Feel the Fire (Hotshots)

by Annabeth Albert

  “Yeah. Which twin got Heidi’s brains?” Gesturing at the academic brag bumper sticker, he managed the joke easily, which boded well for him surviving this outing.

  “Walker. They both play football, but Walker’s the one with the grades. He’s wanted to be a marine biologist since he was seven and we took him to the aquarium on the coast. Wade...” Tucker laughed, that sort of fond paternal chuckle Luis’s brothers did well, and shook his head. “It’s a shame Wade’s not taller. Pro football’s probably not happening. Maybe college ball. But I’m not sure that my asserting that he’ll need a major is getting through.”

  “Maybe he’ll get a decent college coach.” Luis followed Tucker up the sidewalk toward the restaurant’s doors. It was a low building with the sort of faux log cabin styling popular around these parts. They were a little early for the dinner rush, but the air still carried hints of sizzling meat. “Raul went to USC on a baseball scholarship, but an assistant coach talked him into getting serious about his business major. Now he’s got an MBA, three cell phones, and enough underlings to make my head spin. Doubt anyone would have predicted that back in high school. Bet your kid will be the same way.”

  “Hope so. God knows he’s not listening to me.” Tucker paused as they reached the host, a fresh-faced young guy with two earrings, something Luis wasn’t used to around this area. Maybe times truly were changing here too. The host led them to a back booth by a window. The woodsy, vaguely Western theme continued for the restaurant’s interior—lots of pale wood and sepia-toned ranching pictures with oversize leather booths dominating the space.

  “You still eat meat, right?” Tucker asked as they opened their glossy menus.

  “Yes, Tucker. I still eat meat.” Taking advantage of the chance for a joke, Luis added a wink, which made Tucker’s cheeks darken. “Everything in moderation. Including beer.”

  He didn’t imbibe all that often, but if he was going to survive any sort of real conversation with Tucker, he might need it.

  “Good idea.” Tucker nodded sharply, like he too wouldn’t mind some fortifying. They each ordered a local IPA when the server, a near-clone of the host, arrived at their table with water. Tucker got short ribs with mashed potatoes, while Luis ordered an intriguing portobello mushroom and steak salad with a side of sriracha cauliflower just to watch Tucker’s face at his selections. His wide eyes lingered even after the server disappeared again.

  “Man. Wade would love you...” Tucker trailed off, seeming to realize how unlikely it was that Luis would ever meet the kid.

  “I’m going to make you try a piece just to have a story to tell him,” he threatened, enjoying this a little too much. Probably inching too close to flirting, but banter like this felt so much better than constantly being on the defensive.

  “Fine. They do dessert hand pies here with in-season berries that are totally worth the sugar splurge. You taste that and I’ll have a bite of the cauliflower.”

  “Deal.” Their eyes met across the table, mid-laugh, Tucker’s eyes still twinkling, and Luis’s next breath caught. Damn. It really was too easy to fall right back into old habits. Basking in Tucker’s presence was so simple—and dangerous. And something in his expression must have given him away, because the light gradually faded from Tucker’s eyes, replaced by a frown.

  “What’s wrong?” Tucker asked as their beers arrived.

  “Nothing.” Luis sighed then because that wasn’t the truth, and they both knew it. “I guess...it’s just weird. Being here with you. Talking.”

  “Yeah, it is strange, that’s for sure.” Tucker fiddled with the coaster. “Honestly, never expected to see you again.”

  “Totally. After all these years, it’s just...”

  “Weird,” they said in unison, and somehow, that connection between their brains relaxed Luis more, made it easier to speak the truth.

  “I spent a lot of years mad at you, even though I knew rationally that the anger wasn’t justified. And yeah, I know it probably went both ways as far as pissed off goes.”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “And then, I did get over it.” That part wasn’t a lie either. He hadn’t spent two decades this jumbled up—he’d laughed and loved and traveled and while maybe lately fun and connection were a little more...infrequent, he wasn’t some hermit locked away muttering about the one who got away either. “I laid the past to rest so to speak. But now I’m here, and seeing you...it all comes crashing back, you know?”

  “Yeah. I get it.” Rotating his beer glass a few times, Tucker finally stopped fidgeting with it enough to take a sip. “Same. I just keep thinking...what the hell happened to us?”

  “Exactly. I’ll be honest, much as I still had this...raw spot, it had been years since I really thought about... everything.”

  “Understandable, really. You’ve lived a whole life since you were here. Mike. Your nieces and nephews. Your dad’s passing. All of it. And same here. I was busy with raising the boys. But I’m surprised at myself, at how much I want to hear about what you’ve been up to.”

  Luis took a long sip of beer at that revelation. Tucker angry would be far easier to dismiss than Tucker curious, pushing this “let’s be friendly” agenda. However, all the memories that accompanied Tucker were the real problem. The pining and emotions kept bubbling to the surface as if the years apart hadn’t happened, intense as ever. “I wish I could stop thinking about it. What went right. What went wrong. How it all fell apart.”

  “It feels too simple to say we were kids, but that was a huge part of it. We were kids, and a year and a half was a long time to be apart, to have to rely on letters and emails and the odd chat.”

  “Yeah, it was. We were...pen pals, I guess. But we had a plan. And then that fell apart.”

  “We’ll make it work. You’ll see.” Luis made himself sound way more certain than he felt. “Rest of this year and then senior year is nothing. All we need is to make it to graduation.”

  “Yup.” Tucker wasn’t looking at Luis, instead studying the empty football field from their perch in the bleachers.

  “You’ll come to LA. We’ll both go to school and get jobs and a little place.” Luis loved this particular daydream, and he stretched as he warmed up to the topic. “And in the meantime, there’s email. And regular mail. And that chat thing my cousin was telling me about. We can try that.”

  “I’m not the most on writing. Like what do I say?” Tucker studied his sneakers.

  “Tell me about school. And about the horses. And what your mom cooked for dinner. I want to hear all of it.” Glancing around to make sure they were still alone, he patted Tucker’s knee before grabbing his hand, squeezing.

  “Okay. I can do that.” Tucker nodded, but his eyes were still brimming with uncertainty.

  And now, with adult pragmatism, Luis could see how doomed they’d been, despite all those big plans. They’d been so young. Him especially, believing all the way to his sneakers that sheer force of want would be enough to produce the future they both wanted. But that same stubborn optimism had made him less than flexible. Their falling-out wasn’t all on Tucker by any means.

  “My dad’s heart attack changed so much. I couldn’t leave.” Tucker’s dad’s massive heart attack had sent his whole family into a tailspin.

  Luis could still remember the way his chest had pounded and his eyes had burned at the news. “I know. And I was stupid and hurt and made that ultimatum.”

  “Damn it, Tucker. He’s always so mean to you. You don’t owe him anything. And you promised.” Luis knew he sounded petty, but his whole body was vibrating, sense of doom coursing through him.

  “I know,” Tucker said softly. “But I also promised my mom.”

  “You don’t want to tell them.” Luis’s voice was flat because he knew the answer.

  “I can’t.” Tucker sounded like he was in mortal agony and maybe he was.
>
  “You mean you won’t. If you can’t come, can’t even give me a date, then I’m not sure what kind of friends we are anymore. I’m tired of saying no to fun.”

  “I don’t want you passing up fun either. But I can’t promise some deadline either. Might be here awhile.”

  Awhile might as well have been a decade for the level of devastation that descended on Luis. He wanted to wait for Tucker, but damn it, he needed some sort of light at the end of the endless tunnel of waiting. He’d wanted this for so long, he almost couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been waiting and wanting. It colored everything, his time at school, his friends here, the way he framed his future. His ribs ached, almost like they couldn’t hold back the heartache any longer, dam of feelings moments from bursting. “I keep turning down chances, and I’m tired of it. It’s one thing if you’re coming, but if you’re not...”

  “I get it. You’re done waiting.”

  “I’m only human.”

  Only human. It had made so much sense at the time, his own hurt foremost in his mind, but he’d forgotten somehow that Tucker was too. But now, looking across the table, seeing the pain in Tucker’s eyes, he could own his role in what had happened—he’d been selfish. Maybe shortsighted too. And young. It always came back to that.

  “You were disappointed. I don’t think you meant to be...dunno...cruel with what you said. It was just the truth. We weren’t going to make it.”

  “Yeah. I never expected you to immediately start dating Heidi though. And maybe that was naive of me.” Talking this out, he could feel the resentment leaving his body, one tense muscle at a time. He’d been deeply wounded by how fast everything happened after their last conversation, but taking responsibility for his own behavior made it hard to keep on blaming Tucker.

  “I didn’t.” Tucker’s eyes went wide as his voice dropped even further. “It wasn’t dating. Wasn’t even...the other.”

  Luis raised an eyebrow because the mere existence of the twins disputed that.

  “It was one time. You and I had argued, and I was crushed—not blaming you, just explaining my state of mind. And she’d just broken up with this total jerk of an older guy. Her parents were out of town, mine were at the hospital still dealing with dad’s condition, graduation had been a total bust for both of us, and we were drinking. Zero tolerance back then. Bad idea, but there we were. And somehow...”

  “I see.” Luis had to smile because he could see how that could happen, and honestly, while he had no business caring either way, knowing there hadn’t been some grand romance between Tucker and Heidi helped with the whole letting-go thing.

  “Anyway, it would have simply been an ill-advised one-time thing, but...”

  “Twins.”

  “Yup. We knew there were options, but we were also such good friends, and I wasn’t going to make her do it all on her own or pressure her into another choice she didn’t want to make. Plus, we knew the families were likely to do enough pressuring of their own. So, we did what we thought made sense and eloped. And as bad of an idea as that probably was, I can’t bring myself to regret it. My boys...they’re everything to me.”

  “I can tell. And I’m not asking you to regret it.” Luis was surprised how true that was, the weight of certainty pushing out more of the tension he’d been carrying in his back the past few days. “I’m not blaming you either. I need to take responsibility too, but in the end, it was what it was.”

  “Yeah.” Tucker exhaled hard, face going slack.

  “And maybe it worked out how it was supposed to. God knows I had a lot of growing up to do myself.”

  “We both did.”

  Luis nodded right as their food arrived, a big steaming platter for Tucker and one of the largest salads Luis had seen. The food was a welcome distraction from the heaviness of the conversation. This was a lot to unpack, truths replacing decades of assumptions, and new, adult understanding replacing adolescent hurt and anger. But he wasn’t sure that letting go of his regrets and resentment was entirely a good thing where Tucker was concerned because with understanding came caring, and that he simply couldn’t have. Healing old wounds presented risks he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

  * * *

  It was what it was. I don’t blame you. Even as he tried to eat, Luis’s words pranced around in Tucker’s brain, inducing a giddy sort of lightness that kept threatening to overwhelm him. He’d had private guilt and shame pushing down his shoulders for so long whenever he allowed himself to think of Luis that he hadn’t been prepared for the rush of finally clearing the air between them. The acknowledgment that they’d both made mistakes felt like a benediction he hadn’t known he’d been waiting for.

  His food tasted sharper, flavors popping in fresh ways, and the background music resonated, like his senses were waking up from a long slumber.

  “How are the short ribs?” Luis asked, motioning with his fork at Tucker’s plate. He too seemed lighter, more relaxed now.

  “Really good. It’s one of my favorite things to get here because they slow cook them until they practically melt. Here. Try.” He slid a small bite of meat on the edge of Luis’s plate. He was being nice, same as he’d be with one of the boys or Heidi, but he’d vastly underestimated the effect of watching Luis try his food. Luis’s eyes went darker as he chewed with deliberate and rather sexy slowness, making unexpected heat unfurl in Tucker’s belly.

  “Yeah, that’s nice. I think the stout really enhances the beefiness. And the fresh herbs add a brightness. I’m going to try getting a deeper sear like this next time I make short ribs,” Luis mused so thoughtfully that Tucker had to laugh.

  “Look at you. You turned into a foodie.”

  “I can cook.” Luis’s casual shrug said that he was probably damn impressive at it. “And you said you’d try this.”

  He passed over a piece of the spicy fried cauliflower. This was...well, not exactly flirty, but something. Tucker might be out of practice for any sort of dating, which this decidedly was not. But it was comfortable. Cozy. Way friendlier than they’d been the past few days. Gamely, he chewed the vegetable. And nearly seared his tongue off, scrambling for his water.

  “Yup, same old Tucker.” Luis’s laugh was as welcome as rain this time of year, soft and easy. “I might have gone and learned how to cook, but apparently expanding your palate wasn’t on the agenda.”

  “I was too busy plating nuggets and fries for toddlers. And then Wade went and ate a jalapeno slice on a dare and didn’t cry.”

  “You were screwed.”

  “Yup. I don’t even try to keep up with him these days. I can cook, but with teens, it’s more about the quantity of calories I can produce than any sort of gourmet dish. Heidi’s husband, though, is a fabulous cook. You’d like him. His homemade mac and cheese almost made me be the one to propose.”

  “Now that would be fun. Your own little poly triad. Too bad he doesn’t swing that way?” Luis raised an eyebrow.

  He had to chuckle at that. “This is central Oregon. A poly anything is gonna catch a lot of flak, especially from folks like Heidi and I were raised with. Not that that was ever on the table. I’ve never come out and asked, but I assume Isaac’s straight and he’s a fairly traditional guy to boot. Can’t see him having any wild threesomes.”

  “And you?”

  “Me? You asking how I identify these days or if I would have been into the idea of a triad?”

  “Both maybe.”

  “I’m sure threesomes and moresomes have their appeal, but I...uh...no. Not for me. Not with them, particularly. And as for the rest...it’s complicated.”

  “Want to tell me about it?” Luis’s head tilted, but he didn’t lean forward and kept his focus mainly on his salad.

  That was nice, the way Luis was offering, without pushing. And honestly, apart from their past, there weren’t many people he could talk about this sort of thi
ng with, and it was...refreshing to not have to carefully word each statement. Heck, even joking about threesomes was fun because this was someone he could be honest with, and he didn’t have that many people like that.

  “Heidi knew...back then. About us. She was the only one I told.” The back of Tucker’s neck heated and he kept his voice down.

  Nodding, Luis made a small affirmative noise, but his eyes were pleased. Tucker hadn’t wanted to keep him and their special friendship a deep secret, but back then he simply hadn’t felt like he had many choices.

  “And we talked about...some stuff. We were always the sort of friends who could talk about anything. Made us good parenting partners, even if that part of our relationship was...kind of a dud.”

  “You never?” Luis’s eyes went wider.

  “We did. Not often, but...we tried, more the first couple of years than later on. Then she was in a psych class that talked about sexuality as a spectrum. Showed me the book, and I spent some time reading it myself.”

  “I’m enjoying the image of you so studious.” Luis’s smile was kind.

  “Yeah. Anyway, I realized that for me attraction is more of an emotional connection thing than a physical thing. I was never one to see the appeal in random stranger hookups, and while I can appreciate good looks in various genders, it doesn’t make me want to go there with them unless that emotional closeness is there first. Which is all a convoluted way of saying the book showed me that demisexual makes a lot of sense for me.”

  “I see. It makes sense then that you and Heidi...” Luis made a vague gesture. “You were close. Friends. Comfort sort of thing.”

  “Yeah. Exactly, and as time wore on and we drifted further and further apart, that emotional connection was...less, and it was harder for me to...connect on that more physical level too. It wasn’t the marriage either of us needed, to be frank.”

  “I’m glad she found something that makes her happy. But you? What about what would make you happy?”