by Shannon West
Carter took a deep breath and nodded somberly. His eyes met Nick’s for only a moment, before Nick turned his head away.
Nick never said another word to him, only walked out of there and didn’t look back, leaving Carter feeling like his heart had been ripped out.
After dropping his date off at the end of the evening, he felt restless and edgy. He drove around a little, not ready to go home, and found himself outside Nick’s house. He parked the car at the curb and went to Nick’s bedroom window. It was after midnight, and Nick would be getting up soon to catch a plane for Iraq. Carter had to talk to him. He couldn’t leave it this way between them. He tapped softly on the window, and waited. In a few moments, the curtain was pulled back, and Nick stared out at him. He didn’t even look surprised, just nodded and turned away from the window. After another minute or two, the front door opened, and he came out, following Carter over to his car.
Carter leaned against the car, regarding Nick closely. He looked like he had nothing on under his jeans, and Carter was a little surprised at how quickly his crotch tightened at the thought.
Nick stared at him, unsmiling. “What do you want, Carter?”
Carter squared his shoulders and looked up into his eyes. “I want to tell you how sorry I am before you go. I can’t let you leave this way, Nick. I know you’re mad at me, and I don’t blame you. I left you holding the bag on the apartment, moving out like I did. I was a jerk, and I’m sorry.”
Nick shifted his feet and shrugged. “You’ve never apologized before for being a jerk, so why start now?” He smiled to take the sting out of his words, and Carter sagged in relief. Nick sighed. “And I always give in and take you back. Always will. That train left the station a long time ago.”
“So, you’re not mad at me? I couldn’t stand it if you left, and I thought you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you, Carter.” He looked him directly in the eye. “I can’t hate you no matter how hard I try. You’ve been jerking me around since high school. You know that? And I keep coming back for more. I can’t ever get enough of you. I wish I could, but I can’t.” He stepped closer, and Carter, his back against his car, had no place to go. “Guess we’ll just have to kiss and make up.” Nick put a hand on either side of the car by his head and stared down into his eyes, giving him one last chance to say no.
Carter didn’t say a word, though, because his heart was in his throat. Nick leaned down and touched his lips to Carter’s, gently at first, and then harder, as his tongue traced the crease of Carter’s lips and nipped gently at his bottom lip. Carter’s mouth fell open, and Nick filled it with his tongue, sweeping across the inside of his mouth. He whispered against his lips. “I missed this mouth, you know. This preachy, smartass, know-it-all mouth.”
He bent over and took Carter’s mouth again, kissing him like he wanted to devour him, to own him. His cock was rigid and marble hard against Carter’s, and he ground it into him.
Somehow Carter found the strength to put his hands up and push on Nick’s chest. “Please, Nick,” he begged.
Nick took a ragged breath and stepped back. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he kept his head down, no longer making eye contact. “See you around, baby. I’ll miss you.” He turned on his heel and went quickly back into the house, leaving Carter looking after him with tears streaming down his face.
Five years had gone by since that night. He had seen Nick again, but that night wasn’t something he wanted to think about now. It was still too painful. He’d think about it later when he felt a little stronger. Still, he had to admit to himself that the feelings he had for Nick hadn’t just been about friendship, and they weren’t about brotherhood. He loved Nick. Even after all this time, he still felt a strong attraction for him that came from deep in his soul. It was pure, passionate and unadulterated love, plain and simple and he couldn’t believe how long he’d forced down the feelings. He’d never felt this for any other man—or any woman either. Just Nick. Always Nick. The feelings frightened him, but he wouldn’t run from them anymore. He’d never run from Nick again, but now he had to convince Nick of that fact. It was probably too late. And it wasn’t going to be easy, and maybe not even in the realm of possibility.
What he really needed was a Christmas miracle.
Chapter Two
By the time seven o’clock rolled around, Nick had been drinking beer for over an hour. His leg had been excruciating all day, so as soon as he made it home, he’d cracked open his first can. And shortly before his guests arrived, he switched to tequila shots.
He wasn’t sure why he still hated and resented Carter so much. Enough time should have passed that the bitter words between them should have faded by now. If it had been anybody else in the world, he’d have laughed that old conversation off that they once had and told him to kiss his ass But this was Carter—whose opinion meant everything—and his words had crushed Nick all out of proportion.
It had been all Nick could do to stop himself from taking Carter in his arms when he’d looked up and saw Nick standing at the door. The years since he’d seen Carter had melted away in an instant.
He had stood in the door watching while Carter blushed all over himself as he spat out the words he’d carefully rehearsed before he walked down the hall, and as in the old days, he wanted to protect him, to put his arms around him and stop his embarrassment. Stupid, when Nick was the one causing it in the first place. He wondered for one crazy second if Carter had come there to be near him . But then, why would he?
He hadn’t seen the man in years, but Carter was back, like an albatross around his neck, always there, always reminding Nick of what could have been. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself again by telling him how he felt about him. Never again. But now Carter was here—at his job and coming to his house.
What more did God want of him, because he didn’t think he could take much more.
He felt little pain by the time the doorbell rang. He was still nervous and jittery, despite his best efforts to drown the pain from both of his wounds. How would he stand to be in the same room as Carter and not be able to touch him, to hold him? How could he be in the same room knowing what Carter really thought of him?
He swung open the door to see Mike and Pete and some of his other buddies from work. Behind them, looking more than a little pale, stood Carter, his eyes registering nervousness and fear. So Nick made him nervous? Nick scared him? His stomach clenched at the thought.
What had happened to them? How did it all go so wrong? Part of him ached to ruffle his hair and pull him into a bear hug, like he would have done in the old days. But it was too late for that. Too late now for easy camaraderie. His heart sank as he realized they’d never be close like that again.
Carter was wearing tight jeans and a baby blue polo that matched his eyes perfectly. He looked fucking gorgeous and Nick wanted to throw him against the nearest wall and fuck him till he begged for mercy.
“Come on in,” Nick said, gesturing them inside. “I hope you brought more liquor.”
Mike laughed. “I can see you’ve started without us.” Mike came in and took off his jacket, throwing it on the sofa. Nick was vaguely aware that he moved over to the refrigerator then while someone else opened the deck of cards by the kitchen table. But most of his attention was focused on Carter, who held his gaze and came inside the apartment almost hesitantly, sticking out his hand to Nick. “Hi, Nick. I told you I’d come. Good to see you again.”
Nick looked down at his hand and then slowly moved his gaze hungrily up and down Carter’s slim, but beautiful body. “Good to see you too, Carter,” he said, and deliberately turned his back to walk back over to the table. He didn’t want to shake his damn hand. He was afraid that if he touched him, he’d have to pull him in his arms and kiss his sweet mouth. He wanted to pick him up now and carry him in the bedroom to strip off his clothes and make love to him until morning. He had to clench his hands to keep from reaching for him.
There was an e
mbarrassed little silence for a moment before Mike popped the top on a beer and walked over to Carter to hand it to him.
“Have a beer, Carter, and sit down. Nick’s always in a bad mood on poker nights because he knows I’m going to beat him. Actually, Nick has quite a reputation on campus for being the resident BMOC. Hey, it’s Christmas, so I guess that makes you the Scrooge, right?”
“Bullshit,” Nick growled.
“But it’s not! It’s only a couple of weeks before Christmas and you don’t even have a tree. Not a sprig of holly or a bit of tinsel anywhere. Your bad attitude even shows here at home.”
Bad attitude? Did it show that much? He didn’t mean to give that impression, but damn, it was hard to act normal when your heart was being ripped out with every wary glance from those beautiful blue eyes. With every word that fell from his perfect little lips. Did Carter know what it was doing to him to be so close and yet so untouchable? He thought he’d left all that behind years ago.
“BMOC—what’s that? Big man on campus?” Carter flicked his gaze over to Nick.
“No—Badass Motherfucker on Campus.” Laughing over his own lame joke, Mike shoved the beer toward Carter. “Have a drink and make yourself at home.”
Carter shook his head. “No thanks, Mike, I don’t drink. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure if I know how to play poker anymore either. You may have to give me some pointers.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Carter.” Nick frowned. “I taught you how to play poker myself when you were twelve years old. Besides, I thought you liked to play games.”
A look of hurt that crossed Carter’s face at Nick’s tone singed him like a flame. What the hell is the matter with me? I don’t want to hurt him. Why can’t I stop acting like this? Why can’t I treat him with cool indifference like I’d planned? I meant to show him I didn’t have feelings for him anymore. Not act like a bad-tempered kid.
Carter shifted his feet nervously and cast a nervous glance at Nick. “A lot of water under the bridge since then.”
“Yeah, there is. A damn flood. Sit down. Mike will show you what to do—it was his idea to bring you tonight.”
Carter flinched as another shot went home. His reaction made Nick feel like one of the bullies in the school yard he used to fight when they picked on Carter, who was even then his best friend.
Damn it! Nick had to get hold of himself before this spiraled out of control. Nick sat in a chair opposite Carter and steeled himself not to grab his hand and beg him for forgiveness. If only he weren’t so mouthwateringly close. But he had to man up. Be strong. Carter had made it very clear he didn’t return Nick’s feelings and never would. He would never love him. He had to hold onto that thought and not let Carter get to him. He had to.
****
“Jesus, Nick,” Mike said, his face turning red. Nick had taken yet another mean jibe at Carter’s lack of expertise in poker. They’d been playing for about an hour and Carter had been losing consistently. Not that he cared. He wasn’t only losing, but making some probably questionable bids when he had nothing in his hand, because he wasn’t really paying much attention.
He was so distracted by Nick’s dark glances across the table. After each play, Nick, still drinking heavily, tried to make his disgust and condescension evident. Apparently, as he got drunker, he tried harder to get a response, but Carter was trying hard not to rise to the bait.
Mike turned to Carter and smiled with embarrassment, trying to ease some of the tension at the table. “C’mon, Carter. I’m sure this hand will be better. Your luck is bound to change soon.” He dealt another hand while Nick stared across the table at Carter, his heavy dark lashes fluttering as he gazed at him.
The first part of the evening had been damn tense and Carter thought he’d seen the worst of Nick’s behavior. As the evening wore on, however, Nick grew even more abrasive. He never could hold his liquor, and he had no idea why Nick was even drinking so much. He’d never drunk like this in the past. But then again, they hadn’t seen each other in years so he really didn’t know that much about Nick anymore.
Aware of Nick’s every move, though, Carter noticed how often his hand strayed down to rub his thigh. He had an almost physical craving to go over and massage it for him, to try to ease some of the pain so evident in his face. In Nick’s present mood, however, he knew Nick would probably slap him away.
Mike and the others seemed to be trying their best to act normal, but Carter could tell everyone was wary of Nick. He seemed to be in a rare mood, and the large number of tequila shots he’d drunk weren’t helping a bit. Carter thought he must be using the tequila as a painkiller, but if that was the case, it obviously wasn’t working.
No matter what Nick said to him or how rudely he acted, Carter decided he would ignore him. Occasionally, Carter tossed his hair out of his eyes. This gesture was one which used to irritate the shit out of Nick even in the old days. He’d often told Carter he found it aggravating. About the third or fourth time he did it, Nick growled at him.
“If you’d cut that hair, you wouldn’t have to toss it around like a little girl all night. Want me to see if I can find you a hair clip?”
“No thanks,” Carter answered calmly, shuffling the cards.
“Why don’t you get a man’s haircut?”
Carter glanced over at him. “You mean one like yours? Again…no thanks.”
Nick leaned menacingly across the table at him. “Something wrong with the way I look?”
“No, not at all. Not if you like G.I. Joe dolls.”
“No, I guess that wouldn’t be your thing, would it? You probably just liked Barbie, right, sweetie?”
“I wouldn’t know, Nick. You never let me borrow yours.”
Nick scooted his chair back violently and started to get up. Mike held onto his arm. “Nick, Nick, settle down. We came here to play cards, man. Let’s just play.”
Carter threw down his cards with a sigh. “It’s getting late, anyway.” He’d had just about enough, and he began to think it had been a huge mistake to come here tonight. He could handle Nick, or at least he’d always been able to in the old days, but it hurt to be treated like this and he was no masochist.
He didn’t want to be sitting here trading barbs across the table with his best friend, the man who meant more to him than anyone in the world. He should have spent a little more time letting Nick get used to the idea he was back before he intruded on him. When Mike asked him, he knew in his heart he should have said no, but he’d wanted so badly to be in the same room with Nick again.
“I really need to get home,” Carter said quietly.
“Wait a minute—where you goin’? We have to settle.” Nick drunkenly slammed his fist down on the table.
“Settle? Settle what?”
“The Roanoke colony. What the hell do you think? You have to settle your debt, dumbass. You owe me money.”
“We were playing for money?”
“Carter, what the fuck did you think we were playing for? You’re down three hundred bucks. You been sitting there bettin’ all night. In the last hand, I raised ten and you said you’d see that and raise me twenty. What did you think you were bettin’? Tiddlywinks?”
Carter could feel his face flushing hotly, but he held his ground. “I thought maybe matchsticks. I had no idea it was for actual money. I don’t have that kind of money on me—how much did you say I owed you?”
“Seventy-five bucks—and you’re not leavin’ here till I get what’s owed me.”
Carter squirmed in his seat. “Nick, be reasonable. I don’t have it in my pocket.”
“Well, hell,” Nick said his voice dark and dry, “you better come up with something or you’re not leaving here.”
“Nick,” Mike tried to intervene. “Settle down. He made a mistake. It’s okay.”
“Back off, Mike. This is between me and Carter here, and it’s not okay. What kind of stupid fool bets money in a poker game, knowing he can’t make good on his debts?”
�
��Look,” Carter said, pulling out a checkbook. “I’ll write you a check for the money. You’ll have to hold it until next Friday, but...”
Nick’s hand shot out and he swept the checkbook out of Carter’s hands and off the table. “No. I want payment tonight, not in a week.”
Carter felt startled and uncomfortable. He looked to Mike for help, but Mike was studying the back of his hands. Nick stood up suddenly, limping a bit as he walked toward the kitchen. He called over his shoulder as he went, “You guys get out of here. Carter and I have some business to take care of.” He grabbed a glass off the counter and splashed some Jose Cuervo in it.
Mike and the others jumped up quickly, gathering their coats and casting commiserating glances Carter’s way. Carter sat at the table, his face red and saying nothing. He didn’t know if he should try to apologize again or try to reason with Nick. He actually felt a little nervous.
This man with the scowling face and short haircut didn’t seem like his old friend Nick. In the past, Carter had always tried to talk his way out of things—sometimes it even worked, and Nick would wind up laughing. Back then he couldn’t deny him anything. This man in front of him could. In spades. In fact, he acted like an unpleasant stranger.
Nick glanced up at him with his glittering blue eyes and Carter consciously tried to relax. He reminded himself this was Nick, after all. He may have a military haircut and he may be trying to act big and bad, but he was still the same sweet boy who had once shared Carter’s cookies. The boy he used to play Legos with—the same boy who used to confess his deepest secrets to him. He wasn’t afraid of Nick. At least he didn’t think he was.
Carter heard the door slam behind the other players and turned to look at Nick, who stared unsmilingly at him while he leaned against the counter.
Nick jerked his head over to the living room. “Come over here and sit down, Carter. We have things to talk about.”
