Games Boys Play (4 page)

"Oh! Is he? Well, that's wonderful, dear. I didn't know..." Her voice trailed off, but Zach could finish the sentence in his head. Didn't know gay men could be upstanding citizens like police officers and firefighters and heroes. He bit back another sigh. Why had he bothered to call?

"Yeah. Well, he is. And I think it's--No, I
know
it's serious. I just thought, you know, that you'd like to know. We're in love." It was something he felt ought to be shared with one's parents, right?

"I'm happy for you, Zachary. I really am. He sounds like a very good man. What's his name?"

"Stevie. Stephen."

His mother laughed a little. "You and your nicknames. I'm sure a man like that doesn't enjoy being called Stevie, Zachary."

Zach resisted the urge to snap. "He doesn't mind." This was a bad idea. He'd halfway hoped for some kind of advice, maybe on how to navigate this uncharted relationship territory, but he realized now how ridiculous the idea was. His parents barely spoke. What did his mother know about keeping a relationship working? Even if she'd wanted to give advice...when he thought it was pretty clear she didn't. "I'm sorry, Momma. I should go." He paused, then smiled sadly. "I love you."

"I love you, too, dear. You hold onto that man, Zachary. He sounds like a catch. Take good care of him."

Like he was some fifties housewife or something. Zach shook his head. "Sure, Momma. Say hello to Dad for me."

He hung up, feeling no better than he had before. Well, she'd given him
some
advice, anyway. Take care of Stevie. How do you take care of a man who spends his days taking care of everyone else? he wondered.

* * * *

Stephen frowned as he pulled up into his driveway, heart kicking up at the sight of lights on through the front window of his condo. He knew for a fact that he'd turned off every light before he'd left this morning. He'd gotten a massive electric bill just yesterday, so he'd been more aware than normal of shutting things off.

So why were they on?

He grabbed his cell phone and dialed the dispatch office. "Dispatch, this is Miranda. Stand by, I may need backup."

He slid out of the car, shutting the door as quietly as he could. The last thing he needed was a spooked intruder knowing he was coming and waiting with a gun just inside his house. He approached the front door slowly, reaching out to test the knob silently. Unlocked. He didn't hesitate and reached down to unsnap the clasp on his holster, though he didn't draw his gun yet.

As soon as he eased the door open, though, a rush of relief went through him and he nearly sagged as the scent of food cooking hit his nostrils and the sound of a very familiar voice humming came from the kitchen. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, which still had dispatch on the line.

"Never mind, Kinsey. Everything's clear. Have a good night."

He hung up and shut the door behind him, unbuckled his holster and set it on the entryway table. "Zachary!"

A second later, Zach's smiling face appeared around the corner of the wall to the kitchen. "Hi!" he chirped.

Stephen shook his head, affection rushing him. The boy drove him fucking crazy, but goddamn, in such a good way. "Is there a reason you're breaking and entering?"

Then Zach stepped out into view, and Stephen nearly choked on his own tongue. Buck-assed naked, wearing nothing but an apron. Red and white polka dots with a sassy red ribbon at the waist. Stephen swallowed hard.

"And you're naked. Why are you naked? Not that I don't like you naked..."

Zach gave him a knowing smile. "You
love
me naked. And I'm not, by the way." He turned in a full circle, revealing that he was, indeed, not fully naked, but instead was wearing a pair of scandalously tiny boyshorts that, Stephen was willing to bet, came from the women's department. He'd certainly never seen anything so pretty hanging out next to the tighty-whiteys.

"I stand corrected." He shook his head again and smiled, coming forward to pull Zach in for a hug. "Sorry, you just startled me is all. What are you doing here? Mostly naked?"

Zach had only been to his condo a few times. He claimed it had no soul, which Stephen couldn't really argue with. He'd never done much to really make it feel like a home. It was a stark contrast to Zach's tiny, but vibrant little studio apartment.

Zach grabbed his hand--the other was holding a spatula, of all things--and pulled him into the kitchen. Which was...a disaster area. Zach held up both hands in a placating gesture and offered a charming smile. "Now, don't freak out. I'm cooking you dinner!"

Stephen had no words. Zach, who he didn't think had ever turned on the stove at his own apartment, was cooking. Cooking? "Um...that's very sweet, but...why?" And should he call Poison Control now or after the main course?

Zach gave his shoulder a shove. "Because I've never cooked you dinner before. And I thought I should. So I did!" He spun on his heel and hurried over to the stove, where he poked the spatula at a smoking pot. "And I didn't break in, by the way. For a police officer, you sure are predictable." He pointed to the island countertop, where the hide-a-key fake rock from his bushes sat, getting dirt all over the place.

Stephen didn't know what to make of this. He didn't mind Zach being there, in his kitchen, cooking for him when he came home. It was really sweet, and a welcome change to the silence that usually greeted him. He didn't even mind the mess, and he sure didn't mind the vision Zach made almost naked--even though that couldn't be a very safe way to cook.

He just didn't understand what had spurred it. Of course, he really needed to stop trying to predict what Zach would or wouldn't do next anyway. He was never right. The young man had a habit of shoving him right out of his comfort zone and making Stephen forget he had ever been reluctant to leave at all.

So he smiled and wiped the dirt off the counter, then dropped a kiss to Zach's cheek. "Well, thanks. What are you making?"

"Pasta! Because I heard it was easy." Zach's nose wrinkled, and Stephen smothered a laugh. "I think I was lied to." He turned in a circle, scanning the room, then gave Stephen an exasperated look. "Where's a big bowl to put the spaghetti in?"

He pointed to the cupboard beside the stove. "Up there. Here, I can--"

Zach cut him off with a shake of his head, turning to fling open the cupboard. "No, I've got it!"

Stephen lifted his brows, watching in amusement as Zach stared up at the bowl, which lived on the very top shelf. He waited for Zach to ask for help, but instead, the young man stretched up on tiptoes to try to get it, fingers wiggling as if he could make them grow.

"Are you sure you--" He cut off the question at the sharp look from Zach.

"I just need something to nudge it is all." Zach scanned the counter and grabbed an unused spatula.

Uh-oh.

Stephen cringed as Zach stretched up again to swipe at the bowl. "Not that this isn't fun for me to watch and all, but down this path lies a broken nose or a broken bowl."

"Nobody asked you! I can get it...jeez. You tall people..."

Stephen laughed. "Alright, if you need me I'll just be over here ordering you a stepstool off Amazon."

Zach let out a huff and finally admitted defeat, dropping the spatula onto the counter. "It's pointless anyway. The spaghetti's all ruined." He gestured morosely at the stove, and Stephen got up to look.

"It's not too late to order in," Stephen offered, lifting his brows at the clump of stuck together, not-quite-cooked spaghetti. It looked like whatever water there'd been had boiled away, and he reached to shut the burner off as the spaghetti began to smoke slightly.

Zach stiffened and shook his head. "No, I can do this. Let me just get another pot..."

Stephen chuckled and caught him around the waist before he could, nuzzling the side of his neck. "It's alright, Zach. I don't love you for your cooking skills."

Zach pulled out of his arms abruptly and spun on his heel. "Then why do you?" he snapped. Immediately, his expression changed from annoyance to worry and he rushed forward. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I can do this, Stevie. I can cook you one meal!"

Stephen frowned. "I know you can..." He smoothed one hand down Zach's bare back, concern filling him. What had gotten into his wild boy? "What's wrong, Zach? Why all of a sudden the desire to become a happy homemaker?"

Zach scowled at him. "I'm failing at it, aren't I? Of course I am, goddamn it." He whipped off the apron and threw it at Stephen. Of course, it was a wispy bit of ribbon and froth, so it didn't have the impact Stephen was sure he'd wanted and Stephen simply caught it out of the air and then shut off the rest of the burners before turning to follow his lover, who was stomping into the living room.

"Zachary, since when have I cared whether or not you can cook more than a bowl of microwave ramen noodles?" He was completely lost and he didn't like the feeling.

Zach dropped onto the couch in a full-on sulk and chewed on the side of his thumbnail. "Since you went and fell in love with me, maybe!"

Was that what this was about? "What does me loving you have to do with you cooking? I'm not the only one in love here, you know. I'm pretty sure you said it back." He remembered it clearly and wasn't likely to ever forget it. His Zachary, clinging sweaty and breathless to that filthy bathroom door, saying the words. It was etched in his mind.

Zach just about deflated, which was
not
the reaction Stephen had expected.
Oh, shit. Was he regretting saying it? Did he not mean it?
Stephen's heart raced suddenly, trying not to think the worst.

"I know, but that's not the point. I love you; how could I not? But you loving me...that wasn't supposed to happen."

Stephen sat down, mentally throwing his hands up. "I give up, Zachary. I have no idea what you're talking about."

* * * *

God, it had all made perfect sense earlier, but sitting here in the moment, he felt like an idiot. And now he had to explain how much of an idiot he was, as if Stevie needed more evidence of how
not
loveable and good for him he was.

"I kind of knew I was going to fall in love with you, Stevie. You're brave and smart and wonderful and gorgeous...a deaf, blind mute would fall for you. I just wasn't...I don't know how to be somebody someone like you loves." His eyes burned and he blinked hard to try to hide the unshed tears he refused to let fall. "I'm just me." And how did that even remotely live up to the kind of trust Stevie was putting in him, giving Zach his heart?

Stephen exhaled softly, reaching out to brush his hand over Zach's hair. Zach couldn't help but lean into the touch. "Zachary, 'just you' is an amazing thing. How do you not know that? I was pretty sure you knew that."

Zach shrugged one shoulder. "I do, sort of. I mean, I'm pretty fabulous, of course, but that's not the same as being..." He shrugged again. "Worthy."

Stephen smiled a little. "So you thought you'd cook me a meal and become the gay Martha Stewart and...what, exactly? I'd realize I made the right choice falling in love with you?"

Oh, it sounded so stupid. "Don't make fun of me, Stevie."

Stevie's smile faded, shaking his head. "I'm not, Zach. I wouldn't. It's just that you forgot one important thing."

"What?"

"I didn't 'choose' to fall in love with you in the first place. So, right or wrong, bad idea or not--and for the record I think it definitely falls in the 'right' and 'not' categories--I love you. A meal cooked in your underwear, while certainly appreciated, doesn't change anything."

Zach bit his lip. "I've never loved anything, or anyone, longer than a season, Stevie. It's like my attention span lasts only as long as the last Prada collection," he whispered.

Stevie straightened with an incredulous look on his face. "That's not true." He shook his head. "You and Jordy are the best friends I've ever seen. Are you telling me you don't love him?"

"Well, that's different. That's Jordy and--"

"And what about Mr. Mendez in the building next to yours? You don't give a big fucking damn about him every time you bring him that organic soup you know he loves, but can't afford? And your parents, who you talk about when you're feeling blue and I know you don't see as much as you wish. You don't love them?"

Zach squirmed a little. "Stevie, that's not what I meant. I meant..."

"You're ignoring facts, and I'm a cop, Zach, so I can't allow that. Everything gets taken into evidence. You love, maybe more than most. because you don't even realize you do it. And people love you back so much the sun doesn't shine until you fucking smile. Don't you know that?"

Zach thought about it for a minute. How much he did love Jordy, who wasn't nearly as flighty as people assumed. And how much he did miss his folks and love them, even though they still sort of thought he was weird and possibly some kind of deviant just because he was the gayest of the gay boys. And the other people in his life--his friends at work and the people in his apartment building he'd gotten to know well over the past four years living there. Did all that count? Stevie said it did.

"Just because you've never been
in
love doesn't mean you don't know how to love someone properly, Zachary. Hell, I'm not exactly the authority on how to make a relationship last." Stevie cupped his cheek and gave him one of those heart-melting warm smiles. "You better believe I'm going to learn, though, because I'm not letting you go."

"That's what I was trying to do, to learn, to do it...right...I don't know. It doesn't seem to make as much sense now as it did when I thought of it." He felt a little foolish.

Stevie didn't laugh at him, though. Instead, he pulled Zach closer and wrapped him all up in his strong arms, which inevitably made Zach feel better. "I don't want you to cook unless you want to. I don't want you to be anyone or anything but who and what you are. Believe me, if I wanted a "happy hands at home" kind of queen, I could go get one. I don't. I want you, with your burned pasta and smudged makeup and hooker boots up to there."