Page 8

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On the rocky path to the bungee platform, Carter asks me all sorts of questions. Did I like my muffin? Were the carrots ground or shredded? Do I like cooked carrots? Maybe we can rent some bodyboards later today? Do I like beets? Is my knee okay on this path? Have I been bungee jumping before? Would it be cool if he ate my ass again later?

I swing my head over, blinking at him on the last question, and he laughs, dimple popping, bouncing onto his toes as we come to some stairs, that pain in my knee intensifying with each step.

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Sounds cool. About the ass, I mean.”

“Nice.” He points over to our right. “Look at that view, bro!”

Bro.

Bro.

Bro.

How many times has he called me bro since this morning?

Every time he says it, my soul shrivels a little more. Am I being obtuse about this? I mean, he’s called me that for years now. I assume since we first met.

Actually, he used to call me “dude” or “man” a lot when we first met. I don’t know when “bro” started. But I’ve been called that thousands of times over the years, not just by Carter. The weight room is always a brofest.

We come to a stop on a platform high above the canyon. Rory leans against the railing, looking over into the depth, a wide slow river glittering blue below. Dorian reaches a hand out toward him nervously.

I’ve hardly said a word to Dorian. But I need to. I’m working up to it, I swear. It’s just hard to get some time alone. He and Rory are pretty much always together. And I guess, Carter and I are always together too. I could talk to him with Carter there, and of course that's cool, but it feels like this conversation is about our friendship—Dorian and mine—and I want to dial into that.

“Oh shit, look down there.” Carter grabs my wrist, leaning over like Rory, and my heart gives a panicked lurch. We’re really high, densely green trees thick on both sides of the canyon, the breeze carrying that flowery scent I’m starting to think is unique to this island.

I’ve done this before, but it’s been a long time. Carter hasn’t. A bungee virgin.

“Oh shit!” Carter’s saying as a harnessed person before us launches off. He and Rory lean over the railing, talking to each other. My vagabond eyes slip helplessly over Carter, taking in his other new pair of board shorts.

These have avocados on them. Not all over. Just one half of an avocado on each ass cheek, the swell of his?—

“Hey, man.”

My head whips to the side. Dorian’s standing there, a faint smile on his face, black hair curled over his forehead.

I lick my lips, my nerves popping into my throat.

My mouth seems to be frozen.

You’ve got to do this .

“So…?” I start, not really sure where I’m going. Just get to the point . “Sorry about my hole.”

He belts out a surprised laugh. “Can’t say it was something I’d expected to see.”

“I bet. I just feel weird that?—?”

“It’s cool.” His brows rise. “It looked like you two were having… fun.”

I blink at his word choice. “So, we’re good?”

He grabs my shoulder, squeezing it. “Of course. You realize I’m bi, right?”

“Uh, yeah. You’ve mentioned that.”

He blinks at me. “I know what it’s like to be in your own head about shit. But seriously, everything is fine.”

Relief . Big and warm and fuzzy. It hits me, swamps me, builds heat behind my eyes.

Why did I assume they’d look at me like Jason did?

Was it me being in my own head?

Kinda seems like it.

Dorian nods toward Carter. “You guys are together?”

“I don’t really know.”

His dark brown eyes meet mine. “Look, I don’t want to be a dick and say something out of line. And I love you both.” He pauses. “But don’t hurt him.”

I swallow. “Carter?”

He nods. “I mean, you gotta do you. But you know how he is. He’s like this giant golden retriever, just wide open, and I’d hate to see him get hurt. And…?”

He doesn’t finish, but I can guess what he was gonna say. Cocky Theo. Hot and cold Theo. Obsessed with himself, Theo.

Basically the opposite of Carter. Because guess who was always at my games? Every single one?

Carter.

Who sat with me after my surgeries and watched episode after episode of Naked Earth while chowing down on cinnamon popcorn?

Carter.

Who never once acted like it put him out?

Carter.

“You’re a good person,” Dorian says. “Always have been.”

“Thanks,” I say, voice rough. “Seems like a lot of people are having to assure me of that recently.”

The line moves, the guide calling down to us. And then Rory is getting harnessed, and he flags Dorian over. I guess they’re jumping together.

The guide takes Carter and me in. “Solo? Or together?”

Carter glances at me, brows rising.

“Together,” I’m already saying.

Carter smiles.

Five minutes later, tied so we’re facing each other, Carter’s dimple pops out as we stand on the platform waiting to take off. I can feel his heart racing nervously against mine.

He bounces on his toes, which bounces me, our arms wrapped around each other, sideways to the plunge below. I don’t fully register anyone else around us, just Carter, amber eyes on me.

“You ready?”

And then we’re off, weightless, both of us letting out a whoop, feeling like there’s nothing holding us back, rushing through the air, the water coming fast before we’re caught, pulled by the tether, laughing and hugging each other.

He kisses me. It’s so quick that I doubt anyone would see it, his lips brushing mine right before we’re yanked into the first big bounce, his eyes going wide as we snap back into weightlessness, his expression so damn happy.

Some of these moments in Clua might be the best of my life.

I don’t want to come down from that bungee high.

I hold onto it as we take the stairs back down, tuck it next to my side like a football. Rory and Dorian went off somewhere, so I’m just with Carter, singing with him when he breaks into a song on the way. He stops in the middle of the crowded walkway and does a little stanky leg.

If I did that, people would stare at me in confusion and then hurry away awkwardly. When Carter does it, they stop and join in.

It reminds me of that morning with the stretch of white sheet between us. Most people don’t take me seriously.

But they do. Maybe not in the way he sees, but he’s got twenty people doing the stanky leg in the middle of a wooden walkway on a tropical island over spring break.

They see him. All that big, fun personality. All that energy.

An hour later, after Carter and I wander around the tents for a while, Dorian and Rory finally show up, and we head to the beach.

“You ready for that last game?” Dorian asks Carter as we toss down our towels.

Carter pauses, a dollop of sunblock on his palm. “That’s today?”

Dorian frowns. “When else would it be? We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Carter slaps the sunblock on his shoulder, rubbing it absentmindedly. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?” Dorian asks.

“I…?” Carter keeps slathering sunblock on that one arm, and I feel him not looking at me. He’s got a few red spots on his shoulders where he missed yesterday, and I hold my hand out for the tube.

He hands it over. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” I squirt out some and move behind him, his shoulders warm under my palms.

“What’s with the game?” I ask quietly.

He twists to look at me over his shoulder. “You’re limping.”

“I’m good,” I say. “Gonna sit my ass here and soak in the sun.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, but…?” He sucks in a sharp breath. “My partner’s Mindy.”

I didn’t know Mindy’s name, but I pull together that she’s the girl he kissed pretty fast. I squeeze out a bit too much sunblock and slide my hands down his back, my thumbs brushing over his spine, then that patch of soft hair.

Once I’m done, I click the sunblock closed and toss it on his towel. “Do you want to eat my ass or hers?”

“ Yours .” He turns to face me. “No question. And I want to spend the rest of the day with you.”

“Me too.” I lick my lips. “Of course, I do.”

He beams . Like genuinely beams. It’s like the damn sun coming out from behind the clouds.

“You should go,” I say. “Have fun. That’s why we’re here.”

His forehead wrinkles. “If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Sure, sure?”

I laugh. “ Go .”

He leans in fast, plants a kiss on my cheek, and then he’s bounding off with Rory and Dorian, spreading his arms and booming out a shout. I watch him go, dragging a hand down to adjust myself so shit isn’t obvious.

I drop onto the sand, stretching out my knee, and wince at the stiffness.

A breeze gusts from the ocean. There are people all around me, but it feels… quiet. I stare out toward the water, the glint of sunlight on the waves.

I rub at the side of my neck.

And it occurs to me, not for the first time, that I’m not good at being alone.

When Carter’s here, he fills all the space. Plugs that hole in my chest. So big and bright that I don’t think of anything else.

I forget.

And now he’s been gone hardly ten minutes, and everything washes back. Like getting thrown in cold water.

I swallow. I stave off the heat behind my eyes.

Something is wrong with me.

And I don’t mean just being a little offset after the surgeries and losing football. Something is wrong with me. Like deep and insistent. And it’s not getting better.

I think… it’s getting worse.

Carter’s laugh echoes across the sand, and he pops into view for a moment. It’s not him making me feel this way.

It’s me .

Warmth swells in my eyes, and I swallow hard.

I’m suddenly aware of everyone crowded around me, and I’m right back in that dark hole. And I don’t get why .

Why can’t I just think my way out of this?

Why can’t I be stronger?

If I have Carter, that should be enough. Right?

Except I’m about to have a motherfucking breakdown.

I need… I don’t fucking know . I’m a capable guy—I should be able to solve this. I stumble to my feet, my knee aching.

Jesus, I need to get out of here.

I turn from where Carter’s dialed into the game, feeling like an asshole, but he’ll just be worried about me if he sees me. He’ll stop what he’s doing. He’ll come over.

He’ll put his life on hold for me. Like he’s done so many times before.

I walk, limping along.

I don’t register where I go.

I just walk, down the boardwalk, seeing everything and nothing, my knee aching, my thoughts churning. Tears are trying to escape down my cheeks.

I can’t break down every time Carter’s away from me. It’s not fair to him. It’s not fair to me.

It’s not who I want to be.

I cut through swimsuit clad bodies, sunburned skin and laughter, and I feel so distant from all of it. I’m a thousand miles away. Sucking into a black that no one else can see.

I’m a fucking mess. How did I get so bad?

I go past the stage and tents, past the buildings beyond. Until it’s quieter, the noise from the beach muffled, and I’m finally able to take a breath.

I’m surrounded by white buildings with red roofs, planters filled with flowers. A shopping area with chalkboard signs and colorful awnings and a farmer’s market displaying lemons and papayas and pomelos.

So far away from Colorado.

There’s a bakery and a chalkboard sign that reads, “Best Mango Pie on The Island” with arrows pointing me inside.

Carter and his mangos.

Next door, there’s a sign labeled Conserve Clua.

Carter had a brochure for this place, with all the others he’d gotten at the villa. It had been on top of the pile.

I don’t know what I’m doing, but I tug the door open and step inside.

A woman straightens behind the desk. “Are you here to volunteer?”

“No, I leave tomorrow.” I scrub at my neck, realizing that I probably look bizarre as fuck. Big jocky guy, eyes probably red, hair sticking out from the bungee jump, as he limps to the counter. “I just…?” I glance at the wall to the side of her desk. “Can I look at the photos?”

She taps a pencil against her chin, studying me dubiously. “Sure?”

I limp over to the wall, scanning the photos. The first one is people collecting trash on the beach. Then one of people washing off a seagull covered in some kind of thick sludge. Next is helping a beached whale. A nighttime picture of baby turtles sprinting for the ocean, all their little flippers flinging sand.

That one nearly breaks me.

But I don’t leave. I study each image. One after the other. Until my breathing becomes easier. Until I don’t feel like I’m going to break the fuck down.

Give me a fact, bro .

I want to put my life back together.