Never a Hero

by Marie Sexton

  I had joy.

  My dad sniffled, wiping tears from his cheeks. I reached out and put my hand on top of his. “I’m fine, Dad. I really am.”

  He beamed up at me. He turned his hand in mine to squeeze my fingers. “I see that, son. I want you to know, I’m proud of you. I always have been, but never more than today. Never more than when I saw you walk to the front of that church. You have a good job here. A good life.” His smile turned hesitant. “And if I don’t miss my guess, you have a boyfriend downstairs who’s crazy about you.”

  I blushed furiously. “I’m not sure about that.”

  “I am. I see the way he watches you.”

  “Things with Nick are….” Confusing? A disaster? Hard to explain?

  “Complicated?”

  “Yes.”

  “It seems like the worthwhile things always are.” He put his hand on my shoulder, giving weight to his words. “Owen, let me give you some advice. You can spend a lifetime being miserable, and all you’ll have later is regrets. But happiness? I don’t think you’ll ever regret that.” He hooked his hand behind my neck and pulled me closer. He kissed me on the forehead. “Be happy, son. Whatever it takes.”

  I SPENT all night thinking about what my dad had said. It was simple and yet profound.

  Be happy.

  I’d spent my life being miserable—fearing my mom, being embarrassed by my arm, hiding in my apartment like some kind of criminal. I’d convinced myself that I didn’t deserve to have a life.

  But I did. Not only that, I deserved to be happy.

  And next morning, I had a plan.

  At 10:00 a.m., I was pounding on Nick’s door.

  He’d just come from the shower. His hair was wet. He wore only sweats. His smile was uncertain. He was so gorgeous I could have eaten him with a spoon, but I tried to tame my raging hormones.

  “Hey.” He was acting wary, after the way we’d left things, but he let me in. “How’d things go with your dad last night?”

  “Really well.”

  “Good.”

  We stood there for a moment, silent and awkward.

  “I have a present for you,” he said suddenly. I followed him into the dining room. He picked something up from the piano bench and handed it to me.

  It was piano music. Several different pieces and different composers, but with one thing in common—they were all written for the right hand alone. I looked up at him in surprise. “Where did you get these?”

  “Online. I’ve been doing some research. It turns out there’s a lot of piano music written for one hand. The thing is, they assume it’s because your other hand is injured, and since most people are right-handed, most injuries happen to the right hand, which means most of the music is written for the left.”

  “I never would have thought of that.”

  “Me neither. But there are exceptions to the rule, of course.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I showed them to Amelia—”

  “That’s what you were talking to her about!”

  “She said it would take practice, but that she’s never had a student as dedicated as you. She said she had no doubt that by next year’s recital, you’ll be able to play something by yourself.”

  “What about June?”

  He laughed. “Well, the truth is, she’s a bit of a flake when it comes to things like this. She did the recital, but don’t be surprised if she finds an excuse to quit in the next couple of months.”

  I flipped through the music. Most of it looked too hard, but a few of them looked possible.

  “The thing is,” Nick said, his voice suddenly quiet, “I don’t want to see you quit. I like hearing you play. I like—”

  He stopped short, and I dropped the music on the piano bench in order to face him.

  “You like what?”

  “I like having you here.”

  “I like being here.”

  He took a deep, quavering breath. “Owen, please don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

  “You’re the one making it difficult, not me.”

  “It’s just that I want you to keep playing because I think you love it—”

  “I think you love me.”

  He ducked his head. “I do. But it’s not that simple.”

  “It’s exactly that simple.”

  “Owen—”

  “Coincidentally enough, I’ve been doing some research too. And I have a gift for you.” I pulled out the box of condoms I’d hidden in my coat pocket and placed it in his hand.

  He stared down at it for a long time while I took off my coat and toed my shoes off. When I turned to face him again, his cheeks were red. There was also a tent forming in his sweats.

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “You don’t want this disease.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But I do want you, and I’m tired of letting you push me away. I’m tired of letting you decide who gets to be happy and who doesn’t.”

  “Is that really what I’m doing?”

  “You were, but it’s stopping now. It’s stopping today.” I stepped closer to him. I let my hand play over his growing erection as I brushed my lips over his.

  “I don’t know, Owen—”

  “Stop arguing and tell me this: Wouldn’t you like to bottom again? Wouldn’t you like to lie flat on your stomach and be fucked?”

  His breath caught. He moaned, a sound of dismay, but of surrender too. I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I thought so.”

  I took his hand and he let me lead him into the bedroom. He watched me undress. I’d never seen him look so uncertain.

  “This is a bad idea.”

  “Shut up.” I pushed the waistband of his sweats down over his hips. I let them catch on his erection just to hear him gasp when it finally popped free. “Lie down on the bed.”

  He did, lying facedown, although I noticed how his hands shook. I put a condom on and added some lube. I climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs the way he’d done to me that first time.

  “Owen,” he said, and I thought he might be near tears.

  “Nick, listen to me. I know what I’m doing.” I looked down at his gorgeous, round ass. I thought about what I was about to do. Did I know what I was doing? Not when it came to fucking him, no, I had no clue. But that wasn’t the point. “I’ve read everything I can find on HIV transmission. Now, if you were about to fuck me, it would be a bit more of a risk, but that’s not what either of us wants. It’s less of a risk this way, and with the condom, it’s negligible.”

  “Negligible, yes. But it’s still there.”

  “You’re right. But here’s the thing, Nick: It’s my risk. It’s my decision. And I’ve decided it’s worth it.”

  “Owen,” he groaned. I could hear the conflict in his voice, desire warring with his conscience.

  “Stop. I’m tired of this back-and-forth. You and I are happy together, aren’t we?”

  He sighed. “Yes.”

  “We have fun together. We’re attracted to each other.” I kissed his shoulder. “We love each other.”

  “Yes.”

  One word, but it made my heart soar. “Stop pretending like we have to be apart in order to protect me.”

  “I’m scared, Owen. I’m so scared of hurting you.”

  There was still lube on my fingers, and I pushed them between his firm cheeks, feeling for his opening. “Being pushed away hurts me more than this ever will.”

  He gave a soft sigh of surrender and slid his legs apart. Only an inch or so, since I was straddling him, but enough that I could trace his crack until I found what I sought. I caressed his rim, and his moan of pleasure was the most gratifying thing I’d ever heard.

  “So what do you say?” I asked. “Want me to stop, or are you ready to admit that I’m right?”

  The pillow muffled his throaty chuckle. “Right now I’ll admit anything you want.”

  He pushed
his ass toward my hand, and I slid my fingers into him. His body was so tight and warm, and all I could think about was how good it would feel around my cock.

  I pulled my fingers out and tilted my erection toward him. It was awkward. I had to brace myself on my shortened left arm and hold my cock with my hand. I found his entrance, and he gasped when I pushed against him, but I knew the angle was all wrong.

  “Nick,” I started to say, but he was ahead of me. He reached back and helped me, guiding me into place. He pushed back and up with his hips. A bit of glorious pressure, and then I slid inside.

  It took my breath away. I pushed in farther, trying to go slow, but the pleasure of it was so new, so intense, so overwhelming, I found it difficult to hold back. I indulged in a few thrusts to revel in how unbelievably good it felt. But then I reminded myself that this was supposed to be for him. Yes, it was my first time, and the urge to drive forward toward my own climax was strong, but I could do better by him than that.

  I bit back my own moan and concentrated instead on Nick. I loved the sounds he made and the way he moved. I thrilled at the way his hips arched up to meet me. It took me a couple more thrusts to find my balance and my rhythm, rocking back and forth against his ass, sliding in and out of him, but once I did, it was perfect.

  I leaned down to whisper into his ear. “Am I doing it right?”

  “Yes! Dear God, yes. Please don’t stop now.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  I sat up again.

  And I fucked him.

  It was glorious, better than I’d ever imagined. I felt strong and alive and magnificent. I felt victorious. I watched the muscles ripple across his back as he writhed and panted beneath me. I listened to his labored breath and his throaty moans. I stroked his flesh and squeezed his ass, and through it all, I rocked in and out of him, slow at first, but building, moving faster as our passion grew until our flesh was slapping together, until his hands holding the headboard were taut fists, his knuckles white. Until he was trembling, calling my name, begging me for more.

  Until he came so hard he nearly screamed.

  His body tightened around my cock. The strength of it surprised me, and I waited until the spasms had stopped to pull out of him. I hadn’t come, but I didn’t mind. This had been for him, and if I had my way, we’d have plenty of time later. I pulled off the condom—clumsily, but I didn’t make too much of a mess—and tossed it in the trash. He lay beneath me, still shaking from the force of his orgasm, and I leaned down to kiss his shoulder.

  “Owen,” he whispered. He turned to take me in his arms. He rolled on top of me and buried his face in my neck. He was shaking, and his cheeks were damp. “I still worry this is a bad idea.”

  “We’ve both done our time in the cage. I think it’s time we break free.”

  “I want you to be safe.”

  “To hell with safe. I’ll take happy over safe any day of the week.” I kissed his cheek. “You make me happy.”

  He laughed, a sad, choking sound. “You make me happy too.”

  “You’re not acting very happy right now.”

  “I’m just not sure it’s right. Not after what I did.”

  “You’ve wallowed in the guilt long enough. Yes, you made a mistake. But that doesn’t mean you have to punish yourself for the rest of your life. You deserve to be loved. And to be happy.” I kissed his forehead. “We both do.”

  He wasn’t ready to stop fighting—not quite yet—but I knew we were close. I could feel it in the way he relaxed against me. In the way the tension left his shoulders. In the way the grief started to leave his voice. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I have been trying to punish myself.”

  “For getting sick to begin with?”

  “Yes. And no. For what it did to my family more than anything. A few months after moving to Tucker Springs, I finally broke down and looked at June’s pictures of that trip to Cancun, and I couldn’t believe how much my mom had changed. It’d only been sixteen months, but it was like she’d aged ten years in that time. And it was all because of me.”

  “But do you really think she’d want you to pay for it by being miserable for the rest of your life?”

  He laughed. “No. In fact she told me after she met you that she was glad I’d found somebody to love.” He tightened his arms around me. “I do love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

  “Then stop pulling away. Stop telling me we can’t be together.”

  “What if you get sick?”

  I almost laughed. Almost. “What if I slip in the tub tomorrow and break my neck? What if I walk out the door and get hit by a bus? What if I get struck by lightning?”

  “None of those things will happen.”

  “Do you know that for a fact?”

  He was silent for a moment, but he finally said, “I suppose not.”

  “I keep thinking, if I knew I was going to die tomorrow or next week or next month, would I say, ‘Gee, good thing Nick and I played it safe’? No. I’d wish that we’d spent every single minute together. To hell with being safe.”

  “But Owen—”

  “I’m not saying we be careless. I’m just saying, there are a lot of things that could go wrong, most of them completely out of our control. So why not embrace the things that are going right? I’ve spent my life feeling like a victim, but not anymore. And it’s time for you to do the same thing. Stop letting yourself be a victim of the virus.”

  “Is it really that simple?”

  “I think it is. Unlike my arm and your illness, this is a choice, Nick. It’s a chance at happiness. A chance at joy. And I won’t let it slip by. I won’t go back to my cage. Not ever. I’d rather risk everything than live like that again.”

  He laid his head on my chest again and stroked my side. “I’m tired of the cage too.”

  “Then leave it behind.” I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled, forcing him to face me. “This really is our decision to make, Nick, and I choose this. I choose you.”

  He smiled, a slow, teasing smile that filled me with happiness. “Then I guess I have to choose you too.”

  I laughed at the joy of it—of finally seeing the real Nick again and of knowing the fight was over. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Jesus. It’s about damn time.”

  He chuckled and kissed my neck. My jaw. My cheek. “Pushing you away never worked anyway. For all of my noble intentions, I have no willpower at all when it comes to you.”

  “Thank goodness for that, or we never would have made it this far.”

  He laughed and reached down to caress my waning erection back to life. “Now that we have that settled,” he said, “I’m ready for round two.”

  “Already?”

  “You didn’t come before.”

  The frankness of the statement made me blush a bit. “No, but I didn’t want to be pushy.”

  “Why stop now?”

  I laughed. “Should I apologize?”

  “No.” He kissed my neck. “The way I see it, we have eleven condoms left and five years of abstinence to make up for.”

  “Sounds like I’m in for a long day. You may have to make me breakfast first.”

  “Fair enough.” He kissed me again. “Owen?”

  “Yes.”

  “You really are my hero.”

  And you’re mine.

  Epilogue

  February

  “COME ON,” Nick urged. “Let me see it!”

  I’d finally taken Seth up on his offer for a discount on my first tattoo. My upper arm still burned from the bite of the needle. I put my hand over the bandage. “He said to keep it covered for five hours.”

  “We’ll cover it back up. Just let me peek.”

  “You’ll laugh at me.”

  “So what’s your plan? You’re going to somehow keep your arm hidden from me forever?”

  He was right, of course. I was being ridiculous. But what had seemed like a good idea when I’d gone into Ink Springs suddenly made me feel silly. Too late
to turn back, though. It was now a permanent part of me.

  I sighed and presented my arm for his inspection. Nick gently peeled off the tape and lifted the bit of gauze.

  I was right. He did laugh. But it wasn’t mockery. He laughed at the intimacy of a shared joke as he looked at it: the red-and-yellow Superman logo tattooed on my left biceps. He leaned over to kiss my shoulder. “It’s perfect.”

  He was reapplying the tape when his doorbell rang. We still hadn’t quite decided which apartment we were living in. Mine had more windows. His had the piano. For now, we occupied both.

  “Are you expecting somebody?” he asked.

  “Am I ever?”

  “Maybe Nathan?”

  “No.” Nathan and I had become good friends over the past couple of months, but I knew he wouldn’t stop by unannounced. I opened the door and found myself facing my past: Regina.

  “Hi, Erwin,” she said, obviously confused. “I thought you lived upstairs.”

  “It’s Owen. And I do.” Mostly.

  “Oh. Well, can I talk to whoever lives down here?”

  Nick came up behind me, practically radiating Annoyed Boyfriend. I didn’t miss the admiring look she gave him or the way she dismissed me to smile at him.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “It’s about the piano,” she said. “I miss it. I was wondering if there was any chance of me getting it back? I could even buy it from you, if you’re not asking too much, and I’d be happy to pay for a moving company.”

  My piano, I thought. And my boyfriend. It was with great deal of satisfaction that I pushed Nick back inside and said to her, as I closed the door, “I’m afraid it’s not for sale.”

  Welcome to Tucker Springs!

  A Tucker Springs Novel

  Welcome to Tucker Springs, Colorado, where you’ll enjoy beautiful mountain views and the opportunity to study at one of two prestigious universities—if you can afford to live there.

  Jason Davis is in pain. Still smarting from a bad breakup, he struggles to pay both halves of an overwhelming mortgage and balance the books at his floundering business. As if the emotional and financial pain weren’t enough, the agony of a years-old shoulder injury keeps him up at night. When he faces a choice between medication and insomnia, he takes a friend’s advice and gives acupuncture a try.