by Lynda Aicher
“Here.”
He looked up just in time to catch the wet towel that was tossed at him. He snatched it out of the air and tried to keep his blush down when he cleaned himself up. His ass was sore, the muscle protesting the abuse now that the orgasm rush was fading.
Carter kept his back to him, his head down as if the bottom of the sink would reveal the answer to make this all right. Rock wished it were that easy.
He cleaned his come off the cupboard doors then retrieved his clothing and methodically pulled them on. The jeans seemed abrasive against his skin, his cotton shirt too tight. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and tried to think of a way out of the mess he’d forced.
“That was wrong,” he finally said after the silence grew too large.
“You wanted it.”
“Turn around.” He bit out the words, his anger surfacing. “Face me while we talk about this.”
Carter looked to the ceiling before he slowly turned to Rock. His expression remained flat, blank really, and his dick still rose from his groin, hard but not as blazingly engorged as it’d been. So nothing had changed.
Except everything had.
“What’s there to talk about?” Carter’s voice was barren, empty like his eyes.
“Us, damn it.” Rock swung his arm wide. “This.”
“Yeah?”
“That was fucking.”
Carter quirked a brow. “Observant, aren’t you?”
“Damn it, Carter. We don’t fuck.”
“We just did.” The bland statement said it all.
“Fuck you.”
“I told you to leave.” Carter shrugged. One insolent lift of his shoulder. “You wouldn’t listen.”
He was right. Rock had pushed, offered and basically insisted that Carter take him. But he’d thought the man would break. That he’d remember what they had. Who they were together.
But he hadn’t.
“You’re right,” Rock admitted softly. The defeat hit him hard and he lost the energy to fight. “I’m sorry.” He stepped toward the hallway, his chest heavy with remorse. “I think we’re done here.”
His trek to the door was one of the longest he’d ever made. Regret swamped him, dragging down his limbs and turning everything numb. Carter never said a word. Never tried to stop or even venture out of the kitchen to watch him leave.
The rain slapped him in the face as he walked to his truck. There was no urge to rush. He couldn’t have hurried if he’d wanted to. He shivered in the dry confines of his cab, starting the truck on autopilot. He stared one last time at Carter’s kitchen window. Should he go back? And say what?
The light flicked out, the unit going dark. He choked back the jab of pain that nailed his heart. What had he done?
It was blazingly clear that right then, Carter was lost to him. He’d pushed to get closer and had only driven the man farther away. Maybe too far to get back.
He shifted the truck into gear and left the complex. He understood the empty feeling Carter had projected. The one that wiped out everything and left him numb. The one that took over to keep the real pain from consuming him. Yeah, he got that because it was exactly how he felt as he drove away from the man he loved.
* * *
Carter flicked the light off and slowly sank to the floor. He’d killed it. Destroyed another relationship with his words and actions. He really wasn’t worth it, was he?
God. He covered his face with his hands, but he couldn’t hide from the truth. Not even the darkness could keep the facts away. He was such a stupid fucking asshole. What had he done? He’d used and dismissed Rock exactly the way the fucking johns had done with him. The way he despised.
The first sob welled up from his abdomen and he swallowed it back, almost choking. The second one couldn’t be stopped. It burst out of him in a blast of misery that opened the gates to the rest of the pain. It was all there—the loss, the rejection, the denial, the years of pretending he was fine—were suddenly fighting each other to taunt him with the lies.
He drew his knees up and curled into a ball, but the agony didn’t stop. His chest was too tight, each gasping breath forced to squeeze through the constricted space. Tears fell unchecked. The first since he’d walked out of his parents’ house for the last time. He’d sworn nothing would ever hurt as much as their rejection.
He’d been wrong.
Very, very wrong.
The high chime of his phone pinged through the room, registering on his peripheral senses as an annoyance. It couldn’t be important. He’d just chased away the only thing that was important. The second reminder ping sounded, and he wanted to scream at it, but to speak would break him completely.
He had no idea how long it was before the phone started to ring. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. No one would call him except the agency or Rock. Rock!
He sprung off the floor and dove across the counter to grab his phone. His heart raced, hope bursting hot and fast until he saw the screen. Just as fast, it shattered into tiny pieces that would be impossible to put back together.
Hank. Not Rock, but the fucking agency.
The ringing stopped, and he slammed the phone down on the counter. Maybe it’d break and save him from ever having to talk to that asshole again. He winced, rearing back when the ringing started again. No fucking way.
He grabbed it, swiping the screen to answer the damn man. “What?” he barked, his hand choking the inanimate object like it was Hank’s neck.
“You never checked in.” Sniff. “How’d it go?”
How’d it go? How the fuck did it go?
Carter couldn’t speak. Didn’t need to. He spun around and hurled the phone across the room. It smashed against the living room wall, bouncing off to land with a soft thud on the carpet.
“Carter? What happened?”
Hank’s voice hovered across the quiet, igniting his rage even more. He was done with that man. Done with the agency. With fucking. With everything.
He tore across the room, logical thought gone. The protective case snapped off in a second; in the next he slammed the screen against the corner of the wall. The crack was satisfying but not enough. He hit it again, and again, and again until the screen shattered and the annoying sound of Hank’s voice stopped. And still he banged it more, his muscles straining behind the force. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had. The only thing he could do.
Eventually he slowed, the anger turning to exhaustion. He sagged against the wall, drained. He’d managed to demolish the corner of the wall, along with his phone. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
His pulse still raced and the tears returned. They leaked from his eyes on quiet trails that dripped from his cheeks and splashed on his hand and ground. He stared at the destroyed phone, distantly noting he was bleeding. The blood was dripping, leaving bright red stains on the beige carpet. At some point he’d cut his palm. He didn’t feel it.
The chill raked his body. He was cold. Naked. Dirty. He had to get it off. The filth. The years of grime that clung to him.
He dropped the phone and stumbled upstairs. The water blasted into the shower stall. Hot. Not hot enough. He was so cold. Would he ever be warm again? Clean again?
The spray hit him in the face. His chest. Soap. He needed to scrub it off. Wash it away. The shame. The misery. The loss. Himself. All of it. It had to be gone.
But it wasn’t working. It was still there, clinging to him. A second skin suffocating him. The soap slipped from his fingers, clunking hollowly on the tile. He followed it down.
His hand ached. The water beat on his shoulder. The tile cold on his arm.
And he was alone. His life was a lie. He was a lie.
No wonder Rock didn’t want him.
He wasn’t worth wanting.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rock stepped out of the Atlanta airport to a balmy summer day by his standards. He’d forgotten how hot it got in the south. Eighty degrees in late April was not spring weather to him anymore. Of
course, this was nothing compared to the Middle East in July.
He scanned the line of cars in the arrivals area then grabbed his phone to see if he’d missed a text. Nothing. From Carter or his sister. That was normal for her. Not so much from Carter.
His hasty text to Carter that morning as he’d waited for his plane to depart had been met with silence. What had he expected? He’d walked out on the man last night, both of them hurting, and then left town this morning with nothing more than a Have to go home. We’ll talk when I get back. text message. He was fucking up again and he didn’t even have to speak to do it.
The sweat ran down his temple and he wiped it away, impatient. Where in the hell was his sister? He should’ve taken the puddle-jumper to Columbus or rented a damn car like he’d originally planned, but no, Rachel had insisted she’d pick him up.
Her 4:00 a.m. call informing him of their father’s heart attack hadn’t allowed him a lot of time to plan. He’d booked the five-thirty flight, stuffed some clothes in a bag and raced to the airport. His dad might be a prejudiced hard-ass, but he was still his father.
It was another ten minutes of gas-fume-heated annoyance before his sister pulled up to the curb. She jumped out of the compact car a bundle of energy, pink-tipped hair and all.
“Hey, Rock,” she called as she ran around the back of the car.
He tossed his bag in the backseat in time to free his arms for her enthusiastic hug. He caught her up, squeezing her tight until she squealed. He inhaled the fruity scent of her hair products, the familiar smell bringing back a wealth of memories. God, he’d missed her.
“Put me down,” she finally giggled, slapping him on the shoulder. “We have to get on the road.” She was already moving, the bright pink ends of her hair bobbing over the roof of the car. “Dad’s scheduled for double-bypass surgery at eleven. If I drive fast, we can get to the hospital before he goes in for pre-op.”
“How’s he doing?” he asked after he shut the door.
“He’s stable. Weak,” she said with a small laugh. “Which pisses him off.”
“I bet.” He couldn’t imagine the first sergeant being happy confined to a hospital bed. “How’s Mom?”
She shrugged and stretched around to check the traffic. “Stoic as usual. You know nothing ruffles her.”
He snorted in agreement. “No one’s told RJ, have they?” His older brother was stationed overseas right now.
“No. Mom said to wait until we know more.” Of course she would. It was logical, and chances were they’d have a hard time reaching RJ anyway. No point in distracting him either. “Jenny’s there though. I guess the kids are with some friends.” His brother, who’d followed in the footsteps of their father and gone into the infantry, was also stationed out of Fort Benning, so his wife and two young kids lived on base near their parents.
He studied Rachel as she navigated out of the busy airport and through the interchanges until they were on I-85 South heading to Columbus. She was a pint-sized ball of spunk and defiance disguised under a sweet face and cheery demeanor. Her tank and shorts showed off the lean muscles in her arms and legs. She may have bucked the family tradition by going to college instead of enlisting in the Army, but she couldn’t kick the ingrained habit to stay fit. All of the Fielding children had started running miles with their father before they were eight years old.
“Pink?” he asked. The ends had been blond the last time he’d seen her.
She flashed him a grin, raising a hand to fluff the back of her hair. “You like?” Her naturally dark hair was cut short and gelled into little spikes around her head.
“It fits you,” he said honestly. “How does it go over at school?”
“Are you kidding me?” She shot him a skeptical look. “The kids love me. I’m the hippest teacher they have.” Her laughter was infectious and he found himself chuckling with her.
“But you’d be that without the fancy hair.”
“True. This just guarantees it.” She waved a hand at her hair. “I have to do something to keep a bunch of disgruntled teenagers interested in calculus.”
He shook his head. “I’m positive boys aren’t taking your class for your hair.”
“Are you saying I’m hot, big brother?” She winked.
“Shut up.” He stared out the side window. “Just stay away from the jailbait.”
“Ha. Like I need that level of immaturity in my life.”
“Any boyfriends then?”
“Boyfriends? Plural? Not.” She laughed. “I can’t even find one, let alone two.”
“That’s because you scare them all away.”
“Yeah.” She flashed an evil grin. “When a guy sticks around, I’ll know I found the right one. What about you? Dating anyone?”
The scenery was suddenly fascinating. He fisted his hand to keep from checking his phone again. Was he dating someone? After last night, he wasn’t sure.
“What’s wrong?”
He turned back to his sister but didn’t answer her. It was the perfect opportunity to tell her the truth, yet her reaction terrified him. Of everyone in his family, her rejection would hurt the worst.
“Rock?” She frowned, her gaze darting between him and the road. “What’s going on? You’re worrying me.”
Despite the air conditioning inside the car, he was hot again. He wiped his palms on his jeans and tried to formulate an answer. He thought of the picture he’d submitted for the Army Family Magazine photo contest. The one he’d had Carter take. He had no idea if it would win or be featured in the magazine, but he’d submitted it for precisely this reason. There was no going back. He was done hiding who he was, even if that meant his family was done with him.
But maybe now wasn’t the best time.
“What’s his name?”
“What?” He shook his head, certain he’d misheard her.
She cut him a quick, searching look that ended with a soft smile. “You heard me. I’m right, aren’t I? You met a guy.”
He could only stare. He probably shouldn’t be surprised that she’d figured his secret out, but he was. They’d never talked about what had happened when he was fourteen and everyone had treated it like a one-off event. He’d certainly never indicated it wasn’t.
“What are you talking about?” he finally managed to say. She might be right, but he wanted to know what she knew before he admitted anything.
She gave him a pitying look that only she could get away with. “Rockford.” Her tone was gentle, patient. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I know what happened when you were fourteen. I knew about you and Nicholas before Dad caught you.” He should’ve known she would know about Nicholas. She had a way of always knowing everything. She glanced at him, but he didn’t react. “That’s not something you can change, no matter how long you deny it.”
His derisive grunt of agreement was out before he could stop it. “I tried damn hard, though.” Habit had him wanting to look away, but he was done hiding.
“I guessed that. But Dad didn’t give you much choice.”
There wasn’t much to say to that. They both knew how their dad had convinced him to be straight. And RJ had reinforced the lesson for years with continued digs, jokes and outright threats.
“You’re okay with it?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to hear her answer.
“With what? That you’re gay?” She looked to him for confirmation. “Of course I am.”
“Thanks.” It was a small word that didn’t adequately convey his gratitude and tremendous relief but he couldn’t hug her right then.
“So what changed?”
“Carter.” He didn’t even hesitate to answer. Just saying the name brought an instinctive smile to his lips, but it was countered by a sick roll of his stomach. “He’s what changed.”
“Yeah?” She grinned. “Tell me about him.”
And there went his smile. “There’s not much to tell.” There wasn’t a point in saying anything
if they were done. Damn, his heart hurt at that thought. “At least not now.”
“What do mean? What happened?”
He shrugged, even though she wasn’t looking at him. He knew what had happened, but he still wasn’t certain how it’d turned so bad so fast. “We’ve been dating for a few months.” He gave a weak smile at the word dating. It still sounded strange on his tongue. “But something happened last night that…” That what? Killed their trust? Violated them both? Ruined their relationship? Maybe all of the above. He sighed and shook his head. “It wasn’t good. And now I’m here.”
“Did you tell him you had a family emergency? He should understand that.”
“I sent him a text at the airport, but I haven’t heard back from him.”
“So call him.” She waved a hand at him.
“No.” He shook his head, certain. “It can’t be fixed by a phone call.”
“Wow. That bad, huh?” Then she asked the question he’d been stewing on since he’d walked out Carter’s door. “Can it be fixed?”
“I don’t know.” He honestly didn’t. And that both scared and depressed him. It was all foreign territory and he had no data to help him with the answer. He wanted to believe that it could, that they had something worth saving.
But did Carter want to? He’d left the man in a bad place and now he wasn’t there to see if he was okay. It didn’t matter if he was still pissed about what happened. Rock was worried about him.
And he couldn’t help him. Not last night. Not from here.
Damn. Maybe the reality was he never could.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The fucking banging woke Carter again. It rolled up the stairs from the first floor, muffled but still loud enough to pull him from the wonderful slumber of nothing. He shoved the covers off his head and blinked through the dim light at the clock on the nightstand.
Morning. But which one?
Since he was awake, he made a trip to the bathroom. That was the only place he’d gone since he’d crawled into his bed how long ago? Time didn’t matter since he had nowhere to go. No one to see.
