Coda Books 01 - Promises (MM) (9 page)

I felt his hand wrap tight around my wrist. “I promise.”

I WOKE up in the morning to the smell of bacon cooking. I was ravenously hungry, my whole body hurt, my mouth tasted terrible, and my head was pounding. I made it into the bathroom, emptied my bladder, brushed my teeth, and started cleaning up. Between the road rash and the superglue, a shower wasn’t even an option. The left side of my face had a massive bruise from my temple to my jaw. Yep, my mom was definitely going to freak out. I would have preferred being hit by another car to facing her.

My memory of the evening after leaving the hospital was a blur of hazy images: pain, but also a light touch on my temple, a hand wrapped around my wrist in the dark. Did he really sleep in my bed with me?
Talk about opportunity wasted,
I thought as I took two each of Tylenol and ibuprofen.

“How do you feel?” he asked as I came into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast bar.

“Like I was hit by a Mack truck.”

“Nope.” He put a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of me. “Just a Toyota Land Cruiser.” A glass of milk and a cup of coffee came next. It occurred to me that, with the exception of the coffee, none of this food had been in my house. He must have gone out early to get it.

“Holy shit, I’m hungry!”

“You had Vicodin for dinner.”

“That explains it.” I dug in.

“I called Lizzy and told her you would be late.”

I groaned as I thought about what Lizzy was going to say about the whole thing. “Did you tell her what happened?”

“No.” He sounded amused.

“You want me to get the full brunt of her freaking out when I tell her, don’t you?”

“Exactly.” His eyes were crinkled at the corners, almost laughing. “Plus, I could tell she was dying to know why I was calling from your house at seven thirty in the morning. I thought it would be fun to let her imagination run wild.” That certainly would get Lizzy’s bees buzzing, and I had to laugh. “Mind if I use the shower?” he asked.

“Help yourself.” I was already most of the way through the plate of food. He didn’t head for the shower though. He stood looking at me like he had something to say but didn’t know how. It made me self-conscious enough that I stopped eating and looked up at him. “What?”

He walked over and stood next to me at the counter. For a minute, he didn’t move. I waited. I was expecting the lecture to start. But then he leaned toward me, put one hand under my hair on the back of my neck, pulled me toward him, and buried his face in my hair.

He was shaking. He took one ragged breath, and then his lips brushed my ear when he whispered, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

I was stunned. I knew I was his only real friend in town, but I was still surprised at how shaken up he seemed to be. Suddenly I remembered his look from the night before, that strange expression I had never seen before. I remembered the emotion in his voice when he said I could have died. I was overwhelmingly touched by how much he cared about me. It was hard to make my throat work, but I managed to say, “I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” He let go of me, grabbed my helmet off of the counter, and shoved it into my stomach, hard enough to make me wince.

“From now on,” he said. It did not sound like a request.

My first instinct was to protest, but when I looked back up, I saw that look again. The one from last night. Could I really deny him anything? The answer was simple: no. I loved him too much.

“I promise.”

TRUE to form, my family freaked out about the accident, but once they learned that Matt had made me promise to wear my helmet, they let it go. Mom called it a “blessing in disguise.” I tried not to roll my eyes when she said it. I was also relieved to find out that my bike wasn’t badly damaged. And so within a matter of days, the incident was, for the most part, forgotten.

And if I wondered a little about Matt’s strange display of affection, I said nothing.

“You look like hell!” I had just opened my front door to find Matt leaning on the doorframe. I wasn’t sure why he even bothered knocking anymore. He looked like he might have fallen asleep there if I had taken any longer getting to the door.

“I just pulled a double shift. I’m exhausted.” He came in and threw himself onto the couch. “Have you bought any food yet? I’m starving.”

“You know I haven’t. But I’m hungry too. Come on, let’s go out. My treat.”

He groaned. “Where we gonna go?”

“Mamacita’s?”

“No. Cherie might be there.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Since I quit seeing her three weeks ago.”

That surprised me, but I let it go. “Okay then. How about Tony’s?”

“No. We can’t go there either.”

“Why not?”

“That blonde girl—I forgot her name. She’s always giving me her phone number.”

“Maybe it’s her night off?”

“If it is, then that other one will be there. The one that wears too much of that stinky hippie perfume. She practically sat in my lap last time.”

I was starting to grin despite myself.

“Is there any restaurant in town that we
can
go to?”

“No!” He groaned.

“Must be tough being the town’s most eligible bachelor.” I was having a hard time not laughing.

“I’m glad you find it so amusing.”

“And you’re not interested in any of them?”

He was looking right at me. He was so tired; all his defenses were down, and I knew he meant it when he said, “No. I would rather be here.” God, that was good to hear, but I tried to keep my tone casual.

“You think if you hang out with the gay guy long enough, they’ll finally start to leave you alone?”

“That would certainly be an added bonus.” His eyes were closed now, his breathing starting to slow.

“It doesn’t seem to be working so far.”

“Jared, shut up and order a pizza.”

When the pizza arrived, I brought out a couple of beers and flipped on the TV. He was still quiet and strangely pensive. I checked the on-screen TV Guide. “We gotta sit through the last forty minutes of
The Breakfast Club
, but then
Wrath of Khan
starts.”

“Whatever.”

I wasn’t sure how to handle this side of him. Usually he was so solid, but tonight it felt like he was lost. Like he was waiting for somebody to lead him home. He had hardly eaten any pizza although he was on his third beer.

“Are you working tomorrow?” I asked.

“Day off.”

“Let’s go for a ride. We haven’t been up in a couple of weeks.”

He brightened up a little. “Sure. I could use the exercise.”

He was slouched down, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His head was tilted back, and his arms were stretched out along the back of the couch so that one hand was resting behind my head. Half the time his eyes were closed, and I thought he was drifting in and out of sleep. We sat in silence for a while, and then he said suddenly, “I hate this movie.”

“Because it’s sentimental crap or because nothing gets blown up?” It was supposed to be a joke, but I don’t think he even heard me.

“None of them even know who they are. They’re just acting out their roles. Being what their parents made them. Always trying to be what’s expected. It’s exhausting.”

Somehow I didn’t think he was only talking about the movie.

“I think I envy you,” he said. “You don’t ever get tired, do you? You don’t care what they expect.”

“Whose expectations are you worried about, Matt?”

“Nobody’s. Everybody’s. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m talking about. I’m so tired.” His eyes were closed again. “Don’t listen to me.”

I was pretty sure he had fallen asleep. I sat there, feet up on the coffee table, staring at the movie without seeing it, wondering what had happened to put him in this mood. Then I felt a small tug on the back of my head. Then another. I realized it was his hand. He was feeling my hair, gently pulling on my curls.

“Did something happen today, Matt?” He was watching his own fingers as they played in my hair, but I don’t think he was really seeing them. It was possible he hadn’t quite realized he was doing it. It felt nice, and I stayed perfectly still. I was afraid if I moved an inch, he would stop. “Is there something going on at work?”

The tug on my hair stopped. His jaw clenched, and I knew I had hit on something.

“No.”

“I know you’re lying.”

There was no answer for a minute, but then that gentle pull on my hair started again.

“They’re having a picnic. You know, a department thing, everybody bringing their families.”

He stopped, but I knew there was more. “And you don’t have a family?”

“That’s not the problem.” He sighed and took a deep breath like he was going to tell me.

Then he stopped short, shaking his head. “Never mind.” He stopped playing with my hair and looked back at the TV like the subject was closed.

“Then what
is
the problem?”

It took him a while to decide to answer, but he finally said in a quiet voice, “They asked me if I was going to bring a guest. And I mentioned you.”

I was shocked. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“No shit.”

“What did they say?”

“They told me ‘boyfriends’ aren’t allowed.” He sighed again. “I know you warned me. I know I should have seen it coming. But we’re friends, right?” He didn’t wait for me to answer.

“I’m not allowed to have a friend? And what if it
was
more?” I just about choked on my beer when he said that, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Why is it their business? They expect me to go sit at their fucking picnic—alone—and watch them with their happy fucking little families, and I’m supposed to pretend like the one person in this town I give a damn about doesn’t even exist?”

“Uh….” I couldn’t really think of anything to say to that. I couldn’t believe that he had said any of it and was pretty sure he wouldn’t have on any normal day. But it didn’t matter. He was still talking, and the pull on the back of my head had resumed.

“And
then
my parents called. Talk about great timing. My mom’s all in a lather because her sister has a billion grandkids and she has none. My dad was drunk, which is nothing new, and he’s talking about duty. I don’t know if he means being something more than a cop, or if he means getting married and settling down. Both, I guess. And all I can think about is how much I wish I had a brother or a sister, so they could shift some of their expectations to somebody other than me.” The gentle tug on the back of my head continued. “Everybody wants something, and everybody expects something. They never ask how I’m doing or if I’m happy. They don’t ask what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

His hand and head both fell back onto the back of the couch. His eyes were on the ceiling.

“I wish I knew.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I turned back to the TV, and after a minute, the gentle tug on my curls resumed.

“Jared, what do you want?” His voice was quiet, and when I looked over, his grey eyes locked on mine. “Tell me what
you’re
expecting.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was he asking how I felt about him? I could tell him that I had no expectations, and that was certainly true. But as to what I wanted, that was simple. I wanted him. But I was pretty sure he already knew that, and I didn’t think verbalizing it would help anything. So instead I said, “I’m expecting to kick your ass on the trail tomorrow.”

And just barely, he smiled. “Then I better get some sleep.”

“Are you okay to drive home?”

“I’m not even gonna try.” And two minutes later, he was sound asleep.

BY THE time I got up, Matt had already showered, gone out for donuts, and made coffee. His strange mood seemed forgotten as he shoved me out the door.

We had a great ride. I had one spectacular crash on the way up, resulting in two skinned knees and an oozing abrasion that ran from my shoulder to my elbow. Before I could even get up, I heard what could only be described as maniacal laughter. The part of my brain that wasn’t thinking about how much pain I was in wondered who was laughing, because I had certainly never heard anything like that come out of Matt’s mouth. And then, before I knew what was happening, he jumped on me and pinned me to the ground. I’m close to six feet, but I’m not exactly a big guy. Matt outweighed me by twenty to thirty pounds, and he had no trouble holding me down.

“My God, you’re heavy! What the hell are you doing?”

His body was all muscle and sweat, and his eyes were flashing green as he laughed down at me. “Rubbing dirt on it!” And he proceeded to grab a handful of it and smear it all over my arm. It hurt like hell, but at the same time, it was strangely erotic, having him on top of me like that, and it left me feeling slightly aroused and incredibly off balance.

When we reached the top of the trail, we took off our helmets, dropped our bikes, and stood on the summit, looking down at the valley below us. The sun was golden, the sky brilliant blue. The light breeze was filled with the smell of the evergreens around us. The aspens were changing, making bright patches of amber, orange, and magenta within the green. It was a perfect moment, standing there next to him, covered in sweat and dirt and blood, seeing the glory of the Rocky Mountains around us.

I turned to look at him, to see if he felt it too, and found that he wasn’t seeing it at all. He was looking at me. His head was cocked a little to the side, like something was puzzling him, and he was smiling a little. But the thing that really startled me was his eyes. If I had ever imagined him looking at me like that, it had only been in my sweetest dreams.

He reached up, over my shoulder to my hair. Was the whole world in slow motion? I felt like I couldn’t even breathe. There was a tug, and I realized he had pulled the rubber band free. Then his fingers were pushing up against my scalp and into my hair. My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes closed. I don’t know how long we stood like that. It felt like forever. It felt like only a heartbeat.

“Lizzy’s wrong. You definitely shouldn’t cut it.”

His hand was gone, and when I opened my eyes, he was heading back to his bike. But he gave me his brilliant smile—would I ever get used to seeing it?—when he turned to look at me. “Last one down pays for dinner.”