by E M Lindsey
“I just thought before you go, it might be nice to show you off so my friends stop thinking I made up some hot guy to get them off my back.”
He sounded dejected, and Parker softened in spite of himself. “One condition.”
Alex looked so hopeful, Parker hated himself for the words he was about to say. “Anything.”
“We don’t see each other again.”
Alex swallowed thickly, but tightened his jaw, straightened his shoulders, and nodded. “Fine. That will be our goodbye.”
Parker hated himself for hurting Alex, but he couldn’t offer Alex something he didn’t have, and Parker had lost his heart at fourteen to another man. A man who didn’t want to see him again, who never wanted to fight for him. It was just something he had come to accept years ago. It had motivated his applications for positions from east to west coast and everywhere in between. Except Colorado.
“Did this ever mean anything to you?” Alex asked him softly, interrupting his thoughts.
Parker sighed. “Do you want the truth?” It was an honest question, and he wasn’t sure Alex wanted to hear it, but he had to ask. After a beat, Alex shrugged and nodded, so Parker took a breath, then opened the closet door and gestured for him to go ahead. “I think you’re nice. I think you’ll meet someone and spend a lot of time comparing them to me—all in their favor. I think you’ll use me as a lesson of what not to do.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Alex told him softly.
Parker bowed his head and stared at the foil-wrapped tacos. Alex was just too fucking nice, and he deserved so much more. “No. I knew this wasn’t going anywhere the night I called you. I fell in love years ago, and I tried to stop when I walked away from him, but I can’t. I sometimes picture him when we’re fucking.”
Alex swallowed thickly and nodded. “I know.”
Parker didn’t think he’d been very subtle, but he had always hoped he hadn’t been overtly obvious. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think you are,” Alex said. He took a few steps across the room, then turned. “The party starts at eight.”
Parker’s eyes went wide. “You still want me there?”
“Yes. And I’m going to tell everyone that you fucking like me, and that you’re moving away and hate to leave me, okay? Because I’m tired of being a pathetic loser.”
Parker nodded. It was the least he could do. “Drive safe.”
“Fuck you.”
Then Alex was gone, and Parker collapsed on the bed and closed his eyes. He would have been a better man if he could have said he thought about Alex and the pain he was in, but instead his mind drifted back three nights ago, because Fitz had called him for the first time in months.
“I was with him last night.” And he didn’t need to be specific about who. Fitz always got that tone when he was talking about Ronan. “He came into the bar for a burger, and I made him take me home with him.”
“Fuck. What was he like?” Parker had avoided asking for years. He had cut out the piece of him that was compelled to ask about Ronan and tossed it into a deep, dark cave. But it was back now, and starving, and he couldn’t stop himself. “How was he?”
Fitz sighed. “Tired. Sick maybe? He was moving slow, and he looked like he was in a lot of pain. It was like when we were kids and he’d have those attacks, but worse. I mean, I’ve seen him a handful of times since he got the job at the ranger station, but he looked worse last night. He let me stay though. He fell asleep on my shoulder.”
Parker’s entire body burned with jealousy, and he would have thrown his phone against the wall and shattered it had that been anyone else but Fitz on the other line. “Punch him for me. Punch him in the fucking mouth for doing this to you.”
“To us,” Fitz corrected softly. “It wasn’t just me.”
And it was in that moment Parker felt his old guilt return. Fitz had suffered, but he had bounced back. He lived a good, happy, full life. Parker thought Fitz’s boyfriend was a dick, but he also thought Fitz was maybe the happiest he had been in a long time. And he wouldn’t take credit for the path Fitz was on, but he would take credit for being the friend who stuck around in spite of his role in what happened. He would take credit for letting himself move on enough to keep loving Fitz, to keep him going when things were almost too much.
Ronan had just…failed them. He failed them both, and Parker hated himself for loving him still.
“I don’t think you want me to do that,” Fitz whispered.
“Yes, I do.” But that wasn’t entirely the truth. What he really wanted was to pin Ronan to the wall and kiss him so hard and so furious, neither of them could see straight. He wanted to shove his hand down Ronan’s pants and take his cock and make him come again and again—until he begged the pleasure to stop, until he could only whisper Parker’s name.
But he wouldn’t get that, and he wasn’t foolish enough to dream about it after all this time. “Fucking punch him.”
Fitz just laughed and then hung up, and Parker knew that there was every chance he’d run into Ronan when he went back. If he went back. And he would, probably. His parents were still there, his best friend was still there. But these jobs—any of these jobs—they’d give him a reason not to. They’d give him a reason to send Fitz a plane ticket to Connecticut and do stupid tourist shit and not think about Cherry Creek or what he left behind.
He rolled over and failed not to think about Ronan’s face. He failed not to think about his soft lips and awkward teenage hands and crack-voiced pleas that made him feel things.
He didn’t think about Alex.
Saturday arrived too quickly, and Parker had thought of a thousand reasons not to show up to the bar, but the one he had to go was enough to have him dressed and taking a cab over. He owed Alex for everything he put him through, for not pulling the plug sooner. He owed him the bereft boyfriend who was losing the best thing in his life because of work.
He did his best to look good, spending half an hour styling his hair just so and picking out the jeans that hugged his ass and the shirt that showed off all his hard work. He left his arm propped up against the dresser because he also didn’t want to deal with the discomfort, and he’d have to explain it anyway. Having people stare at his stump always felt a little less intense.
He did up his buttons, a process he was better at now, but had never mastered like some arm amputees he’d met in the prosthetist’s office. But he wasn’t slow enough to make himself late to the cab, and he ignored all attempts at polite conversation as they navigated the crowded downtown streets.
“This is probably as close as I can get you,” the guy told him.
Parker shrugged, then shoved a wad of twenties at the guy before climbing out and putting his wallet in his mouth so he could pull out his ID. He was a medical professional but still had a baby-face, and thanks to hearing it every damn day of his life, he knew he’d appreciate it when he was forty.
For now, it was annoying to stand there as the bouncer scrutinized all the dates, looking down, then up, then down. This was the point Parker would have taken off his arm and asked the guy to hold it for him or something to speed things along if he’d been thinking ahead, but he was forced to endure the wait.
“All right, hold out your hand,” the guy said.
Parker grinned. His time had come. “Which one?” he asked, and held his stump forward, watching the guy flush.
“Uh.”
He took pity on him after a moment, though he didn’t think it was long enough considering how much time he wasted standing there having his ID examined, and he held out his left hand. The guy stamped him a little roughly, and Parker took his ID back, shoving it into his pocket. “Thanks.”
The bouncer grunted, then waved him through, and Parker pushed through the crowd to the beat of the thumping EDM. Parker wasn’t really a club guy. It was a great place for a quick hook up where he didn’t have to try hard to get a bathroom blowie, but he never found the idea particularly fun.
T
he music was already starting to grate on his nerves, and he found the bar before he found Alex or any of his friends. The bartender was hot, tall in her stilettos, with vinyl pants and a barely-there camisole. She had wild curls and light brown skin, her full lips stretching into a smile as she leaned in toward him.
Another sure bet, and frankly it would be a nice change of pace, but he had made a promise to Alex, and he intended on keeping it. “Gin and tonic,” he said, mostly mouthing the words since there was no way she’d be able to hear him.
He passed over his credit card, and she took it with a wink before walking over and grabbing a top shelf bottle he didn’t recognize. It looked good when she handed it over, though, and he felt the soft burn going down as he took his first drink. Leaning against the bar, he turned his head toward the crowd and scanned the sea of faces. Alex was probably there, and really, he should probably text, but he wanted to draw out this moment of peace as long as he could have it. This was just more than he had ever intended on giving him, even if Alex deserved his last hurrah.
Parker wouldn’t miss the constant, simmering anxiety of knowing he’d have to end it and hurt him, but Alex was a good person. He deserved better. He deserved someone who had all the pieces of their heart to give—not just slivers.
“Come here often?” Alex’s voice rose in his ear, his breath hot, sour with his usual whiskey.
Parker pasted on a smile, hoping it didn’t look tense, and he cocked his head to the side. “Want to dance?”
“No, but I do want to show you off,” Alex said, his voice barely audible over the music.
Parker tossed back the rest of his drink, annoyed that he didn’t get a chance to savor the expensive liquor but maybe that was the price he was paying for the night. He set the glass on the bar top, then turned and slid his arm around Alex’s waist.
“Come on.”
“Where’s your arm?” Alex shouted.
Parker’s brow furrowed. “At home. Why, you want it for something? A good spanking?”
In the middle of the moving crowd, Parker couldn’t hear him, but he read Alex’s lips perfectly. “I’m not fucking you tonight.”
It was just as well. Parker was arm candy. He was there to put on a show and make Alex seem like he was more desired than he actually was, and he felt like the biggest dickhead for it. He followed Alex all the way onto the dance floor and grabbed him by the hip.
For all that he hated dancing, Parker wasn’t bad at it. He had rhythm and though his moves weren’t anything to write home about, he could rock his body against Alex’s to the thrumming techno beat. He felt Alex respond, felt him heat up even more in the sea of bodies. He felt Alex press in tighter, felt his limbs loosen.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” Alex said again, right into Parker’s ear, and Parker knew the guy was trying to convince himself.
He tightened his grip on Alex’s hip and smudged a kiss under his ear. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” Alex asked. When he pulled back, his eyes were shimmering with tears, and Parker felt what was left of his heart crack. “Are you actually sorry?”
Parker hooked his fingers through Alex’s belt loops and pulled him into a corner of the bar near the door. The music was still loud, but not overwhelming, and it was easy to crowd Alex up against the wall. He pressed his hand to the cool brick beside Alex’s face and leaned in so he could be heard.
“I am sorry. I’m not sorry I took you home that night, but I’m sorry I called the next day. I’m sorry I kept calling every day after.”
Alex sniffed. “And the vacation we took?”
“Yes,” Parker said honestly.
“And the nights we…”
“Yes.” Parker moved his hand and touched Alex’s cheek. “I’m sorry, because I knew right from the beginning that I could never love you, but I let you hope.”
Alex shook his head. “I like you way too fucking much, but I’m not stupid. I know guys like you, Parker. The tortured souls, the ones in love with the guy who will never love them back.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It is,” Alex told him. “It’s always the same fucking story.”
Parker let out a high, tight laugh. “I’ve been in love with him since I was fourteen. He was my first everything—at least, everything that mattered. And we would be married right now but we were stupid, and a mistake we made almost got our friend burned alive.”
Alex froze, swallowing thickly. “You…literally?”
Parker closed his eyes and tried not to picture Fitz in that hospital bed, but he failed. “He was our best fucking friend, and we snuck away to give each other hand-jobs, and his tent caught fire. He almost burned to death, and that destroyed everything.”
Alex softened, just a fraction. “I don’t want to forgive you just because I feel sorry for you.”
“God, no,” Parker said with a bitter laugh. “Please don’t.” He traced a line over Alex’s cheek. “You’re fucking beautiful, and you’re sweet, and you’ll make someone happy someday.”
“Just not you.”
“Just not me.” He wanted to say something else, to make Alex feel more important than he was, but it would have been a lie. The truth needed to be enough. “If you still want to show me off to your friends…”
“No,” Alex said with a sigh. “I don’t think I do.”
“Then I’m going to drink and avoid you on the dance floor. I hope you hook up tonight.”
Alex’s laugh sounded like he was trying to hold back tears, and Parker wished he could feel worse about it. He knew he was some sort of monster, but it was ending before it got bad. Alex would be happy someday, with someone who would worship the ground he walked on, and Parker would suffer alone.
“That bartender was hot,” Alex said.
Parker gave a startled laugh and stepped back. “I didn’t think you were into women.”
“I’m not, but I know you are sometimes.” Alex gave him a pointed look, then ducked around him and disappeared into the crowd.
Habit told Parker to follow. Habit told him to find Alex and kiss his tears and tell lies until he smiled again, because as terrible as he was, he didn’t want people to hurt because of him. But Alex was telling the truth to his friends on one account—Parker was leaving. He had three job offers, and all of them were a thousand miles away. It didn’t seem far enough, but then again, no distance was.
Leaning against the wall again, Parker closed his eyes as he debated whether or not it was worth it to get another drink. There were people around him, and he could probably make something happen that night, but he wasn’t sure he deserved it. He should probably let himself go home alone. He should let himself wallow and feel the ever-present guilt for all the bad choices in his life he’d made up to that point.
And he had resolved to do it, but a soft, achingly familiar voice spoke near his ear, and he opened his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest like it was trying to break free. “I agree, I think the bartender is hot. And if I know you at all, she’s probably also your type, and I bet she’d be willing to take you home.”
He didn’t look over. He didn’t dare. If this was some psychotic break, some fantasy that had warped his entire reality, he didn’t want to know. His hand was shaking, and he curled it into a fist.
“Should I go ask?” His voice was hoarse and tight, but he didn’t care.
The body pressed up closer. The smell was unfamiliar, the cadence of his voice only a hint of the teenager he’d left behind. Ronan had gotten taller and more broad, and Parker was willing to bet he had a beard too, the same sort of dusty brown as the hair on his head.
“Maybe.” Ronan laughed, a deep, hoarse sound. “You could buy me a drink and find out for yourself.”
Parker closed his eyes, then turned his head and opened them just a sliver. Just enough to prove to himself it was real. Ronan was everything and nothing like he’d imagined. Fitz had offered pictures over the years, but Parker had always declined. He looked
good. He looked better than Parker wanted to admit. He also looked tired and maybe a little sick, just like Fitz said.
“I hate this place,” Parker blurted, and he saw the way Ronan’s lip quirked up in the corner. “I fucking hate it here, and I don’t want to go home with the bartender.”
“You just came to break up with your boyfriend?”
Parker winced. “How much of that did you hear?”
Ronan shrugged, shoving one hand into his pocket like he wasn’t sure what to do with his body. “Most of it. I’ve been here for a while. I saw you come in.”
Parker let those words stab him bloody. “I see.”
“I was going to talk to you before, but the conversation looked important.”
“Well,” Parker said, blowing out a puff of air, “he wasn’t my boyfriend. We were fucking, and now we’re not.”
“Why not?” Ronan leaned against the wall, a hair’s breadth from his elbow. “He was good looking.”
“Yes,” Parker breathed out, “he was. And nice. And really good in bed.”
“So why…”
Parker turned fully toward him and stared him down. “You fucking know why.”
“After all these years?” Ronan’s voice was broken, hesitant, and Parker didn’t know if he wanted to punch him or grab him by the face and never stop kissing him.
“I’m calling a cab.”
“I brought my car,” Ronan told him.
“That’s very nice, Ronan.” He surged forward, then shoved his hand into Ronan’s pocket and came away with his phone. He laughed when he saw there was no password protection. It just opened to his messages, though the only person who ever seemed to text was Fitz, and Ronan almost never replied. “What are you doing here?” he asked, not looking up.
Ronan was silent for so long, Parker thought maybe he wasn’t going to give him the answer he needed. “It was time to see you.”
