The rest of the week went by in a wonderful haze of horses, skating, workouts, and sex. Matty had never felt so physically sated in his life. He went to bed every night wanting for nothing, except maybe more food. Still, his dietary needs were being met to a T with the guidelines from his nutritionist back home. Rob had photocopied them and whenever Matty was skeptical of a meal Rob had prepared, Rob would pull out the guidelines and go through them, showing how he’d taken Matty’s requirements absolutely into account.
Sex…well, sex was fucking amazing.
Matty could lose time remembering the naked hours he spent on Rob’s bed, pinned under his strong body, or held down with Rob’s amazing arms, or held open and licked until he was squirming and trembling and begging. He had never been so free as he was on Rob’s ranch in Montana, away from everything but his body, lifted from the restrictions of society, coaches, family, and the world. Just him and Rob and the endless hours of the night that stretched on and on—sweaty, sticky, and filthy hot—that left him satisfied, aching, boneless, and terrifyingly happy.
Rob was commanding in bed. He moved Matty where he wanted him, held him just so, and placed pillows under his knees or hips to make him more comfortable. Matty loved sucking Rob’s cock on his hands and knees, while Rob rubbed Matty’s back and gave instructions, holding his hair in a tight fist, keeping him on his cock when he came down his throat.
He loved being on Rob’s bed, his torso and arms wrapped tight in a thick blanket, like a cocoon while his legs were thrust up to his ears, and Rob pounded into him. Matty had left claw marks on his own arms the first time they did it that way. He’d adored it—the sense of being contained and confined, wrapped up and swaddled while Rob rode him hard, fucking him until he’d lost control completely and come all over Rob’s stomach and the blanket.
It had been even better after when Rob had held him, rolling them both into the blanket together, kissing Matty’s mouth and hair, and each eyelid, telling him how good it had been. How good he had been.
When Friday night rolled around, and Ben arrived at his father’s house, Matty felt like an addict forced to go cold turkey. His hands literally shook as he cut up the cheese and fruit for dinner. He sat at the Pages’ kitchen table, staring at the walls, trying to remember what he had done to entertain himself before being with Rob had become his favorite pastime.
As he ate the last of his fruit, he remembered he had quite a few messages from Elliot and his mother that he hadn’t returned during the week. The last one from his mom had sounded vaguely panicked even. God, he was a terrible son, an awful, ungrateful boy to have not called her back by now. She was probably going to give him a ton of crap about it.
“Where have you been? I was going to call the Flathead County police department if I hadn’t heard from you by tomorrow.”
“Sorry, Mama.” Matty lowered his voice to a pitch that sounded genuine. He was sorry she was worried. He was, however, not at all sorry that he’d been so distracted by amazing sex and the amusing company of a handsome man.
“So…?”
“Well, Mama, I have met a man.”
“A man. What kind of man?”
“A rancher.”
“A rancher,” she repeated, as though that meant nothing at all to her.
“Yes, and he has beautiful hands. His hands are like an opera.”
“Oh. You’ve met a man. I thought you meant you’d met a man and…and something else was going to be said after that. Something big.”
“Oh, he’s big.”
“Matty!”
“He’s a rancher, Mother! Of course he’s big! He’s tall, like a mountain, and strong like…a mountain, and funny—”
“Like a mountain?”
“No, just listen, Donna,” he said.
“Matty, you know my first name is off limits.”
“He’s like Montana in man form, and he even tastes like Montana. Like pure white snow on majestic mountains. He smells like clean water—”
“Probably because he showers.”
“You aren’t going to let me rhapsodize here, are you?”
“The bad poetry is killing me, honey. It’s got to stop.”
“Donna.”
“Matty.”
“Fine, okay, I’m stopping with the poetry, but you wanted to know where I’d been, and that’s where I’ve been. With the man.”
“Does this man have a name?”
“Rob Lovely.”
His mother started laughing. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“No. It’s a delightful name for a delightful person.”
“Matty, you’re not getting distracted are you?”
Sighing, he flopped down on the patchwork sofa. “No, Mama, I’m not. I’m working my ass off every day at the rink, and I’m doing additional training at the gym, and I’m having amazing, acrobatic sex every night. I’ve written the appropriate people for the coaching situation, and I’ve taken all my vitamins, and I’m eating well, and I’ve still found some time, though very little, to study Russian. The horses are being fed, and I’m doing my job—though I’ve vacuumed a little less, but something had to give—and the acrobatic sex seemed worth the loss, at least for now.”
“Honey, are you being safe?”
“I wear my seat belt, yes.”
“Does this Rob Lovely wear a seat belt too?”
Matty sighed. “Mother, seat belts should be worn at all times when in a moving vehicle. Didn’t you teach me that?”
“So long as we’re both talking about condoms here, then I’ll leave it.”
“Consider it left.”
“And what about your heart? Are you being careful with it too?”
“I’m living very heart healthy. I swear.”
Matty heard his mother’s worry loud and clear. It was in the way she hesitated, looking for the words that wouldn’t make him pissy and hang up the phone. It was in the slow intake of breath and the subtle sighs. He didn’t know what else to do about it, though. He was kind of worried himself, though not at all willing to walk away. Not yet, anyway. Not until he had to.
“I should go, Mom. I’ve got to get up early and train Rob’s kid on the Pages’ pond. He’s learning to skate. He’s got a lot of talent.”
“Wait. Rob has a child? And you’re training him? Just how old is this Rob anyway?”
“You know, I’ve never asked him.” He waited a few beats, feeling his mother’s ire raise over the line, but cutting her off before she could speak. “I’d guess he was twenty-nine or thirty. I don’t really know for sure. Maybe a little older or younger. I don’t see why it matters.”
“But he’s got a child?”
“A son. Ben. And, no, he’s not married, and, yes, I’m sure, and Mama, if you met him, you’d love him. I swear. On my soul and chocolate pudding.”
The conversation dragged on a bit more after that, with Matty forced to fill in a bit more information about Rob. Who, where, when, how, and why. As his mother, Matty figured it was her prerogative to push the questions.
“So, he’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, honestly. If it were a different time in my life, I might think he was the guy.”
“But he’s not. Because of skating?”
“Because I have to do this, Mama. I only get one shot at being the best athlete I can be. This is my time.”
Matty waited for her response. What she said stayed with him for hours after he hung up.
“Matty, you do what you have to do, and I’ll support you one hundred percent. All of us take risks, whether we know it or not. Every day, we walk away from once-in-a-lifetime opportunities chasing after other once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. We just have to hope we’re choosing the right thing to chase.”
***
The next morning Yuliya Yasneyeva met Ben Lovely on the ice at eight-thirty sharp. Ben was not late, and Yuliya was not unhappy with his performance on the ice, even going so far as to applaud him and offer him hot cocoa as a reward.
“This very special in my homeland. You warm inside when drink, yes?”
Ben asked, “Is it spiked? Like with cognac or something? Or vodka?”
“You accuse Yuliya Yasneyeva of corrupting youth? No more hot cocoa for you! Only skate!”
Ben laughed and pushed off onto the ice. Matty glanced up to see three cows and a big, tall man walking over the hill toward the pond. Standing, he pushed Yuliya’s glasses up his nose, and adjusted the wig. “Big man, take your future handbags and get away from pond. This is time for coach and boy. Go! In my country, arrest you for trespass! Take your terrible moo-beasts and leave.”
Cackling, Rob paused by the opposite end of the pond. “Ben told me you dressed up as a Russian lady. I believed him—I mean, who would make that up? But, wow, this is pretty fucking hysterical.”
“You mock? You mock coach of son? Foolish! You must leave now. We must work!”
“The other night you asked if I was going to come watch.”
“Not Yuliya, sir. Mr. Marcus. Now things change. You deal with, yes? And never to mock technique, mister cow man!”
Rob raised his hands and backed away, pausing to pat the rump of one of the cows that had followed him. “I’m leaving. No mocking intended. Continue with your work.”
“If father of boy wish to be laid, he will learn place. When coach is with skater, father is not to be interfere. Yes?”
Ben laughed and stuck a finger in his mouth, pretending to gag. “Too much information!” he called.
“Too much? Yuliya will give you too much. Another double toe loop and then another and another, and we will see too much!”
“Dad, go on! Before she kills me!”
Matty held his head high and made his tone as imperious as possible. “If only kill you, you are lucky boy. Now get back to work! Both of you!”
***
After dinner, sitting side by side on Rob’s couch, Ben showed Matty the schedule for the Missoula rink’s production of Holidays on Ice.
“I’m a soldier. Will you come?”
Matty put his arm around Ben and squeezed him. “I wouldn’t miss it!” He paused. “But what about your coach? Would you rather Yuliya Yasneyeva come, or me?”
Ben flushed. “Um, will you be offended if I’d rather it be you? I kind of want to keep Yuliya away from Missoula. I don’t want the kids there to…get the wrong idea and think that my dad’s boyfriend…I mean, you know. I already have enough trouble there.”
“Of course.” Matty gave him another squeeze. “You know you can talk to me about that, right? Believe me, I understand all about being different.”
Ben frowned, and pushed stray hair off his face. “The thing is, I’m not really different, you know? I like the same girls they like, I listen to the same music, and I wear the same clothes. I don’t get why they pick on me.”
“They’ll always find a reason to pick on you, Ben. If there’s anything in you that’s special, something that makes you shine, they’ll try to tear you down. And you’re special. You’re talented and amazing. They might not know exactly how you’re special, but they sense it. It’s like an atmospheric disturbance surrounds you or something.”
“I’m not special. I’m just a dork. I’m not different at all.”
“Do you think Yuliya Yasneyeva coaches you for shits and giggles? You’re amazing on the ice, Ben. You inspire me with how fearless you are. You make me want to be better. I want to be like you with an endless future in front of me. For me, the clock is ticking. But you? You’ve got it, Ben. If you want it—and you have to want it. That’s what all of this has been about.”
Matty looked up when Rob cleared his throat from the doorway. Rob met his gaze, and Matty was overwhelmed by the expression he found there—gratitude, affection, and sadness combined.
“Dessert,” Rob said. “In the kitchen.”
Ben hopped up. “Awesome. What is it?”
“Sliced pears.” Rob clapped his hands together with false enthusiasm.
“What?”
“You can blame Matty for that.” Rob smiled.
“Come on now,” Matty said. “They’re really good and a lot healthier than the brownies I put in the refrigerator for the two of you earlier.”
Ben whooped and took off for the kitchen while Rob shook his head, laughing under his breath.
Matty pointed a finger at him. “Just remember this the next time I have a bitch attack over something ridiculous. I can be really sweet sometimes.” He shoved Rob aside on his way into the kitchen. “Besides, I think I’ve earned a third of one, so it wasn’t entirely selfless.”
“Of course not,” Rob murmured, slapping Matty’s ass as he followed close behind.
***
“Go as a fairy,” Matty said, annoyed, flipping through his sweaters, looking for the gray one that was extra warm, even if it didn’t flatter his eyes.
“Um, can you say obvious?” Elliot said. “It’s a post-Halloween, November-madness costume party and I have to look amazing.”
“You’d look amazing as a fairy.”
“You think?”
“Sparkling wings, glittery make-up—what’s not to like? And you’d get laid.” Matty pulled on the sweater and tugged it into place with a glance in the mirror. He sat down at the vanity table, and put the phone on speaker beside him. A little concealer, a little rouge—the usual. Since he was going out he added some longer fake lashes, only to change his mind and take them off again.
“For sure,” Elliot agreed. “Like, probably all night long by all kinds of guys. What are you doing tonight? Hanging out and sniffing glue? Or boinking your rancher again?”
“I’m going to a corn maze.”
“Oh, bitch. You’ve lost your ever-loving mind. This thing with the rancher has officially passed over from worrisome into terrifying.”
“It’s a corn maze, Elliot, not the apocalypse.”
“Have you seen that movie? Children of the Corn? I don’t think you have, or you wouldn’t be going anywhere near the cornfields.”
“If Malachi is going to get me, I’ll look pretty while he does it. Besides, it’s been snowing here for weeks now. The maze will be white and sparkling. It should be very cool.”
“Bitch. I don’t even.”
“Elliot, has it occurred to you that calling me ‘bitch’ is totally misogynistic?”
“Yeah, but you know you like it.”
“True.” Matty posed in front of the mirror, thrusting out a hip, checking himself from all angles. He grabbed a stole and wrapped it around his neck. “Stole or scarf?”
“Stole.”
Matty hung the stole back up carefully and chose a gray and green-flecked scarf he’d picked up in Hong Kong one year. “I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.”
“Matty, wait,” Elliot said, in a voice soft and earnest. “Is this, what you’re doing…you know, for real? Or are you just playing around?”
Matty paused. He didn’t lie to Elliot often, but sometimes it had to be done. “What do you think? I still have my priorities in line. Don’t worry so much. You sound like my mother. Elliot, I always thought you’d be the one in the jail cell with me, not on the outside giving me sorrowful looks as you paid my bail.” He pulled on a warm, non-fur coat, and double-checked his face in the mirror. “What kind of best friend are you turning out to be? I don’t need coddling.”
“This just seems different.” Elliot’s tone was earnest and baby sweet. “I can’t pick up the pieces if you fall apart. I never can. You’re the best figure skater out there. Or you could be. You just need to get it together—and keep it together. I can’t help but wonder if this isn’t going to end with you losing it.”
“Stop worrying. It’s all fun and games.”
“Until someone breaks their own heart,” Elliot murmured before bidding him goodnight and hanging up.
Matty pulled on the boots designated for destruction. He leaned against the bedroom doorway for a moment, gazing down the hall into the Pages’ country-chic living room. He couldn’t remember the last time a conversation with Elliot had ended on such a serious note.
Was he going to break his own heart? Matty sighed, and put his hand to his chest, feeling his heart thumping in a regular, steady way. So far, so good.