by L. A. Witt
I took a deep breath, and the sudden sting in my eyes wasn’t from the faint hints of smog. No, it was because the salty wind tasted like that half-baked afternoon on the beach with Scott.
My heart sank lower and lower. I still had his number in my phone. If there was anyone who could talk me down and give me some words of wisdom, it was him. Or, well, it used to be. He had no desire to hear from me, never mind dispense any kind of wisdom, and I didn’t blame him.
I didn’t blame him, but holy shit, the more real it became—the more undeniable his absence was as I walked down this beach alone—the more it hurt. I couldn’t put my finger on when Scott had ceased to be a casual hookup and become . . . Scott. The face beside me in the morning and across from me at dinner. The other end of text conversations that actually made me smile. The reason I had something to look forward to at the end of my work day.
A sick feeling burned in the pit of my stomach and started climbing up the back of my throat. We hadn’t been casual lovers for a while, had we? Somewhere along the line—maybe while we were smoking on the beach, or while we were lying together talking on one of those countless nights we’d spent together, or while I was listening to him sleep when I should’ve been doing the same—things had changed. The sex had ceased to be physical release and satisfying my need for human contact. Instead, it had become a way to play out feelings neither of us dared to bring up because they weren’t allowed. But they were there. They were strong. They were undeniable.
The truth was excruciatingly clear now, just like looking back at my younger years and realizing how obvious it was I’d always been gay despite my cluelessness at the time. And just like when I’d realized who I was after I was already married, the truth bomb was too little too late.
Scott was gone.
And I was in love with him.
I swiped at my eyes, halfheartedly telling myself it was the salty wind that made them sting. How could I have been so stupid? How was it even possible to fall that hard for someone without knowing it?
But it didn’t matter, because I’d let him walk away. Hell, I’d sent him off with a barb about dating cops. He’d felt compelled for whatever reason to make an exception to that rule—a rule he’d made in the face of a tragedy that had kept him mostly alone for twenty years—and had given me more than he’d promised himself he’d ever give another cop, and what had I done? I’d thrown it in his face like some kind of verbal Hail Mary that might make him reconsider his abrupt departure.
Oh, it had probably made him reconsider, all right. In the wake of that remark, any hesitation he’d had about leaving had probably vanished, and when he’d walked out, I doubted he’d looked back.
What the hell had I done?
I’d used up the last of my employer’s goodwill. I’d turned my own kids against me. I’d stupidly pushed away the first man I’d ever fallen for.
I was by myself with no one to blame as the people I loved slipped away like sand between my fingers, and I had no idea how to fix it. How to pull back the things that shouldn’t have been said and say the things that should’ve.
Sitting there alone in a rain-starved desert full of millions of people, with nothing but my own heartbeat and the crash of the ocean for company, I finally gave up and cried.
By the time I made it back to Bluewater Bay, I was a fucking wreck. I had enough concentration to drive myself from the airport clear up to the north end of the peninsula without getting into a wreck, but my mind was going in a hundred different directions.
And every one of those directions spiraled back to the same glaring conclusion:
I need Scott.
I needed to see him. I needed to talk to him. I needed to fix what I’d fucked up with him.
And if he was willing to give it, I needed his help to fix everything else. Even if the only thing he was willing to offer was a referral to a colleague, or professionalism and guidance as a counselor while maintaining a cool distance . . . fine. I’d be lucky if he gave me that much.
But I didn’t just want his professional guidance. I’d done him wrong and desperately needed to apologize. And my God, I missed him. Badly. Between Scott and my kids, for the first time, I understood what it meant to really hurt for someone. But of course, my dumb ass didn’t figure out how much he meant to me until after I’d lashed out and stomped on a wound he’d been nursing for two fucking decades.
After I’d dropped my luggage on the couch, I pulled out my phone, and with my heart in my throat, I shakily sent him a text: Can we talk?
A minute went by. Then another. When ten had gone by, I decided he wasn’t going to respond, so I tucked my phone in my pocket—just in case!—and dragged my luggage into my bedroom.
I unzipped my suitcase and started unpacking everything. The gifts I’d brought for Haley and Zach were still wrapped in a plastic bag, and I left them that way as I tucked them into the bottom drawer of my dresser. I hadn’t even been able to see Zach while I was in town. He didn’t need to see me in the state I was in after his sister left.
I could at least hang on to Zach’s gift until he came up to visit later this year. Haley . . .
I didn’t know.
For a moment, I gazed at the bag encasing the pair of boxes, and my heart felt even heavier. I’d always held out hope that we’d find a way to fix our family. Ever since my daughter had walked out of my motel room, though, I’d been at a complete loss. As if there was no point in even trying anymore. It wasn’t unlike the feeling I had when Jackie and I came to the end of our marriage and finally gave in. The same feeling Anna and Leigh must’ve been having these days.
Except this was my daughter. My child. Jackie and I were incompatible because of me, but this was my kid.
Yeah? So what are you going to do about it?
I didn’t know. I had no fucking clue.
Still feeling just as low as I had on that California beach, I continued unpacking.
On the way into the bathroom, I unzipped my toiletry kit so I could start putting everything away, but right then, the subtle vibration of my phone sent everything in my hands onto the bathroom floor. Even before everything had finished scattering, rolling, and crashing, I had the phone in front of me so I could read Scott’s response.
Ok.
It wasn’t much. Noncommittal at best, but not a “no” and not a “go fuck yourself.” At this point, that little two-letter message was enough to kick my heart into overdrive and give me hope.
Hands unsteady, I wrote back, When/where?
Then I set the phone on the counter and started picking up my razor, toothbrush, and everything else that was now on the bathroom floor. Once all of that was put away, I left the bag under the sink and took my phone as I headed into the bedroom again.
And right on cue, my phone vibrated.
I can be there in an hour.
At my place, then. I cringed. Did he want to talk here for the same reason Haley had wanted to come to my motel? So he could walk away when he decided the conversation was over?
Guess I’d find out in an hour.
When I stood aside to let him into my apartment, Scott’s expression offered almost nothing. Oh, he was still pissed—that much came through loud and clear as soon as our eyes met—but beyond that, I couldn’t read him. Was he just here so he could let me have it one more time? Or did he actually want to talk?
We went into my living room and sat down on opposite ends of the couch. My pulse was all over the place, and my stomach had been replaced with a cold ball of lead. Every sit-down conversation I’d had recently had blown up in my face. There was no reason to believe this one would end well, and every reason to believe I’d lose my mind when it didn’t.
“So you wanted to talk?” His tone was as flat as his expression.
“Yeah. About a few things.” Like how much of an idiot I was, and how much I’ve been falling apart without you. I took a deep breath. “Listen, I . . .” I shook my head. “Scott, I am so sorry. About everything.”
He watched me silently for a moment. “What changed your mind?”
“I realized you were right. About my family, and . . .” My voice wavered. “I’m scared to death of losing my kids. I took the job up here because it meant we had a reason to be this far apart, and I told myself it was what we all needed, but you were right. I was just running away. I actually just came back from LA. From trying to work things out with them. But it . . .”
He shifted on the cushion. Tone still flat, he said, “Did you listen to them?”
“I tried to,” I whispered. “Everything I said just made Haley angrier.” I hesitated, then met his gaze. “I’m in over my head. I need . . . I need help.”
His lips moved slightly as if he were chewing the inside of his cheek, and his eyebrows pulled together.
I went on, “I know I don’t have a leg to stand on asking you for any favors, and you can’t work as our counselor, but . . . maybe you can help us find one?” I gritted my teeth, struggling against the ache in my throat and the sting in my eyes, but when I spoke again, my voice cracked: “All I know is, I can’t do this myself.”
Still, he was silent, probably wondering what exactly I expected him to do about it.
“The reason I’m telling you all of this,” I said, “is because you were right. I didn’t just bring you here because I need help with my family.” I struggled to hold his gaze. “You were trying to help, and I was too fucking stubborn and stupid to see that. And what I said . . . especially about you dating cops. I . . .” My shoulders slumped. I swiped at my eyes, not sure why I was surprised when my fingers came away wet. “God, Scott. I am so sorry. There’s no excusing that, so I won’t even try.”
“You were angry,” he said quietly.
“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have gone there. And, after you left, when it started to sink in that I’d fucked up and you were gone, it was . . .” I swallowed. “Look, my divorce was inevitable and long overdue, and it was such an insane relief, I’m not sure it ever actually hurt. But realizing I’d fucked things up and let you go? All because you cared enough to try to help me fix something else I’d fucked up?” I shook my head. “It hurt like hell, and all I can say is I’m sorry for hurting you. And for pushing you away.”
He lowered his gaze, but didn’t speak.
“To be honest,” I went on, “what was happening between us scared the hell out of me. It still does.”
“Except it isn’t happening anymore. We broke—” He hesitated. “We aren’t doing it now.”
“No, we’re not. And the way I’ve felt ever since you left is making me realize what an idiot I was to not see what was happening.”
He studied me, eyes narrowing just slightly as if he were trying to read between the lines. “So, what . . . what was happening?”
“Everything we agreed wouldn’t happen.” I tried to ignore my pounding heart and the building panic—laying this all out was no guarantee he felt the same, or that he’d forgive me. How far down could I let my guard and still handle watching him walk out the door?
Only one way to find out.
I steeled myself. “We were just supposed to be friends and fuck buddies, but look at . . . I mean, the way we were in Astoria. Or sitting on the beach and talking while we smoked. I’ve never been as excited about seeing someone as I have been with you. And that never changed. Even after all that time, I was still . . . God, Scott. I was giddy. Like a fucking kid. Every time.”
He broke eye contact and swallowed, shifting uncomfortably.
“The fact is,” I whispered shakily, “I promised myself this would just be sex, and it turned out to be everything I’ve ever wanted in a relationship. I . . . I told myself this would just be casual, and I fell more in love with you than I ever thought I could.” Panic surged through me as soon as the words came out.
He met my gaze again, eyes wide.
I was queasy with fear now, my sweaty hands trembling no matter how much I wrung them in my lap. It was out there now. It couldn’t be unsaid. The ball was in his court, and I was scared shitless.
“So that’s . . .” I swallowed the nausea. “That’s it. I love you. And I’m sorry for fucking this whole thing up.”
“Are you suggesting you want to try an actual relationship?” His tone was guarded, but the hostility wasn’t so apparent.
I moistened my parched lips. “I want to try one again. Because I think we were already there.”
His Adam’s apple jumped. “But I thought . . . I thought you don’t date.”
“Before you, I didn’t. I didn’t let myself get involved with a guy for more than a few nights because I felt guilty. My being gay is what drove my family apart. It’s why my kids can’t stand me. And every time I even thought about getting closer to someone, it’s like I was dancing on the grave of my marriage and my relationship with my kids.”
Scott leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his thighs. “So what changed?”
“What changed was . . . well, you.” I searched for the right words. “Scott, I’m forty-two, and being with you was the first time in my life that I finally felt good in my own skin. Being with you felt right. Not just being with a man but being with you.” My heart sped up as I met his eyes. “It took me four fucking decades to find you, and a hell of a lot less than that to fall in love with you.” I cleared my throat. “And one stupid fucking conversation to send you packing.”
He flinched, but stayed silent.
“I’m not sure what else I can say except I’m sorry. And . . .” I swallowed. “And I mean it, more than I can even put into words, when I say I love you.”
He broke eye contact, and I braced for the I can’t do this or I won’t do this or I don’t feel the same.
Then, tentatively, he reached for me. His hand hovered above mine for a moment, so close that his body heat warmed my skin, before he finally slipped his fingers between mine.
“I’ve been fighting it for a long time,” he said. “Getting involved with someone, I mean. And with you, I couldn’t even convince myself to fight it, even though there’s still . . . there’s still your job.”
I flinched. “I know. And I am so sorry I threw that in your face. That was—”
“It’s not that.” He swept his tongue across his lips. “You were angry and defensive, so you lashed out. I totally accept your apology.”
I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, and I would have if not for the unspoken but . . . I knew was still coming.
“Being a bodyguard isn’t the same as being a cop. I know that.” He met my eyes, and his brow pinched. “But I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t still scare the hell out of me. Knowing something could happen, and . . .” He swallowed, pushing his shoulders back. “I’ve already lost one man to his job. And he was . . .”
He paused for a long time, and I knew what was coming. Something about how Nathan had reassured him that he wasn’t in a dangerous area, or that his job consisted of writing speeding tickets and catching petty thieves. Something about how Nathan had said all the same things I had about the job sounding more dangerous than it was.
But then Scott inhaled deeply, looked me in the eye, and whispered, “He was the only man I’ve ever loved the way I love you.”
My heart stopped.
He pushed out a breath and stared down at our hands. “Maybe . . . maybe that’s why I left. Because everything about this has scared the hell out of me for a while now because I haven’t felt this way for someone in twenty years.” He gently withdrew his shaky hand—come back—and ran it through his hair. “So when I found a reason to break things off, I did, because it was an excuse to back away . . .”
“And then I kicked you where it hurt.”
He flinched.
Cautiously, I reached for him, certain he was going to recoil from my touch. When he didn’t, I rested my hand on his wrist. I didn’t find any relief in that contact, though. Not when he’d admitted he loved me and was still making arguments for why he
couldn’t be with me. We were speaking softly now, cordially, and yet I was convinced he was a breath away from pulling back and leaving.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I know that doesn’t change anything, but—”
“No, it does.” He sighed, gently took my hand off his arm, and clasped our fingers together. “I should’ve known you were just lashing out, and I should’ve known I was just being a goddamned coward.”
“Well, that last part applies to me too, I think.”
“Maybe.” His shoulder rose in a faint shrug. “But we’ve both got a lot of baggage. We’re not a couple of twenty-year-olds who haven’t lived enough to have regrets.”
“You would think all that experience would make us less stupid.”
“Yes and no.” He hesitated, then met my gaze. “I think if anything, it makes us more aware of how things can blow up in our faces. A kid who’s dating for the first time is scared because they don’t know what they’re doing. Guys our age, we’re scared because we know exactly how it can go wrong.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that.” I sighed. “And then we’ve got my job and your past . . .”
“Yeah.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m not gonna lie. The thought of a relationship terrifies me. A relationship with . . .” His eyes flicked toward me.
“With me?”
He chewed his lip and nodded slowly. “It’s, um, not an easy thing to face. Knowing what could happen.”
I brought his hand up and kissed his fingers. “My job isn’t a high-risk position, though.”
“Maybe not, but they didn’t assign you to guard Anna just for the hell of it. There are people out there willing enough to hurt her that—”
“And I’m not the only one who’s there to keep those people away from her.” I squeezed his hand. “She’s got rings of security around her.”
He met my eyes. “And you still came home from a convention with a bruise on your face.”
