by Sienna Blake
Adam only smiled and said, “Perfect as always, Chef. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Collins. I’ll root for you and your team this Sunday, even though I’m a New Yorker, and it’s a betrayal of my great city.”
Adam couldn’t help but laugh. “I really appreciate that.”
A short while later, the cook and his helpers were on their way, and the two of them were alone on the balcony again. Adam stood to stretch his legs and walked to the balcony railing. Dyson joined him, leaning over and resting his forearms on the railing. His rough-featured face was barely lit up by the ambient city lights. Dyson’s dark eyes locked on him.
“Must be nice,” Dyson said, “to bring in a chef like that from New York.”
“It was a bit of a splurge, but we deserve it after surviving that crazy dumbass who thinks I’m a cyborg.”
Dyson chuckled. “You’re right.”
“Damn right, I’m right.”
“So… I’m guessing you don’t regret being a sports star instead of a chemistry guy.”
“I was going to be a pharmacist. But you’re right. I have zero regrets, believe me. Organic chemistry damn near kicked my ass.”
“Bet your mom is proud too.”
The mention of Adam’s mom—even offhand—stirred a pang of sadness in him. Especially since he’d been thinking about her so much lately.
He liked to believe he’d long ago made peace with losing her, but these days, he’d been feeling regrets. Feeling the loss. Especially about how he’d let her down. How he’d kept part of himself a secret from her when she’d always put him first. She’d always been there for him. It felt like a betrayal.
Dyson was watching him closely, his expression concerned. “Rough subject?”
“Maybe a little. Just because I lost her to lung cancer. She didn’t get to see me make it big.”
Dyson’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Ah, shit, man. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry to bring it up.”
“Don’t worry about it. How could you know? It’s not something I talk about in public. Most articles about me leave it out.”
“Still, it’s gotta be hard. If it’s any consolation, I lost my parents too. They aren’t dead, but when I came out to them, they tossed my ass out of their lives. Said they never wanted to see me again. And I haven’t seen them since.”
“God, that’s awful.” He couldn’t imagine his mother doing that to him. But then again, he’d never given her the chance to shine the way he was sure she would’ve shined.
But what if she’d reacted the way Dyson’s parents had reacted?
On top of that fear, he felt incredibly guilty for even fearing that might happen. For not trusting her. For fearing she could be so judgmental and reject him…
He needed to change the subject. Now. He wasn’t a little boy. He couldn’t afford to be consumed with mommy issues or whatever. He had lost her, but he had loved her. End of story.
He glanced at Dyson’s left arm and nodded at it. “How’s your arm?”
If Dyson noticed him deliberately changing the subject, he was kind enough not to point it out. “Healing nicely. Didn’t even mess up my tats too much.”
“You have some impressive tattoos. I saw them when you had your shirt off,” he said quickly, as if to justify himself. Dyson’s entire back was taken up by elaborate tattoo designs. Fancy, flowing-script words. The tattoo of the number 75 and a lightning bolt. Eagles. Skulls. Fire. A tattoo of a helicopter and a rifle. Snarling dogs. Abstract designs. Knives. Stars. “When did you start?”
“When I turned eighteen.” He pushed back the sleeve on his right arm and pointed to an Army star. “That was my first. Right before going into the service. Before that, my parents wouldn’t let me get tattoos. They gave me a ration of shit afterward too.”
“They sound strict.”
Dyson rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “I guess I’m badmouthing them a lot tonight. But I’ve moved on from being angry or disappointed in them and the ways they failed. They’re only human. They are very, very devoutly religious. I’m not.”
“I think I get it.” He paused, thinking it all over. “I never got a tattoo.”
“Why not? Don’t like them?”
“No, I like them. There’s something badass about a tattoo, right?”
Dyson chuckled. “Not all tattoos.” The hard-ass look came back to his face. “But I always wondered—could I make a My Little Pony tattoo look badass?”
“More like a My Little Pony tat would make you look hardcore. Especially if it was on your face. Who would fuck with a guy with a cartoon pony on his grill?”
They both laughed over that absurdity.
Adam was very aware of the other man, standing so close to him. He liked the rough, deep sound of the other man’s laughter. He loved that smile that was so rare at first, but now Adam was seeing far more of it. He admired Dyson. He wanted him as a friend…and he wanted a whole lot more than that. Because he still desired the man so much it actually ached inside him like a hunger.
Standing here in the cold breeze but the heat behind them, with the pretty expanse of the city stretching out around them, Adam suddenly felt wild. He felt reckless. He felt almost drunk, but it certainly wasn’t the glass of wine. It was definitely the company.
He was irresistibly drawn to Dyson. He was tired of fighting it. All the attraction and desire he’d been struggling with since the moment he’d first laid eyes on the bodyguard only seemed to grow more powerful. They seemed to share a bond that had steadily grown stronger since the night at the club. The night when Dyson had saved him from serious burns and a lot of pain.
What wasn’t there to like about Dyson? The man was strong. He was dedicated, determined, fearless, and protective. He was gay and not afraid to admit it. His smile turned those fierce eyes warm and inviting. And there was nothing Adam wanted more than to touch him, to kiss him…
Then Adam lost his mind. There was no other reason for what he did. It was crazy. It was risky beyond belief.
It put everything in danger.
What he did was slip his arm around Dyson’s waist, and as Dyson turned toward him, Adam leaned in and claimed the other man’s lips with a fierce kiss. He pressed his body up against Dyson’s, his heart thudding hard and fast in his chest.
Dyson tensed against him for a second, caught off guard by Adam’s sudden kiss.
But there was no going back now. Adam had gambled everything. His career. His life. Everything he had.
He’d gambled it all on a kiss.
That was why his heart leaped with joy when he felt Dyson kiss him back, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss even more.
He lost himself in the moment. He had no choice. If he’d just gambled and lost and ruined everything, then these few precious seconds would be all the happiness he had before the fallout.
His heart was pounding so fast it was as if he’d just sprinted into the end zone through a gap in the defensive line. Dyson’s body felt wonderful against his. Touching him felt wonderful in a way he’d ached for, yearned after, for such a very long time.
Finally, he drew back, opening his eyes. Excitement and fear filled him. He didn’t know how this would go, but he hoped with all his heart that he’d made the right play.
Dyson was staring at him. His expression was unreadable. And when he spoke, his words were blunt.
“What the hell was that, Collins?”
Shit. His heart sank, those raw words tearing him down, telling him he’d made a terrible mistake.
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t get the words out.
Dyson’s eyes turned intense. “You’re bi?”
“No,” he finally managed to say. He took a deep breath, but he still couldn’t speak the truth. Furious with himself, he reached down and found some inner reserve of strength. He pushed the words out through sheer force of will. “I’m gay.”
Dyson glared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You heard me.”
He couldn’t say it again. It had taken every bit of courage and strength he had to say it the first time.
“Yeah, I did hear you. I just don’t fucking believe it.” Dyson’s eyes flashed angrily. “I met your latest ex-girlfriend. There are plenty of stories of you as a notorious womanizer. So I’m not buying it.”
“Why would I kiss you if I wasn’t what I just said I was?”
“You mean gay? Then say it.”
Damn him. What the hell was wrong with Dyson? Why was he making this difficult for him?
But he was angry enough now to push past whatever had been holding him back. “I mean gay. I said it. Happy?”
“Not even close.”
“What’s your problem then? You kissed me back. I felt it.”
Dyson shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“If what you’re saying is true, then you’ve been hiding it from everyone.”
“So what? It’s not their fucking business.”
“You’ve been hiding it from yourself. Getting all the advantages of people thinking you’re straight and none of the bullshit, ugly names, and discrimination that gay men who are out have to deal with every day.”
Adam stepped back, anger and outrage smoldering inside him. And shame. He was ashamed that he’d taken this gamble and it had bitten him right on the ass. He should’ve known. He should’ve kept this secret.
Why had he believed Dyson would understand? Why did he think Dyson would care? He didn’t know what it was like for Adam. He had no damn idea.
He had never seen Dyson this furious. Not even when that bastard with the acid had tried to maim him and had ended up burning his arm in the struggle. Not even then.
“You don’t get it,” Adam said, fists clenched, and adrenaline surging through his body. His stomach was unsettled, all that rich food churning inside him. He felt as if he’d swallowed a rock as big as a baseball and he wouldn’t be able to keep it down. “I have millions of eyes on me. I train hard. I play hard. I’m not giving up everything I’ve struggled to earn because some bigots hate gays.”
“Is that all that matters? Your fame? What other people think of you?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth—”
But Dyson kept right on speaking. “What strangers think of you? That’s why you go through women like tissues? Do they catch on that you don’t enjoy the sex? Is that it? What, do you use Viagra or something to get it up because they don’t do it for you? Then you ditch them when they start to figure out that you’re always going for the ass?”
“You fucking son of a bitch.” He was seething with anger. So angry he could barely speak. And pain. Pain stabbing deep into him. “We’re one game away from making the playoffs this season. One. Game. I won’t let anything stop that. Certainly not some distraction or media circus stirred up about my sexuality. So don’t stand on your soapbox with me. I can’t fucking believe I decided to trust you.”
“I can’t fucking believe a sports hero to millions is nothing but a two-faced liar and a fake, selling out his own team. And I don’t mean the Razorbacks either. I mean every gay man who has suffered because of his desires. That’s the team you sold out.”
“Get out,” Adam growled. His voice was low and filled with menace. “Take your shit and go.”
Dyson finally paused, a flicker of uncertainly suddenly showing in those dark eyes that had been so outraged. “I’m still hired by Macklin to keep you safe. There’s a contract—”
“You can shove that contract up your ass. You sleep somewhere else, and you stay the fuck out of my place. I’ll text you when I leave. You can follow in your truck. Don’t say a damn word to me. When this season ends, we’re through.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and left Dyson on the balcony, expecting him to obey. It would be a hell of a mess if he had to call the cops to get Dyson out of his condo. But he wouldn’t hesitate if it came to that.
Adam could feel the other man’s gaze on him, burning into his back. He didn’t look behind him. He’d wasted enough time and energy on Dyson Drake. Not only that, but he’d made a horrible miscalculation. He’d let his own lust cloud his judgment. He’d been so desperate to be with a man again, he’d thrown himself at the first gay guy around.
It was humiliating. And if Dyson ran his mouth about it, the truth would ruin him.
He shoved his way inside and headed for his room, desperate to take a shower and wash some of the shame off.
CHAPTER NINE
DYSON
Shit.
That word summed it all up nicely.
Dyson shoved everything into his suitcase, zipped it up, and carried it toward the door. Adam was nowhere to be seen, but the air felt heavy with anger and pain.
It was pain that he’d caused. But he’d been so furious when he’d found out the depth of the lie Collins had been living.
He took one last look behind him and headed for the door. He’d get a hotel room nearby. He’d wait for Collins to text him when he had to go to team practice. He’d still do his job, but from farther away now. Looked like the friendly days were done. He’d be riding in his own vehicle again. No more high-powered sports cars for this Ohio boy.
Dyson walked along the top floor corridor toward the private elevator leading to the parking garage. He pushed the button and waited. His reflection stared back at him from the metal doors polished to a reflective sheen.
He wasn’t too pleased with the judgmental prick staring back at him right now. The guy looked like a hard-ass. Tattoos. Goatee. Shaved head. Big. Ugly. A real bastard.
He’d lost control of his mouth. It didn’t happen often. But that didn’t excuse it. It had been the damned kiss. It had surprised him. And it had stirred him, too. Because, damn it, he had been attracted to Adam all along.
But then all the implications had crashed home. Adam Collins had been lying to him. He’d let Dyson go out on a limb and talk about his sexuality, all while keeping his secrets.
So what? Every man has secrets. Even you have secrets, you fucking hypocrite. He barely even knows you. Why should he pour his heart out to you five minutes after meeting you?
Yeah, but he had saved the guy’s life. And Dyson had shared the same intimate detail. So was it wrong to expect a little in return?
Shit. Yeah, maybe it was. He hadn’t shown a bit of empathy. Hell, he knew how hard it was coming out to the world. Hadn’t his parents and a few of his “friends” turned their backs on him?
So he knew the risks. He knew all the reasons to live a lie.
But he’d been quick to judge because he hated hypocrites and liars. Not only that, but he’d… Hell, he’d liked Collins. Yeah, he’d lusted after the guy. And yeah, he’d respected the guy. Especially how good he was with his fans.
Not to mention how Collins had kept himself together during the attack. His quick actions had saved Dyson from being burned even more badly. Especially before Dyson had realized the exact danger of the attack.
So the whole ugly scene left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Dyson didn’t want to leave. The realization hit him like a punch. Even when the elevator arrived and the doors opened, he only stood there staring at the empty elevator and didn’t step inside.
The doors closed again.
What was he doing? Was he seriously thinking about going back to Collins? After Dyson had practically grabbed the man by the neck and rubbed his face in the fact that he was still in the closet?
Yeah. Even after that. Because he needed to make this right.
He needed to apologize for the way he’d acted. He’d come off as an aggressive asshole, and that was on him, not Collins.
Adam had been angry, but Dyson knew that anger was over for the hurt he’d felt. Suddenly, Dyson felt his own hurt—an ache deep down—knowing that he’d had a chance to be a decent human being…and he’d fucked it up.
No other words for it. It was as simple as that.
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Adam was playing a dangerous game, and Dyson should’ve been on his side. In his way, he’d reached out to Dyson, probably because he’d been so forthcoming about who and what he was. And then Dyson had turned all high and mighty and kicked everything back in the other man’s teeth.
He felt like shit.
He deserved to feel that way.
His mind made up, he turned on his heel and walked back down the luxurious hallway. He still knew the code to the front door and entered it. He pushed his way inside.
No sign of Adam in the expansive great room. He turned his attention to the glass doors to the balcony. It was dark out, of course, but he didn’t see Adam’s silhouette on the balcony.
Then he heard the clink of glass against glass from the big kitchen around the corner from the great room. He put his suitcase down by the door in case this half-assed attempt to make things right blew up in his face. Then he followed the sound into the kitchen.
Adam was pouring himself a shot of Jim Beam into a clear glass. No fancy, expensive scotch whisky, just straight Jim Beam.
Damn. So Dyson’s words had really gotten under the guy’s armor. It made Dyson feel like he’d kicked himself in the balls.
Adam saw him and froze. Then his eyes narrowed, and he slammed the bottle down on the counter. His words were ice.
“I told you to get out.”
“I needed to come back.”
“I’ll call the cops, and I will have your ass tossed out of here.”
Dyson took a deep breath. He was no longer angry. Not the way he had been shocked and furious after Adam had kissed him. Yeah, he still felt like a real asshole for reacting the way he did. Yeah, he had issues with liars and hypocrites and all of that. On top of that, he’d told Adam exactly that before any of this had happened.
And still, Adam had taken a chance on the kiss. The man had made himself extremely vulnerable. Especially given the huge lies he was hiding behind.