Tangled Up In You

by Jaclyn Osborn

  Guilt gnawed at my gut upon remembering Corbin’s words from a few nights ago. He did know the real me, and I was mad at myself for telling him otherwise. I’d just tried to place the blame on him because I’d hoped it would help me cope with everything.

  It only made me feel worse.

  My phone sat on the coffee table in front of me, and I stared at it instead of at my book. Not even The Iliad, one of my all-time favorite stories, could distract my mind enough that night.

  For all the heartache I’d been through with Corbin, there’d been more laughs and good times than anything else. Before we’d been lovers, we’d been best friends, and I missed him more than words could convey.

  The years apart did nothing to ease that ache.

  “Stop being a chicken shit and call him,” I said to myself, aware of how nuts I sounded but whatever. Giving yourself pep talks was healthy.

  But right as I grabbed the phone, my courage faded and I set it back down.

  I would contact him.

  Just not tonight.

  Chapter 12

  Corbin

  I was disappointed in Hunter. I thought if I stepped back, he would take charge. That he’d try to reach out to me. His lack of doing so proved to me that he didn’t care about me anymore, or at least proved he didn’t care enough.

  I’d been naïve to think he’d still want me in that way after seven years of being apart.

  He had wanted me for a bit anyway. I could still feel his lips trailing down my neck, feel his hands roaming my abs, and feel the weight of his body on mine. His taste was seared into my memory, as were his soft sighs and breathy moans.

  We hadn’t lost any spark in the bedroom. That was for sure. But when it came to us trying to figure out where we were headed for our future, everything had derailed.

  It was a bit comical that he was the English scholar who lived and breathed classic literature that practically screamed romance and true love, and yet I was the die-hard romantic out of the two of us.

  He was the skeptic who questioned everything. Questioned life and love. And me.

  Just because I’d eventually go back to Kansas City didn’t mean I had to stop seeing him. He didn’t see it that way. He believed I was nothing but a damn man-whore who couldn’t keep it in my pants, as if my fame had made me throw away all of my morals.

  I’m sure he’d be surprised if he knew all the offers I’d turned down over the years. Way more than I ever gave in to.

  “Have a great day, Mr. Taylor,” Joe at the bank said after handing me back my license.

  That Monday had been busy. I’d had to go down to the bank and talk to them about the house, and then from there I’d had to get the deed transferred in my name. It was a bunch of crap I didn’t feel like doing, because it was just further proof that I was alone in the world. Maybe a bit dramatic, but still true.

  Since Hunter was being a stubborn ass, there was no point in me sticking around town longer than necessary. So painful or not, I just wanted to get everything over with so I could leave.

  As I got back into my car—well, it was the Cadillac I’d bought for Grandpa two years ago—my phone rang, and as stupid as it was, my heart jumped at the possibility of it being a certain brown haired, glasses wearing, infuriating asshole who I still fucking loved regardless of everything.

  Nope. Not him.

  “Hey, V,” I answered.

  “I just got home from my shoot in Milan,” Veronica said. Her accent was stronger, which told me she was worried or worked up about something. Her words tended to muddle together when she talked fast. “I saw the news of you grieving a loss. Your grandpa?”

  I should’ve been surprised that the damn reporters had somehow figured out my private business, but after nearly four years of them prying into my personal life, nothing they did shocked me anymore.

  It was a miracle that nothing had been leaked about my sexuality as of yet. William and I’d been good at keeping our relationship private, but still. Reporters and paparazzi were like leeches who would feed off anyone or anything to get a good story.

  “Yeah,” I answered, having to clear my voice afterward. “I’m back in my hometown getting it all taken care of.”

  “You don’t sound good. Is there anything I can do?”

  I smiled at her offer. “Nah, I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

  The media portrayed Veronica as a sexy vixen who was using me to further her own career, but that was the farthest thing from the truth. She genuinely cared about me, and I felt the same for her. We’d never slept together, no matter what the countless rumors said. I’d never come out and told her that I was gay, but I was pretty sure she’d figured it out over time.

  “Well if you do need me, you call. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, putting on my seatbelt and starting the car. “How was Milan?”

  As she talked about the shoot and all of the sightseeing she did in Italy, I listened and drove through town.

  I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be in Willow, but I needed more groceries. Ramen noodles wouldn’t cut it anymore. The first thing I planned to do when I returned to Missouri was get back to the gym. I had a workout routine I did every morning—running, core exercises, and leg workouts like squats, wall sits, and all that—but I needed to get back to lifting weights.

  “I met someone,” Veronica continued. “And before you judge me for it, just know it’s over now. But it was some of the best days I’d had in a long while. I am far from a romantic, but he made me feel something I never had before.”

  “I’m not judging you, V. Love is tricky. When the heart finds what it wants, it’s only a matter of time before it wins.”

  “Has your heart found what it wants?” she asked in a knowing tone.

  “Yeah,” I answered, tapping the top of the steering wheel with my free hand. “But like yours, it’s over.”

  “Why?”

  “Because his heart doesn’t feel the same,” I said, not having the energy anymore to keep pretending to her of all people. “What about you?”

  “Turns out he was married.”

  “Holy fuck. We both need to get drunk together the next time we’re in the same city. Our luck is fucking awful.”

  She laughed and I heard a faint popping in the background. “I am one step ahead of you. Just opened my wine and I plan to drink as much as I can before bed.”

  “Right,” I said after checking the time. “It’s midnight there, huh?”

  “A little after,” Veronica answered. “Tell me about this man who refuses you. Is he crazy or just stupid?”

  “Neither,” I said with a laugh. “He’s just stubborn. And insecure.” After the light turned green, I drove a ways up the street before turning into the grocery store parking lot. “Are you really not fazed that I’m gay?”

  “Oh, Corby,” she replied, and I could just imagine her shaking her head. “I’ve suspected you were ever since we spent the night together in Paris. You were drunk and you wanted to cuddle me, but you never tried to feel me up. Not to sound vain, but no straight guy would’ve passed up that opportunity, especially not when drunk.” She paused, probably to take a drink, before adding, “I’m just sad that you felt like you couldn’t tell me sooner.”

  “It’s scary,” I said, finding an empty spot and parking. “I hate hiding who I am, but I don’t know if I’m ready to make it public. When I do, it’ll be on my terms.”

  “The world is a much more accepting place now, love,” she pointed out.

  “Not in football,” I countered.

  “Stupid men and their balls,” Veronica said. “They slap each other on the ass all the time. I do not see the problem.”

  I snorted.

  “I gotta go, V. Let’s find a time to meet up soon, okay?”

  “All right,” she said. “Take care of yourself.”

  I got out of the car and began walking into the store. The end of January day was warmer than average, and I was thankful for it. I had on
a light jacket, so it still wasn’t as warm as I wanted it to be, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

  One of the first things I saw when entering the store was my face on the front cover of a magazine. It was some tabloid about me having a secret lover or some shit.

  I rolled my eyes and grabbed a shopping cart.

  Seeing my face on TV, in magazines, and sometimes on billboards was still kind of weird, but the glamor of it had mostly washed away. I’d never wanted to be famous; I’d just wanted to play football. I liked the attention and being in the spotlight when it pertained to my abilities on the field, but the prying into my private life thing got old.

  I went down the aisles and grabbed anything I thought I’d like to eat, trying to keep the ingredients kind of simple since I couldn’t really cook that well. My cooking skills included grilled chicken and steamed vegetables. That was about it.

  I was nearly done with my shopping before someone recognized me.

  “Hey, you’re that quarterback, aren’t ya?” an older man asked, pointing at me. “The one all over the tellie.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. He looked sort of familiar, but I’d met so many people over the years that it was hard to place them all. “I grew up here.”

  “Yeah, I know who ya are now,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You and that Walsh boy used to break into my back yard and steal apples from my tree. That one time when I caught ya, y’all threw ‘em at my back window.”

  I smirked.

  Fuck, me and Hunter used to be hellions.

  We used to be every adult’s worst nightmare, especially if we’d been hyped up on sugar. We’d been a packaged deal. Wherever he went, so did I, and vice versa. Most of the hooligan type behavior had been my idea, basically making me a bad influence on the quiet and shy kid Hunter used to be. His parents had loved me, though, and his dad had often thanked me for being such a great friend to his son.

  But I had been the grateful one. Hunter had made me a better person.

  “I apologize for that, Mr. Burton,” I replied as I attempted to force the smile from my face, knowing exactly who he was now.

  “You were lucky I was friends with your grandpa,” he said. “Otherwise I woulda called the law on ya.” His face fell, causing the wrinkles around his eyes to become more pronounced. “It’s a shame ‘bout what happened to old Bill. He was a good man.”

  “Yes, he was,” I responded as my throat got a bit tight. “Well, uh, it was nice seeing you again, Mr. Burton.”

  Continuing to the checkout, my mood had drastically changed. I was no longer irritated at the pesky journalists and ridiculous media. My mind was going down memory lane, remembering shopping at that same store as a teenager and even as a young kid. It had changed a little, but not by much.

  After paying for the groceries, I loaded them in the car before driving back home. As I drove past a narrow dirt road, my vision blurred, and I had to wipe my eyes on my jacket sleeve.

  Hunter and I’d gone exploring down that road too many times to remember.

  As kids, we’d walked that path, threw rocks at those trees, and challenged the other in racing games. We’d imagined our own little world and pretended we were Frodo and Sam on our way to destroy the one ring of power. We’d pretended we were pirates searching for lost treasure—and usually that treasure was a weird shaped rock or a dirty nickel someone had dropped out there.

  As we’d gotten older, it’d been the road we’d driven down, pulled off to the side, and explored each other’s bodies. Where we’d said our first l love you.

  Where we promised to spend forever together.

  I’d give anything to go back in time and do it all over: to refuse the USC offer and take the University of Arkansas one instead. I was certain I could’ve still made it to the pros no matter what college I’d attended. USC had only made it a little less difficult by providing me with better tools to build my future.

  If I could go back…I’d choose him.

  ***

  Thursday afternoon, I’d just come back in from a quick run when I decided it was finally time to go through Grandpa’s things. I’d put it off for too long. Over the last few days, I had decided to stay in Willow just a bit longer to fix up some areas of the house that needed repair, and then I intended on listing it for sale.

  The decision hadn’t been an easy one to make, but if going back there had taught me anything it was that staying in the past was dangerous. I wouldn’t be living in Grandpa’s house, and no matter how many good memories I had there, none of them would bring him back.

  It was time I let go. Let go of the house, my regrets, and of Hunter.

  I’d just gone into the kitchen to pour a glass of water when there was a knock at the door. The house wasn’t visible from the main road, so not many uninvited people ever showed up. With the exception of a few Jehovah’s witnesses that didn’t seem to have any kind of limit to the lengths they’d go to spread the word.

  I was already practicing my hail Satan speech as I got to the door and opened it. But when I saw who was on the other side, I froze.

  “Hey,” Hunter said, putting his hands in his hoodie pocket and looking awkward as ever. “Can I come in?”

  Chapter 13

  Hunter

  The turning point for me had been the moment I’d started irritating myself with my ceaseless overthinking and insecurity. I wasn’t proud of my jealous tendencies and horribly low self-confidence, but it wasn’t something people could always control.

  One too many sleepless nights were catching up to me, all because of my obsessing. It was affecting my everyday life, both in and out of the classroom. Luckily, the kids were still working on their research papers, so I hadn’t done any damage there, but if I didn’t take care of it soon, I’d be a complete wreck.

  When over a week had passed and I still hadn’t heard from Corbin, I knew it was my turn to make a move. Even if he was still pissed off and told me to leave, at least I had tried to do something. To chase him for once.

  That night at the bar had aided in my thinking as well. The bartender had told me nothing was impossible and she’d thrown around the word fate. Crazy that a complete stranger could help me see things a little clearer, but it’d been the final push I’d needed to act.

  “Hey,” I said once he answered. Part of me expected him to slam the door in my face. “Can I come in?”

  Corbin’s gray eyes watched me with leeriness.

  I couldn’t blame him. My mood had been a bit all over the place ever since he’d gotten into town. Kind of like the boy who cried wolf. Now that I’d gone there to try to fix the shithole I’d created, he believed it was some trick.

  “Sure.” He opened the door wider. “Um, can I get you a drink or something?”

  “No, thanks,” I said, offering him a tight smile. After walking into the house, I stood in the entryway with my hands in the front pocket of my hoodie. I wondered if I looked as awkward as I felt. Probably.

  I turned to him and tried to ignore how great he looked. Not wearing a shirt, every damn ridge of his muscled chest and abdomen was on display, as well as those sexy as hell V lines that disappeared below the material of his sweat pants.

  His expression remained guarded.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Fine.” He crossed his arms, and I forced myself not to stare at his biceps. “You?”

  A lie was on the tip of my tongue. I mean, it was sort of normal to say ‘good’ or ‘I’ve been great’ when someone asked that question. However, only complete honesty would get us past the damn hurdle.

  “Not so good,” I answered before glancing down at the wood floor. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Too much, actually.”

  “You? Overthinking?” Corbin interjected with mock surprise.

  I looked up to see him smirking.

  “Yeah, I know I’m awful about doing it.” I exhaled and stepped toward him. He didn’t react. He just stared at me, squaring his jaw in that annoyingly sex
y way of his. “I owe you a huge apology, Corbin. The way I’ve treated you lately is appalling and you don’t deserve it. What happened with us wasn’t just your fault. We both played a role in breaking what we had.” I searched his face and tried to get a read on his thoughts, but his guard was still up. “I’m sorry for holding a grudge against you.”

  Finally, his guard slipped, and for the briefest of moments I saw the pain in his gray eyes. No, maybe not pain. Longing?

  “I ran into Mr. Burton at the grocery store the other day,” he said, and his sudden change of topic confused me. “Remember how we used to sneak into his yard and steal apples?” Corbin grinned, but the action didn’t reach his eyes. “I used to get you into so much trouble when we were kids, but you followed me anyway.”

  “You were my best friend. Of course I did.” I ached to touch him, but I refrained from doing so. Instead, I stood in place, fighting the urge that I used to give into without a second thought.

  We were nowhere near that point of comfortability, though.

  Somewhere along the way, we’d gone from best friends and lovers to barely even acquaintances. I’d heard of other childhood friends being that way—being so close and then losing touch after high school—but it was hard to wrap my head around the fact that it’d actually happened to us.

  Even harder to accept that I’d been the one to push us to that point.

  “I’m selling the house,” Corbin said.

  “What? Why?”

  “Some things need to be let go,” he answered, not meeting my eyes. “There’re some areas that need to be fixed up before listing it, like a few loose floorboards and some rot damage in the back, so I’m staying here longer to get it done.”

  “And then you’ll leave?” I asked, hating the way my heart clenched at the thought.

  “Yeah.”

  More silence followed.

  “Why are you here, Hunter?” Corbin’s right hand formed a fist at his side, something he did when he was nervous or agitated. “Just to apologize and ease your guilt?”

  “That’s part of it,” I admitted. One of the many downfalls of being an over thinker was that we also carried guilt to the extreme, no matter if the mistake was big or small.