Push & Pull (The Midwest Series Book 2)

by Brigham Vaughn

  “Sure. You’re always welcome here. You need to sleep now?”

  “Honestly, I’m so exhausted I feel wired again,” Brent admitted. “I think I need to wind down for a bit.”

  “How about a game of Call of Duty? Caleb sucks at it, and I’ve missed playing with you.”

  Brent smiled as a wave of relief washed over him. Things were gonna be okay with his best friend again.

  “Hey!” Caleb called out from the kitchen. “I’m getting better!”

  “You’re still terrible,” Nathan called back. “But I love you anyway.”

  “Love you too, babe!”

  Brent snagged one of the controllers from the coffee table. “I’m really glad stuff is going so well for you guys.”

  Nathan nodded and turned the TV on. “Yeah, me too. Honestly, I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear, but I’m glad I didn’t go on the road trip. I think it would have killed the relationship.”

  Sighing, Brent had to agree. “No, you’re right. And I get why you didn’t want to go. I was mostly just pissed because it felt like you ditched me. And then springing it on me like that and having Lowell jump in and taking over didn’t help.”

  “I know. I told Lowell it was a bad idea to do it that way but—”

  “He didn’t listen,” Brent supplied. “Yeah, I’m familiar. He’s a bossy little thing, but I ...” Brent’s throat closed at the thought of not having that bossy little thing in his life.

  “But you’ve fallen for him?” Nathan asked quietly.

  Brent started at the screen, toggling through the options for his character. “Um, yeah. I guess I have. He’s pretty fucking amazing. I’ve spent most of the summer fighting it, but I just can’t get him out of my head. I really hope it’s not too late.”

  “I’m sure Caleb can help you figure out how to fix shit with Lowell,” Nathan offered.

  “Maybe,” Brent said doubtfully. He was terrified of the alternative.

  What if Nathan was wrong? What if he’d fucked up everything with Lowell? And for what? Micah? Lowell was right. Micah was a dick.

  Sure, he was Brent’s friend—or he had been in the past anyway—but Lowell was more. A lot more.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  June 30, 2013 - Chicago, Illinois

  Lowell

  As his plane touched down at O’Hare, Lowell was so tired he felt sick to his stomach. Or maybe that was because he hadn’t really eaten all day. Fuck. He could picture that little worried frown that would appear between Brent’s eyebrows if he knew Lowell had been skipping meals. Maybe Lowell should tell Caleb he needed to grab something before he dropped him off at the hotel.

  Lowell couldn’t exactly stay with Caleb and Nathan. They were letting Brent crash on their pull-out couch, and in a six-hundred-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment, there wasn’t a lot of room for four people. Especially since two of them were currently not speaking to each other. Not that Lowell wanted to be not speaking to Brent, but he didn’t know what the best approach was for fixing things. Either way, he needed to sleep first. Or he was going to make a bad situation a lot worse.

  By the time the small plane taxied to the gate and Lowell was finally allowed off, he’d moved past feeling sick to his stomach and into tearful exhaustion. It was a relief to see Caleb waiting near baggage claim. “Holy fuck, it’s good to see you,” Lowell said as he trudged toward his friend.

  Caleb hugged him hard and kissed his temple, his stubble long enough that it tickled rather than scratched. “You look like shit.”

  “I love you too,” Lowell muttered against his shoulder, sagging against him.

  Caleb played with his hair for a moment before Lowell straightened.

  “I’d ask how you’re doing but ...”

  “I miss Brent,” Lowell said with a lump in his throat.

  “I know.” Caleb smoothed down the hair he’d just ruffled. “But he’s sitting in my living room missing you right now. Why don’t we head back to Logan Square, and you two can fix this mess you got yourselves into.”

  Lowell wanted that so bad he could taste it, but he was also so tired he could hardly stay upright. “Um, I think I need to eat first.”

  Caleb drew back and frowned at him, concern shining from his bright blue eyes. “You do look really pale, now that you mention it.”

  “I haven’t eaten since last night.”

  Caleb looped an arm around his waist. “Yeah, that better be a priority as soon as we get your bags then.”

  Half an hour later, they were sitting in one of the airport restaurants, and Lowell was trying not to burn his mouth on the turkey burger he’d ordered.

  “Okay, are you going to tell me why you got all watery-eyed when you ordered that?” Caleb asked. He stole one of Lowell’s sweet potato fries, and Lowell almost slapped his hand away. He couldn’t get food into his mouth fast enough.

  “Brent,” was all he could manage.

  “Honey, you’re going to have to tell me a lot more than that if you want me to help you get him back.”

  It all came spilling out in a tumble of words after that. Lowell told Caleb everything. From the first time he and Brent had kissed at The Park Hotel to the words they’d shouted at each other along the shore of Lake Superior.

  Caleb looked a little shell-shocked by the end, and he shook his thick light brown hair off his forehead with a concerned little frown. “When I was teasing you about being a couple, I never thought you’d actually go through with it.”

  “I never thought I would either,” Lowell admitted. “But I think Brent’s good for me. I need to talk to him.”

  Caleb reached out and squeezed his hand. “I can see that. But you look like you’re about to collapse. I changed my mind. Let’s get you to your hotel, and you can rest for a little while before we figure out the plan of attack. Okay? Brent’s staying with Nathan and me, and we won’t let him go anywhere until you get things worked out.”

  ***

  “Lowell!” Ricky skirted around the front desk with a concerned expression as Lowell walked through the lobby of The Park for his second stay that summer. Caleb followed with his bags. “What on earth happened to you?”

  Lowell laughed tiredly. “Don’t ask. But I have a reservation, and I’m exhausted. Can you help a boy check in?”

  “Of course, honey.” Ricky glanced at Caleb. “Let me grab a keycard, and I’ll take care of the rest. Where is your boyfriend? Brent, right? Do you need a second set for him?”

  Lowell swallowed hard. “He’s taking care of a friend of his who is in the hospital.”

  Ricky’s concerned expression smoothed out. “That’s sweet. He seemed like a good guy.”

  “He is,” Lowell said. Once again, his throat felt too thick to speak. God, between the heartache and the lack of sleep, he was turning into a giant ball of mush. Gross. But he wouldn’t trade his feelings for Brent for the world.

  Lowell leaned on Caleb a little as Ricky sped through the check-in process. He walked Lowell and Caleb to the third floor and squeezed Lowell’s arm when they reached room 324. “You just call down if you need anything, okay?”

  “I will. Thanks, Ricky.”

  “It’s the least I can do. You say hi to that cute boyfriend of yours for me.”

  Lowell managed a half-hearted smile. “I will.” When I see him.

  Caleb got him settled in the room and tucked in bed. Lowell could hardly keep his eyes open as Caleb smoothed his hair away from his forehead.

  “Sleep well.”

  “Thanks,” Lowell slurred. “I’ll text you when I wake up.”

  He was out before the door shut behind Caleb.

  June 30, 2013 - Chicago, Illinois

  Brent

  Brent knocked on the half-open hospital room door and waited for a reply. Micah looked away from the TV and gave him a faint smile. He looked exhausted and ashy still. “Hey, man.”

  “Hey.” Brent had been surprised when he’d gotten a text from Micah later that day wit
h an apology for acting like a dick. Brent wondered if it was mostly the drugs they’d given him after the surgery talking, but he figured it was worth going to the hospital and seeing if it was genuine. Caleb had returned from picking Lowell up at the airport and told him Lowell had a room at The Park and was sleeping hard but that he’d update Brent when he was awake.

  Brent figured he might as well kill some time visiting Micah.

  “C’mon in.” Micah turned down the volume of the TV. Brent winced when he realized a baseball game was on. Jesus, Micah must be feeling masochistic.

  “How are you doing?” he asked. “How’d the surgery go?”

  Micah shrugged. “As expected. They’re releasing me tomorrow.”

  “Damn, that’s fast.”

  “Right?”

  “How are you affording this?”

  “Since it happened during a game, I’m covered by the team’s insurance. We’ll see what happens once they know for sure I can’t play, but since there’s a small hope, I’m not totally fucked for medical bills at least.”

  “Well, that’s something.” Brent tried to sound cheerful. “And maybe you’ll make a massive recovery and still be able to play.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But I won’t hold my fucking breath.”

  “So do you go to a rehab center after this or something?”

  “Nah, it’s all outpatient. I’ve got a shitload of physical therapy to do but ...”

  “Hey, that reminds me. Tell me about the physical therapist. You guys had a thing?”

  Micah’s face went blank. “I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s me. You can tell me; you know I’m not going to blab,” Brent reassured him. “You met through the team?”

  Micah sighed. “Yeah. I mean I had a weird twinge in my shoulder shortly after I started training, and he helped me with some strengthening exercises ... and shit happened between us.”

  “Whoa, so you’ve been seeing him a while?” Micah had left for training the second his exams were over. He hadn’t even gone to graduation.

  “I guess.”

  “Is it just fucking or ...”

  “Jesus, spending the summer with Lowell has turned you into a gossipy little queen,” Micah grumbled. He shifted on the bed, wincing a little.

  “Keep your fucking mouth shut about Lowell or I am out of here,” Brent said. Pain or no pain, he wasn’t going to let Micah get away with talking crap about Lowell.

  “What’s it to you? Why are you so fucking protective of him anyway?”

  Brent swallowed. “A couple of months is a long time. Lowell and I ... we ...” He licked his suddenly dry lips.

  “Lowell and I are what?” a soft voice behind him asked.

  Brent spun around, staring open-mouthed at the guy he’d left behind in Houghton. “You—what are you doing here at the hospital?”

  “Why don’t you finish your sentence, and then I’ll tell you.” Lowell came farther in the room to stand at the foot of Micah’s bed. His eyes were a stormy gray, and he looked uncharacteristically serious and somber. The missing smile made Brent ache, and he felt another wash of regret that he’d dropped everything to go to Micah when Lowell was the one who mattered.

  God, how stupid can I be?” he wondered bleakly.

  “Um.” Brent’s palms felt suddenly clammy, and he darted a glance at Micah, who sat in the bed looking awfully smug. “Well.”

  He cleared his throat and turned to Lowell. This wasn’t how he’d pictured their reunion, but as long as there was one, it didn’t really matter how or where it happened. Or who was watching. Fuck Micah and his judgmental ass. So what if Micah knows about what happened between me and Lowell? What does it matter? If I don’t lay it on the line now, there will be no chance of fixing things with Lowell. He spoke as though he was talking to Micah, but his gaze stayed on Lowell’s face. “This summer Lowell and I got close. We’ve spent the past few weeks dancing around the idea of a relationship, and neither of us had the balls to say how we felt.”

  Brent saw a little smile appear at the corners of Lowell’s lips. It gave Brent the courage to continue. “He’s a pretty amazing guy. Smart, funny, and one of the best people I’ve ever met. I fell for him.” In the distance, Brent heard a sound of surprise, but all he could focus on was the slight parting of Lowell’s lips and the way his eyebrows rose. “In a big way. But I was too much of a coward to admit it. I was afraid of getting rejected, but by the time we made it to the Upper Peninsula, I knew this guy was worth keeping around.”

  Brent’s throat tightened, and he dropped the pretense of talking to Micah. “I was kind of a dick when I dropped everything to come see how Micah was doing, but I hope you can forgive me for that, Lowell. Because I’d really like to see if we can fix things and make a relationship work.”

  Lowell opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a snort from the bed. “Right? Like that little slut is going to commit.”

  Brent opened his mouth to call Micah out, but he watched the anger in Lowell’s eyes rise, and he closed his mouth. Lowell could handle this. He chuckled inwardly. Oh, Micah had no idea what he was up against. Brent was looking forward to watching Lowell take him down.

  “You’re an asshole, Micah,” Lowell said, his tone measured and even and way more scary because of it. “Yeah, commitment hasn’t been my thing in the past, but maybe that’s because I haven’t found a guy worth committing to. Just because I wasn’t willing to settle for the bullshit you were offering doesn’t mean—”

  “Keep your fucking voice down,” Micah hissed. “My career is in the toilet, but that doesn’t mean I want to go announcing I like dick, okay?”

  “Refusing to admit that you’re gay isn’t why I think you’re an asshole,” Lowell said simply. “I feel terrible for you that your career is fucked because of this injury. You have my sympathy for that. But it doesn’t excuse you from being a decent person. Or treating people like they deserve to be treated. You aren’t half the man Brent is.”

  Brent smiled at Lowell, who shrugged in response. “It’s true. Brent is an incredible guy, and I’m just sorry it took me this long to admit it. Yeah, commitment used to scare me shitless, but that was because you made me feel like I could never trust anyone, Micah. Do you know why I’m going to give it a shot with Brent? Because he’s the first guy who has actually managed to take the time to understand me. Who wants me for me. Who doesn’t want to change me into someone I’m not. Who is out and proud of being with me. Who looks out for my best interests, not just his own.”

  “It’s like a fucking queer fairy tale in here,” Micah muttered. “Congratulations. You two win the homo couple of the year contest.”

  Lowell’s jaw clenched, and the fury in his cool gray eyes was unnerving. “Brent, you’re welcome to stay if you want to talk more with Micah. Honestly, it’s clear he needs someone to be his friend. But I am out of here. Call me when you’re done, and we’ll go from there.” He spun on his heel and left the room with his head held high.

  Brent gave Micah a long searching look before shaking his head. “You’re still my friend, though at this point, I’m not really sure why. If you need me, I’ll be around, but right now, he is my priority.” He pointed toward the door Lowell had disappeared through. “Good luck, man. I hope you can figure out something with your career. And your life. Because you’re going to be pretty miserable if you keep hiding like this. Lowell was right.”

  “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Micah said. “He snaps his fingers and you say how high?”

  Funny, Lowell had said the same thing about Micah.

  “God, you’re a pathetic, dick-whipped faggot,” Micah continued.

  Brent took a deep breath to stop himself from hitting someone who’d just gone through major surgery that day and leaned in—sympathy for the guy he’d screwed around with and considered a friend rapidly disintegrating. His voice was low and hard. “I’m a pretty forgiving dude, Micah, but I’m just about done. You do
n’t have very many people who actually are your friend and know everything about you. Either apologize and learn to be a decent friend to the few of us who’ve stuck around or fuck off because I’m not coming back for more abuse.”

  Brent stalked out of the hospital room before Micah could manage a response. Brent nearly knocked down someone in scrubs in his hurry to get away. “Sorry,” he muttered and kept going.

  Brent walked quickly down the hallway, following the signs to the elevator as he dodged someone in a wheelchair and a patient walking slowly with an IV pole. He was nearly there when he heard a familiar voice.

  “Hey, wait up.”

  Brent stopped and turned to face Lowell. “Sorry. I didn’t see you. I was too fucking pissed off.”

  Lowell nodded and tugged him into a nearby, deserted waiting area. “Pissed at Micah?”

  “Yeah.” Brent dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. “I get that he’s feeling sorry for himself right now, but it doesn’t excuse some of the stuff he said.”

  Reaching up to gently touch his jaw, Lowell gave him a half-smile. “Should I be glad I wasn’t there for the rest of it?”

  “Probably,” Brent admitted, grabbing Lowell’s hand, not to push it away but to weave their fingers together and pull him a little closer. “I nearly decked him.”

  Lowell’s smile widened. “Yeah, I bet.”

  This close, Brent could see Lowell’s lips and the faint freckles on his nose. Brent had the overwhelming urge to lean in and press his mouth to Lowell’s. Instead, he took a deep breath and spoke. “Are we going to talk about what I said in the hospital room?”

  “Are you sure you want to do that here?” Lowell asked.

  “I don’t really give a shit where we are,” Brent admitted. Hell, he’d make an announcement to all of Wrigley Stadium, if that’s what it took. “I just want to clear shit up between us before I do something dumb to screw it up again.” He swallowed hard. “God, I was so stupid, Lowell. I shouldn’t have left you in Houghton. I should have told Micah to fuck off and focused on what really mattered.”

  “You meant it?” Lowell’s hand tightened on his. “What you said in Micah’s room?”