Page 13

CHAPTER 12

brACE FOR BISEXUAL VOMIT

CHUCK

Chuck was running late to the pool. For some reason he’d decided to try out a mustache, only to immediately regret it and shave it off.

He felt like a wrung out rag between the reduced meds throwing him off-kilter and Tommy’s rough morning voice on repeat in his head: I want you. I want you. I want you.

What was wrong with him?

It was bright enough outside that he could see Tommy leaning up against the gate, arms crossed over his chest and a gym bag slung over one shoulder.

Chuck took a moment after he parked, hands braced on the steering wheel as he tried to take deep breaths. It was going to be fine. He had let Tommy down gently, and even though he’d seen the flash of hurt in his friend’s eyes, Tommy had taken the rejection in stride. They hadn’t seen each other since the kiss, but their exchanged texts over the last few days hadn’t been awkward or strained.

Chuck needed everything between them to be fine.

As the ground shifted under his feet while he changed his depression medication, he needed Tommy by his side. He needed Tommy with him as he worked in therapy to change his outlook on himself—on the world, even—to prepare himself for a real relationship. He needed Tommy, his Tommy, bringing fresh cookies to his house, or making his sweet potato fries. He needed him leaning against the doorjamb in the sweats he kept tucked away in the guest room, smiling at Chuck like he was someone important.

Chuck didn’t think he could do it without him.

“Morning,” he said when he reached the gate.

“Hey,” replied Tommy. Chuck glanced sideways at him, finding nothing but the usual comfortable smile on his friend’s face. Good , he thought. They were going to be okay. “How was your Sunday?”

“Good,” Chuck answered. He figured he’d be better off if he didn’t tell Tommy about how his advances had tormented him, or that he’d tossed and turned in bed trying not to think about all of the things he and Tommy might have done together if he had said yes.

He knew “yes” wasn’t an option, not if he wanted to move forward in an honest and open relationship with a man who was certain in who he was—and what he wanted.

Chuck shucked off his sweats, the morning air still mild from the heat of the day before. Grabbing his cap and goggles from his bag, he turned around and?—

“What are you wearing?”

Tommy stood up, a wide smile on his face as he put his hands on his hips. “You like?”

Chuck didn’t know how to answer, not when his friend was wearing a vibrant red Speedo that left nothing to the imagination. No, even a quick glance clearly showed the head of his cock pressing against the shiny fabric.

Heat pooled in his gut. Good fucking God .

“It’s…” Chuck began, looking away as he busied himself adjusting his goggles. “As long as you’re comfortable, wear whatever you want.”

“It’s comfy.” Tommy moved up beside him at the edge of the pool. “I saw how hot you looked in a Speedo and figured I should get one for myself.”

Chuck’s mouth dropped open and he turned to respond, but Tommy was already submerged, the splash from his jump wetting the tops of Chuck’s feet.

Was Tommy fucking flirting with him?

He took a steadying breath before following him, willing the cold water to subdue whatever hot, delusional thoughts were distracting him.

They warmed up—splitting the lane rather than circling so that Chuck could go at his normal pace—and then moved on to distance drills.

Tommy’s stroke was getting better, although he still tired quickly and needed to pause to catch his breath. The man was so muscle-bound that it didn’t surprise Chuck.

They’d started a 300 meter kick when Tommy broke the comfortable silence.

“So, I’ve been doing some research.”

Chuck tilted his head to look at him. “Okay,” he said, his focus on the force of each kick of his legs.

“Yeah,” Tommy went on. “And I think I’m bisexual.”

That got Chuck’s attention. For a moment he just stared, taking in the tan swells of Tommy’s broad shoulders as he gripped the kick board in front of him. Why did he have to look like that? “That’s good, T,” he said, hoping his friend could hear the support in his voice. “How do you feel?”

“About being bi?”

Chuck nodded.

Tommy let out a low laugh. “Good. Fine. I mean, I guess it’s nice to have a label, you know, when it comes to telling other people, but it doesn’t change how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?”

“Like women are beautiful, but I also get hard thinking about your dick.”

The sound Chuck made was something between an incredulous laugh and a scoff, and resulted in a fit of coughing that made his eyes burn.

“Shit, sorry. Should I not say that?”

Chuck met Tommy’s gaze, shaking his head. “I’m honestly out of my depth here,” he admitted, figuring he owed his friend that little bit of honesty. “But you’re into other men too, right?”

For a moment Tommy watched him, the sounds of their splashing feet filling the space between them. The noses of their kick boards hit the wall, and they both turned—Chuck with the practiced grace of someone who’d done it a million times, while Tommy’s legs got tangled and he needed a moment before he was ready to go the other way.

They kicked off together, the water whooshing around their bodies.

“I guess,” Tommy finally said, and it took Chuck a second to remember what he’d asked. “It’s different than—fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He turned his head, which still looked so silly in the tight swim cap. His expression turned concerned as he looked at Chuck. “There’s a whole lot going on in my head right now, but I’ll find somewhere else to spew it.”

Chuck couldn’t contain his laughter. “That’s a fucking disgusting image.”

“Beware,” Tommy said in a mock booming voice. “Make your way to safety and brace for bisexual vomit.”

Both men burst out laughing, the sound bright in the morning light. The sun hadn’t quite crested the treetops, but the light had shifted from the blue-purple of early morning to the golden of the day.

“Can I ask one more thing?” Tommy asked as their laughter faded.

“Of course, T.”

“You don’t,” Tommy started, and then shook his head, his cheeks pinking under the sheen of water. “I just want to make sure that uh, being with me like that, you know, physically , is still a no for you.”

Chuck felt like he couldn’t breathe, hating everything about that moment. For years his crush on Tommy had been a secret, safe, little thing. It had been safe because it was impossible . There had been no illusion on Chuck’s part that there could ever be a future in which Tommy might want him back.

But now? Now, Tommy was swimming right next to him in a little Speedo telling Chuck he wanted him, saying things like I get hard thinking about your dick, like it was just another normal day.

It was fucking unfair, but with everything else going on in Chuck’s life, he didn’t think he could gamble with his heart on this. He wasn’t brave enough to ask Tommy if that interest went further than his body, and wasn’t sure he’d survive the heartache if the answer was no.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Chuck finally said, hating that the first thing he felt was regret.

Tommy watched him for a moment before turning to look ahead across the width of the pool. “Got it,” he said, and there was a resignation in his voice that Chuck hated and immediately wanted to fix. “So I think I’m going to go back to The Pride Tide.”

Chuck’s heart sank. “What?”

Shrugging, Tommy kept looking ahead. “I’m going out of my mind, man. I’ve got all of these questions pent up inside and I just…I think I need to, you know, try. Even if it isn’t y—what I want, I’ve got to try.”

They were reaching the end of the pool. Chuck kicked hard toward the wall, jaw clenched tight as his imagination supplied him with flashes of unwanted images: Tommy, smiling softly over the rim of a glass at a faceless stranger. Tommy’s big hands gripping the hips of a man who was kissing down the side of his throat. Tommy taking home a stranger who dropped down on his knees for him, swallowing his cock down and showing him what he’d been missing.

He’s your friend. In spite of all of this, he’s your friend and you need to encourage him. It’s the right thing to do.

“I could give you Wade’s number,” Chuck said, his eyes fixed on the surface of the water. “I’m sure he’d be happy to talk to you.”

Tommy was quiet beside him. When he spoke, his voice was soft. Subdued. “Sure, man. That’d be great.”

It felt too hard to smile, like his skin was stretched too tightly over his skull. And after they exchanged goodbyes and promises to hang out soon, Chuck climbed into his car and burst into tears.

* * *

Leonard was making his life a living hell.

The creature had been active all night, scratching and thumping, doing whatever the fuck deranged animals did during the night hours. Chuck had barely slept, and, after two failed attempts by the exterminator to get rid of Leonard, he was desperate. Since it was a Saturday, he decided to call in reinforcements.

Chuck: Anyone want to come take a shot at Leonard?

Maggie: (rises from the dead armed with beef sticks and a fishing net) I’ve been summoned!

Sage: I don’t want to miss this. David and I will bring breakfast.

Keaton: Jesus Christ. I’ll be there in ten—you should definitely have a lawyer present.

Tommy: Gonna have to miss this one. Work piling up over here. Sage, send pictures.

Darius: Honey, can we go? Pretty pleeeeeease?

Rebecca: Nope. This house isn’t going to clean itself and you’ve got to meal prep. You know the cafeteria food gives you the shits.

Chuck: lol

Darius: …what the actual fuck, babe?

Rebecca: Just sayin’.

Sage: I love you guys.

Rebecca: We love you too, sweet baby Sage. Thank god David robbed the cradle when it came to you.

David: f off u no its not like that

Keaton: Hughes, come on. Text like an adult.

Sage: ^^thank you, Keaton.

* * *

“Maggie!”

Sage sat with her long legs sprawled out in the middle of the yard, squinting against the bright sun. David, meanwhile, was crouched down at the edge of the porch where they’d popped off the wood panel that led to the crawl space, watching the scene unfold like a concerned dad.

“All good,” a muffled voice shouted from somewhere under Chuck’s house.

Chuck stood with Keaton on the patio, shaking his head. Maggie had shown up at his front door dressed in thick canvas pants with reinforced knees, a cut off t-shirt, and her long hair pulled up under a camo baseball cap. She had a crumpled paper bag in one hand and a wide, short-handled fishing net in the other.

Holding up the bag, she’d grinned at Chuck. “Meat sticks,” she proudly announced, and then proceeded to stuff her pockets full of the plastic-wrapped beef jerky and, getting on her stomach, wriggled her way into the crawl space.

She’d been in there for about fifteen minutes so far. Sage and David had brought breakfast sandwiches and muffins, which everyone had eaten their fill of. Now, they all sat around, not totally sure what to do other than wait.

“How’s Tommy?”

Chuck glanced over at Keaton. His sandy blonde hair was un-styled, but his salmon polo shirt and pleated shorts were perfectly on brand. “He’s fine, I think,” Chuck said. Tommy’s work schedule had kept him too busy for their usual dinners. At least, that’s what Tommy had offered as an explanation over the past week. Chuck couldn’t entirely quiet the fear that whatever had almost happened between them had broken something.

Keaton’s soft mouth pursed into a frown. “Alright,” he said, watching Chuck closely. “Whatever you say. You see him more than the rest of us.”

“He’s been busy with work.”

“He’s been happier,” Keaton mused, his gaze returning to the hole in the siding. “I hope he’s moving on.”

Chuck felt his shoulders stiffen. “Yeah. Same, dude. Same.”

“Tommy’s one of those guys who has so much love in him that I think it’s been hard to have nowhere for it to go. Do you remember how he used to be with Court?” Keaton let out a quiet laugh. “Always making her cookies and whisking her away on vacations. Hard to believe it didn’t work out between them.”

Unsure of what to say, Chuck just nodded.

“He’s going to make someone really damn happy,” Keaton finished, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Imagining Tommy dating had always been painful. Just thinking about a time when he had someone else to bring cookies to, someone else to share dinners with made Chuck’s chest ache. But now that he knew there was a distinct possibility the next person Tommy dated could be a man? That made the ache a million times worse.

“I still question your decision to let that woman under your house. If she gets bit she could sue you.”

Chuck laughed, loosening some of the tightness that was holding his body hostage. “What’s your deal with her, anyway?”

Keaton shot him a sharp look. “She’s rude, she insults me to my face, and her hair is always the color of candy. It’s childish.”

“You sound like a teenage boy with a crush,” Chuck mused, nudging his friend with his hip.

Keaton scowled at him. “I’m with Samantha, asshole.”

“Oh, it’s Samantha now?”

“Fuck off.”

A commotion under the house drew their attention. Hissing, then a series of dull thuds, muffled cursing, then another bout of hissing.

“Do you think she’s?—”

Keaton’s question was cut short by Maggie wriggling out from the crawl space. Dead leaves and cobwebs were stuck to her hair, and her face was streaked with dirt. With David’s help she got all the way out and then slumped back on her heels, shaking her head. “I had him! I fuckin’ had him and the slimy little weasel got away.”

Chuck sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “I really appreciate you trying.”

“You should probably get a tetanus shot,” Keaton drawled, looking down at Maggie with his tan arms crossed over his chest.

Maggie rolled her eyes, and, to no one’s surprise, stuck her tongue out at him. “Bite me, rich boy.”

Scoffing, Keaton shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to put my mouth where a creature that commonly carries rabies has already been.”

“Okay!” Sage jumped to her feet, brushing her hands off. “Maggie, what’s the game plan for catching the little fucker?” Her eyes slid over to Keaton briefly as she added, “Just to clarify, I am talking about Leonard, here.”

Maggie snorted, and Chuck bit back a smile. Keaton did not look amused.

“We should get some traps set up. He likes the meat sticks, so I’ll leave some here with you.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to get opossum traps?”

“Lowcountry Ace.”

Everyone went quiet for a moment, looking back and forth between Keaton and Maggie, who had somehow managed to speak in perfect unison. The two of them glared at each other, like they were each waiting for the other to back down.

“Uh,” David started, clearing his throat. “Chuck, should we go to Lowcountry Ace to grab some traps then?”