“Do you also have the week’s forecast?” he asked after finally opening the door.
“Not for the week,” Spencer said. He then pushed Dutch inside the office and slammed the door behind them. “But the forecast for the next hour is mostly cloudy with a 100 percent chance of an ass-chewing.”
Dutch leered at Spencer. “Kinky,” he said. “But I don’t have time right now. Come back later this afternoon if you still want to eat out my ass.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Spencer yelled. “Are you trying to get fired?”
“Why are you so interested in my employment status? I thought we covered that the last time we were here in my office together.” He walked up to Spencer and stared right into his jade-green eyes. The green hue darkened, indicating Spencer was extremely upset. “Or have you forgotten?”
Spencer pushed him backward. Dutch stumbled into his desk and almost fell over. “Oh, I remember,” Spencer told him. “I remember we screwed up that day and since then you’ve completely ignored me. I tried to apologize. I tried to make things better, but you never once reciprocated any of my offers.”
Dutch stood up straight and walked around his desk. “Maybe you should’ve gotten the hint,” he told Spencer. “I’m done playing your little cat-and-mouse games.”
“My what?”
“Stop the innocent routine,” Dutch fumed. “I’ve had enough of it. You pretend as if you’re sweet and kind, the perfect employee, the perfect friend, the perfect partner. But you’re not so perfect. You’re just as flawed and damaged as the rest of us. Everyone just doesn’t see it because you put on a good show. But I’ve gotten to know the real Spencer Harrison. The one your students don’t see. The one Dr. Cutting or your admirers in upper administration can’t see. The one your loving partner, who adores you more than anyone else doesn’t even know exists.”
“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” Spencer answered. He was still angry, but his voice turned calm, his way of trying to defuse the situation. “I never said I was perfect, and I have no idea where all that came from. All I ever wanted was to be your friend.”
He couldn’t help but snicker at Spencer’s naïveté. “Friends?” he asked incredulously. “You’ve wanted to be more than that since the interview. You know it. I know it.”
Spencer’s face drooped in surprise. He looked like a child caught in his own web of lies.
“You’ve had the hots for me from the very beginning,” Dutch declared, finally giving voice to a truth he knew Spencer had yet to fully acknowledge. “Don’t think I didn’t notice at the interview. You could barely keep your mouth closed or the spit from dripping onto your chin. Then after I was hired, you invited me to lunch. And flirted. When I got to campus, you sent e-mail after e-mail. You called and left messages inviting me to lunch or coffee. Didn’t you realize how desperate that made you look?”
Spencer tried to speak, but Dutch held his hand up for him to stop. He wasn’t finished, and he wasn’t about to be interrupted. “So I finally gave in. Took you up on lunch. And I flirted with you to test the waters, to see if it was just friendship you wanted. When you flirted right back, it told me all I needed to know. But when I touched you, you hesitated. Probably thinking about poor little Justin and how you just couldn’t wrong him. So I pulled back. But you wouldn’t let up. You kept pursuing me and pursuing me. I tried to get away. I tried to put some distance between us, but you wouldn’t let up. So I thought, fine, let’s get this over with. And when I finally made my move, finally got you naked and ready to go, you backpedaled again and ran away.” He sat down behind his desk and folded his hands on top. “And then you started all over again. Phone calls. E-mails. And now here you are in my office. Again.” He leaned forward in his chair. “What are you looking for this time?”
“I was here trying to look out for my friend,” Spencer told him. “I thought that’s what we had become over all those lunches we shared. Before we almost had sex. I screwed up that day. I own up to that. But our friendship was never about trying to get into your pants. We got to know each other over those few weeks. I thought we developed a bond. I guess I was wrong.”
“You were dead wrong,” Dutch replied. He looked into Spencer’s eyes. The anger inside dimmed, replaced with a deep loss and an even deeper sadness. He had no desire to hurt Spencer. He did, in fact, think of him as a friend. And as his friend, he wanted nothing more than for Spencer to get as far away from him as possible.
He was damaged goods. No, worse than that. He was poison.
If Spencer got much closer, he would infect him with the bile that ran deep in his heart and in his soul. Spencer didn’t deserve that. He might have initially set out to ruin Spencer, to get him into bed and destroy his relationship with Justin. But he’d abandoned that plan once he got to know Spencer. Once he realized how much of a good guy he was.
Seeking revenge had brought him to Spencer. Now the only way to spare Spencer was to send him running in the other direction.
“We never had a friendship,” he continued. “We had lunches that masqueraded as cruising sessions, each one of us trying to see how far we could push before the other gave in. If you thought that was friendship, then you have a seriously warped view of what that word really means.”
“Why are you being so hateful?” Spencer asked. His eyes looked wet. “I hear your words, but I know you don’t mean them. I can see it in your eyes.” He crossed the room and leaned over the desk at Dutch. “You claim we aren’t friends, but as you say these awful things to me, your eyes betray you. Like they always do.”
Dutch hated that Spencer had come to know him so well. In the weeks they spent together, Spencer had been able to interpret his eyes and his body language as if he was someone who had known him for years. Only two people had ever been able to read him so well: Justin and his father.
He had no other choice. If he was determined to save Spencer, things were going to have to get uglier.
“Don’t pretend as if you know me so well,” Dutch said. “You don’t. What you think you know are only things I allow you to see.” He stood up quickly, toppling his desk chair over. He turned to face out the small office window, so Spencer couldn’t read his eyes. “What you see in my eyes is regret for letting this charade go as far as it did.” He knew his voice would be convincing because he spoke the truth. He regretted venturing down this path at all with Spencer. He never regretted the friendship. “And you also see the pity I feel for how desperately clingy you are. It’s amazing Justin has been able to stand you all these years.”
“I still don’t buy it,” Spencer said. “I’m not an idiot. There’s something else going on here.” Spencer stood behind him and gently rested his hand on Dutch’s shoulder. “Be honest with me,” he pleaded. “I know you’re in trouble. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be missing work or coming into work still drunk.”
Dutch spun around. “I’m not drunk!”
“I can smell the alcohol on your breath,” Spencer stated. “Your body reeks of it.”
“Maybe what you smell is the sweat from a night of hardcore fucking.”
“I’ve no doubt that’s there too,” Spencer replied, unaffected by his coarse admission. “But the alcohol overpowers everything else.”
“So what?” Dutch asked. “Who the fuck cares?”
“I care,” Spencer replied. He turned Dutch around, so he could look into his eyes. “And Dr. Cutting will care. Showing up to work drunk is an offense worthy of termination.”
“So let her fire me,” Dutch replied. He felt his eyes turn cold. He’d had enough of this conversation. He didn’t want to hurt Spencer’s feelings more than was necessary, but Spencer had crossed the line by calling him a drunk.
“I know you don’t want that,” Spencer told him. “You’ve told me countless times how much you need this job to fund your own art. When you were hired, your exuberance, not your experience, got you this job. Those things don’t just go away.”
“Oh my fucking God!” Dutch yelled. “I’m so sick of you right now, it’s not even funny. Let me worry about my job. About my expenses. About my fucking life!” He walked behind Spencer and toward his office door. “You’re not my fucking partner. You’re not even really my friend. Why don’t you go home to your man and worry about him and mind your own fucking business?”
Dutch opened the door to his office.
“Is that really what you want?” Spencer asked.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “What more do I have to do or say to get you to leave me alone?”
“Nothing more,” Spencer replied and walked out the door, which Dutch slammed behind him.
Behind the closed door, Dutch collapsed to the floor of his office. Guilt overpowered him. He felt sick and nauseous. His life had spiraled even further out of control, and he felt even more powerless than before.
CHAPTER 37
2010
“YOU know I’m right,” Justin told Dutch as they lay on the floor together. Justin had Dutch’s right leg on his chest and was pressing onto him with his full body weight to stretch out the quadriceps. This was a nightly routine they had to follow to help Dutch get strong enough to walk on his own once again.
“Bullshit,” he replied, staring up into Justin’s mischievous eyes. “You’re only saying Hal Jordan is a hotter Green Lantern than Kyle Rayner because you know it isn’t true.”
“Do not,” Justin teased as they switched to stretching out the left quad muscle.
Dutch refused to reply and simply rolled his eyes. Justin chuckled and applied his full weight onto Dutch’s leg once again.
Justin cited all the reasons why Hal Jordan was hotter, but Dutch no longer listened. His mind drifted to the sensation of Justin’s body against his. Even through Justin’s gym shorts, he could feel the weight of Justin’s cock against his leg. He started to become aroused.
He couldn’t allow that to happen. Instead, he shifted his thoughts to the progress he’d made with physical therapy over the past six weeks. Although sensation in his legs had returned, his nerve endings weren’t registering 100 percent of what they should be. His muscles were stronger but couldn’t support his full weight. He could walk on crutches for a few steps but beyond that his legs were useless.
He tried not to be disheartened by his lack of full mobility, but some days it was difficult not to be depressed. He fancied himself a strong man, completely independent and capable of doing anything on his own. These days, though, he relied on other people for everything, from transportation to physical therapy to getting into his own damned bed.
He was simply beyond frustrated with being an invalid, of being stuck in a wheelchair and at the mercy of others. That wasn’t the man he was. It certainly wasn’t the man his father ever was.
“Don’t get lazy on me now,” Justin told him. “Turn your ass over!”
“I’m not that easy,” he said, while twisting his top half, grateful that Justin’s order prevented him from feeling even sorrier for himself, something he had been doing too much of lately.
Justin helped him lie on his stomach by turning over his bottom half. It was time for Justin to massage his feet and calves.
“You’re even easier than that.” Justin laughed and began massaging.
He laughed too. Not just now, but when his moods turned dark, as they had recently, Justin did what he could to lift his spirits. They played games or watched movies whenever Justin noticed his gloomy disposition. Sometimes, they read comic books or just chatted.
Dutch cherished those times and Justin’s efforts. It reminded him of when they first met on Cyber, and the friendship they’d developed online. Their conversations and interactions were easy and unforced. They truly connected on almost every level, even though sex was no longer a part of their relationship.
In fact, without the sex clouding their relationship, he found that his friendship with Justin grew stronger than before.
That was why it was so hard for him to watch the sadness that sometimes descended on Justin like a fog bank rolling onto the coastline. It enveloped him body and soul, and Dutch knew the reason: Justin missed Spencer.
Although Spencer was recently working on his unfair treatment of Justin, he still refused to talk to or see him. Spencer felt doing so prematurely might cloud his judgment. In the meantime, Justin still remained clueless that they were living together at Spencer’s request or that Spencer took Dutch to each of his physical therapy appointments while Justin was at work.
He told Justin that a friend was taking him because he wanted to give Justin a break during the day from having to cater to him. Justin accepted the reasoning, not knowing that the friend who was taking him was Spencer.
And the weird part of that was Spencer had become his friend. Again.
They had started working through their issues after Spencer decked him on his first day of physical therapy. Although it was difficult to admit, he’d revealed his initial motives for pursuing a friendship with Spencer and why, after they had become friends and after they almost had sex in his office, he had to turn his back on Spencer.
He did it for both of them. Reluctantly, Spencer agreed it was the right decision.
Since then, Spencer became an indispensable source of support during grueling physical therapy sessions. He acted as cheerleader for the successes and a counselor for the setbacks.
Spencer helped him see the good in his life, despite the mess he had made. Even though he was no longer under house arrest, he still was on probation and had been fired from his position at St. Mary’s. Spencer reminded him there were other colleges in San Antonio that would hire him, and he still had the unconditional support of his art patron, Sharon.
As a recovering alcoholic herself, Sharon championed Dutch in the art community. She sold his work at art shows, and her support, along with encouragement from both Justin and Spencer, allowed him to once again focus on making art instead of teaching it.
Even paralyzed, he had a lot of good things happening in his life.
What he was having increasing difficulty with was the lies.
Dutch no longer believed Spencer was right. Keeping their many secrets and living with Justin wasn’t providing the closure Spencer anticipated.
Instead, it seemed to further muddy an already murky situation.
His relationships with both Justin and Spencer had improved. He was definitely on the mend. What remained broken was the relationship between Justin and Spencer. The piece that needed the most attention was being ignored.
Justin was ready, but Spencer wasn’t. Dutch wondered if Spencer would ever be ready. All he knew was that it was past time for Justin to learn the truth about their living arrangement and about his past and present with Spencer.
If Spencer was unwilling to do it, then it was up to him. His father had told him to never go back on a promise, but he had learned that there were some promises that must be broken.
“Okay, massage done,” Justin told him. “Let’s turn you over and get you back in your chair.”
Dutch lifted himself off the carpet by doing a push-up, and he felt Justin’s hands on his waist and legs, ready to help him turn over. Justin and he pushed at the same time, and he rolled over onto his back.
“Let me get the chair.”
“Not yet,” Dutch said.
Justin sat on his knees to Dutch’s left. “You okay? Does something hurt?”
“No, I’m good. I just want to talk. Can you help prop me up on the side of the couch?”
Justin nodded. Within a few minutes, Dutch’s back was resting comfortably against the couch. Justin sat cross-legged in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin upon his hands. He looked like a child about to be spoken to by his parent.
“So, what’s up?” Justin asked.
“I want to talk about Spencer,” he said.
Justin averted his eyes. For some reason, he looked guilty, as if Dutch had discovered top-secret inform
ation. His hands also moved to the carpet, where he began playing with the fabric threads. Whenever Justin was nervous, his hands found the nearest object and manipulated it until the nervousness passed.
“How’d you find out?” Justin asked him.
Dutch was extremely confused. He was the one who was supposed to deliver surprise information, not Justin. “Find out what?”
Justin’s eyebrows arched in surprise, and he released the carpet fabric from his anxious fingers. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Apparently not,” he said. “Tell me what I don’t know.”
Justin’s fingers returned to the fabric. He poked and prodded at it until a strand stood up big enough for him to twine around his finger. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Not telling me is upsetting me more,” Dutch announced.
“I’m having lunch with Spencer tomorrow,” Justin finally said.
Dutch was shocked. Apparently, Spencer was ready, and that realization made him happier than it should. He’d known the day would come, but he’d figured when it did, it would depress him, threaten his newly created resolve and sobriety. He felt none of those emotions. “I’m glad,” he told Justin. And he truly meant it.
Justin released the carpet fabric and leaned forward. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”
Dutch shook his head. “Not at all. I know you’ve been dying to talk to him since the last time you saw each other at your mother’s house.”
“I have,” Justin admitted. “I called him this morning, and he actually answered.” The joy in Justin’s voice was unmistakable. He was almost giddy. “We didn’t talk for long, but he agreed to meet me for lunch tomorrow. I suggested Henry’s Puffy Tacos, since I know that’s his favorite place to eat, but he said no.”
Dutch nodded. He understood why Spencer had declined to meet at Henry’s. That was where they’d lunched together. “Where are you two meeting?”
“Pico De Gallo,” Justin answered. Dutch knew the restaurant. The food was good, but since it was close to downtown, it had recently become quite the tourist trap. “It’s halfway between both our campuses.”
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