Promises (Coda Book 1)

by Marie Sexton

  “You look like hell.” I’d just opened my front door to find Matt leaning on the doorframe. I wasn’t sure why he even bothered knocking anymore. He looked like he might have fallen asleep there if I’d taken any longer answering.

  “I just pulled a double shift. I’m exhausted.” He came in and threw himself onto the couch. “Have you bought any food yet? I’m starving.”

  “You know I haven’t. But I’m hungry too. Come on, let’s go out. My treat.”

  He groaned. “Where’re we gonna go?”

  “Mamacita’s?”

  “No. Cherie might be there.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Yes.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since I quit seeing her two weeks ago.”

  That surprised me, but I let it go. “Okay then. How about Tony’s?”

  “We can’t go there either.”

  “Why not?”

  “That blonde girl—I forgot her name. She’s always giving me her phone number.”

  “Maybe it’s her night off?”

  “If it is, then that other one will be there. The one who wears too much of that stinky hippie perfume. She practically sat in my lap last time.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is there any restaurant in town that we can go to?”

  “No.”

  “Must be tough being the town’s most eligible bachelor.”

  “I’m glad you find it so amusing.”

  “And you’re not interested in any of them?”

  He looked right at me. He was so tired; all his defenses were down, and I knew he meant it when he said, “No. I’d rather be here.”

  God, that was good to hear, but I tried to keep my tone casual. “You think if you hang out with the gay guy long enough, they’ll finally start to leave you alone?”

  “That would certainly be an added bonus.” His eyes were closed now, his breathing slowed.

  “It doesn’t seem to be working so far.”

  “Jared, shut up and order a pizza.”

  When the pizza arrived, I brought out a couple of beers and flipped on the TV. He was still quiet and strangely pensive. I checked the on-screen guide. “We gotta sit through the last forty minutes of The Breakfast Club, but then Wrath of Khan starts.”

  “Whatever.”

  I wasn’t sure how to handle this side of him. Usually he was so solid, but tonight it felt like he was lost. Like he was waiting for somebody to lead him home. He’d hardly eaten any pizza although he was on his third beer.

  “Are you working tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Day off.”

  “Let’s go for a ride. We haven’t been up in a couple of weeks.”

  He brightened up a little. “Sure. I could use the exercise.”

  He’d sunk low in his seat, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his head back. His arms stretched out along the back of the couch so that one hand rested behind my head. Half the time his eyes were closed, and I thought he was drifting in and out of sleep. We sat in silence for a while, and then he said suddenly, “I hate this movie.”

  “Because it’s sentimental crap or because nothing gets blown up?” It was supposed to be a joke, but I don’t think he even heard me.

  “None of them even know who they are. They’re just acting out their roles. Being what their parents made them. Always trying to be what’s expected. It’s exhausting.”

  Somehow I didn’t think he was only talking about the movie.

  “I think I envy you,” he said. “You don’t ever get tired, do you? You don’t care what they expect.”

  “Whose expectations are you worried about, Matt?”

  “Nobody’s. Everybody’s. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m talking about. I’m so tired.” His eyes were closed again. “Don’t listen to me.”

  I was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep. I sat there, feet up on the coffee table, staring at the movie without seeing it, wondering what had happened to put him in this mood. Then I felt a small tug on the back of my head. Then another.

  It was his hand. He was feeling my hair, gently pulling on my curls.

  “Did something happen today, Matt?” He stared at his own fingers as they played in my hair, but I don’t think he was really seeing them. It was possible he hadn’t quite realized he was doing it. It felt nice, and I held perfectly still, afraid if I moved an inch, he’d stop. “Is there something going on at work?”

  The tug on my hair stopped. His jaw clenched, and I knew I’d hit on something.

  “No.”

  “I know you’re lying.”

  There was no answer for a moment, but then that gentle pull on my hair started again.

  “They’re having a picnic. You know, a department thing, everybody bringing their families.”

  He stopped, but I knew there was more. “And you don’t have a family?”

  “That’s not the problem.” He sighed and took a deep breath like he was going to tell me. Then he stopped short, shaking his head. “Never mind.” He stopped playing with my hair and looked back at the TV like the subject was closed.

  “Then what is the problem?”

  It took him a while to decide to answer, but he finally said in a quiet voice, “They asked me if I was going to bring a guest. And I mentioned you.”

  I was shocked. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No shit.”

  “What did they say?”

  “They told me ‘boyfriends’ aren’t allowed.” He sighed again. “I know you warned me. I know I should have seen it coming. But we’re friends, right?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “I’m not allowed to have a friend? And what if it was more?” I just about choked on my beer when he said that, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Why is it their business? They expect me to go sit at their fucking picnic—alone—and watch them with their happy fucking little families, and I’m supposed to pretend like the one person in this town I give a damn about doesn’t even exist?”

  “Uh….” I couldn’t really think of anything to say to that. I couldn’t believe that he’d said any of it and was pretty sure he wouldn’t have on any normal day. But it didn’t matter. He was still talking, and the pull on the back of my head had resumed.

  “And then my parents called. Talk about great timing. My mom’s all in a lather because her sister has a billion grandkids and she has none. My dad was drunk, which is nothing new, and he’s talking about duty. I don’t know if he means being something more than a cop, or if he means getting married and settling down. Both, I guess. And all I can think about is how much I wish I had a brother or a sister, so they could shift some of their expectations to somebody other than me.” The gentle tug on the back of my head continued. “Everybody wants something, and everybody expects something. They never ask how I’m doing or if I’m happy. They don’t ask what I want.”

  “And what do you want?”

  His hand and head both fell back onto the back of the couch. His eyes were on the ceiling. “I wish I knew.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I turned back to the TV, and after a minute, the gentle tug on my curls resumed.

  “Jared, what do you want?” His voice was quiet, and when I looked over, his gray eyes locked on mine. “Tell me what you’re expecting.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Was he asking how I felt about him? I could tell him I had no expectations, and that was certainly true. But as to what I wanted, that was simple. I wanted him. But I was pretty sure he already knew that, and I didn’t think verbalizing it would help anything. So instead I said, “I’m expecting to kick your ass on the trail tomorrow.”

  And just barely, he smiled. “Then I better get some sleep.”

  “Are you okay to drive home?”

  “I’m not even gonna try.” And two minutes later, he was sound asleep.

  BY THE time I got up, Matt had already showered, gone out for donuts, and made coffee. His strange mood seemed forgotten as he shoved me out the door. />
  We had a great ride. I had one spectacular crash on the way up, resulting in two skinned knees and an oozing abrasion that ran from my shoulder to my elbow. Before I could even get up, I heard what could only be described as maniacal laughter. The part of my brain that wasn’t thinking about how much pain I was in wondered who was laughing, because I’d certainly never heard anything like that come out of Matt’s mouth. And then, before I knew what was happening, he jumped on me and pinned me to the ground. I’m close to six feet, but I’m not exactly a big guy. Matt outweighed me by twenty to thirty pounds, and he had no trouble holding me down.

  “My God, you’re heavy! What the hell are you doing?”

  His body was all muscle and sweat, and his eyes flashed green as he laughed down at me. “Rubbing dirt on it!” And he proceeded to grab a handful of it and smear it all over my arm. It hurt like hell, but at the same time, it was strangely erotic, having him on top of me like that. It left me a little aroused and a whole lot off-balance.

  At the top of the trail, we took off our helmets, dropped our bikes, and stood on the summit, looking down at the valley below us. The sun was golden, the sky brilliant blue, the air heady with smell of pine. A light breeze lifted goose bumps on my skin. Below us, the changing aspen created bright patches of amber, orange, and magenta within the green. It was a perfect moment, standing there next to him, covered in sweat and dirt and blood, seeing the glory of the Rocky Mountains around us.

  I turned to him, wondering if he felt it too, and found he wasn’t seeing it at all. He was looking at me instead. He cocked his head to the side, like something puzzled him. His eyes seemed to smile, even if his lips didn’t. But the thing that really startled me was his eyes. If I had ever imagined him looking at me like that, it had only been in my sweetest dreams.

  He reached up, over my shoulder to my hair. Was the whole world in slow motion? I had to remind myself to breathe. I felt a tug as he pulled the rubber band free. Then his fingers pushed up against my scalp and into my hair. My breath caught, and my eyes closed. I don’t know how long we stood like that. It felt like forever. It felt like only a heartbeat.

  “Lizzy’s wrong. You definitely shouldn’t cut it.”

  He let me go, and when I opened my eyes, he was already halfway back to his bike. But he gave me his brilliant smile—would I ever get used to seeing it?—when he turned to look at me. “Last one down pays for dinner.”

  “ALL RIGHT, Jared. Spill!” Lizzy demanded.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t give me that. You can’t wander around here all day with your head in the clouds and a perma-grin on your face and expect me to believe that there’s nothing going on. So—spill!”

  She was right. I felt like I’d been floating a foot above ground all day.

  “I’m just having a good day.”

  “It’s Matt, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Well, no. Not exactly.”

  “What is it, then, exactly?”

  I didn’t know what to say, but I knew my ridiculous grin was bigger than ever.

  “Please tell me he’s finally coming around?”

  “Well, I don’t want to get your hopes up too high”—or my own—“but I actually think there’s a ghost of chance.”

  She squealed and threw her arms around my neck. She caught me off guard. I had one arm pinned to my side by her round belly, and a mouth full of her hair. “That’s so great, Jared.”

  The bell over the door rang, and Matt walked in. “What are you two so happy about?”

  My face burned. My mouth opened, but no words came out. Lizzy, on the other hand, was smooth as always. “Jared was just telling me he plans to babysit for us once a week after the baby is born so Brian and I can go out. Isn’t that nice of him?” Did I say smooth? I don’t think that quite covers it. She’d managed to answer him without embarrassing me and had secured herself a weekly date night all in one stroke. You had to admire her. “So, Matt, did Jared tell you about his birthday?”

  “No.” He looked at me expectantly.

  “It’s still two weeks away,” I told him.

  “It’s September twenty-first,” Lizzy said. “I’m making dinner. You’ll come, right?”

  He looked right at me and said, “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Chapter 16

  MY CONFUSION only grew in the weeks leading up to my birthday. Matt spent every single evening at my house. He slept on my couch as often as he went home, although he was always gone by the time I dragged my lazy ass out of bed in the morning. He even bought a toothbrush to keep at my house. I told myself it was only because he didn’t want to go home to his sterile, empty apartment. I mostly believed it. But was I imagining that he watched me more, or found reasons to touch me when he didn’t need to? Many nights as we watched TV on my couch, I felt that gentle tug on the back of my head as he played with my curls. It was a form of torture, but one I looked forward to every day.

  Matt worked on my birthday but was done at five. He picked me up, and we went to Lizzy’s house for dinner.

  It was a strange night. As the hours passed, he kept moving closer, a heat burning in his eyes that I had seen before, in other men’s eyes, but not for a long time. It seemed like he couldn’t stop touching me. Taken individually, they were just casual touches on my arm, or my shoulder, or my back. He touched my hair a lot too. But it was feeling less casual by the minute. With anybody else, I would have known exactly what it meant. With him, I had no idea.

  Even my family noticed. I saw Mom’s small, knowing smile, and Brian’s uneasy bemusement. And how could I miss Lizzy’s ear-to-ear grin or the goofy thumbs-up she gave me behind his back? But he still seemed to be blind to what he was doing.

  At the end of the night, Lizzy declared us both unfit to drive and gave us a ride back to my house. By the time we pulled up in front of my house, my head was spinning. I’d heard that term before but had never really understood it until now.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect. Probably he’d just drink another beer and then crash on my couch. But part of me knew we were on a precipice, looking down. We either had to turn around and walk away or take a deep breath and jump. My hands shook so hard it took me three tries to get the key in the lock. He hummed contentedly behind me, swaying on his feet a little, and I don’t think he noticed.

  I finally got us inside and made a break for the kitchen, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll get us something to drink.” I got glasses out of the cabinet and beers out of the fridge, took an ice tray out of the freezer, and stood there, staring down at them, not really knowing what to do next. Normally I’d just grab two bottles of beer out of the fridge, but I was flustered and trying desperately to buy enough time to regain some equilibrium. I didn’t hear him come in. Just suddenly felt him behind me, his hands on my waist. It made me a little breathless, feeling him so big and solid against my back. Didn’t he know what he was doing to me?

  But his voice in my ear wasn’t the sexy drawl of a lover. It was the same casual, bantering voice he always used. “What are you doing in here?” He leaned against me harder as he reached out with one hand and picked up one of the bottles. “Who ordered beer on the rocks?” I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he had one eyebrow cocked.

  “I’m, uh, I’m not sure,” I stammered like an idiot, trying to think about football or mountain bikes or anything but how close he was. He put the beer down, and his right hand slid up and over to rest on my stomach, and my breath caught in my throat.

  “Hey,” he actually sounded a little concerned now. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

  I laughed nervously. “No kidding?”

  “No kidding. What’s wrong?”

  I took a deep breath and said, “Matt, you may not realize it, but you’re sending me some seriously mixed signals here. I’m not quite sure how you want me to react.”

  “What do you mean?” And man, that really did sound like genuine confusion in his voice. But he
still hadn’t moved.

  “I mean this, Matt. The way you’re touching me.”

  “Oh.” I knew without looking that his cheeks were turning red. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No, I don’t want you to stop. But I think maybe you should.”

  “What? Why?” Confused. But then as realization hit, “Oh!” But he didn’t move. A second passed, and then his hand moved a little higher, toward my chest. His weight against my back increased, and his voice had gone low and husky when he said in my ear, “Am I turning you on?”

  “God, yes, you’re turning me on!” It came out a little harsh, but I was relieved to get it out. “Is that what you want?”

  He froze for a minute, and his breath in my ear was a little bit shaky. “I don’t really know.” Another shaky breath and his hands fell away, and he stepped away. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.” But when I turned around, I found he’d only taken a half-step back. He stood only a foot away from me, his cheeks flushed. He was obviously as shaken as I was.

  For a moment, neither of us moved. I was trying to catch my breath and convince my cock there was nothing of interest going on. It wasn’t listening. My whole body shook, and my voice came out raspy. “Okay, well—”

  He stepped forward again. My back hit the counter. My fingers had a death grip on its edge. He was so close. He stared at me, frowning, his head cocked a little to the side like he was trying to figure something out. Like I was some kind of puzzle he almost had the answer to. Then, slowly, he put both hands on the countertop, one on either side of me, pinning me in. “Matt?” It came out barely a whisper.

  The green sparkled in his eyes more than usual tonight. They were full of surprise and confusion, but there was something else there too. “I guess I just want to touch you.” One hand came off the counter, onto my hip. “I think”—he sounded amazed—“I really like touching you.” His hand slid up my arm. His lips were only an inch away from mine. My whole body felt electric, like every nerve was straining toward him. “Is it okay if I touch you?”