Stay With Me (21 page)

“Just look at Trevor,” he said.

“Oh, jeez.” I sighed heavily.

I patted my left pocket before remembering I’d left my smoky crutches at home. I didn’t know then that Jordan would be with Rachel tonight. Or that Drew was going to exercise his spooky timing again and harangue me about my love life.

“He was emotionally unavailable to you, and you knew that from the beginning. You pursue dead-end relationships like the proverbial rabbit after the carrot. Then when they fail,
and they will fail
, you can step back and say ‘Told you so. Love doesn’t exist.’”

“What a lovely portrait you’ve painted of me. I should hang it on the refrigerator.”

The red fluorescent sign of a Walgreens caught my eye, triggering an apparently deeply rooted, long-forgotten memory that I needed batteries. Triple A. I whipped in and parked as Drew scolded me some more. Clearly he was determined to have his say, whether I cared to hear it or not.

“Go ahead. Do your sarcasm thing. But you know I’m right. Look at Nick.”

“You can’t penalize me for Nick. That was a viable relationship. And not just in the good times either. I took care of him, Drew. I took him to rehab and helped him with his exercises. I cooked for him and did laundry and—”

“No one is saying you weren’t a great friend to him. But that’s all it was. Friendship. And maybe a little guilt mixed in.”

“He was driving, Drew. Not me,” I said sharply.

“And you never let him forget it either.”

I closed my eyes briefly, swallowing. It was a moment before I spoke again. “I knew it wasn’t rational to blame him. I’m not saying it wasn’t rough. You know I wasn’t happy about leaving my job. But I
stayed
. I was willing to work it out.”

“Yeah, you felt guilty because you never loved him the way he loved you. But before that accident, you were on your way out. After you knew the extent of his injury, you weren’t going anywhere. You were going to be his rock and his friend… but you would never love him like he needed to be loved. So he left instead.”

“I was crushed when he left.
He
left. Not me.”

“You practically forced him out the door. He knew you weren’t all in from the beginning.”

“I was too!” I squawked, ignoring the fact that a grown adult (me) had just uttered “Was too!” in a nonplayground setting. “How much more in can you get? We met each other’s families—”

“You met
his
family. You never introduced him to your dad or Robert.”

“I….” I faltered.

Well, yes, that was true. But it didn’t seem like the right time. My dad was still coming to grips with me being gay. I mean, I’d spent thirty minutes alone debating on how to introduce him. “My boyfriend” seemed so high school. “My partner” felt somehow wrong and something I wasn’t quite ready for. And “my
lovah
”? Well… come on, you can’t say that to your father with a straight face. If I didn’t even know how to introduce him, I knew it was the wrong time. Seemed as good an excuse as any. And looking back upon it with fresh eyes, it had been just that. An excuse.

Try explaining that to Drew, who had clearly picked up speed. “You never even got rid of your apartment when you were ‘living’ together. A nice 1500-square-foot safety net.”

I sighed. “What do you want from me?”

“Stop putting yourself through this. Try going out with someone who is emotionally and physically available to you. Try for something real. What was that guy’s name at the pub? Darcy?”

“Big Red? No way!”

“And when you speak to him, don’t call him that either. It takes people a while to warm up to your… er, ways.”

I narrowed my eyes at the phone on the dash. Hopefully, he would begin the process of burning to a crisp. My humor was delightful.

Drew moved on, clearly uncharred by my glare. “He was interested. Available.
Gay
. Gainfully employed, handsome, funny….”

“Maybe you should date him,” I murmured.

“I heard that, bitch. Do yourself a favor, Mac. Take him out on this date instead.” I mulled this over in silence before he spoke again. “I called him, you know.”

“Who, Nick?” I sighed. “Why am I not surprised? He seems to be in contact with everyone I know lately.”

“No, doof. Jordan. I called him and explained to him some of the finer points of dating a friend of mine.”

“Certainly explains the chilliness between you two.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t pleased. He seemed rather concerned about our relationship.”

“And you of course told him there’s nothing between us.” Silence. “Drew.”

He chuckled. “It’ll do the golden boy good to worry a little. Just… just be careful, okay?”

“I thought you wanted me to call Darcy.”

“I do, but since when have you ever done anything I’ve asked you to do?”

I cocked my head, considering. “True.”

“Besides, I have a feeling you’re not going to stop thinking about it until you’ve taken a ride to Jordan town.”

Already took the scenic route.
I filled the silence with an offhand laugh. “You know me.”

Gasp. Silence. Then, “I
do
know you,” Drew said accusingly. “You
ho
.”

“Gotta go.”

“Mac! I knew—”

I clicked off my headset on something that sounded suspiciously like “slutty boy bitch,” but I couldn’t be sure.

I looked at the phone for a minute, wondering if Drew was right. Was I as disillusioned as all that? Seeking out relationships that were doomed from the start for the sheer sake of watching them fail? I bit my lip. Maybe I’d known that Trevor wasn’t the right person for me. He’d been a good friend, a best friend, and it was easy to segue into lovers. I couldn’t really say I’d ever loved him that way. And though I missed our friendship, the end of our relationship brought some sense of relief. Relief that it was over. Relief that I didn’t have to pretend to look for houses anymore for our “future.” Relief that I didn’t have to keep finding things wrong with the listings he sent to my e-mail. To be perfectly honest, I missed Nick in the same way. He had been a friend that I turned into a lover.

“Huh.” I frowned.

So apparently, I was determined to say no to love until sexual urges forced me to hit on and create faux relationships with my friends. Wow. That was kind of lazy. Not to mention destructive.

I
did
believe in love, despite what Drew thought. I knew it existed. But the end result just hurt too much to participate. My father had experienced that kind of love, clearly love my mother hadn’t shared. Even now, on the rare occasions he let us actually meet someone he was dating, I felt Mom… Ellen’s shadow there. She was there in the way he sometimes forgot and spoke about her. His downcast eyes when he realized he’d done it too much and fucked the date up good. My eyes burned a little, thinking of my gruff, tough father and his one-sided bond with a woman long gone. I guess watching that for half my life had affected me more than I cared to admit. Not to mention what I did every day. It made it so easy to forget. I had a whole eight-gigabyte memory card full of “love.”

A car horn beeped, and I jerked a little. Looked around. Hmm. Once again clueless as to what I needed at Walgreens, I grabbed my phone.

I’d never felt this way before. I’d never wanted to spend day and night wrapped up in and with someone. Never wanted to call him out of the blue, just to hear his voice. Never sniffed the couch cushions for a whiff of his cologne. Sure, I had more than my share of screwups. But didn’t that make me an authority in what it
wasn’t
supposed to feel like? Didn’t I owe it to him to make sure?

I stared at the phone for a moment before dialing a number I never thought I’d use. The ringing provided a nice soundtrack as I started the car and reached for the AC before realizing I still had none. Darcy finally answered as I was rolling down my window.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I answered automatically.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing much.” He paused. It appeared he was finally perturbed to be speaking to a total stranger who’d chosen not to identify himself. “Who is this?”

“You don’t remember me from the bar? Wow, you buy a guy a Guinness and just forget he ever existed.”

“Mackenzie?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause. And surprise. “Hey.”

Not the most stellar reception I’d ever had, for sure.

“You free for a movie or something?”

“Yeah, of course. I’d love to see you. I thought you’d lost my number.”

“No, I’ve just been… busy lately. Maybe we can try the new iPic? It’s a little far, but it might be fun.”

His laugh was deep. Nice. “I’d meet you pretty much anywhere. I think you know that.”

Despite the fact he couldn’t see me, I went beet red. He was a charmer, for sure. “You want me to pick you up?”

There was a pause. “In that heap you call a truck?”

I couldn’t help the snicker. “Is that a yes or no?”

There was a windy sigh. “That’s a yes. But I’m expecting some kind of payment for that kind of sacrifice.”

“Popcorn?” I suggested innocently.

He laughed again. I really liked that laugh. “We’ll see.”

I
PICKED
him up in my rust bucket in the lot of the firehouse, determined to leave the Ghost of Relationships Past behind and have some fun.

He whistled as I opened the truck’s squeaky door for him. “I see you went all out.”

“Spit polished and shined, Darcy. Just for you,” I teased. “All the discarded bottles are in the flatbed.”

He grinned, and then his face turned serious. “You look. Amazing.”

Aw, shucks.
I tried not to do my Gomer Pyle impression, but I could feel a sheepish half smile pulling at my mouth anyway. I did clean up pretty well, I guess, and I would just accept the compliment. My wine-colored oxford hadn’t ironed itself, after all. I’d actually managed to stuff both handfuls of my rear in some skinny jeans, and really, wasn’t that a cause for celebration?

He hadn’t turned out too badly himself. I won’t insult his muscles by just calling them muscles. His muscles had muscles, and they were displayed to perfection in a form-fitting white Hollister tee. I loved the fact that his jeans looked like they’d seen better days, and worn boots completed the fuckable picture. I could actually smell him from here, and It. Was. Good.

Hollister.
Huh. I’d always thought of them as a teenybopper kind of brand. Oh Lord, I’d turned into my grandfather. Was I now using teenybopper in regular conversation?
And who cares what kind of shirt he’s wearing?
I scolded myself. He looks hot. Even though I really could smell him from over here. Cologne was good, but kind of strong. I mean, there was no need to take a bath in Jean Naté for my benefit.
You know it’s not Jean Naté, you freak. Stop being so picky. Your mind is so full of Jordan you can’t recognize a good thing when you see it.

I gestured. “Your carriage awaits.”

He groaned and vaulted up into the cab. I fiddled with the AC for a moment before remembering again. I turned to speak, but he’d already guessed and groaned comically.

I grinned. “Carriages don’t have air.”

“You’re so cute,” he said, and I froze.

I’d last heard that in a steamy shower, cocooned from reality, my hands on either side of Jordan’s face. I didn’t expect the swift kick to the gut that came along, free of charge, with that memory. I blinked and shook myself visibly. Didn’t matter what I thought I’d seen in his eyes. I’d been wrong.

I put the car in drive, determined not to pick out anything wrong with Darcy for the entire ride. By the stoplight, I had five things. Five. Okay, taking away the Hollister tee, then I had four. But the cologne wasn’t dissipating. I mean, I have no AC, you know. People do need to
breathe
.

We made it to the iPic theater in record time, blowing past the rabble (yes, rabble—teenaged rabble with purple hair and lots of obnoxious friends) with my prepurchased tickets. I enjoyed my James Bond moment as I flashed my iPhone screen at the counter guy, and soon we were ensconced in our plush orange recliners, munching on free popcorn.

“Thanks for treating, by the way.” Darcy stuck his iPic pillow behind his neck like we were on an intercontinental Delta flight. “I like a sugar daddy.”

“Cute.” I gave him a poke in his flat stomach. “Dinner’s on you. Besides, you put out, right?”

He laughed that great belly laugh that I was really starting to like. Then he startled me by dropping a kiss on the curve of my neck. “I sure do, beautiful.”

He put a piece of popcorn in my astonished mouth, forcing me to close it or choke. I chewed on the buttered piece, pondering my two pressing concerns: one, how did movie theaters get their popcorn like that: and two, was Darcy a top or a bottom?

“So what are we watching, anyway?”

“
Fast
six.” I realized the polite thing to do would have been to ask if he liked the
Fast & Furious
series, but if he didn’t, I couldn’t date him anyway.

“And if I haven’t seen one through five?”

“Then you’re basically un-American. Besides, what’s there to know? Fast cars, pretty girls, hot guys, stealin’ stuff in ways that could never happen… aaand you’re all caught up.”

His beautifully chocolate brown eyes went skyward. “Let me guess, you’re a Rock fan?”

“And Paul Walker, and Tyrese… the Asian guy, and a little Vin Diesel action doesn’t go amiss either. Any way you look, you win.”

“I haven’t liked the Rock since
SmackDown
.”

I pretended to clasp my hands in prayer and closed my eyes. “Let him keep his gay card, Lord, for he knows not what he says.”

He grinned. “You’re lucky you’re fine.”

“Am I?” I lifted my brows. A queen did need his compliments, after all.

His hand on the back of my neck should have alarmed me, especially since it was fairly bear sized. But he was gentle, and the callused pads of his fingers rasped gently on the sensitive skin of my neck. When he pressed his mouth to mine, my eyes fluttered shut and my hands went to the collar of his Hollister shirt. His mouth was clean. Firm. Minty breath misted over my face briefly as he pulled away, and I smiled.