Keeper 2019 reissue, p.20
Keeper (2019 Reissue), page 20
He pulls away. I hear the rip of foil.
“Logan.” I cup his face. “We need to talk about this.”
He brushes my hands away, returning to the task at hand. “I don’t want to talk.”
“We don’t have any lube.”
“Don’t care.”
He’s frantic now. The condom goes onto my cock.
“Wait.” I still his movements. His chest rises and falls deeply. I tilt up his chin, forcing him to look into my eyes. What I see there makes my heart contract. I’m pretty sure it’s fear, but it can’t be about anal, because we’ve done it before. Nearly every damn night and some afternoons. It’s something else.
It’s like he’s pleading for me to not stop this, even though something’s wrong. So I pull him forward, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. He relaxes somewhat. Then I spit on my palm and rub it along my length so there’s at least some slickness between the latex and his skin. I don’t want to hurt him.
Logan discards his pants, his boxer briefs following soon after. I’m fully clothed except for my jeans pushed low around my hips. I scoot back to lean against the pillows and the headboard, and he follows, straddling my hips. Touching me with a firm grip, he guides me inside of him.
A slow hiss expels from between his lips, and as his eyes flutter shut, I watch him, watch his expression as his body opens for me. My hands go to his powerful thighs, the bunch of muscles shifting, before returning to his waist, down to his ass. I give it a gentle squeeze.
I expect him to begin moving, but he doesn’t. He looks down at me. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “What’s going to happen tomorrow?” He searches my gaze. “Have you decided which team you’ll be playing for?”
The dark brown of his eyes is burning into me. LA Galaxy and Liverpool are located on opposite sides of the world. If I signed for LA, I’m afraid this is all it would ever be—a fling at worst, a friends with benefits situation at best. I don’t want the summer. I want forever. That’s not in the cards for me though. If I want to give Logan the best chance at happiness, to be with someone who won’t fuck shit up, I need to let him go.
Swallowing through the tightness in my throat, I say, “I haven’t signed the contract yet, but I’ve decided to play for Liverpool.” I could lie and say the reasons have to do with my professional career. But the truth is, every time I’m around Logan, it kills a little bit more of my heart, knowing I’m in love with a guy who isn’t in love with me.
I hesitate, take a breath. This is the last thing I want. “Tomorrow we go our separate ways.” My chest feels too tight. “It ends then.”
His mouth opens, then closes. His throat bobs. Emotion flits across his features, too quickly for me to read.
Then he begins to move.
It’s slow for only a few thrusts before I start hitting his pleasure zone, and his fingers become claws on my shoulders, and the cords stand out in his neck, and he looks down at me with so much emotion I feel like I’m being burned alive. His ass slaps against the front of my bent legs. The pace is punishing, and I wonder if it doesn’t hurt him a little, but he isn’t slowing down. “Austin,” he manages, voice so low it’s guttural. He leans forward, claims my mouth. His body tightens, and then he cries out, his back arching as release grips him. I follow not long after. He’s shaking as he collapses onto my chest. I stare up at the ceiling, trying to even my breathing, trying not to break. It feels like a goodbye. I’m not ready to say goodbye to this man.
Once our breathing calms, I try to shift out from under him, but Logan tightens his grip on me. “Not yet,” he murmurs against my skin.
I go still and order my body to relax. “All right.” So I hold him, because that’s the only thing I know how to do as, outside, the night deepens.
Chapter 22
Logan
Once the party starts winding down, Austin and I catch a cab back to the dorms. Tomorrow morning is the final breakfast, so I suspect we’ll say goodbye to the guys then. It’s bittersweet, knowing I won’t see many of these faces ever again. I guess that’s life though. Things have to end to make room for things to begin.
It’s quiet back in the room. I figure Austin has a lot on his mind, as I definitely have a lot on mine. Slowly, we undress each other and slide into bed. Bodies aligned, arms wrapped tight. The touch is comfort, familiarity, safety. He is everything I didn’t realize I needed.
We haven’t talked about what this is. Being together. This was only ever supposed to be fun. But it’s become so much more. What I feel for my best friend goes beyond friendship, beyond attraction. He’s stolen my heart.
If Austin doesn’t want to continue this, then I guess I was wrong. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. What did he tell me at the very beginning, that he doesn’t do relationships? Deep down, I think I was hoping he’d change his mind. His mind seemed made up back at the party though.
The thought of leaving him, not having him in my life, is like a noose wrapped around my throat. My mouth is dry with sickening, heart-stopping fear. What do you do when the best part of your life ends? How do you move on? How do you heal from the wound left behind? I think maybe you can’t. There will always be a scar.
“Don’t go.” I say the words against Austin’s chest. We’re plastered together. Not even a piece of paper can be slipped between us. The room is dark, but not too dark that I can’t make out the line of his profile, the angle of his scruffy jaw.
The hand he was rubbing up and down my back stills.
I feel like my need for this man encompasses my need to breathe. I don’t even know where this conversation is going. Hopefully in a direction that results in him confessing he wants to be with me longer than a summer. Years. If possible, the rest of our lives. I never thought I would find love here. Now I don’t know how I’m going to give this up.
“Logan.” His voice, resonant in his chest, rumbles in my ear. It’s slow and pained. “We knew this was only temporary.” His hand slides up to cup the back of my neck.
My eyes close as the feeling of a knife driving through my chest steals my breath. It’s not what I want to hear. “Things change. It’s different now.”
“How?”
The question feels like a test. If I give the wrong answer, it’ll all come crashing down. The obvious answer is that I’m in love with my best friend, but what if Austin doesn’t feel the same way? If he doesn’t do relationships, then maybe he doesn’t do love either. Am I forcing something he doesn’t want by drawing this out? Sometimes I swear Austin wants to be with me too, but he can be so hard to read. It might be my imagination.
“It just is,” I finish lamely. “It’s been good between us, hasn’t it?”
“Of course it has, but sometimes, even if it’s good, we have to let it go.”
My chest feels like it’s caving in. There’s nothing easy about this situation. I’m in love with this man, and I want him. All of him. Every day. “And if I asked you to play for LA?”
His voice is quiet. He doesn’t look at me when he says, “I’ve already made my decision. This is what I want.”
I stiffen at his words, which ring hollow in the air. I want to take what he’s saying at face value—there’s nothing left. But I can’t. Shaking my head, I pull away from him and sit up in bed. “You’re lying. To yourself, to me. You’re taking the safe road.”
He flinches. Bows his head.
“You were a coward back in high school, and you’re a coward now.” My voice rises, and I don’t bother trying to soften it. The whole dormitory can hear me for all I care. “When are you going to stop running? This—” I wave my hand between us. “Is something some people never find. What we have could be amazing, and instead of believing in it, believing in us, you’re going to throw it away.”
Unbelievably, my eyes start to burn, and my throat swells from rising tears. It hurts. It fucking hurts that I want this and he doesn’t.
Then a thought occurs to me.
“Are you ashamed of being with me? Is that it?”
He chokes out a disbelieving sound. I swear his eyes water too. “No, Logan. I’ve never been ashamed of you, and I never will be.” There’s something in his voice that catches my attention. It sounds almost bitter. “I’m telling you the truth when I say there can’t be anything else. You’re going to play for LA and have an amazing career. One day you’ll find a beautiful woman who you’ll marry, and you’ll have children and a nice house and a reliable car.” He stares at me with so much intensity it brings heat to my face. “You deserve that. You deserve that perfect life.”
Perfect life? What the hell is he talking about?
“And if I don’t want that?” I challenge. “If I want to be with you instead?”
His eyes are impossibly sad. He looks sickened. “You don’t want to be with me, Logan. Trust me. My life is fucked up as it is. Being with me will only be a burden to you.”
“How would you know that? You haven’t even asked me what I want. You just assume.” I’m panicking here. I’m blowing my own chance with him, a train barreling forward with no chance of stopping. “What’s the real reason, Austin? I know it’s not your sexuality, or mine. The soccer world is still pretty homophobic, but they don’t give a shit as long as you play well and win. So what’s the reason, Austin? What’s the reason?”
The set of his jaw tells me I’m getting under his skin. Well, good. I’m not going to take his bullshit response.
“You want to know the real reason?” he whispers, and as he lifts his head, I almost wish I hadn’t goaded him. Something truly awful is about to come out his mouth. “You’re just not what I’m looking for.”
The comment hits me right in the heart, and I recoil. It’s hard for me to breathe. It feels like my lungs have disintegrated. The world slides out from under my feet as I watch him, waiting for him to laugh, to admit this is a cruel joke and he does love me, wants to be with me forever. His face is closed, his eyes brutal. I don’t know this man. But if I stay here for a second longer, I’m going to break down, and I can’t deal with one more humiliation.
I half-tumble out of the bed, scrambling for my clothes. I pull on my pants, my shirt, my shoes. I don’t know where I’m going to go, but I need to leave, take a walk. Any minute now, I’m going to throw up. “Have a nice life then,” I whisper. The door slams shut behind me.
Chapter 23
Austin
Five minutes later, I’m standing in the exact same spot, waiting for Logan to return. My mind is still trying to process the slamming of the door, his disappearance. But I do know this: I was horrible to him. Unnecessarily so. Guilt claws at my chest, and I’m starting to sweat. It’s how it had to be. I thought if I hurt Logan badly enough, he’d move on and forget about me. He wouldn’t continue loving me from afar, the way I’ve done my entire life. He can’t know this now, but I did him a favor. Eventually, he’ll forget about me.
I glance over at his bed. All of his stuff is here, including his cleats. He has to return at some point.
Fuck.
Flopping onto my mattress, I throw my arm over my eyes. I really screwed up this time. Logan’s right. I’m a coward. I’ve always been a coward. But I don’t want to pull him down to my level. As much as I love my mother, dealing with her alcoholism is exhausting. And even if Logan enjoys the experience of sex with a gay man, I’m afraid it won’t ever be more for him. A year or two down the line, he’ll grow weary of the scathing remarks, the hostility in a world that says not all love is equal. Better to rip the band-aid off now.
I’m not enough for him.
I’ve never been enough.
He deserves better. He deserves the world, and I can’t give that to him.
I feel all this pressure inside my skull, pressing against the back of my eyes. Emotion I won’t let show, won’t let it take over me. If I break, I’ll do something stupid like call him back. That’s another thing Logan deserves. Someone who is as open about things as he is.
I don’t know how long I lie there, waiting for Logan to return, but suddenly my phone rings. Weird. It’s two in the morning. I reach into my pocket and put it to my ear without looking to see who’s calling. “Hello?”
Someone starts banging on my door.
“Austin?” It’s Megan, panic pitching her voice high. “Open up.”
A rush of adrenaline sweeps through me. This can’t be good. I hop out of bed and yank open the door. As soon as I see her face, my stomach drops. Tears glisten on her cheeks, and her eyes are red and swollen. A little hiccup comes out. “What’s wrong?” I pull her into my arms, holding her tight. For a moment, I think Phil is the reason. If he’s hurt Megan, I’m going to punch him in the face.
A small sob pulls free. “I just got a call. From the hospital. Mom’s been admitted.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach, and I taste the sharpness of metal in my mouth, that sudden flood of fear. This is how it’s always been. I live my life waiting for the day I hear the news that my mom died of an overdose or something equally horrible. I don’t want to know. I have to know.
“Is she—?” My voice wavers. I can’t finish the sentence.
Megan shakes her head and wipes a shaky hand across her eyes. Eyeliner and mascara darken the puffy skin. Her lipstick is smudged. She must have come straight from the party. “The doctor said she was unconscious when they found her. They pumped her stomach. She hasn’t woken up yet.”
My breath whooshes out of me. My knees are weak. Alive. She’s alive.
Footsteps pound down the hall. Sweat springs to my palms at the thought of Logan returning, but it’s Phil. He stops in front of Megan, breathing hard. He stares at her. He doesn’t seem to notice I’m here.
Megan blinks up at him in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw you leave the party. It... looked like you were crying.”
Something shifts in her expression. She says nothing.
As if realizing they aren’t alone, my roommate turns to me. “Hey, Austin.” He gives an awkward wave. His shaggy hair sticks up in all directions, and while his eyes are a little glassy, he’s not plastered like I would expect. I’m suddenly wondering if Phil has anything to do with my sister’s smudged lipstick. I don’t want to know. She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions of who to kiss. Or not to kiss.
My focus returns to Megan and the issue at hand. Someone needs to be with our mom in the hospital.
“I’m going to book a flight back today,” Megan says, as if reading my mind.
I’m already shaking my head. “No, I’ll go. I’m leaving today anyway. I’ll just have to change my flight time.” Megan traveled all this way. She’s always wanted to explore Europe. I don’t want to take that away from her. She’s already sacrificed so much for me. Now I want to return the favor. “If I want to catch the first flight out, I need to leave now, though.” It’s thirty minutes by taxi to get to the airport.
Megan has a look of concern on her face. No doubt she sees I’m upset, but I suspect she’s not saying anything for Phil’s benefit. “What about Logan?”
What about him? I almost say, but I don’t. It’s my fault he’s not speaking to me. Maybe it’s better this way. At least if I leave early, there’s no need for awkward, angry goodbyes.
“I’ll leave him a note. He’ll understand.” Except I’m a coward and I won’t do any such thing. I wonder if she sees the lie for what it is. But Megan only nods and steps forward to give me a hug. “Tell Mom I love her, and I’ll see her soon.”
By early afternoon, I’m at the hospital, sitting at my mother’s bedside, holding her chilled hand. Machines beep. Again, that antiseptic smell, which reminds me of when Logan was admitted, bruised and unconscious. There are a lot of wires hooked up to my mom. Her skin is sunken and sallow. Currently, she’s sleeping. That’s a good sign.
I bow my head, the tension in my shoulders and back draining away. I’ve been here before, and every time I hope it’s the last. And then it’s not. There has to be some way to help my mom, something we haven’t thought of. Because I can’t keep doing this. Watching my mom waste away, bit by bit, is torture. I feel like we’ve run out of options. She’s been to every rehab center, every program, gone on every medication. We’ve reached a dead end.
There were good points to my childhood, times when my mom managed to create some semblance of stability. I remember we had a really good year when I was in fifth grade. She even managed to save up enough money for me to go on an overnight class field trip. It was the only field trip I ever went on. I asked her about it many years later, and she said she had saved for many months. Her sister was in town that year, and I think being close to family was what helped. When her sister, my aunt, left, however, things went swiftly downhill.
The chair I sit in is uncomfortable as hell, but I manage to catch a few hours of sleep. Sometime later, one of the nurses checks my mom’s vital signs.
“How does she look?” I ask.
“Stable and hydrated.” She smiles. I actually recognize her. My mom’s had this nurse before. “She’ll feel much better when she wakes up.”
“Do you know when she can be released?”
“You’ll have to ask Dr. Johnson about that.” After replacing one of the fluid bags, she says, “If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to hit the call button.” Then she’s gone.
It’s another two hours before the doctor arrives. At that point, I’m starting to fall asleep in my chair. The jet lag is hitting me hard. But I stand as he enters the room. “Dr. Johnson.”
With a smile, he reaches out to shake my hand. “Austin.” He gestures to the seat I just rose from.
