Hot Shots 1: Test Shot

by Cari Quinn

  She didn’t argue. Just cried her now nearly silent tears.

  He held her and pressed his face to the top of her hair. “Don’t leave me. Please. You’re all I have.” He tightened his grip, as if he could bind her close. “I’ll do anything to make you happy. To make this right.”

  A shudder went through her, and she raised her tear-streaked face to his. Her lips were swollen, her eyes red and puffy. “You’re not happy with me. I can’t…I can’t give you what you need.”

  “You’re all I need.” He choked out the words. “They turned their back on me once they knew. All they wanted was to hide me away. To eliminate the embarrassment I’d caused. But it was worth it, because I have you. Tell me I still have you.” The pain he’d wrought on her thickened his voice. Nothing he’d experienced hurt half as much as knowing he’d hurt her. “Please, Lala,” he whispered, absorbing the jolt that went through her body.

  She pressed her lips together and shut her eyes. Still, her tears rained. It took everything he possessed not to shake her and beg.

  He knew what he was asking wasn’t fair. If he loved her, he needed to let her go. She had a life to live, one with someone who could give her the world. More than money, more than empty promises. Someone who would give her children, and honesty, and all of their love.

  “Where do you go?” As wrapped up as he was in his thoughts, he didn’t hear her question at first. She wiped her eyes and repeated it. “Where do you go on the nights you’re not here? You’re not at school all the time. You can’t be.”

  “No.” How could admitting this be more soul-shattering than what he’d already acknowledged? He’d told her he was gay. Would she think him depraved too, after this? “You mentioned Sex Emporium.”

  “Yes.”

  “The alley beside, that first night we were there.”

  “I remember.”

  “People go there. Men go there, to touch each other. And more.”

  “Do you?” she whispered.

  He shook his head vehemently. “No. No. I swear. I wouldn’t do that to you.” As she lowered her lashes, he added raggedly, “I wouldn’t do it again.”

  “Then what?”

  He scrubbed his free hand over his face. It was dry, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. Not if he had to hear her cry and know every tear had been caused by him. That was a special kind of hell, worse even than the one of his own making he’d lived in for the last twenty years. “I watch. I’m not the only one. There are a couple of us who pay to see—”

  When he bowed his head, she lifted his chin with shaking, wet fingers. “Tell me, Aidan. Let me in.”

  Her eyes entreated him. How could she still care?

  “There are some college boys from the neighborhood. They make some extra cash by doing what they would anyway. Sometimes penetrative sex. Sometimes just oral. Not my students,” he added hastily, as if that made a difference. “I don’t know them beyond our…transactions. God, Lala, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop myself. Once I’d had a little, it didn’t stop. The need didn’t go away. I took myself out of the goddamn situation, away from Josh.” He laughed bitterly. “Running is something I learned early. But this time, it didn’t work.”

  She nodded, almost businesslike. “It’s going to be okay, Aidan.”

  “How can it be?”

  “We’re going to fix this. We can make it right.” Fiercely, she latched her gaze on to his. “If you believe nothing else, believe me. It’s going to be all right.”

  For a moment, he stayed locked in her stare, relief staggering him. “What did I do to deserve you?” he managed, dropping his forehead to hers. “How can you still be here, holding my hand?”

  “I love you.”

  The sound of pain escaped before he could try to hold it in. “How?”

  “We’re a team.” She stroked his face, waiting until he looked at her again to continue. “You never have to doubt my love. No matter what happens.”

  His hand tensed around hers even as his heart clenched. He could see the truth in her eyes. She was going to leave him. Her mental bags were already packed.

  And he’d provided her with where to go.

  “Will you take me there?” she asked. “To the alley?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to understand. At least to try.”

  The constriction in his chest eased. She’d given him so much and kept right on giving, despite learning something that would be unforgiveable to most people. Yet she still held his hand. Still told him she loved him, a love he saw reflected on her face.

  He couldn’t begrudge her happiness, whatever that meant for him. She’d given him her support, and he would do the same. Even if it broke what was left of his heart.

  “Yes.” He drew her with him as he stood. “I’ll take you.”

  Though it was probably foolhardy to go into a rougher part of the city so late, he felt fairly certain that his glower would discourage most from messing with him. In fact, they didn’t see many people at all on the street near the sex shop. And the alley was empty, at least at first. But she insisted on waiting, and sure enough, a pair straggled out of the bar across the street and made their way into the alley. They weren’t regulars, but he’d seen them there a couple of times. Word had spread that there were men with deep pockets willing to pay to view some action.

  “Back again?” The older one smirked at Aidan and tossed aside his cigarette. “And you brought a friend.”

  He tucked Layla under his arm. What had been thinking, bringing her here? Even if she’d wanted to come. “We’re going.”

  “Wait.” She shocked the hell out of him by reaching into her purse. “Twenty?”

  How did she know how much? Why wasn’t she scandalized? The only thing he could see on her face in the shadowy light was curiosity. A sort of hollow-eyed fascination that might’ve been delayed shock for all he knew.

  “Yeah. Twenty.”

  Before his brain caught up to what was happening, she passed over a folded bill. With another smirk, the guy and his friend—an equally sneering sort—began to kiss.

  The kissing soon turned to groping and from groping to a quick, rough handjob. Aidan steeled his reactions, not knowing where she intended to go with this. Why were they there? But she gave no clue as she observed them, her face remaining composed even when the men began to fuck against the wall. Their grunts bounced off the brick, clanged in the trash cans she’d grimaced at the first night they’d been there. Tonight she didn’t so much as wince.

  Goddamn, he loved this woman. It was like a vise around his throat, holding him up when he wanted nothing more than to sag against the wall.

  After they finished and stumbled away, she turned toward Aidan and drew in a slow breath. “I want you to promise me something. That you’ll be safe. No alley hookups with random street guys.”

  His mouth dried. She meant after. After they’d dissolved what they’d spent four years crafting. “I won’t be hooking up with anyone, period, so that promise won’t be difficult to keep.”

  She didn’t argue, just lifted her hand to his cheek. “Let’s go home.”

  The whole way there, he expected her to cry or lash out. She did neither. When they stepped into their bedroom, she went over to the bed and sat on the edge. He’d seen boards with more flexibility.

  “What about Sawyer?”

  It was his turn to brace. “What do you mean?”

  “You were aroused by watching him. By us, making love.”

  Making love, not fucking. No surprise there, really.

  He drew off the shirt he’d donned in a hurry before they’d headed to the alley. Stalling for time, he tossed it at the foot of the bed, then glanced up at the swirled plaster in the ceiling. “Yes,” he replied, unwilling to lie. Or even hedge. Not with her, not anymore. “He has the right equipment, even if he’s not for me.”

  She shifted to stare at him with hollow eyes. “Who is for you? Do you even know?” When he didn’t answer, she sighe
d. “You haven’t, you know, been with a guy, right? Not all the way.”

  In all his life, he’d never blushed. But at that moment, his cheeks and ears heated. “No.”

  She picked at the bedspread, suddenly looking small and younger than her years. “Maybe if you got it out of your system…”

  He couldn’t stand the hope in her voice, not when he knew encouraging it would only hurt her more down the line. And him. “No, sweetheart.” He shook his head and shut his burning eyes so he didn’t have to watch her tears track down her cheeks. It was as if she’d hit the Pause button on them for a while and now they were back, full force. “No. I’m sorry.”

  Somehow he moved around the bed and gathered her in his arms. He couldn’t do anything else for her, but he could tell her without words how much he loved her. That was all he had left.

  For a long time, they didn’t speak. When she finally lifted her head, the resolve on her face robbed him of breath. He knew what was coming, with the fatalistic certainty a surgeon did when confronted with a huge blip on an MRI.

  She squeezed her left hand into a fist. Then she drew off her ring and pressed it into his palm.

  “Layla.” Nothing else would come. His life had just imploded, and all he could do was watch the shrapnel fall to the ground.

  “You need to try to follow your heart.” Her voice wobbled, but she didn’t falter. “I know you think it’s with me, but it can’t be, not when the rest of you’s not on board. Willing yourself to want me won’t work. And I can’t be with you when I know you haven’t given yourself a chance to find what you really need.” She closed his fingers around her engagement ring and brushed her hand over his jaw, now rough with stubble. “It’s going to take me a little time to stop thinking about what could’ve been. To wonder what I could’ve done differently to change this.”

  “Nothing,” he managed. “Absolutely nothing.”

  “I can’t hate you for hurting me. I want to. Dammit, it would be so much easier if I could. But I know you tried to make me happy. I know you’re bleeding too.” She exhaled shakily. “You can’t hide behind me forever, Aidan.”

  Somehow annoyance cut through the muddy weight of his grief. “What?”

  “You heard me.” She grasped his chin and gazed fiercely into his eyes. “You can’t live your life trying to make your parents happy. Running away from being a doctor and Nebraska won’t make you straight. If you’re honest with yourself, you wouldn’t want to be. What you want is to be who you are, without judgment. What we all want.”

  The truth of that hit home inside him, way beyond where the wall of lies kept him safe. “You don’t judge me.”

  “The people who matter won’t. There are people like that out there. A whole world of them, but it only takes one to change everything.” Her tone gentled as he dragged in a breath. “What happened sucked large, but it was a lifetime ago. You need to accept who you are. Finally.”

  He looked away and hated himself for it. “I’m not ready for what you’re suggesting.”

  “So you’re a coward, then.” She slid back and nodded. “And a mama’s boy.”

  Anger spurted inside him, hot and welcome. “Goddammit, Layla—”

  “Get pissed at me. Hate me if you have to. But don’t shut down. If we meant anything to you, don’t sacrifice both of our happiness for nothing at all. You have a chance to get what you want.” She shook his hand that still gripped her ring. “Take it.”

  How could he stay angry when her love and her pain radiated from her eyes? “So do you.”

  Her lips trembled. “You’re not the only one who’s not ready.”

  “You’ve always been ready for your happy ever after, sweetheart.” The next words were probably the hardest ones he’d had to utter in his life. Even harder than admitting he was gay, because he’d acknowledged that a long time ago. This failure was fresh. “He’s ready too.”

  Her chin quivered, and her eyes filled. “I’m afraid, Aidan. I don’t know what my life is going to look like anymore, and it scares the hell out of me.”

  “You’re not the only one.” At her soft sob, he pulled her in close and breathed in deep. “I won’t shut the door, I promise. But you can’t either.”

  When she didn’t respond, he tilted up her face to his. “Whatever decisions have to be made, we’ll make them together. But please, stay with me tonight.”

  She curled her arms around his waist and hung on tight. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He pressed his gritty eyes against her hair. Not now she wasn’t.

  But she would.

  * * * *

  She considered skipping the agency party. But after the night she’d had, she craved a fragment of her old life. She wanted to dance, if only for a little while, and giggle over sex toys—although she’d probably never look at them the same way again—and act as if she wasn’t rebuilding from scratch.

  Aidan had sequestered himself in the spare bedroom they used as an office and told her to have fun. He probably figured she was off to see Sawyer. To make her plans for her brand-new, shiny life. As if she could shed the strings from the old one that easily. As if she wanted to.

  They’d stayed in bed until noon, just holding each other. And crying. She’d never seen Aidan cry before. The sound haunted her, echoing in her ears like gunshots. In this case, they were both full of holes. Gaping, jagged ones that might never close.

  As awkward as it felt, she made herself socialize. She talked to Con and Drew, did her best to laugh with Manda and Kiana, who’d somehow gotten separated from her date. Not that she was thinking about Sawyer. She just noticed, was all. Even Trent had shown up, and his girlfriend, Amber, could’ve modeled too. She also came equipped with spare tissues, which made her A-OK in Layla’s book. Better yet, she just made small talk and didn’t pay too much attention when Layla sniffled during talk of cookies and toddlers.

  The cookies she could handle. Toddlers not so much.

  After that, Layla stationed herself by the punch bowl. Not talking was safer, and she liked punch. She was going for her second cup when she paused in scooping out her drink.

  Her left hand was bare. No more engagement ring. No more wedding. No more being held in the middle of the night when she had a nightmare. The nightmare had become her life.

  “Let me do that.” Without looking up, she knew who was beside her. Tonight, he smelled like cinnamon, but not some sort of fancy cologne, the actual spice. Sawyer’s body sheltered hers as he leaned around her and filled her cup, then set it in front of her.

  Like a mute, she nodded her thanks and lifted it to her lips. Sloshing some onto the pretty pale blue tablecloth. Not caring.

  He cupped her shoulders, his touch steadying her as it had the night before. She expected him to ask. He must’ve seen she wasn’t wearing her ring. But he didn’t pelt her with questions, just murmured against her ear, “Dance with me.”

  She had no reason to worry about cheating anymore. An unbearable sadness filled her, so complete she couldn’t respond. Her throat had swelled from so many hours of crying, and it still hadn’t returned to normal. God only knew what she looked like. Makeup could only do so much.

  When she didn’t reply, he led her onto the dance floor, drawing her into his arms, far from the clusters of couples. He didn’t say anything when she laid her cheek on his shoulder and let him guide her, her exhausted body capable of nothing more.

  They danced for a long time. Slow dances, fast. It was mindless, moving with him, and natural in a way she didn’t have to think about. Her mind was free to roam while his wide, patient hands supported her back and his solid chest gave her a place to lean.

  When the music faded, she looked up, shocked she’d spent most of the night in his arms. Not talking to her colleagues, just swaying with Sawyer, in full view of everyone. Many of whom she’d have to deal with Monday morning. “I…I have to go.”

  He released her at once. “Okay.”

  “Thank you for the dance. Da
nces plural.” She shoved at her loosened hair twist and noted his sudden preoccupation with her fourth finger. Was she wearing a neon sign that made that strip of white impossible to ignore? “Have a good night.”

  “Wait.” He touched her wrist, right above her rocketing pulse. “Do you need a ride?”

  “Where?” Hysterical laughter burst out of her, a precursor to the tears she’d resolved to shed only behind closed doors. She’d thought they were through, that she’d cried them all. Apparently not. “No. No,” she repeated, more quietly. “Thank you.”

  His eyes narrowed, and a nerve ticked in his jaw. “What I said last night, it’s still true. My door’s always open. My phone’s off the hook.”

  She couldn’t believe it, but she laughed. Weakly. “What?”

  One side of his mouth rose. “That didn’t come out right. You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. I do.” Hearing those words spill from her lips made her eyes fill. Sawyer’s flashed, and he stepped closer, but she shook her head. “I’m okay. I just need to leave.”

  He nodded again and slipped his hands into his pockets. His concern flowed over her, soothing even if she couldn’t wrap herself in his warmth. “Nebraska, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Her soggy eyes burned. Nebraska. To someone, she still had a nickname.

  This time he didn’t try to stop her when she left.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sawyer laced up his sneakers and pulled on a hooded sweatshirt. Early November in New York was colder than he’d expected. He should’ve moved to California instead of east. A beach to run on would be nice, especially one that was warm most of the year. Since that option wasn’t currently available, he’d jog through Trombley Park and enjoy crunching through the fallen leaves while The Offspring blasted in his ears.

  He kept the pace easy, dodging moms with strollers, other runners, and bicyclists without losing his rhythm. It wasn’t quite twilight, but there were more people in the park than he’d expected. So when one guy came right up beside him, he didn’t react. When he didn’t move past, Sawyer tugged off his old-school headphones and scowled at Drew.