Out of the Shade

by S. A. McAuley

  Kam technically wasn’t his boss, but Chuck didn’t want to disappoint him. And the look Kam laid on him when he got out of his truck wasn’t exactly welcoming. He looked…worried?

  Chuck shouldered his equipment bag as he crossed the parking lot. “What’s doing, Kam?”

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about. Can you meet with me in my office?”

  Chuck stewed as he followed Kam through the club and into the back room.

  “I’m hiring Jesse on,” Kam said unapologetically as soon as the door was closed. “He starts next week. With the amount of time you spend around here with the kids, I thought I owed you a heads up. I can give you his schedule so you know when not to be here if you don’t want to be. But I didn’t want you to be surprised when he starts.”

  Chuck settled his bag on the floor and dropped into a chair. “He ended up losing his job?”

  “He quit. Selling software wasn’t where his heart was. You know that as much as I do.”

  Chuck huffed. “And boxing is?”

  Kam leaned against the corner of his desk and crossed his arms. “Come on. I don’t want to lose you over this. Your help has been the best thing to happen to this club in years. But I’m not backing down on this. Jesse is great with kids and he has a degree in teaching, he just never used it.”

  “I, uh…. I didn’t know that.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about Jesse. And I don’t mean that as a total dick.” Kam smirked. “Just kind of.”

  “Be real with me, Kam. Are you working some kind of angle here?”

  “To get you two back together? Please. Jesse does what he wants, and you may have similar character traits.”

  Chuck gave him the middle finger and a smile to go with it, but he couldn’t hold onto either for long. He readjusted himself in the chair. “Lila said he’s seeing someone.”

  Kam raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize we were having a sleepover. I would have brought my nail polish and Teen Bop magazines. Isn’t that Zayn just dreamy?”

  “Yes. But that’s beside the point.”

  “And the point was?”

  “You’re a prick.”

  “Oh yeah, that one. Are you going to be cool about this?”

  Kam hadn’t answered his question about Jesse dating, and that made Chuck uneasy. But he wasn’t going to give up on this club just because he had to see Jesse and they weren’t together anymore.

  “Icy.”

  Kam plopped into his chair and settled his feet up on the edge of his desk. “Great. Now, let’s get down to business. I got a call from CNN. They want to send a crew by next week to shoot a short piece about the competition coming up. Any advice?”

  Chuck answered with only half his mind engaged in the back and forth. He was going to see Jesse for the first time in months. For the first time since the trial.

  And there was a part of him that was inadvisably excited about the idea.

  19

  Chuck stumbled out of bed, wiping at his eyes, then adjusting his boxer briefs so they weren’t digging into the crack of his ass anymore. Fucking Monday. He hated Mondays. He scratched at his groin as he made his way to the bathroom. Football was long over, baseball season hadn’t started yet…. At least the coverage for the Olympics would be picking up soon. He looked forward to watching more of the trials this year, learning more about boxing so he’d have more to talk to the kids about—

  He stopped dead, his hand still wrapped around his balls.

  It was Monday.

  Today was the first day he was going to see Jesse in almost three months.

  He’d tried to push all thoughts about Jesse aside since having that conversation with Kam last week, but no matter how much time he spent glued to his computer, or with Ben chattering away in his ear as he checked up on Chuck every day, it had been impossible to completely eradicate Jesse from his thoughts.

  He had no idea what to expect when he saw Jesse, besides the few details Lila had shared with him the last time they’d talked. The mistrial hadn’t been declared yet then, but Lila had said that Jesse was doing well. That he wasn’t drinking, was going to therapy, that he was cut from hours of running, training for the Brighton marathon….

  And that he was dating someone casually.

  Chuck swallowed and made his feet move so he could begin to get ready. His stomach rolled at the thought that Jesse was doing better—tackling all of the things Chuck had hoped Jesse would—and that didn’t mean anything when it came to their failed relationship. Because if Jesse was dating a woman, then that likely meant he still wasn’t ready to come out. Everything in Jesse’s life had changed for the better, but the one thing that had to change for Chuck to even consider looking at Jesse as more than a friend hadn’t.

  He was happy for Jesse, he really was. But there was a part of him that was wrecked by the realization that Jesse still couldn’t confront the one thing that would always keep them apart. A scathing, bitter voice in the back of his head whispered told you so. Strangely enough, that voice sounded a whole hell of a lot like his father’s.

  He refused to be anything like his father.

  So, Chuck set the taps on the shower to steam up the bathroom, slid inside the shower, and decided to get ready like it was any other day.

  When he was done with his shower, he spent just as little time in front of the mirror as he usually did, got dressed in his usual work uniform of a hoodie over a band t-shirt and well-worn jeans, picked up his gear bag and headed for his truck. He threw on a Britney playlist and remembered him and Jesse teasing each other about their individual but incompatible pop music icons. He could do this. He could think about Jesse and be happy for the good times and not focus on the bad. He didn’t have to be bitter.

  He didn’t have to be his dad.

  He would see Jesse today and would be okay that they weren’t together anymore. Yes, he’d been falling in love with Jesse when they went their separate ways, but he was better now. Jesse was better now.

  Maybe both of them were better off apart.

  But all of those trite motivationals went flying out of his head when he stepped inside the club and his eyes landed on a smiling, confidently poised Jesse with his arms looped over the ropes around the boxing ring and his shirt straining across his back.

  Shit. Lila was right. He was ripped.

  But that wasn’t what stopped him cold.

  Jesse’s face was lit up. His smile blinding.

  Jesse was happy.

  Chuck didn’t even realize he’d dropped the gear bag off his shoulder before it was crashing to the concrete floor.

  Jesse whipped his head to the front of the club when there was a crashing sound. His eyes widened as he took in Chuck—hoodie adorably askew, beat up Vans poking out of his jeans, and cheeks flaming as he stared at his camera bag on the floor as if he couldn’t figure out how it had gotten there, let alone what it was.

  Jesse smiled. He couldn’t help it.

  And that action stopped him cold.

  Kam had given him fair warning that Chuck would be at the club today and Jesse hadn’t known what to anticipate with seeing him again. But the warmth and longing spreading through his veins was so far off from anything he’d imagined, that it sent Jesse reeling.

  Fuck. He loved Chuck.

  So. Goddamn. Much.

  He stepped back from the ropes, swiped his now-sweaty palms across his track pants and caught eyes with his ex.

  Chuck’s shoulders lifted as he took in a deep breath, and their gazes locked as if there wasn’t anyone else in the room. “Hey, Jesse.”

  Jesse hesitated, swallowed, and his mind was wiped clean, as if he didn’t speak the same language Chuck did. He frowned and could only manage a mumbled hey in response before he was turning his back on Chuck and retreating to the other side of the room.

  He had to get away, there was no other choice. Chuck had been the one to call them off and he hadn’t been in contact with Jesse at all since N
ew Year’s Eve. It didn’t matter how he felt about Chuck, the man didn’t want anything to do with him. And Jesse wasn’t going to make it more difficult for Chuck than it already had to be now that they were working in the same place. He was here to work, Kam was counting on him, and he could be a professional about this.

  Chuck was a co-worker, that was it.

  One of the coaches beckoned a kid across the room. “Miguel, you’re up next in the ring. Jesse, I want you to come watch. Start getting a feel for our training regimen.”

  He wiped the grimace off his face and nodded to the coach, tracking back to the ring.

  “So what’s the new guy’s deal?” Jesse heard Miguel ask from the ring.

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” the coach said.

  Miguel rolled his eyes. “He won’t be around long enough to bother.”

  The coach glanced at Jesse over Miguel’s shoulder and Jesse replied with a shrug. Miguel was all teenage bravado and defensive shields. He wasn’t the first kid Jesse had encountered like that.

  “Before I bring anyone else in here let’s work with the mitts,” the coach said. “Warm you up.”

  “I’ve been warming up for an hour, Coach.”

  “Well, I say you need more. Gloves up, Miguel.”

  Jesse watched them go through a set of practice punches and listened to the coach correcting the positioning of Miguel’s feet. Miguel seemed to have no trouble with aim, though. No matter how much the coach seemed to think his stance was off, the kid had dead-on punches with force that rocked the coach back on his heels. Jesse had to wonder how much better Miguel would be if he not only listened to what his coach was telling him but also internalized it.

  As their warm-up dragged on and the coach kept correcting Miguel, Jesse watched Miguel become more and more frustrated—his anger building although the coach’s instructions were consistent and fair. Jesse could see Miguel’s anger taking hold and, sure enough, soon his aim was off, his arms and shoulders tight. No matter how little Jesse knew about the details of being a good boxer, he could tell Miguel was slipping into a headspace that wasn’t going to do any favors for him. Miguel’s mouth was drawn into a thin line, his breaths were short, his jaw clenched. Miguel was pissed, but more so at himself than the coach. Jesse had seen that same look in his own mirror too many times not to recognize it in Miguel now.

  The coach must have caught on to the same vibe because he called Miguel to a stop and backed away, giving the kid room to stalk away. “Have Coach Jesse help you hydrate.”

  Miguel shot a look across the ring but came over anyway. “I’m assuming you’re Coach Jesse?”

  “Only one here as far as I know.”

  Miguel sat in one of the stools in the corner, his back to Jesse, knocking his gloves together. Jesse let the silence linger between them. Miguel seemed like he needed time to pull himself back together. Jesse’s choice on approach was part sales experience, part intuition, and a whole hell of a lot of personal experience guiding him on this one.

  After a solid minute of silence, Miguel broke. “I don’t know what’s up today. I’m struggling.”

  Jesse eased, settling against the ropes again. “Do you know what it means to wrest?”

  Miguel cocked his head, actually meeting Jesse’s eyes. “As in taking a nap?”

  “No, wrest with a w. It means to forcibly take control.”

  “Nah, man. Never heard it.”

  Jesse slid under the ropes, picked up a bottle and gave Miguel some water as he talked. “I’m still learning the mechanics of how this all works—you know more than me right now—so I’m going to rely on you and the coaches to help me with the stuff I get wrong. I know this much, though—you can have the perfect form and intellectually know all of the right moves, in life and in the ring, but if you lose control of your emotions you lose the fight. You gotta wrest—own what you’re feeling and force your emotions to be under your command instead of being ruled by them.”

  Miguel swallowed the water and wiped at the edge of his mouth with his arm. “That makes sense. So how do you know that, man?”

  “Coach Jesse, Miguel,” the other coach chastised him from across the ring. Miguel smirked.

  Jesse glanced at the industrial clock above the front door. “It’s two hours into my first day. We’re going to have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

  “That is a shady answer, Coach Jesse.”

  “It’s not meant to be. You have your personal life and I have mine. I’m never going to hide anything from you or any of the other Warriors. But it’s going to take time to trust. Let’s let that seed grow for now.”

  Miguel made an upwards motion with his gloved hand. “To wrest its way out of the dirt.”

  “Exactly, Miguel.” Jesse ducked out of the ring and back to his spot on the ropes. “Now get those gloves up and teach me what you know.”

  Chuck was sure Jesse didn’t realize his interaction with Miguel was being documented through Chuck’s lens. He’d been working with the club for almost six months now and he’d never seen Miguel take to anyone as quickly as he had with Jesse. And all it had taken was silence. No expectations from Jesse’s part, just a patient waiting, providing an opening for Miguel to give voice to whatever was going on in his head.

  It was a side of Jesse that was at odds with the man Chuck had walked away from months ago, and much closer to the man he’d started to fall for.

  Jesse was one of those people who had been born too kind for this world—too empathetic. But, when the harshness of his own existence had threatened him, he’d crumbled instead of standing against it. Some people fed off their empathy, some were fractured by it. Jesse was a good man at his core, no matter how shaky his foundations were…. Or had been?

  Chuck understood in the moment why Kam had decided to hire Jesse on. It was going to be a situation that helped both the fighters and Jesse. He backed away from the ring and left Jesse to do his new job without the pressure of a camera in his face.

  “We good today?” Kam asked as he walked past Chuck.

  Chuck nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.”

  Kam grinned and kept on walking, joining Jesse at the side of the ring. Jesse gave an unguarded smile when Kam clapped him on the back and settled into the ropes next to him. Jesse’s entire demeanor was so at ease with his best friend.

  Kam’s question echoed in his head—We good today?

  When he and Jesse had been good, they’d been really good. But the relationship part of it hadn’t worked. And from the way Jesse had gone from happy to withdrawn within seconds of seeing Chuck, it looked like any chance that, maybe, they could be something more again was gone. But Chuck didn’t want things with Jesse to end there. If there was any hope that they could at least be friends, Chuck wanted Jesse to be part of his life.

  Just friends—like Kam was to Jesse.

  He could do this.

  Maybe it was the perfect place to begin again.

  20

  April

  “Coach Sollie!” a chorus of voices exclaimed as Jesse entered the club. He couldn’t hold back his responding grin. Three weeks into work at the boxing club and he was falling into a rhythm that kept him laughing, working hard, and crashing into bed exhausted, but grateful, every night. He made a circuit around the room, slapping hands or tapping a closed fist to gloved hands before he made his way toward the coach’s locker room to drop off his bag and get changed from the therapy appointment he’d had earlier.

  It had been another great session. Even though Liz and he had agreed to cut back to one time every other week, he couldn’t imagine giving that part of his recovery up completely anytime soon. He looked forward to the appointments now. It was the one place in his life where he allowed himself to be completely open and honest. His next step was to start incorporating that more into his daily life. The thought still made his stomach lurch, but being open about his sexuality wasn’t quite as terrifying as it’d once been. He hiked his bag up his shou
lder as it started to slip off when he pushed inside the locker room, then stopped cold.

  Chuck was stripped down to his boxer briefs, his back to Jesse as he rummaged in one of the lockers. Water droplets slid down Chuck’s back and his hair was slicked back, still wet from a shower he must have just finished. The sight was painfully familiar—achingly, longingly, and hotly familiar. Goosebumps raised on his skin and Jesse snapped his gaping mouth shut, trying to swallow against a completely dry throat.

  Chuck hadn’t seemed to realize he wasn’t alone anymore until the door shut. He hesitated for only a beat when his head snapped up—his gaze lingering on Jesse for a second—then he turned and pulled his shirt out and yanked it over his head. “Hey, Jesse.”

  It had been three weeks of them working in close proximity, seeing each other five days a week at the club. And while they weren’t awkward around each other anymore, there was none of the ease of when they’d first met. Jesse was taking it all one day at a time, just like everything else in his life. Today, though…it had been months since he’d done anything besides kiss anyone, and his body was responding to the sight of Chuck just like it always had. Fucking traitor.

  Jesse dropped onto the bench with his back to Chuck, attempting to hide the semi he was rocking from the sight of skin, tattoos, muscle, and…. Shit. Thinking more about it wasn’t doing him any favors.

  “Hey, Chuck,” he finally replied. “You just starting or finishing up?”

  Jesse’s cheeks flamed at the way that could be taken—that line sounded like the beginning to a really bad gay porno.

  But Chuck must not have been thinking of anything along that line, because he answered without hesitation. “Kam’s been teaching me how to box. It’s one sport I never really tried.”