You Never Know

by Mary Calmes

  “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Stop,” he said softly. “I swear I can hear your mind running.”

  “Ash—”

  “Listen for a second, all right?”

  I nodded.

  “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. If you just want to lie around my place and watch TV, that’s okay. It’s just that I’ve thought about you nonstop for the last two weeks, and I kept thinking that I screwed up even though no part of Stone being at the house that night—or in my bed the first time—was my fault.”

  It wasn’t. Not at all. I shook my head and closed my eyes. I knew better, and I should have been able to let it go, to not be trying to make him do penance for something I’d already forgiven or not forgiven but didn’t need to in the first place.

  My brain hurt. But why? Why was I bothered by not committing? Why was that bothering me today? Why… now… something had changed, something important, something out of the…

  …blue.

  Blue.

  All that blue.

  Cerulean.

  The blue of his eyes.

  “Fuck,” I grumbled, so annoyed with myself I could almost taste the disgust like bitter coffee on the back of my tongue.

  “Hagen?”

  Godfuckingdammit.

  It was insane. How could I even hope to explain? That seeing Mitch Thayer made me want what I used to have—someone who was just mine.

  We had been at his house overlooking the ocean, him just newly eighteen, ready to leave for college in a month, and me seventeen, dreading his departure more and more with each passing sultry summer day. His parents were out of town and we were alone, together on a Saturday afternoon. I wasn’t expected by my folks until dinner. He kissed me the second we walked through the door, shoved me back hard against the locked door, pinning me there as he mauled my mouth. I pulled away and reached for him, ready to lead the way to his bedroom, and I knew I loved him because right then, before passion or a playful leer, his beautiful eyes had clouded with concern.

  “You don’t have to,” he assured me. “It won’t—I mean, I know we’ve been doing it a lot, but I think maybe you don’t want to.”

  I stopped moving to study his face.

  He cleared his throat and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I mean—shit—” He trained his gaze on the floor as he combed the rug with the plastic tip of his used-to-be-white Converse sneaker. His mother liked to vacuum the thick rugs, so he was messing up the visible rows. “It’s not like that, Hage.”

  “Not like what?”

  He lifted his gaze to meet mine.

  “Mitch?”

  “I just—even if we didn’t have sex from now until I left, it wouldn’t change how I feel. It wouldn’t make me love you any less.”

  I shivered. It was hard to breathe with his gaze on me so intently.

  “It’s not like I could stop.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  Gaze back on the rug. “I think about you all the time, and you gotta know that even when I’m gone, it won’t matter. I’ll love you the same.”

  “Same here.”

  He nodded quickly. “I just don’t want you to think we need to fool around to seal something up between us. We’re good.”

  I just watched him, enthralled by his beauty, held captive by his heart, helplessly ensnared by all the things that made up Mitch Thayer mind, body, and soul.

  “Whew,” I said, and his head snapped up, all his attention on me. “I’m so glad we don’t have to do it anymore,” I sighed, yanking the T-shirt up over my head and tossing it over on the couch before popping the snap on my jeans and working open the zipper to reveal I wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Now I don’t have to worry about walking around naked and thinking I’m gonna get attacked or—Mitch!”

  He lunged at me, hands and mouth everywhere, walking backward, drawing me along with him, finally lifting me into his arms, the shuffling we were doing down the hall taking far too much time.

  When he powered me down onto his bed, I let out a low chuckle that made him jolt over me and swear under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Don’t laugh like that. It makes my cock hard.”

  “Why is that a bad thing?”

  “I don’t wanna—I need to be careful.”

  I went quiet and serious. “I told you before, you can’t get me pregnant.”

  He growled and I giggled.

  “Be serious.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I just—I worry.”

  “You shouldn’t,” I countered, “I told you that a million times. I need you to be rougher, harder, and you won’t, and so if you losing control is what it’s gonna take, then I’ll make you.”

  He shook his head, but I caught him, taking his face in my hands, holding him still.

  “Mitch?”

  “I’m bigger than you. I could hurt you.”

  He was bigger. I still hadn’t hit my growth spurt and my body was still lean and rangy. “You would never,” I said with certainty, letting him go and rolling over beneath him, my face in the pillow, back arched, ass in the air.

  “Jesus, Hage,” he husked.

  “Get the lube,” I commanded, my voice deep, hoarse.

  He made a noise in the back of his throat and scrambled to do what I ordered. I heard the drawer in his nightstand rattle and then the pop of the cap.

  “And don’t go slow this time. I want you to—fuck,” I groaned as he slid slippery fingers into my ass, pushing in simply to grease the way, then withdrawing quickly.

  I fisted my hands in the covers and breathed in the smell of him, all over his sheets and blanket in the unmade bed, at the same time he pressed inside of me, still careful, gentle, but not stopping like he normally did to check that I was okay. He was listening to me, trusting me, taking me at my word, and when he was buried inside to the hilt, I chanted his name.

  “I think I’ve died,” he ground out, his voice barely a whisper.

  “Move now, ’kay?”

  And he did and I did and in that bed we were magic together, and later, when we were lying next to each other, panting, sticky with sweat and lube and cum, I turned to look at him.

  “I love you very much.”

  “I love you back very much,” he told me, smiling, ridiculously pleased with himself, his prowess as a lover, and what his body could do. “I’m all yours, Hage, just yours.”

  I knew that. And even though it changed later, at that moment, and for a long time afterward, Mitch had loved only me. I remembered what that was like. I could recall being in singular possession of another person’s heart.

  It was what I wanted—needed—again.

  “Hagen?”

  It was a hundred years ago, and I’d been too young to understand that people didn’t stay in love like that. First love, young love, it was bullshit, but because I’d never been in love, before or since… I could recall the feelings like it was yesterday.

  I’d gone off to war holding on to my need for him. I’d carried him with me like a banner every single day until it was torn all away, and so some part of me—the part I never, ever allowed myself to think about—equated Mitch with who I used to be. Who I very much wanted to be again. Someone who believed. Someone innocent.

  I missed the guy who had loved Mitch Thayer, because after Afghanistan, I never saw him again. But if Mitch could come back, maybe there was a chance to see Hagen Wylie again too. Or at least the Hagen who trusted that being kissed up against a wall didn’t mean electrocution or a beating or flogging or any other form of torture would soon follow.

  “Hagen?” Ash said, his voice strident, scared.

  Motherfucking hell. Every time I thought there had been progress, I realized it was just that I’d put things out of my mind for a longer amount of time.

  “Where did you go?”

  “This was a mistake,” I said solemnly, feeling terrible. “I don’t wanna use you
.”

  “Use me?”

  I nodded, reaching for the door handle. The Stone thing had reminded me that Ash wasn’t mine, which had made him unsafe and put me on edge, and now, with the unexpected muddying of the water with Mitch, I could hurt Ash if I wasn’t careful and he’d never been anything but up front with me. “I think I should just go home and—”

  “No,” he said gently, arm across my abdomen as he took my hand. “Don’t get out of the car. Just tell me what to do.”

  I had no idea what to say because nothing could make any of it any better.

  “Hagen,” he said and leaned in close to me, his lips brushing over mine, once, twice before taking my mouth hard.

  I didn’t want to think, so I returned the kiss, showing him I could be just as hungry as he was, finally making him yield to me until he broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and I let my eyes drift slowly open.

  “Do you have any idea the kind of mixed signals you’re sending out?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, and I really am sorry.”

  “Hagen—”

  “I should probably just go home,” I admitted, feeling wrung out. “I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

  He shook his head, at the same time holding my gaze. “You’re driving me nuts, but I think I know what the problem is.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Tell me,” I said as he slipped a hand around the side of my neck and put the other on my upper thigh, those long fingers of his grazing my groin.

  “You don’t want to be my fuck buddy anymore. You figured that out about yourself, and then when you saw your ex today, that made you believe it even more.”

  I would have gotten up, scrambled out of the car, put distance between us, but he had me in his hands, and so instead my back bowed in the seat as he squeezed my slowly thickening cock. He had a very carnal effect on me, always had, and I so wished I could submit to him in bed, because I wanted to feel him in me so desperately. I thought of him taking me almost constantly and so wanted to be brave enough to ask for what I truly craved.

  “That kind of thing happens to me,” he confessed, leaning in, nuzzling my throat, bumping my chin so I had to tip my head back. “Seeing someone or seeing a place will make me think of what I’m missing.”

  “Ash,” I moaned as he nibbled over my jaw and under, kissing over the same territory. “You have no idea how fucked up I really am.”

  There was no magic fix for what was wrong with me. I knew that. I knew too that a good psychiatrist would need to be in my future.

  “It’s true about your ex, isn’t it? Seeing Mitch Thayer cleared up things for you.”

  It did and didn’t. “You’re right. I don’t want us to be fuck buddies, and that’s all you can truly offer right now because you don’t live here and you’re famous and I’m—”

  “Listen. I want to take you home with me, all right? Just let me take care of you.”

  I squinted at him. “I don’t need to be taken care of, I just need—”

  “More,” he concluded. “I know, and I want to give it to you.”

  “But I don’t want it from you,” I said before I thought about it. Though it was the truth, it was hard to say and, I was certain, just as hard to hear. “And if you think about it a second, you already knew that.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you really know what you want.”

  But I did. “You can’t be what I need, Ash, and we both get it, we’re not stupid. We can have fun, but that’s all.”

  “Hagen—”

  “I should go,” I said sadly, tired of fighting with not him, but myself. It was time to get out of the car.

  “No,” he retorted, hands on my sides, holding on. “Because it seems like if I don’t say something right this second that you’re going to walk out of my life.”

  I froze and met his gaze. “That’s not true. I plan on being your friend for as long as you’ll let me.”

  He was surprised; it was all over his face. “You’re serious?”

  “Well, yeah. I figured no matter what, we’d still be us.”

  “You did?”

  “You didn’t? If we’re not fucking, we’re nothing? Really?”

  He pulled back to his side of the car and stared at me.

  “What?”

  His smile was unexpected and it made his eyes sparkle. “So we’re friends even if whatever else goes sideways?”

  “That was my plan.”

  He huffed.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” he answered, and I saw the calm wash over him. He’d been frantic a moment ago, but that was gone. “I feel so much better.”

  Looking at him, at the lazy smile, the shining eyes, and the arrogant tip of his head—I did too. The pressure to make some kind of decision right that second was gone. “Me too.”

  “So, let’s stick to our plan. I’ll feed you and ply you with alcohol, and we’ll see what other trouble we can get into.”

  I stared at the stunning man, watching as he closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in the crisp, chill sea air. After he exhaled, his gaze was back on me. “I can be what you need, you know, just watch.”

  “It’s not about ‘can you,’ it’s about ‘do you want to,’ and I don’t wanna be the guy who puts ultimatums on—”

  “But you just said it wasn’t like that. If we can’t be more, you’re not running away, you’ll still be there, in my life. What better assurances do I need?”

  It was true and I’d meant it.

  “But for right now, don’t close the book on what we could be.”

  Taking his hand in mine, I got comfortable again and settled back into the seat.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing gently before pulling away from the curb.

  “What’re you thanking me for?”

  “Taking a chance.”

  Chapter Six

  WE HAD to stop at the Fred Meyer because Ash had to pick up a few more small things he needed for dinner and he needed mesquite something. Wood chips, pieces of wood, I wasn’t really listening.

  “You should get propane,” I told him.

  The horror on his face, mouth open in shock, made me chuckle. “I’m just going to forget that such sacrilege came out of your mouth.”

  He was still muttering as he walked away, having ordered me to go grab cinnamon sticks and cumin and wooden skewers. Apparently, he was making shish kabobs.

  On the spice aisle, I heard my name and had just enough time to turn before I was hit with fifty pounds of six-year-old boy flying at me full force.

  “Hagen,” he squealed, tugging on my arms until I knelt to give him a proper hug. I was there, having taken a knee, when Brandon and Mitch reached us.

  “Daddy, look.” Ryder beamed up at me.

  “I see,” Mitch replied, his always husky voice with a trace of gravel in it. “You didn’t even have to call him, here he is.”

  “Call?” I asked before I thought better of it.

  “Yeah, he, uh, wanted to call you,” Mitch explained, carding his fingers through the thick blond hair he had passed in different shades to his sons. Neither had Mitch’s dirty blond straw color, Brandon’s being more gold, and Ryder’s almost strawberry.

  “We all did,” Brandon said, smiling sheepishly at me. “I wanted to say thank you myself for what you did.”

  I reached out and put my hand on his cheek for a moment before standing up. “You’re very welcome.”

  “Daddy said you were friends in high school,” Ryder said, slipping his hand into mine and holding on tight.

  “We were,” I agreed. “A hundred years ago. Which is how long it should have taken in the ER,” I said as Mitch took a step closer. “How’d you get him out so fast?”

  “Two hours is fast?” He squinted at me.

  “Very,” I assured him. “It’s an emergency room, after all.”

  “Do they normally take a long time?”

  His
disbelief was amusing. “I’m gonna guess that former NFL superstars don’t have to wait like the rest of us.”

  His smile was wide. “Yet another reason to hang out with me.”

  I nodded, not taking him seriously. We were just shooting the breeze, after all.

  He stepped in closer and I heard him inhale. “Are you free for dinner, because I’d love to have you,” he said, his breath choppy, uneven, as he stared at my mouth.

  I snickered.

  “Over to eat dinner,” he amended quickly. The head shaking and the mouthing of the word fuck, along with the flush on his cheeks, utterly adorable.

  “Actually, I have plans,” I told him and then looked at both boys. “But maybe tomorrow night after I get off work, we could have an early dinner since you’ve gotta go to bed early.”

  “Why?” Brandon asked.

  “’Cause Monday is school.”

  They both groaned.

  “It’s just school, not prison,” I said, chuckling.

  “No. Not for us. We don’t get to start on Monday with everybody else,” Brandon sulked. “Dad has meetings all day in Portland and has to talk to his investors and stuff.”

  “So we gotta go too,” Ryder said grumpily. “Hafta leave tomorrow morning.”

  I met Mitch’s gaze. “You know there’s a bus, right?”

  “Yeah, I know, but that’s not the issue.”

  I got it then. “Lack of manny.”

  “Lack of someone, yes,” he agreed. “There has to be someone there for them to come home to.”

  “I bet you there are a ton of people who would—”

  “But the boys don’t know them,” he rushed out. “And these are my kids, right? They’re not cats that can be left alone to their own devices and have food thrown at them.”

  I understood and remembered at the same time: Mitch’s dog, Gordo. He was a mutt Mitch had found on the street, some kind of mix that put tufts in his upright ears—like a wolf—and on his feet, which were completely out of place on his tiny, delicate body. When Mitch got stuck in Seattle overnight with the football team and his parents were on a trip in LA, a thunderstorm hit Benson that scared the little dog and sent him from his yard and his dog house out into the night. When I went over to check on Gordo and didn’t find him, I spent the whole night outside in the rain with my father, looking for the annoying creature who had chewed up more than one pair of my sneakers when I left them on Mitch’s floor.