“You’re reading a hell of a lot into this,” Luke rasped. “I snapped. I’m sorry. It doesn’t have anything to do with you—”
“It has everything to do with me,” I said harshly.
Luke kept going. “—and you’re right, I don’t have a lot of respect for your family. But that doesn’t have anything to do with you. You breaking up with me over your family—”
“Dude, just think about how you reacted as soon as something happened with the kids. I was your first scapegoat. The reason why you were too distracted to be able to have tabs on Micah at all times. I wasn’t the guy you care about—I was a fucking obstacle. A problem.”
And to that, Luke didn’t have an immediate reply. He inhaled deeply, looked back at the house again, and then released a slow exhale. It was shakier than usual, and his hands were fisted at his sides.
“Maybe you’re right. Our lives are too different.”
I’d wanted him to understand, but the sound of his agreement cracked my heart in two. It was a struggle not to buckle in front of him, but it felt like every drop of light in the past couple of months was being yanked away from me and now the world would be forever dark.
“And…” I cleared my throat. “And I have my own hang-ups, you know. I’m so worried about what you think of me and how I can work my way into your life, that I don’t focus enough on fixing my own. Because I’m quick to accept that something feels good enough for now. I’m always so busy trying to get people to want me or like me or listen to me, and nothing else gets done for the long term. I’m still floating aimlessly, man. And that makes it so I’ll never feel like I could be good enough for you.”
“You being good enough was never in question.” Luke shifted forward as if he wanted to grab me, but his hands faltered and dropped. “Don’t ever think that. And don’t ever give up on your goals. I know you want to help your father but you need to fucking worry about yourself. Go to the EMT classes.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” he demanded. “It doesn’t make sense to me to quit your own future just to save that store.”
“Because that store can save my family’s house. And if I’m putting every dime into paying back the rent and remodeling it, I won’t have anything left over for a while.” I smiled wanly. “So I’m stuck for now.”
“Dominic…”
Luke looked so heartbroken for me that my desire to get away tripled. I didn’t want his goddamn pity. I wanted his love. His respect. I wanted to feel like his equal. Not the kid from Grindr with the messy family who he wanted to guide to make the right choices. As long as it didn’t interfere with his own life.
“I have to go.”
“Dominic, please.”
“Please what?”
Luke’s mouth opened and closed, his brows drawn together. “I don’t fucking know. I just know I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other unless I swing by that store.”
The very idea of a reality like that made my stomach churn.
“That’s not what this is, is it?” he demanded. “Despite the boxes and the fighting and the shit with our families. I don’t want to not… be able to see you. Or speak to you.”
Fuck, I had to get the hell away before the burning behind my eyes turned into tears. I’d never broken up with someone before. And I’d never had anyone say those things to me. One part of me wanted to cling to him and the other wanted to sprint the hell away before the emotions raging inside of me burst out full force.
“I don’t know,” I croaked. “But I can’t… I can’t do this right now. Okay?”
“Goddamnit, Dominic, please!”
He started to grab me, but I stumbled down the steps in an attempt to get away. Except, as usual, Luke didn’t let me slide. He grabbed me by the back of the neck, turned my face, and gave me one of those harsh, passionate kisses. The kind of kiss that stole my breath and my brain cells, leaving me nearly incapable of functioning.
“This isn’t goodbye,” Luke rasped. “I won’t let it be.”
I pulled away from him and hurried down the stairs. I wanted to say something to take the hurt from his face and the pain from his eyes, but I couldn’t. So I walked away.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dominic
Christmas Eve was a nightmare.
It had only been two weeks since I’d broken up with Luke, but I felt his absence like one of my organs had been removed from my chest.
I woke up in the morning and grabbed my phone on instinct, but I remembered seconds later that I wasn’t sending him good-morning messages anymore. I wasn’t taking “I woke up like this” selfies after spending ten minutes in the bathroom trying to get the sleepy, tousled look just right. My runs were solo. My time was mine alone. I was single again.
It sucked.
And the holidays sucked too. I’d had big plans to spend Christmas Eve at Luke’s house, come back home just to have breakfast with my family, before returning to his cozy abode for the rest of the day. There was supposed to be French toast, orange juice, our first gifts to each other, and a lot of sex. Maybe even a Peanuts Christmas special. But now I was alone.
That night, instead of partaking in the seafood extravaganza my mother always prepared, I went for a run. It was cold as hell and my lungs burned as I jogged around Clove Lakes, but the discomfort was almost welcome. It distracted me from the hollow ache in my chest and the yawning hole in my heart. Or at least, that’s what I’d wanted to happen. In reality, the sense of loss hit me as soon as I passed the spot where he’d first kissed me in public.
I came to an abrupt halt and sank to the bench, tears stinging my eyes.
Fuck.
Hunching forward, I buried my face in my hands and sucked in guttering breaths. Which is when I heard footsteps rapidly approaching me. I jerked upward, immediately on guard and ready to defend myself, but instead found John Connolly.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked roughly.
He stood right in front of me, his crotch level with my face, with his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I was waiting on the bus on Forest and seen you coming in here.”
I sniffed and sat back. “Big Time is taking the bus? Pigs must be fucking flying.”
“Yeah, well, I wrecked my car.”
“Still drag racing?” His thin-lipped glare proved my point. “Sucks for you. What do you want?”
“I gotta have a reason to say hello to my friend?”
“We ain’t friends and you know it, son.” It was probably a good time to get to my feet and push past him, but I didn’t have the energy to be a tough guy. I barely had the energy to call him out on his shit. I didn’t give a damn about any of this anymore. “I know you can’t stand me, and I know it’s been that way for years.”
John’s mouth twisted up. “How you figure?”
“You start shit every chance you get, Connolly. If it’s not you being jealous because you think I’m trying to score with a girl you set your sights on, it’s you talking shit about me being in the army. And if it ain’t us in a fistfight, it’s you throwing subs on social media.”
“You sound like a high school kid,” he said. “We’re a little old to be overanalyzing social media, Nicky.”
“It’s not Nicky,” I said. “It’s Dominic. And there’s a lot more serious shit I could be pointing out, motherfucker. Like you being all up in my business, whether it’s about my pops or…” I hesitated to continue, but blurted it out before I could change my mind. “Or the fact that you’d seen me in the park with my man and felt the burning need to come up with some batshit rumor about public sex.”
John’s eyes grew wide at the words and for a second I doubted myself. Had it not been him? Had I outed myself for no reason?
“You’re fucking admitting you’re gay?”
Apparently not. It’d definitely been him.
“I’m bi,” I growled. “You admitting that you’re the one spreading lies about me?”
“Damn,” he finally managed to get out. “The army really did a number on you, didn’t it?”
This time, I did get up. We were similar height, but I had more muscle, and I was broader across the shoulders than him. All he had was his orange tan and gelled hair.
“You think I wasn’t into dick since we were in high school?” I asked, smirking. “That the army magically enlightened me about how good it feels to have a dick in my hand?”
If he’d looked shocked before, he now seemed ready to stroke out. His mouth hung open and his face was bright red. He took a step back, and I followed, repeating the motion until I had him backed against a tree. I expected him to explode in a flurry of rage or get flustered and try to squirm away, but John was just gaping at me. I smiled.
“Forget about hand-jobs,” I said, dropping my voice lower. “You think I never thought about having a dick in my mouth? Deep throating some dude’s meat and tasting his cum?”
John’s nostrils flared and his eyes fucking dilated.
Holy shit. He was into this.
My smile widened into a filthy smirk. I braced one arm above his head and pressed our bodies together. I was giving away the game by letting him feel how flaccid I was, but his dick was hard enough to poke through his jeans.
“You ever get a bro-job, Connolly?”
“Wha—” His voice came out hoarse, thick. He cleared his throat. “Don’t know what the fuck that is.”
“When you let one of your boys jerk or suck you. Not a gay thing. Just to get off.”
“I—” His breath was ripping out of him hard enough to steam up the air around us. He finally squirmed. “I don’t do that faggot shit like you.”
I laughed and rolled my hips against him. “Plenty of straight dudes on the base gave each other bro-jobs, baby. That’s how it started for me. Jackin’ each other while watching porn. Then letting some sweet private get on his knees and suck me. Then I realized I like being on my knees.” I made a big show of licking my lips to hide the fact that I was lying through my teeth. The only one I’d jacked off had been Garrett. “After that, I realized I like getting fucked.”
John was panting now, and his hands had risen to dig into my shoulders. It was almost like he wanted to shove me away but couldn’t. He was transfixed. Resisting the urge to laugh or vomit was difficult.
“You wanna fuck me, John?”
He made an abrupt motion with his head, but I couldn’t tell if it was a shake or a nod. The sound that came out of his mouth was like an anguished and confused moan.
“We can start slow,” I said softly. “I can suck your dick.”
“Here?” he croaked. “Now?”
“Fuck yeah. We can call it an olive branch. Or a Christmas present. Whatever lets you sleep at night.”
“I don’t know. Fuck, Nicky. Shit.”
He sounded so tormented. Poor conflicted bastard so torn on whether he should let a big queer touch his precious penis.
“If you don’t wanna, that’s cool. Just know that after word got around about my dick-sucking skills, I had no shortage of dudes coming to me and begging for head.”
The sound that tore out of his mouth was a mix between hungry and desperate. “Just do it,” he growled. “I’ll close my fucking eyes.”
“Yeah,” I said, delighted. “Works for me.”
John undid his jeans with trembling hands and pulled his dick out into the cold. It was bigger than I expected, but he still looked like a complete moron while holding his meat and squeezing his eyes shut. I took the opportunity to take out my phone and start recording.
“Fuck, Nicky. Hurry up.”
“Hurry up and do what?” I asked, stepping closer. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Please suck my fucking dick before the cold kills my hard-on,” he whined.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. And then his eyes flew open and realization hit him like an avalanche. Within seconds, he was zipping up and I was stashing my phone before he launched himself at me. We fell backwards on the cold pavement, him screaming with incoherent rage and me laughing breathlessly.
I wound up pinning him to the sidewalk and sitting on his chest, still barely containing my mirth. “Man, that was too easy.”
“Fuck you,” he spat. “You tricked me.”
“Yeah, I did. And now everyone on my Snapchat knows you begged me to slob your knob.” The stricken expression on his face was enough for me to take pity on the poor bastard. “Okay, I didn’t do it. Yet. But if you fuck with me or my family again, I’ll have that shit on the Internet so fast that your narrow mind will explode. You got it?”
He nodded, eyes glittering with hatred. “Got it.”
“Good.” I gave his face two hard smacks. “Now get the fuck out of my sight.”
John fled the park so fast I barely caught up on my way back to the entrance. I was still laughing, and the kneejerk reaction to share my triumph with Luke was impossible to resist. I didn’t catch myself until I had a text message all tapped out and my thumb was poised over the send button. Which is when all amusement drained from me and left me feeling the cold once again.
I cut and pasted the text and sent it to Garrett, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same without my silver fox.
* * *
Christmas morning came with me stumbling up to the kitchen, lured by the smell of a gourmet brew. Also, the smell of spicy sausages and biscuits cooking. My mother and father looked like an actual Hallmark couple while bustling around the kitchen, so I waited for aliens to explode out of their faces while sipping my coffee.
“Why the hell are you people so happy?”
“Why not?” Duffy asked. “I’m with my family, and it’s gonna be a good day.”
I grunted, unconvinced.
Adriana wandered downstairs in sweatpants and Micah’s hoodie, her blond hair everywhere and face scrunched up. She grabbed a cup of coffee and stared at them with skepticism that matched my own.
“What’s going on?” she asked suspiciously.
“It’s present time,” our mother said with a smile. “Let’s go.”
“Present time? You told me we had no money for Christmas this year,” Adriana said. “You said it like four times in the past month.”
“Yeah, well, things are different now. So shut up and get your ass inside!”
Adriana laughed, and I marveled at how my family couldn’t stop yelling and cursing even when showing affection. At least it was a change from their usual shtick. The subtle changes had been adding up for the past few weeks—ever since I’d paid the landlord.
“Look, I’m just gonna go back to bed,” I muttered. “I’m not in the Christmas spirit.”
“You would be if you’d call Mr. Rawlings,” Adriana muttered.
I shot her a severe look. “Shut up or I won’t show you a hilarious video later.”
That piqued her interest so she kept quiet while we trooped into the living room. Regardless of what my mother had said about presents, she’d still decorated the house for Christmas. Red bows everywhere, lights and garland, a huge-ass tree, and the whole nine. It was unnecessary and a little tacky, but it pulled a slight smile out of me.
I sat on an armchair with my coffee and watched Adriana’s eyes go round at the sight of a little pile of gifts.
“But I didn’t get you guys anything,” she wailed.
Duffy waved her off. “Hush and open your gifts.”
“But—”
“Adriana, please?” The softening tone of his voice bowled both of us over, especially since he followed it up with, “I’m worried I picked out the wrong damn thing. It kept me up all night.”
He was definitely an alien.
Adriana sat on the floor by the tree, shooting him suspicious stares, and began opening her presents
while our parents looked on in anticipation. I had no idea what was going on, but I was pretty thrilled with the inexpensive gift I’d chosen for her. It had taken a couple of weeks to arrange, but it was a winner.
I wondered what Micah and Michelle had received for Christmas and whether Luke had gone to Hoboken to visit them after all. Probably not. He’d probably stayed home alone. Unless he was partaking in a holiday hookup. The very idea…
“Holy shit!”
My eyes snapped back to Adriana. Her happy face was almost enough to take me out of my feelings. She held up a Moleskin sketchpad with thick, creamy pages and an expensive looking set of pens. “How did you afford this? These are like… professional!”
Duffy leaned back, looking smug. “So they are the right ones.”
Adriana hugged the items to her chest. “Oh my God, yes! I can’t believe it. Thank you!”
“We’re not done,” my mother said impatiently. “Next box!”
“Okay, okay,” Adriana said, reluctantly setting down her prized new tools.
The happiness radiating from her was enough to bring a smile to my face. Our parents had also gifted her a drawing tablet for her computer. She crowed about always wanting a “Wacom Intuos”, and I took her word for it. There were actual tears in her eyes and for the first time in years, she hugged both our parents.
“All it took was art stuff to get you to hug me,” Duffy said roughly. “I wished I’d have known.”
“It’s not that and you know it,” she said, sniffling. “I didn’t think you guys cared about my art crap.”
“Don’t call it crap,” I interrupted. “Now open mine.”
Unsurprisingly, she loved the FWO figurines I’d ordered from South Korea, but the real kicker was when she opened the large envelope I’d received only days before from Kai. In it was a handwritten letter and a signed photograph of him standing in front of a mural that hung in his office. The mural featured some of her own FWO fanart pieces.
She tackled me into a hug and squeezed me so hard I lost my breath. “Thanks, Nicky.”
Fast Connection (Cyberlove #2) Page 22
