We came home. I proposed almost immediately, and we started driving a car that wasn’t recognizable. Eventually, the press would realize. Hopefully, by then, it wouldn’t matter.
Arrow drove the red MINI Cooper a few blocks from the speedway.
Yes. A MINI Cooper.
We were all embarrassed. What kind of race car drivers drove a MINI? Hell, if the press saw us, they’d have a field day about us squeezing our gay asses into this thing.
God. But one did what he must. Unfortunately, riding around in a car no one would expect us to put even one toe in was it.
Once my exclusive interview was over, I hoped to never again ride in one of these humiliations.
“Pathetic,” Arrow mumbled as he parked the car near the twenty-four-hour diner I knew well.
Smothering a smile, I moved onto the sidewalk. Even though it was summer, the evenings still cooled off. It wasn’t cold or even chilly really, but without the sun, it wasn’t hot either. Dragging in a deep breath of night air, I felt it slog through my airways and fill my chest.
The street was quiet except for a few cars in the distance. The sidewalk was lit up a few feet ahead with the neon sign in the diner window.
Remaining silent, Arrow stepped up on the concrete but hung back. He was giving me space, the space I needed but also didn’t really want.
He fell into step when I did. I jammed my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans as I walked. The sounds of our footsteps echoed over the dry pavement. I noted there were several parking spots near the door of the brick building, but instead, Arrow parked a short way down the street.
He knew I liked to walk at night; I always had before he’d come into my life.
In some respects, it was cathartic.
He held the door open, motioning for me to go inside. I did, not going too far until I knew he was right behind me. Leaving him alone outside on the street was something I would never, ever do.
The mere fact he parked far enough away to give me even a short walk in the middle of the night proved (as if I needed proof) just how much he loved me.
The first night we met, he told me not to walk alone at night on the streets. I hadn’t understood the weight of that until later, but it was a weight I still carried today.
A familiar waitress looked up from behind the counter. Surprise flashed in her tired eyes, along with recognition, before both gave way to the default appearance of a woman who worked the boring nightshift.
I didn’t acknowledge her or the look. Instead, I shuffled to my usual seat over by the window, in a booth that wasn’t very comfortable.
Arrow slid in across from me, still without a word.
I stared out the glass, which was always wet with some kind of condensation even when it was bone dry outside.
Seconds later, the woman appeared, slid a mug of coffee in front of me, dropped a handful of creamers in the center of the table, and then slid an identical cup at Arrow.
Usually at this moment, she would leave. This time she hesitated, not knowing if our usual ritual stood or if the fact I wasn’t alone somehow altered everything.
It altered everything.
And at the same time nothing.
Slowly, she began pulling a menu from beneath her arm. Before it was out, Arrow waved her away. She retreated instantly, relieved.
I glanced across the crappy Formica tabletop. “I thought you were hungry,” I whispered. It seemed wrong to speak.
“I said that ‘cause it was the only way to get you out the door.”
We fell silent. Wrapping my hands around the white mug, ignoring the cream, I looked out the blurry window.
A few seats down, the neon light hanging in the window flickered and made a static sound.
Arrow said nothing, did nothing. He was just there.
It was all I needed, for him to just be there.
He could have stayed in bed when he realized I wasn’t there. He could have rolled over and let me deal with my demons as I had all the years before we met.
Alone.
Arrow never acted as if what I needed was somehow an insult. Or an imposition. He knew what it was to be broken. He knew how irrational all those little pieces inside us could be. There was no offense in his body language for the fact I couldn’t stay in bed tonight or because I had to retreat to old ways to try and cope with what knocked around between my bones.
I knew he knew who I was thinking about. Someone that wasn’t him. Someone who had my heart before he did.
Still, he sat here. Even if I hadn’t told him my deepest thoughts, my deepest secret, he would sit here.
Again, another little unknown piece of me surrendered.
The mug wasn’t as hot against my palms when I finally spoke. The words came out raspy, like the sound of Velcro being pulled apart. “Moving forward sometimes reminds me of all the stuff I’m leaving behind.”
“Bring it.”
The two words ripped my eyes off the street and across the table. Arrow had been resting back against the seat but pushed off to lean forward and wrap a hand around his mug.
The ring he wore on his finger was a dark stripe against the light ceramic. Every time I saw it there, a flutter of something quivered my stomach.
I liked the symbol of that ring. The possession in it. The promise.
My eyes still on the ring, I asked, “What?”
“You don’t have to leave anything behind with me. Bring it all. I love all of you.”
Wasn’t that what marriage was all about? The good, bad, the ugly?
All our cards were on the table, had been from the moment I showed up at his airstrip. Instead of pulling us apart like it might some, it seemed to bond us closer.
We were gonna be a good fucking married couple.
“I think about them sometimes. A lot more lately,” I whispered, leaning closer over the table.
“Who?”
“My family.”
“You haven’t told me much about them.”
“I’m sure they’ve seen the news. They probably know where I am. What I’ve been doing all these years.”
“You want to see them.” Arrow observed.
I nodded slowly. “I think I might.”
“They’ve been waiting for you.”
I looked up from the band on his finger at his dark eyes. He seemed so sure about people he’d never met. “How do you know?”
“Because it’s what I’d do. You’re worth the wait. No matter how long.”
My chest swelled with love for him but also with hope he might be right. Sliding my arm across the slightly sticky, cold tabletop, my fingers extended. Arrow released the mug instantly, meeting me halfway. The warmth in his fingers melted into mine as I clung to him a little more desperately than I wished I would have.
“I feel guilty.”
“Guilty for being happy?”
I shook my head in swift denial. “Guilty for having all the stuff he never will.”
Arrow was silent a moment, digesting. I knew he understood. Oddly enough, I never felt I had to hold back what I felt from him in fear of hurting him. I knew he could take it. I knew he knew it wasn’t personal.
Just as we both understood whatever was in our past wouldn’t stop us from being together, he knew with whom my heart lay.
I felt a slight shift in the air. Glancing up, I saw a small smile play on his thoroughly pouty and kissable lips. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I hear heaven isn’t such a bad place.”
I hadn’t thought of it like that before, not really. I’d only focused on what I lost. What Matt lost. I never thought maybe he had indeed gone to a better place.
Cocking my head to the side, I pondered the thought. “You believe in heaven?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he responded instantly. “I know for a fact hell exists.”
And so he did.
I could argue I did as well.
I smiled. Kind of an odd reaction, I know, when someone is so sure hell exists. But it was that s
urety that gave me hope. That gave me something else to battle the guilt with.
Matt wasn’t suffering where he was. He was in a far better place than this old, musty diner with really bad windows and coffee.
He might have lost a life here on Earth, but something told me he lived on. Not just in my memories either.
Abandoning the mug to the crappy napkin dispenser at the end of the table, I stretched my free hand across the space between us. Once again, Arrow met me partway.
“You’re a brave man, touching this sticky table.”
“You’re doing the same,” I smiled.
“Anything for you.”
Our hands clasped and held. We sat across from each other in the crappiest place on the block and smiled.
Maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all.
“There he is,” Arrow mused, his stare bouncing between my eyes.
I arched a brow, silently asking what the hell he was talking about.
“I was waiting for you to come back.”
“Thanks for coming here tonight.”
He glanced around, taking in all the empty tables and old décor. “I kinda like the place.”
I made a rude sound.
“Actually, I think it might be kinda perfect.”
I glanced at his mug. “What the fuck she put in your tar?”
He chuckled, and my stomach dipped with the sound. “Seriously, I think it may be actual tar.”
After a couple minutes of guffawing like a pair of idiots, Arrow sat up a little. “I have something for you. Been carrying it around a few days, waiting for the right time to give it to you.” He glanced around again, over to the counter where the waitress usually was but wasn’t just then. The place was empty.
Except for our booth beside the condensation-filled glass and mugs filled with tar.
“I think now is good.”
Begrudgingly, I surrendered one of his hands when he tugged it back. My throat grew tight as he reached into his pocket and brought out a small black velvet box.
“I told you I was gonna get you one of these,” he said, setting it beside our clasped hands in the center of the table.
Looking between him and the box, my heart beat erratically. “You got me a ring.”
“The day after you asked me to marry you.”
“I had no idea,” I murmured, surprised.
He flashed a smile. “I fought the urge to give it to you every minute since. It’s been burning a hole in every pocket of all my clothes.”
“Why now?” I asked, clearing my throat because my voice had gone hoarse.
“Because sitting in the crappiest diner in this entire town, in the middle of the night, with some bleary-eyed waitress lurking is still the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.” He squeezed my fingers. “Anywhere with you, with any conversation, even the darkest kind, is exactly where I will always want to be.”
My teeth sank into my lower lip. I felt their sharp edges press against the soft flesh as he untangled our hands, reached for the box, and opened the lid.
The band was black, matte black just like my Audi. The entire circumference of both edges was lined with small black diamonds set down in the metal.
I fucking loved it.
“If you think I’m worth diamonds, then you definitely are, too,” he said, a little sheepish.
I was overcome with gratitude, overwhelmed with love, and mildly in awe he could somehow find the most perfect moment to give me exactly what I needed.
“So what do you think, Hopp?” A began self-consciously, pushing the ring box closer to me. “I’ll take your name if you wear my ring.”
I was a lucky bastard. “I honestly don’t want anything more.”
Smiling fast and yanking the ring out of the box, he held it out. I offered my hand to him. The ring slid right over my knuckle and settled against my skin as if it knew exactly where it belonged.
“Pretty sexy,” A murmured, brushing his thumb over it.
I couldn’t stop looking at it. I knew it was removable, but it felt like a brand upon my body. “It’s perfect, babe.”
“Think you’re ready to get out of here? Go home?”
Turning my hand over so I could wrap it around his, I asked. “Back to bed?”
“I could definitely be convinced.”
Without releasing hands, we slid out of the booth simultaneously while I tossed some cash onto the table. It was way more than enough to cover the sludge in our mugs.
A generous tip as a thank you for making herself scarce so we could have this moment in a place that, up until tonight, represented a lot of pain, self-loathing, and loneliness.
It wasn’t that place anymore. This crappy building with the annoying, buzzing sign was hopeful to me now. Pretty, even. Too bad it had taken this long to grow fond of the place, for I knew I wouldn’t be back here.
We pushed out onto the sidewalk. The summer night air ruffled my hair, and the weight of the band on my finger grounded me in ways I never thought possible.
No, I wouldn’t be back to this diner. Not ever again.
I didn’t need to come here anymore.
Everything I needed, even on restless nights, was at home.
Gamble wasn’t kidding when he instituted family dinner night.
We all got matching texts the morning of our first dinner, demanding our presence at the mansion. It was kinda funny really, or maybe kinda odd, to see such a powerful, rich man as Ron Gamble yelling into the phone and making stone-cold business deals with ease one moment while acting kinda like a father the other.
What was even stranger was he viewed me as part of his family.
Strange can be good, though, because while most people probably groaned and did everything imaginable to get the hell out of obligatory family dinners, I looked forward to it.
To being part of something.
For so long, it was just me and Lor. Then Hopper stepped into my life, and now suddenly there was a ring on my hand and texts about family dinner.
I wasn’t sure how to dress. Family dinners back in the day were only ever for client meetings when my father had someone to impress. He pulled out the family like we were show horses. We polished ourselves up and paraded around in front of the clients until my father was satisfied enough to send us on our way.
I was pretty sure tonight’s dinner wasn’t going to be like that. Still, Gamble was, well, Gamble. I wasn’t sure he’d want me showing up to his table in my regular T-shirt and ripped-up jeans.
“Babe!” Hopper’s voice bellowed through the apartment.
Leaving the dresser drawer open, I went out into the main room, smiling. On his way toward me, his keys hit the counter, his red hat hit the floor, and his eyes roamed my naked chest.
We collided, lips latching instantly, fingers entwining. As we kissed, we took turns spinning the rings around on each other’s finger.
“I’m tired of waiting,” Hopper growled, then attacked my lips again.
When the kiss finally ended, I smiled. “It’s only been a week.”
“A week too long.”
I chuckled. “You said you wanted to do the interview first. That way the press might be off our asses and not snapping pics as we say I do.”
I’d been skeptical about the exclusive tell-all with GearShark. Of any interview, really. I didn’t want him put into that position, forced to replay events that broke him just for the entertainment of people intent on knowing shit that wasn’t theirs to know in the first place.
I’d been pacified, even somewhat convinced, after our session in the giant shower and the talk that followed right after. Hopper needed to do this; he wanted to move on once and for all. I saw now how not doing it would hold him back. He was haunted, and it wouldn’t ever end until basically he exorcised the ghosts inside.
But now that it was basically standing between me and taking this guy’s name, well, I wanted to do it like yesterday.
“I’m tired of waiting,” he said again,
pulling me closer, about to kiss me more. I wanted to, even dipped my head to surrender, but at the last second, I pulled back.
Hopper groaned. “You being a cock tease right now?”
I grabbed his package through his cargo pants. “Maybe. If I kiss you right now, we’ll never get out this door on time.”
“Fucking family dinner,” he muttered and pushed his hips into my hand. I gave him a gentle squeeze, and he groaned.
“Later.” I promised.
Hopper put his hand on the tattoo over my heart. “Gamble has all the interview details. He’s giving them to us tonight.”
I was about to reply when his lips brushed over where his palm had just been. All the words fled my mind.
“You ready to tell everyone about getting married?” he murmured.
“Of course.” I sighed, grabbing his hand. “Help me find a shirt.”
Hopper allowed me to lead him into the bedroom, where he barely glanced into my drawer, plucked out a red T-shirt, and tossed it to me.
“This is kinda casual.” I frowned.
“It’s family dinner, not the White House.”
I shrugged and pulled on the shirt. Hopp was wearing pretty much the same thing.
“C’mon, babe, we better go before I tackle you onto the bed and tell everyone we ain’t coming.”
We drove the red MINI Cooper to the estate. Every time I got into it, my Camaro cried. I couldn’t wait to take this car back where it came from and never see it again.
The white Lotus was already in the driveway when we pulled up. I didn’t park beside it, ‘cause you know, putting a MINI Coop beside a Lotus was sort of like putting a carrot next to a donut.
Everyone was in Gamble’s study. The second I walked in, I glanced at what my brother was wearing—jeans and a T-shirt. A sigh of relief left my lungs. Gamble was behind his desk, but he wasn’t wearing a suit. Instead, he had on some nice-looking T-shirt that looked like it was made of silk. I guess even his casual was fancy.
There was a crystal glass at his elbow and a relaxed vibe around his head.
Joey got up from her chair before we even crossed the room and came to hug me. Then she shifted and hugged Hopp, who was right behind me.
#FinishLine (GearShark #5) Page 8
