“Riley, honey?”

Riley framed his face, bringing his head up so their eyes met. Everything Christian felt was reflected back at him in Riley’s eyes: acceptance, comfort, hope, adoration, love. He squeezed Riley tighter, wanting him even closer.

Riley’s eyes were glassy and when he spoke next, Christian had to blink the wetness out of his own eyes and swallow past the knot in his throat.

“Welcome home.”