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TWELVE

JACE

“You look like shit,” I said.

“Thanks,” Easton replied, walking past me and pretending he wasn’t intrigued by my presence in front of his silly little rink. “I feel like it, too.”

“Mm, you’re the master of stating the obvious, Easton. I don’t know how you do it,” I said, catching up with him and swaggering along the street. A six-pack was hanging from my left hand, my right tucked into my pocket.

He ignored me for a minute or two, then said, “You were waiting for me.”

“The observer strikes again. It’s uncanny,” I said.

Easton looked at me with nothing but contempt. “What do you want, Jace?”

“I was nearby. Figured we might walk back together,” I lied. DJ hadn’t been too willing to talk to me, retreating as soon as I asked about Kyle Hobbs. It wasn’t going to be easy, and it wasn’t going to work like this. I would have to apply some more pressure on Ivan to get DJ to do a little more watching for me. I needed to know what Kyle was up to, and I needed to know it without Easton getting suspicious about me meddling in his business.

“Walk back together?” Easton asked skeptically.

I lifted a six-pack of beer. “We can make a stop for some fresh air if you’d like.”

Easton nodded, and I picked up my pace, walking half a step in front of him and leading the way. We soon found ourselves on Oak Street Beach, the skyline of Art Deco buildings blocking the last of the sunlight behind our backs. We strolled to the nearest bench and sat down in silence. Easton was not a conversation starter.

I opened the first can of beer and tapped out a cigarette. He looked at me scoldingly for the shortest of moments when I lit it and inhaled the first puff of smoke deep into my lungs. Relaxation loosened my muscles nearly instantly, and I held my breath before exhaling a cloud of blue-gray smoke.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked, handing him a can of beer.

Easton accepted it and cracked it open, taking a long sip before putting the can between his legs and looking at the horizon where the darkening sky met the surface of Lake Michigan. Several boats and ships emitted light from the distance, some transporting goods, others giving people a pleasure ride.

When Easton said nothing, I offered him a cigarette.

He looked at me like I’d cursed him, then tipped the can against his lips and drank more. “I’m angry,” he said, but his voice was resigned.

“At least you’re ready to admit it,” I said. Not so long ago—and I meant it in hours rather than days or weeks—Easton would have scoffed and said he was fine, fury bursting from his voice. “What’s making you angry?”

He bit his lip hard and fixed his gaze on something in the far distance. I gave him the time to think about it, and he shook his head. “Everything’s going down the drain,” Easton said. He was silent for the longest of times, pondering, losing himself deep in his thoughts. Then, when I suspected we were about to call it a night, Easton turned to me. “Remember the time they wanted to take us to that ranch in Fort Peck?” He wrinkled his nose. It was pretty adorable, except that the memory cast a long shadow over the moment. “We started three hours late because Dad wasn’t ready. Then, the car broke down two hours into the trip. And it was somehow our fault. Well, your fault, according to Dad. We had to sleep in a motel until the car was fixed, and they took us back home the next day. And they couldn’t get a refund for the week we were supposed to be at the ranch because Dad was too cheap to pay for the cancellation insurance.”

“And we never went anywhere again,” I said. That was over ten years ago, but I remembered the heat in the broken car as well as if it were yesterday.

Easton glared out at the lake. “That’s exactly what my life feels like right now.”

“How so?” I asked, although I wasn’t sure he’d appreciate the question.

For once, he just replied. “The semester starts on Monday. There’s no way I can keep up my grades and play well enough to keep my scholarship. And Dad won’t pay any more than he’s already paying. He grumbles every time he has to send me money for rent.”

“What about some student housing?” I asked.

“Not covered,” he said simply. “Besides, I’m not even sure I’ll stay on the team for another year.”

It was my turn to be quiet for a while. A month ago, I would have traded with Easton in a heartbeat. In fact, I would have done that at any time in my life since the moment I had met him. It was true. I had envied his special treatment. Growing up to the age of seven in a home with other lost boys would have been a small price to pay for the rewards he reaped. But I wasn’t so sure now. Easton was haunted by something beyond the things he told me. “How did it get to this?” I asked. “You made headlines in sports pages.”

He closed his eyes. “I don’t even know who I am.” He finished his beer and crunched the can in his fist, handing it back to me. “I made a mistake a few months ago. Kyle, my roommate, he…” Easton fell silent and waited. “He flirted, Jace,” he finally said. It was like he’d dropped an anvil between us. The words crashed into the air, onto the beach between our feet, and Easton straightened his back, rid of the weight. “I swear, he flirted first. I’m not crazy. We lived together for so long that I knew what he was like. He baited me until I fell for it. And then he threatened to tell everyone.”

Fury exploded in me like a nuclear reaction. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” Easton replied. “I messed up, tried to kiss him, and he pushed me back. He moved out, and I spent the summer worrying about my teammates finding out what happened. He’s dropping hints, you know. Snickering with his friends behind my back, shooting me threatening looks.”

“It escalated when he threw out your bag,” I said.

“That’s when I kicked his ass,” Easton admitted.

“Good boy,” I said.

The tinge of red that came to his cheeks was a nice surprise. Easton pretended he didn’t hear the words. “But you know what he did next. Now, we’re waiting. Any day, he could decide to tell everyone what I’d done. And I’d have to leave the team.”

Easton got up and walked a few paces away from me. I followed. “You can beat him to it. Come out to the team.”

A bitter laugh broke out of him. “It’s not that kind of team.”

“There are gay people everywhere, Easton,” I said. “And it’s those who aren’t ashamed of it that are making the world a better place.” I had no patience for cowardice, even if that meant I had no patience for Easton.

“I’m not gonna be the wind of change here, Jace,” he snapped. “This is my life we’re talking about.”

“You don’t even know if you’ll last a year,” I said, struggling to keep the accusation out of my tone.

He ran his fingers through his hair, turning around as if he was lost. “It’s like the walls are closing in. And the worst part is that Kyle doesn’t need to say a word. He already won. I’m so stressed-out that I can’t play, let alone lead the team.”

I balled my fists and stepped in front of him. I wanted to grab him and shake him back to his senses. “Let me help you, dammit.”

“Why?” he asked, looking for another enemy. “Why are you so good to me all of a sudden?”

“Because I don’t want to let those fuckers mess with you,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Only I get to mess with you.”

He looked into my eyes, almost ready to share a laugh. He didn’t.

I held his gaze as I neared him, leaving only inches of empty space between us. Pitching my voice low, I said, “Let me settle that score with him, Easton. I would love to.”

“No,” Easton said, but the resolve was gone from his tone.

“Then, let me help you another way. Let me make you feel good,” I said, putting my hand on the side of his waist. “Let me take away the worry.”

“Christ, Jace, how is that gonna help?” he asked.

I quirked up the corners of my lips. “You underestimate how good I am,” I teased, then moved to close the short distance between us. “And after, you’ll know I’m not out to get back at you. I’m on your team, Easton.”

His fingers had threaded on the back of his neck after he’d dragged them through his hair. As he untwined them, his hands slipped down, landing on my chest. “What would be the point?” he whispered. “You know we can’t…”

“I don’t play by the rules,” I said, putting the other hand on his waist and pulling him in. “And neither should you.” The moment our bodies touched, some incredible power passed through me. I knew he could feel it. It wasn’t just attraction but a storm-like tempest that raged inside each of us.

The pressure on my chest was just strong enough to be nudging me away, but he never pushed harder. He looked up and into my eyes, shaking his head in a minuscule motion.

“Kiss me,” I told him, leaning a little in and baring my teeth in a dare.

“Jace,” he said, pained and exhausted.

“You know you want it,” I whispered, cocking my head a little.

Easton’s fists closed around my oversized T-shirt, holding parts of it in a steel grip.

I tugged him closer, making his stomach press against mine, his crotch rubbing against my hardening bulge. I had never been attracted to anyone as much as I was attracted to this hot mess of a boy.

My lips passed an inch away from his. I wouldn’t kiss him first. I would make him admit it, ask for it, take it if he wanted it. And the debate was fierce in Easton’s green eyes. The storm had reached its peak. Easton’s hands trembled, holding my T-shirt so tightly as if he was fighting his own body. Would he push, or would he pull?

And when the tension snapped, its crescendo was a furious one. Easton slammed his mouth against mine, part of him quivering with desire, part of him no doubt regretting his choice instantly.

The kiss was so heated and desperate that I could taste the years of longing on his lips. I could feel the deep-set desire, the yearning to do this, even as his teeth closed around my lower lip. He opened his mouth, pressing it hard against mine, and exhaled, filling my lungs with his breath.

I moved my hands to the small of his back, keeping us pressed tightly together, and leaned in to kiss him back as viciously and needily as he had kissed me.

As I dialed up the pressure, barriers crumbled. He was mine. He was all mine. I could make him feel so good that he would never want anyone else. I could make him forget about all the problems he was in, then clean up the mess and keep him afloat.

Holding on to me, Easton pressed his brow against mine, kissed me again, then pulled back. His eyes were closed and his head leaning down. “Jace, we can’t.”

The words rang hollowly in my head as he took a step back. My heart pounded loudly, drowning out all other sounds. We couldn’t? After all this, we still couldn’t.

Easton turned away, murmuring that he was sorry, and walked home.