Chapter Eight

Rush made it to the highway before the shaking stopped. Acid churned in his stomach and he was on the verge of throwing up.

“You fucking coward!” His shout echoed in the cabin. Slamming his fist on the dashboard, he cursed then wiped the back of his hand across his eyes.

This proved it. Of all the Weston men, he was the lone coward. Couldn’t face his sexuality, couldn’t face his parents, couldn’t face the town.

Couldn’t face the man he—shit, no. “Don’t go there, Weston. Don’t you dare go there,” he warned his reflection in the rearview mirror.

He didn’t know how anyone did it, got the nerve to take the plunge and just came out and said, “I’m gay. This is who I am. This is how I’m going to live my life.”

The amount of courage that took boggled Rush. It was more than he had, for damn sure. Tonight just proved it. It was one thing to go into town for some action and blow off a little sexual tension, another to have a homosexual relationship.

But, sweet Jesus, he wanted Brian.

He snorted. He’d known it would come to this if he’d continued this dangerous, delicious, flirtation with the man of his dreams. Someone was going to get hurt, and tonight it had been Brian.

Everything had been so clear in Brian’s face. The pain, the bewilderment. Shit. The hurt. Seeing it had made Rush feel lower than pond scum. He was a coward and an asshole. Great. What a combo. Hurting Brian had been the last thing he’d wanted to do, but he’d managed to do it up right.

It hit him like a fist to the gut, and his breath exploded outward. He’d never get another phone call from Brian. Never hear his deep voice, his warm laugh, his sighs of pleasure and that sweet little moan he made just after he came. Rush’s stomach caved in on itself and his eyes filled to overflowing.

He’d blown his chance with Brian. Fuck. How was he ever going to—what?

Go on? Live? No, he’d get over it. He’d been alone all this time with no intentions of spending the rest of his life with someone. What had changed?

Brian. Brian had changed everything. Brian had made Rush dream of another ending to his life story. A fool’s dream.

Rush jerked his chin up.

Good thing he’d ended it when he had.

But, goddamn, how sweet Brian’s lips had tasted. So damn good on his cock.

 

* * * *

 

Brian trudged up the stairs to Mitchell’s apartment then knocked on the door.

As soon as it swung open, Brian blurted out, “I need to talk.”

“Come in.” Mitchell stepped aside and let him in. Brian headed straight to Mitchell’s bar and poured a whiskey. With one quick toss, he downed it.

“Hell, you look like you’ve lost your best friend, but I’m right here, so it must be a man.” Mitchell sat on the couch, waiting for him to speak.

Brian slumped into the recliner, flicked the lever, and laid back. “Yeah. It’s a man.” He ran his hand through his hair then across his face.

“The cowboy?” Mitchell asked.

“I don’t know what happened. We had a date. Or at least I thought we had a date. He was supposed to come over tonight. Do dinner. Do me.” Brian gave a half-hearted laugh he didn’t feel. “He was waiting in his truck when I got home. Told me to get in and I did.” He stopped and gathered himself. “Then we… Then I…”

“Jesus, Brian, did you do him in the truck?” Mitchell sat up.

“Yeah.” Brian couldn’t help but feel guilty. He’d never even had sex in a car before. He’d always considered it trashy and low class. He was better than that. Right.

“I don’t fucking believe it. You had sex in a truck parked outside your house? Mr. I’m-Not-That-Kind-Of-Guy? Whoa, this man must be something special for you to do that.” Grinning, Mitchell shook his head. “So what went wrong?” His eyebrow cocked up.

“I don’t know.” Brian shrugged. “As soon as he came, he said he couldn’t stay. Started the engine and I got out. Said he’d call me later.” Brian grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Shit.”

“Goddamn, Brian. I’m so sorry. I know you were really looking forward to seeing him.”

“Just tell me he didn’t use me. Tell me I wasn’t just phone sex and a hookup.” Brian frowned at his best friend. If anyone would tell him the truth, it would be Mitchell. It might hurt, but it would be the truth.

Mitchell shook his head. “Sounds to me like a classic ‘booty call’.”

Brian groaned and put his hands over his face. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

Mitchell was silent. Brian knew Mitchell wouldn’t give him a hard time about it. That’s why he’d run straight to Mitchell. Just like always.

“I’ve worked so hard to not get involved in the fast life. Not to be a stereotypical queer.” He spit the word out. “No bars, no nameless hookups. Just nice men in nice relationships. They may never have worked out, but they never made me feel as low and as cheap as I do right now.”

“Don’t blame yourself. He misled you. Plain and simple. He let you believe it was a real date. It’s not your fault, Brian.” Mitchell leaned over and put his hand on Brian’s knee.

Brian smiled. Mitchell had always been there for him. He gave Mitchell’s hand a soft squeeze, then sat back. “Enough about my disaster of a life. Where’s the love of your life?”

“At work, but he’s getting off at eleven. I was just about to eat. Want to join me?”

“I’m not hungry, but thanks.”

“How about sit and keep me company? We haven’t just talked, me and you, in ages.” Mitchell smiled.

“Well, it’s been hard to pry you away from Sammi.”

Mitchell smiled that goofy grin, and Brian just knew he was thinking of Sammi. They were so lucky, so in love. Would it ever be that way for him?

“What can I say? Soulmates.” Mitchell shrugged and stood. “Come on. You can watch me eat. We’ll talk. I want to hear about your cowboy.”

Brian stood, followed Mitchell to the kitchen, dragged out a chair and sat. As Mitchell puttered about, pulling out the makings for a sandwich, Brian told him about his phone calls with Rush. Sammi’s news would wait until he could tell him in person.

“So, what do you think?” Brian asked.

“Rush is scared.”

“Of me?” Brian’s eyebrows rose.

“Of what you represent. Of commitment. A relationship, not just a casual fuck.” Mitchell finished his sandwich and took a swallow of his coffee.

“I suppose so.” Brian bit his bottom lip. “What if he calls?”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to decide whether or not to speak to him, much less see him again. I can’t tell you how to feel. You’ll have to judge that for yourself. But I will tell you one thing.”

Brian gazed up into his best friend’s brown eyes. “What?”

“Don’t ever let anyone treat you less than you deserve. And, baby, you deserve the best.” Mitchell stood, gathered his plate and cup, then leaned down and gave Brian a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, Mitchell.” He touched the spot where he’d been bussed. “So, will you marry me?”

Mitchell burst out laughing. “Now you ask! After all the times I’ve asked you.”

“My timing sucks.” Brian shrugged and laughed.

“It’ll happen for you. I know it.”

“Yeah? How?”

“Sammi said he felt it. That night you came over.”

“What did he say?” Brian slid out of his chair and stood.

“That you’re in love.” Mitchell’s eyes twinkled.

Brian groaned and shook his head. “Tell Sammi he’s crazy.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Even if it were, what does it matter?” He sighed. “Look, I should be going, but tell Sammi I need to talk to him.”

“Did you find something?” Mitchell jumped on his words.

“That’s client-private investigator-privileged information. Strictly need to know.”

“I need to know.” Mitchell cocked his head.

“Let Sammi tell you, or if Sammi wants, you can be there when I tell him.”

“You’re right. It’s his info, his decision to tell me or not.”

“See you later. And Mitchell? Thanks for being there.” Brian walked to the door as Mitchell opened it.

“Are you kidding? Later,” Mitchell replied.

Brian headed down the steps, climbed into his Tahoe, and drove home.

 

* * * *

 

Naked, Rush lay on his bed and watched the glowing red digits on his clock change. Two-twenty-seven a.m. He hadn’t been able to sleep since he’d gotten into bed. After the long drive, and what he’d been through this evening, he should have been exhausted.

He should have passed out. His body felt drained. Lifeless.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Brian’s face and those deep brown eyes. So hurt. Rush had wanted Brian so badly, and that brief time with him had been better than any other time he’d been with a man. Ever.

Rush knew he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.

His phone lay next to the clock. He could see its outline on the table in the dark. He picked it up, flipped it open, hit Contacts, and scrolled three entries to Brian’s. He hovered his thumb over the Send button.

He should call and apologize. Explain what had happened.

He hit the button and held the phone to his ear.

 

* * * *

 

Brian’s phone rang. He pushed off the sofa, put down the glass of whiskey, and staggered over to the phone on the kitchen table. Leaning over, he looked at the caller ID.

Rush.

“Fuck you,” he slurred.

Brian turned around and headed back to the couch. The phone’s chirping pissed him off. Not that it took that much to push him. He spun around, snatched it up, fumbled with it, then finally got the sound turned off. He held the phone up and shouted, “Go to hell, you bastard.” Then he put the phone back on the table and went back to the living room.

He picked up his tumbler, downed the contents in one shot, then, with exaggerated care, placed it on the coaster. He lumbered off, removing his clothes on his way to his room. Once in his bedroom, he flopped face-first onto the bed and passed out.

 

* * * *

 

Rush closed the phone and placed it back on the table. Pulling his pillow to him, he curled on his side and closed his eyes. Thinking of Brian, he stroked his cock, and his head reeled as blood rushed to fill his dick.

When he finally climaxed, his ragged sob echoed in the room. He rolled onto his back, limp with exhaustion and the letdown of his release, but sleep still wouldn’t come to him.

He wanted Brian. But if there was one thing he knew, it was that he’d never have him.