Page 39 of Full Split (Forbidden Goals #8)

Weston scoffs. “Do you think you’re special? You think you’re any different than the string of guys he plays with to make himself feel better? You certainly fit his type?—”

“You need to watch your mouth, son. You can disagree with what’s happening all you want, but you’re not going to disrespect?—”

“Who? Your boyfriend ?” Weston laughs but there’s no humor in it. “Don’t come crying back to me when he gets bored and drops your ass. Because I will never forgive you for taking my best friend away from me. And I’ll never forgive him for what he’s doing to you.”

I don’t hear what, if anything, is said next. I can’t listen to any more.

I can’t.

I turn and run out of the building.

I find myself in the giant soaking tub. I don’t know why. Maybe my pathetic ass wants to feel close to my best friend. My best friend who apparently thinks very lowly of me. The only person I’ve ever counted on, but this whole time he didn’t have a very high opinion of me.

I can’t decide if realizing everything was a lie, that we weren’t as good of friends as I thought, makes things better or worse.

He’s wrong, though. Not about me and all those guys before. He was pretty spot-on about that.

But he is wrong about me and Wyatt. He is different. And I am different with him.

All those guys were just a distraction, a replacement for what I couldn’t have. If I’d ever had any inkling that I had a chance, I would have waited for him. I also probably would have pounced the moment I turned eighteen.

But how could I have known? It would have been impossible, because there literally wasn’t a chance until that night Weston sent him to pick me up. And yeah, it wasn’t the healthiest start to a relationship. I know I was wrong, and I did my best to make that right.

It doesn’t matter though. He’s mine now, and I’m his. And no one is going to change that.

Not even Weston.

Not even my own broken, bleeding heart.

I slip under the water and stay there, watching the bubbles escape one by one, until there are none left, and my lungs burn. Until the weight in my chest doesn’t feel quite so crushing.

Hands come crashing into the water, yanking me up by the shoulders. I startle and accidentally suck water up my nose.

I come up sputtering and coughing.

Wyatt is there, eyes wide with panic, thumping me on the back and telling me to breathe.

“What the fuck?” I finally choke out. “Jesus, Wyatt. I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“Sorry, I just— I thought—” He takes a breath. “I saw you run out of the building. I know you overheard me arguing with Weston.”

I don’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

He crouches beside the tub, dressed in dark slacks and a polo with Sid’s gym logo stitched over his heart. He looks like a coach. A wet coach, since he decided I needed saving from the bathtub. It hurts my heart that he worried about me that much.

He leans in and kisses my forehead.

“He’s wrong. I’d never do that to you.”

“I know you better than that,” he says, sounding so sure. So positive and trusting that I won’t let him down.

I break. “I didn’t know he felt that way about me. Maybe he’s right about some of it?—”

“No.”

I blink at him.

“Weston doesn’t have the right to judge you for your dating history. It is and always has been your business. I don’t think he believes those things he said, he never ever talked that way before. Still, it’s not okay for him to try to shame either of us because he’s upset.”

“I don’t know what to do to fix this. I’ll never forgive myself if I break what the two of you have.”

“That’s not on you, Niles. That’s on me. And he’ll come around.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

He swallows and doesn’t look so sure. “Then we’ll figure it out. All we can do is try and hope for the best.”

I stare at him. At the lines around his eyes. At the weight he’s carrying that matches my own. And then, quietly, I whisper, “You know I love you, right?”

His expression softens. “I know.”

“And I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“Niles…”

“I mean it.”

“I love you too.”

There’s silence.

Then I reach up and pull him into the tub, clothes and all.

He falls on top of me with a splash, gasping, sputtering.

“Niles, what are you?—”

I kiss him.

Because I don’t know how to hold myself together anymore. And right now, I need to feel like I haven’t lost him too.

Either he needs it too, or he can’t resist the overwhelming pull between us. A kiss will melt me every time, and he’s the same.

He forgets to be frustrated with my antics and does just that. He melts into it, into my body, into my soul.

Water sloshes over the side as he picks me up and sets me on the back edge of the tub, on the small ledge that holds bath supplies.

I place one foot on each side of the tub, opening for him.

Every surface of the bathroom is clouded with steam, the mist in the room making it feel like this is a dream.

Like maybe I really did drown in the bathtub, but I was good enough to get into heaven ( take that, Republicans ) and this is my eternal reward.

Wyatt’s eyes lock on mine as he leans forward and takes my cock into his mouth. He licks, sucks, and fucks me with his tongue like he knows the cheat code to unlock all my secrets.

My cries echo off the marble and stone.

No matter what, this man is mine. Forever and ever. I’ll fight to the death to keep him and protect him, because he’s perfect.

Perfect and mine.

I wake up tired.

Not the kind of tired a good night’s sleep could fix. It’s the kind of tired that sits deep inside your bones, heavy and hollow all at once. Like something’s been scraped out of you. Like something’s missing.

It’s still early. The alarm hasn’t even gone off yet. Wyatt is still sleeping soundly, but I can’t get back to sleep.

I lie there in the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time, letting the silence press down. And for once, it doesn’t suffocate me.

Because somewhere in the mess of everything—Wyatt, Weston, the fallout waiting to crash down on all of us—I’ve finally figured out one thing.

I know what I have to do.

I can’t keep waiting for the moment to fix itself. I can’t keep avoiding Weston’s silence, pretending like if I just focus hard enough on my routines, it’ll all fade away.

It won’t.

Dr. Zem is right. I need to talk to him. I’m not getting through this without telling him everything. Without making him see the truth.

I just don’t know how. Or when.

Lying here, I start planning out ways to force the conversation.

Maybe I’ll order room service to his door and barge in the moment he opens it.

I stole that idea from Wyatt. It’s not great, but it might be the only thing I have.

Maybe I’ll catch him tonight, when he can’t escape me after the competition. If not, room service it is.

But then, like the universe’s cruel idea of a favor, I get my chance early.

Just before staging, I slip away to the restroom, needing a second to breathe. Needing space to splash cold water on my face and remind myself that I’m still here, still standing.

I don’t even hear him come in, but when I look up, there he is.

I meet his eyes in the mirror, and it’s like looking at a stranger wearing my best friend’s face. He freezes, like he’s not sure whether to glare at me or bolt. He didn’t expect me to not be in the stall.

Annoyance flashes across his face, but beneath it, I see something else. Something raw. Something almost like fear.

Of what?

Of me?

Of what I’ll say?

He doesn’t say a word, just turns and heads back through the door. But I can’t let him walk away again without saying something. Anything.

I try for humor.

“Yeah,” I say, and my voice cracks a little. “You still love me.”

The words hang there. For a second, I think he’ll ignore them.

Except he stops and turns back to look at me. His arms cross over his chest, but it feels more like defense than anger.

“What?”

I swallow hard. Be brave. Don’t be defensive.

“You wouldn’t be following me around if you didn’t still want to protect me.”

He doesn’t deny it but looks unimpressed.

“Come on dude, you totally just got caught trying to police the bathroom.”

He still doesn’t say anything, and I feel like I’m about to lose my chance. So I shoot my shot and spit it all out at once.

“I love you, okay? You’re my best friend. My brother. You’ve been there for as long as I can remember. I’d never—” My voice shakes. I push the words out, anyway. “I’d never intentionally hurt you.”

He exhales slowly, like he’s holding something back. Maybe anger or tears—I can’t tell.

I step closer. “You’re pissed and that’s understandable, but I don’t believe that you think I’m a bad person or that I’m trying to hurt you.

Maybe you believe I’m careless, and that’s fair.

I should have been honest with you. It was always the plan to tell you.

We were just waiting for the right time.

It only happened recently, and it happened fast.”

Weston makes a face like he doesn’t want to hear this, but he needs to know.

“I love him, West. I’ve always loved him.”

His jaw clenches. I know he doesn’t want to hear it, but I’m done hiding.

“I love him so much. And this is different, because I’ve never loved anyone like this before. Everyone else was just a substitute for what I thought I’d never have. I won’t apologize for that. But this isn’t the same.”

That gets a flicker of something in his expression. Maybe guilt?

“I’m not with him because I’m using him, or because it’s easy, or because I need someone to chase.”

I meet his eyes, and for the first time in days, he doesn’t immediately look away.

“I’m with him because I love him.”

I let that sink in. I need it to.

“And yeah, maybe I followed my dick into this mess, but that’s not why I’m here now. Not even close.”

His brow furrows. I can’t tell if he’s listening or just waiting for me to shut up. But he hasn’t stopped me, punched me, or walked away. So, I keep going.

“Wyatt means everything to me, but so do you. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make this right between us. But I need you to believe me when I say I’m serious about him. And I’m serious about you.”

I pause, breathing hard, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I don’t want to lose you, West. I can’t.”

Silence stretches between us. Thick and heavy. I look down at the floor, overwhelmed. Then, quietly, I add, “We could do couples therapy for friends or something, I don’t know.”

That pulls a tiny sound out of him. A half-breath that might’ve been a laugh if we weren’t both standing in the wreckage of everything we used to be.

“Whatever it takes,” I say. “I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not on Wyatt. Not on either of you.”

For a moment, neither of us moves.

And then Weston shakes his head and walks out. Just walks away, again, leaving me standing there feeling like I just ripped open my chest and he didn’t even look.

Weirdly, though, I don’t feel weak. Or hopeless.

I feel… lighter. Stronger.

I said what I needed to say. I didn’t hide or pretend or downgrade my value or my feelings.

I take a slow, deep breath. Wipe the damp from my cheeks and straighten my spine.

There’s nothing else I can say or do at this moment. It’s time to get to work. If I’m going to succeed, I need to put my best effort forward. Not just on gymnastics. On everything. On love and trust and commitment.

To Wyatt.

To Weston.

To myself.

And I’m going to give it everything I’ve got.