Page 27

Pope

I should have known this would happen. Should have been smarter, too.

The second I closed my eyes after the best orgasm in my life, Thierry disappeared.

I wouldn’t try to get into his mindset or why he thought he had to run away, only that he did.

After pouring my heart out to him and asking questions while trying to come to terms with the growing ache in my belly every time I saw Thierry, I thought we’d made progress.

I now understood that was wishful thinking on my part.

Though karma must have been getting a good laugh at me, because I’d done the same to him when we’d been younger. Turnabout's fair play.

Then the first new photographs of Derrick and Thierry started filling up the internet, and I wondered if I’d been a one-night rebound before he went back to his boyfriend.

How gullible of me. Jealousy reared up inside of me and there’d been a few times I’d had to stop myself from marching into that arena to give them a piece of my mind.

Especially since he’d been wearing Thierry’s sweater.

Little, half-baked prick didn’t deserve to grace the arena with his presence.

Over the last couple of weeks, I tried talking to Thierry, following him around like a lost puppy, looking to receive some kind of praise from a man who’d changed so dramatically over the last fifteen years.

Sure, I could take the blame for some of those issues.

Fuck knows, I caused most of them, but disappearing like this?

Hiding from me and leaving me on read when I texted him?

No way.

I didn’t recognize this version of Thierry.

Sitting at my station in the shop, I glanced at the darkened screen of my phone and sighed. Maybe this was the sign I needed to walk away. I got a taste of the forbidden ambrosia, and I should’ve been happy with that.

Walking away turned my stomach, though.

I might not have the right words to explain everything going on with me or what I was feeling for Thierry, but I wanted to try again.

Give whatever this connection between Thierry and me was a go.

Stereotypes be damned. Other people’s opinions wouldn’t dictate what happened in our bedroom.

Our private life was just that. Private.

Still, saying those things in my mind and repeating them out loud to Thierry had been two totally different things.

Both scared the shit out of me while also exciting me.

However, I couldn’t say anything at all if he didn’t answer my calls.

Nor would it be appropriate if he got back together with douchebag Derrick.

Yeah, I read up on him. He was a sycophant.

A nth stage hanger-oner. He wasn’t even a D-list celebrity.

He’d been on one season of Drag Race and eliminated in round three of sixteen.

The rest of the time, he tried to stay relevant on social media as an influencer.

He’d also accused Thierry of abuse. Mother fucker needed his ass kicked.

There was no way in hell the Thierry I knew and been friends with all my life would harm a flea on the ass of a dog, let alone some half-baked drama queen.

No, if my hunch was correct, this Derrick person hurt Thierry, which meant more bullshit to wade through to get to the guy I knew and inexplicably wanted.

What the fuck did that mean, though?

I threw my phone on my desk before scrubbing my face.

Even as I tried to reconcile my feelings about the messed-up situation Thierry and I were in, the sinking of my heart and the turn of my stomach said what I’d been denying all along.

I was in love with Thierry, but our time had passed.

Had things gone differently all those years ago, and I hadn’t been such a dick to him because I didn’t want to hold him back, maybe there’d be an us.

No. I shut him out because I couldn’t handle being kissed by my best friend. I had to stop lying to myself. I wasn’t altruistic.

Fuck! I hated circling thoughts.

Nothing good ever came from them.

When my phone rang, hope filled me. Then just as quickly disappeared. July. Disappointment settled within me like a heavy weight. On the third ring I answered. “Hey, July. What do I owe the pleasure of a phone call? Did you want to get a tattoo?”

“We’re going to the Mountaineer’s game tonight,” she said with a laugh. “You’re coming with us.”

I blinked, not sure I’d heard her right. “Us?”

“Yes,” she replied mischief coloring her tone. “We’ll have fun. You can even wear Thierry’s jersey—er sweater—or whatever they’re called.”

“Sweater... I don’t know if I should,” I said then stuttered out, “W-Why?”

“Well, whatever they’re called. They’re heavy, warm, and Wes likes it when it’s all I wear sometimes.”

Not something I needed to know about. “Um, TMI?”

She laughed again. “Look, just be ready at seven. See you then.”

July hung up before I could say another word, throwing me into a tailspin.

If they’d been doing this to Thierry while he dealt with a sleazy ex or whatever the hell he and Derrick were now, I couldn’t blame the guy for not wanting to answer my calls.

Nevertheless, I checked my schedule for the day to make sure I didn’t have any late appointments then I set out to get ready for my three-thirty.

I cut a three-hour block for the piece, which only gave me a half hour to shower and “be ready,” like she said.

I swear I’m going to make them matchmaker patches for their kuttes.

I’d only had seconds to spare by the time I traipsed down the stairs of my apartment and came around the front of the building when July drove up.

Swore I heard her a block away. She rolled down the passenger window when she stopped and told me to hop in.

In the back was Kayan, Posey—Hunter’s wife, and Ireland—Mack’s wife.

Each of them had some kind of Mountaineer gear on, from hockey sweaters to shirts or wristbands.

They’d also painted their cheeks with the Mountaineer logo.

It appeared I was a little underdressed.

As if reading my thoughts, July threw a Thunderbirds’ sweater at me with Thierry’s name on it.

The heavy material appeared to be an authentic sweater worn during a game.

The question of how she got it sat on the tip of my tongue, but I shoved the inquiry aside and shrugged out of my jacket to put it on.

“That asshole better not be there tonight,” Ireland said. “He’s been hanging on Thierry’s ass for way too long.”

A round of agreements filled the interior of the car.

“Man,” Kayan said, “Wes and the guys should’ve come with us tonight. Taught him a lesson in manners. You don’t poach.”

“You forgot they’re our babysitters for the night,” July reminded her.

“Should’ve brought them anyway,” she grumbled. “Maybe they’d chase Derrick back under his sewage covered rock.”

“Venomous,” I said, glancing at her. “Why do you hate the guy so much?”

She gave me a look that screamed, “as if,” then curled her lip in disgust. “Haven’t you seen the gossip about him?”

I had and the guy pissed me the fuck off. But I was biased. I’d rather have an outside opinion before I was called jealous. “Tell me.”

“Well, if you listen to Dickwad’s fans, Thierry is a self-absorbed hockey douche with a penchant for hitting his partners and cheating on them.

The truth is, there have been times over the years when Thierry wasn’t playing, and he had bruises on his face.

Derrick also had a wandering eye and when Thierry got hurt this last time, douche-baggins jet-setted off to St. Lucia to be with his sidepiece. ”

“Yep,” July agreed. “Worst part, Thierry never asked for help. He never drew attention to himself and sure as fuck never came home.”

“So,” I said, trying to tamp down my anger, “y’all saw this and no one stepped in?”

“Why would they?” Ireland snorted. “Thierry didn’t ask for help nor had the words to ask for help.

I understand exactly where he’s been and where he is now.

That shit gets stuck in your head. It’s imprinted on your memories.

You don’t know who will believe you or who you can trust. Believe me, I’ve given Mack a run for his money more times than I like to think about. ”

“It’s what the abuser counts on.” Posey’s soft voice surprised me. “Isolate, control, strike. I bet Thierry doesn’t trust himself let alone anyone else.”

Is that what happened? Had he gotten scared? Was I partly to blame for him going back to who he knew or what he’d been accustomed to?

“I see your brain turning,” July murmured.

“Yep,” Ireland said, “that’s steam coming out of those ears.”

“You’re not to blame,” Kayan stated.

“Yeah, well, you don’t know my part in all this,” I replied. “I did some shitty stuff, too.”

“I’ve heard,” Ireland quipped. “So did Thierry. Neither of you is perfect. The only question you should ask is how do I—we—fix the mess?”

I nodded. Maybe. The thought of everything Thierry had been through over the years tugged at my heart.

I understood the cycle of abuse. My father may not have hurt me or neglected my physical needs most times, thanks to my grandparents, but emotionally and mentally, he checked out the minute my mom died.

It was why I left all those years ago. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Thierry, for whatever reason, stayed.

That pissed me off more.

I absently wondered if his parents knew and if they had, why they didn’t step in and help Thierry out. I snorted at myself for being so damn stupid. Thierry, even if his parents knew, wouldn’t want to bother them. So, he kept the issues to himself. Dumbass.

“We kick Derrick’s ass and bring Thierry home,” I said. “No questions asked.”

“That’s the thinking of a neanderthal,” Ireland muttered. “Me good man. Me take you from danger. Me fuck you. Claim what’s mine.”

July snickered while Kayan busted out laughing while high-fiving Ireland.

She had a point. Going from a shitty situation to one of uncertainty would only make Thierry feel trapped, and that was the last thing I wanted for either of us.

Of course, this was all contingent on Thierry and what he wanted.

For all I knew, or they knew, he was fine.

He used me to make Derrick jealous and now they got back together.

Pfft. Yeah, right? That doesn’t sound like Thierry one damn bit.

“Whatever we do tonight,” I said, “we won’t embarrass him. If what you’re saying is true, he has enough on his plate. He doesn’t need our added stress.”

“Agreed,” July said, pulling into the parking lot of the arena. “Ladies, you heard Pope. We’ll do this his way.”

“If it doesn’t work?” Ireland said, popping a brow.

“Then we’ll hit Thierry where it hurts and find someone for Pope.” July grinned. “And I know just the guy and gal to do it, too.”

I stared at her. July’s eyes sparkled with rascality, and I shook my head. Why me?

Once we were inside, and at our seats, I kept an eye out for Derrick.

He was hard to miss. A peacock couldn’t help but preen for an audience.

Jealousy and rage twisted my gut. The idea some dipshit has-been would hurt my best friend, tore me up.

I should have known there’d been more to his outburst and the hesitant way he handled me.

Yes, I took responsibility for my part of the mess.

I’d had more than enough time over the last few weeks to think things through.

He exposed his feelings for me at fourteen and feared I’d turn him down.

Then, out of some misplaced panic and my issues, we pulled away, never addressing the elephant in the room.

This was different.

There’d be no more running for Thierry and me. Even if I had to lock us in my apartment for a month, we’d work this out. Fuck that prick, Derrick. He could rot for all I gave a damn.

“Excuse me,” a pregnant woman said, smiling at me. “Are you Pope?”

I stared at her for a moment then nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Ohmigod, it’s been forever,” she said, sitting beside me while all her kids and her... Holy shit, the guy with her was the quarterback for the Raptors .

“Uh, yeah,” I said, trying to remember her name.

“Lily-Mae.” She pointed to herself then went down the line and named her four children before pitching her voice low, “and my husband, Rick...”

“Bashir,” I murmured, “Quarterback of the Tennessee Raptors .”

“Oh? You know him?”

I stared at her as if she hadn’t realized how popular her husband was. “Um, sure. We’ll go with that.”

She giggled and sighed. “He’s really missed you, you know?”

It took me a second to decipher which he she was talking about. “Me too.”

“Good. You know, he’s always hated himself for what happened between you. He thinks he destroyed everything.” She nibbled on some popcorn while the teams went through warmups.

“Nah, it was never about him,” I said. “Miscommunication is all and my skeletons.”

“Yeah,” she said, “he told me about your mom. I’m so sorry, Pope. That must’ve been horrible for you.”

I shrugged off her empathy. Not because I was a dick, but sometimes, I didn’t know what to do with sympathy, especially when I didn’t know the person very well. “Thank you. I got through it. You know?”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“So, are you here for Thierry, too?”

She grinned. “We try to get to as many home games as possible. Since it’s the off-season now.”

Yeah, I’d seen somewhere that the Raptors lost a nail biter of a wildcard game. “Thanks for, you know, being his friend when I couldn’t be.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said. “I never minded holding your place. He’s been the best friend I could ever hope to have.”

Yeah, that was the one thing about Thierry. When he made friends with someone, he counted them as family.

Man, I missed that feeling too.