Bad Attitude (27 page)

“My control issues?” Jamie thumped himself in the chest. “How is it a control issue to not want to watch someone I love die from taking one stupid risk after another?”

Now. He would say it now when everything was falling apart, as if that were an excuse. “Love? Please. You love this truck more than you love me. It never has a thought of its own.”

“I don’t give a shit about the truck.” Jamie squeezed the keys in his fist, then threw them in an arcing flash of metal into the grassy field. “I’m talking about you. And me.”

“No, you’re ranting. And I’ve had about enough of it. I’m sorry if I frightened you tonight. I’m sorry if I placed you in a difficult position in your job. I didn’t ask you to intervene for me. I shouldn’t have involved you in the first place.” The words were calm and measured, but that rage was boiling up in Gavin again. A rage that didn’t have a useful outlet like trying to get Beach out of that hole in the ground. Nothing helped. Nothing Gavin had learned about shielding himself, walling himself off from the wild sweep of caring so hard about anything that it would actually hurt to lose it. He took in a thin breath that seemed to evaporate in what was burning behind his ribs.

“So shall I start walking, or would you care to allow me the use of your phone to call for a ride?”

“That’s it?” Jamie flung his hands up. “You just give up again. Like none of it matters as long as everything’s polite and proper, and don’t forget a gift for the host. Why the fuck do I even bother?”

Gavin clenched his teeth against the urge to beg, to plead, to tell Jamie that it did matter and he wanted him to bother. Wanted to be more than someone’s charming accessory. Then Jamie would kiss him and take him back to that row house where things were as warm and bright as Jamie. Until Jamie realized there was nothing to Gavin but charm and smooth exterior. That he pretended nothing mattered, because until Jamie, nothing had ever mattered before.

“Don’t pull a muscle trying to feel something, Gavin. I’ll find the damned keys.” Jamie clomped off the pier and into the grass.

Gavin walked slowly back to the truck. He wished it would rain. Nothing but a sullen cold downpour could put the proper exclamation point on this evening’s disaster. He looked up at the perfectly unclouded sky, then hopefully at a flash of light on the horizon, which only proved to be Jamie waving the light on his phone around as he searched for the keys in the grass.

The keys weren’t over there. Gavin had seen them traveling in the direction of the baseball diamond. Jamie hadn’t been looking when he threw them.

Gavin slammed the door to give vent to his frustration and stomped off into the grass.

Jamie looked up at the sound of the door slamming. Fine. Just fine. He didn’t need Gavin’s help to find the fucking keys anyway. What would it take to get through to that guy? Well, Montgomery and his emotional constipation would have to be someone else’s problem. Jamie had watched Colton screw himself out of a good fifty years of life. He wasn’t going to watch Gavin waste his. It was too much. For the first time in weeks, Jamie wanted a cigarette so bad he’d kill for it. There was that emergency one. But fuck if he would light it up over Gavin after three months of not giving in.

Jamie bent over to look in the grass again, when the creak of wood had him jerking his head up. It happened so slowly, Jamie didn’t know why he didn’t have time to stop it. The Ford’s nose snapped first one slat, then another, and just as Jamie’s running feet hit the wood of the pier, the whole truck slid almost gently into the bay.

“Gavin.” The cry Jamie made as he launched himself into the water was pointless. Gavin couldn’t hear Jamie through all that water. Couldn’t get out of the truck himself, because Jamie was an insane control freak who had removed all handles from his truck, thinking it was cool. It was his truck, his life. He’d never planned on making room in it for anyone else. Now Gavin was sinking into the bay, unable to find a way out.

A black truck in night-black water was impossible to track, but thank you, St. Michael, Jamie had left the headlights on. Jamie took a tight pike and hauled himself down after the sinking ton of metal, tracking back along the fender to find the hidden release under the driver’s side door.
Smart, so fucking smart you were there, Donny.

Who was the one who took the risk to put Gavin in this situation? What the fuck made him think he’d prove something by driving them out on the pier? Jamie’s fingers found the release and he pressed it, and again, telling himself he wasn’t hearing the release, and if he only pressed harder, it would open. It wasn’t already too late with the weight of water holding the door shut. He drove his fist into the release, left his hand on it and kicked it before he gave up and started pounding on the glass. Shouldn’t he be able to see Gavin in there, see the pale skin move like the flash of a fish? The headlights didn’t reach this far back. Jamie’s wide-open eyes stared into nothing.

Turn on the cab light, Gavin. Give me something.

Lungs on fire, Jamie swam around to the other side and began working at that door. He dug his fingers into the frame and kicked into the window. He stripped off his belt and tried beating the buckle into the empty cold glass, jabbing the prong against it again and again.

When hands grabbed his arm on a back swing, his first thought was that it was Geist, that he was on a rescue, but Geist would never try to stop him and this wasn’t a rescue, this was Gavin, and it would take three Geists to pull him out of the water because they’d have to sit on him before he stopped trying to get Gavin out of the car.

He jerked free, kicking back and pressing his face onto the glass again. The green lights on the instrument panel were faint, but there. Where was Gavin?

Someone yanked Jamie’s head back by his hair, and an arm wrapped around his chest. Jamie fought, shifting his hips and trying to wriggle free, but fingers dug tight into his armpit, and both the man’s arms squeezed him tight and hauled him to the surface.

Once his lungs had a fresh gulp of air, Jamie was ready to fight more. He rolled and thrashed and dragged his would-be rescuer back under the water. He dragged them under again and again, and arms stayed tight around his chest.

“I’m not letting go.” The words were grunted into his ear. “I don’t care how much you love that truck, I’m not letting go.”

Jamie froze, and they started to sink. “Gavin?”

Gavin didn’t relax his grip but kicked a little to keep them at the surface. “Who else would be dragging you out?”

Jamie grabbed Gavin’s arm where it was across his body. “Gavin?” It was him. The smell, the feel, Jamie knew him.

“Did you hit your head when you went in?”

“I’m fine, let me go.”

“Not happening.” The water churned under him as Gavin started towing them toward the rocky shore.

Jamie took a deep breath and stared at the sky. Everything was the same. It was night. They were in a park in the south end of Dundalk. His truck was under water. But everything was different because Gavin wasn’t drowning, trapped in the truck.

Jamie reached up to touch Gavin’s arm again. “You’re not in the truck.”

Gavin released him suddenly, and Jamie realized he could stand.

He turned, hungry for a view of the face he thought he’d only find floating behind that black barrier of glass. He cupped Gavin’s cheeks.

“You’re not in the truck.”

“Of course I’m not in the truck. I’m standing next to you. Oh.” Gavin put his hands over Jamie’s and glanced away. “I didn’t—” Gavin’s head came up and he stared back. “That was for me?”

Jamie flung his hands off so fast Gavin probably would have fallen if they hadn’t been in waist-deep water. “Of course I was looking for you. Didn’t you hear me call you?”

“Yes, but I thought it more a cry of dismay because your beloved truck—”

Jamie started to turn away, and Gavin grabbed him. “Please.”

“Please what? I can’t believe you. I tell you I love you, and you think I half killed myself for a hunk of metal.” Jamie started to trudge toward the shore. Gavin tackled him, and no matter how Jamie rolled or thrashed his hips or dug his fingers into Gavin’s forearm muscles, his cross-chest grip never slackened as he towed them out to deeper water.

Jamie stopped fighting, waiting for an opportunity. “Just so you know, Mr. Junior Lifeguard, the shoreline is the other way.”

“I wanted to be sure you were listening.”

“To what?” Jamie was listening, he also happened to be waiting for Gavin’s grip to slacken a fraction.

“You never said you loved me.”

“That’s bullshit. What do you think I’ve been saying? Why do you think—?”

Gavin rolled them both under water, and unprepared and in the middle of—all right—a rant, Jamie got a good snortful. He coughed and sputtered as they came back up.

“You’re not listening,” Gavin said.

“If I promise to listen, will you let go?” Jamie waited for the slightest indication Gavin would relax.

After a pause Gavin said, “No.”

“You’re a major fucking pain in the ass, Montgomery. Can you hurry it along before hypothermia sets in?”

“You haven’t exactly said you love me. But I’m in love with you.”

“Excuse me? You’re holding me out here in freezing water because—”

Gavin released him and started swimming back to shore. “I wanted there to be no chance you didn’t hear me.”

“Oh I heard you.” Jamie shook another wave out of his nose and swam after him. Christ, the fucker was fast. He was already scrambling over rocks and up the steep bank before Jamie got close.

By the time Jamie got to the top, he felt like he’d scaled a twenty-foot wall in full kit. Thank God Montgomery looked just as beat to hell as he sat there, panting.

“So now what?” Jamie flung himself on his back in the grass.

“Well…” Gavin let out a long breath. “I don’t think you finding your keys will help.”

“Neither will reminding me of that.”

“I’m assuming your phone was on you when you dove into save—”

“You, you snarky bastard.”

“Me.” Gavin coughed. “So. I suggest we either sit here and chat for a while in the hope that Perry installed a GPS tracking device on my person and will send help, or you can demonstrate that you understand how very much you do mean to me, then we can walk to the nearest public accommodation where either through a presentation of my cash or your identification we can get access to a phone.”

“How do I start off that second part?” Jamie looked at him through one half-closed eye, waiting to see if Gavin would back down now.

He never broke eye contact, smirking back. “You tell me you love me. I think a kiss might be in order too.”

Jamie rolled onto Gavin’s chest. “I fucking love you.” Lips an inch from Gavin’s, Jamie asked, “Can Annabelle figure into this somehow?”

“I guess with your truck in the bay you might be pining for a new commitment.”

“You could put it that way.” Jamie kissed him.

About the Author

K.A. Mitchell discovered the magic of writing at an early age when she learned that a carefully crayoned note of apology sent to the kitchen in a toy truck would earn her a reprieve from banishment to her room. Her career as a spin-control artist was cut short when her family moved to a two-story house, and her trucks would not roll safely down the stairs. Around the same time, she decided that Chip and Ken made a much cuter couple than Ken and Barbie and was perplexed when invitations to play Barbie dropped off. She never stopped making stuff up, though, and was surprised to find out that people would pay her to do it. Although the men in her stories usually carry more emotional baggage than even LAX can lose in a year, she guarantees they always find their sexy way to a happy ending.

To learn more about K.A. Mitchell, please visit
www.kamitchell.com
. Send an email to K.A. Mitchell at
[email protected]
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The most dangerous lies are the ones you tell yourself.

But My Boyfriend Is

© 2012 K.A. Mitchell

Dylan Williams is
not
gay. Sometimes he gets off with other guys, but so what? He plans to get married someday—
really
married, like with a wife and kids. And he’s determined that his future family’s life will be the normal one he and his brothers never had.

Mike Aurietta
is
gay, but his job keeps him in the closet. He doesn’t usually risk frequenting infamous cruising places like Webber Park. But when he’s cutting through one night, he finds himself defending a victim from gay bashers.

It’s all Dylan can do to process the shock that anyone would want to hurt his quiet twin brother. At first he needs Mike’s eyewitness report to satisfy the gut-wrenching desire for revenge. Then he finds himself needing Mike’s solid, comforting presence…and the heat that unexpectedly flares between them.

In the aftermath, Mike quickly learns not to expect too much from his conflicted lover. Though he never thought his good deed would come back to bite him in the ass. Or that hanging on to the possibility of love could force too many secrets out of the closet—and cost them both everything.

Warning:
Contains more denial than you can float a barge on, bigger issues than a special end-of-the-year compilation of your favorite magazine, and better sex than most people deserve. After all, it takes place in Texas.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
But My Boyfriend Is: