by Marie Sexton
The implications of what was happening finally hit me. I took a deep breath and said, “No, there’s nobody in the bedroom. How can you even ask that? I’m tutoring them.”
Jameson opened his mouth to say something, and I could tell it was going to be something sarcastic, when Matt jumped in.
“Jared.” I could tell by his face that he hated saying it. “We got a call from one of the moms.” I heard Aiden groan. “She was worried about her kid spending so much time here. She asked us to check it out. We’re required to respond, even when we know it’s bullshit.” He glared at Jameson. “And it is bullshit, just like I told you it would be.”
Jameson smirked, ignoring him. “Don’t you need permission from the parents to have these kids here?”
“No. Why would I?” My jaw was clenched so tight, it was a miracle he could understand me. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“I know,” Matt said, finally meeting my eyes. Jameson snorted. Matt threw him a dirty look before turning back to me. He put his hand on my elbow. “Jared, trust me. I know. I know you’d never do anything inappropriate. But like I said, we’re required to follow up.” He seemed to realize he was touching me, right there, for the world to see. He cleared his throat and took a step back. “But this mom, she was pretty upset. She’s been making calls to some of the other parents. I’m sorry.” His glanced over at the kids. “I think it might be best if you had them go home.”
“This is bullshit,” Ringo snapped, jumping to his feet. “Jared’s the only one who’s been able to teach us this stuff. You can’t make us leave.”
Jameson turned on him. “Look, kid—”
“Stop!” I said. Amazingly, he did, and everybody looked at me. I turned to Jameson. “This is my house, and you have no right to come in here like this. I’m not doing anything wrong, and I’d like you to leave. Right now.” I looked at Matt and said, “Both of you.” Matt flinched and looked away.
Jameson opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn’t done. I turned to the students. “I certainly don’t want anybody thinking I’m corrupting their kids.” I tried not to sound too sarcastic when I said that. “I think the officer is right. You should all go home.”
This was met by loud protests from the kids, mainly voiced in the form of obscenities.
“Jared, you can’t quit teaching us now. We need your help,” Ringo said. “Since you started helping us, we’re all passing.”
One of the other boys jumped in. “Yeah. This is the first year I’ve been able to keep playing football. Every other year, my math grades are too low for eligibility.”
“Listen, I’ll keep teaching—”
“Sir, I don’t think—” Jameson tried to cut in, but I just raised my voice and talked over him.
“—but anybody who comes back, you need to bring a note from your parents saying it’s okay. Tell the others too. And I know your handwriting, so don’t try to forge it.”
Everybody looked relieved at that except Aiden. There didn’t seem to be much I could do about that, though.
The kids finally left, and Jameson headed for the car, but Matt hung back.
He watched warily as I gathered up dirty paper plates and empty pop cans, doing my best not to look at him. “Jared, I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t do anything inappropriate.” I didn’t say anything. Whatever anger I’d started with was gone. Now, I just felt embarrassed and resentful. “This is why, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. “This is why you aren’t teaching? It’s not really about the shop at all.”
“Yes.” And I hated how defeated I sounded when I said it.
“I don’t think you should let this stop you. It’s just one mom—”
“Stop.” I didn’t want to talk to him about it. Not now, with everything else lying unfinished between us. I looked up at him and said with more venom than I felt, “Will that be all, Officer Richards?”
I could tell it hurt him, but I didn’t care. He turned away. “That’s all.”
I resisted the urge to slam the door behind him.
Chapter 19
ON THURSDAY, most of my students came back with permission slips. A few of the parents had even written encouraging notes, telling me they trusted me and that they appreciated what I was doing for their kids. It made me feel better, and after that the tutoring sessions resumed without incident.
A few days later, Cole called. We’d been friends since college. Sometimes he called or emailed almost daily. Other times I’d go months without hearing from him as he gallivanted across Europe or Asia or some other continent I’d probably never see. No matter which way it went, I was always happy to hear from him.
“Hey, Sweets. Are you lonely tonight?” Cole always talked in a flirty, flamboyant, lilting voice, and he never called anybody by name.
“We’ll both be lonely tonight if you call me that again.” I knew he wouldn’t listen.
“Don’t be such a killjoy.”
“Are you in Vail? The slopes aren’t even open yet, are they?”
“I’m at the Denver airport. Just passing through, Sweets. I thought I could head your way for the night, though. That is, if you’re feeling accommodating.”
Maybe I should have said no, but why would I? I knew Matt wasn’t celibate in his relationship with Cherie, and I certainly didn’t owe him anything on that front. Plus, I don’t get that many opportunities. There was no telling when Cole would call again—maybe as soon as next month, maybe not until next year. And the thought of the months stretching out ahead of me with no company but my own hand decided it for me.
“Your timing couldn’t be better.”
THREE HOURS later, Cole blew into my house like a whirlwind. Which was par for the course with him.
“Good Lord, the traffic from the airport was a mess.” He shoved a bottle of wine into my hands long enough to shed his coat. “I always think I’ll escape it, coming to the backwoods of Colorado, but it follows me here.” Cole is shorter than me, whip thin, boyishly cute with dark hair artfully cut to hang in his eyes. He did the kissy-cheek thing—he spent way too much time in France—before stepping back to look at me. He grinned, suddenly flirtatious. “My goodness, Sweets. I don’t know how you do it. You’re the only person I know who looks better now than he did in college.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“I’m willing to bet otherwise.” He took the wine and headed for the kitchen. “Tell me you still have a corkscrew around here somewhere.”
“The one you brought with you last time, but I have no idea where it is.”
He rolled his eyes at me. “You’re dreadfully uncivilized.” He began digging through the drawers. “Do you have Thai delivery here yet, or are we stuck with pizza?”
“Uh… I think the pizza place also delivers wings.”
He shuddered as if I’d suggested we dig up worms for dinner. “Good Lord, it’s like I died and woke up in 1952.”
I ordered the pizza, Cole having resigned himself to something that wasn’t artisan or hip. While we waited, he told me about his latest travels. He’d inherited what must have been an exorbitant amount of money from his father, and he’d never been able to stay in one place for long. Paris, Florence, Prague, a few places I hadn’t heard of and wouldn’t have been able to find on a map to save my life. And in each place, a casual lover to spend his time with. He’d long since given up on commitment. I didn’t bother asking if there was anyone special. There hadn’t been in years.
“Only you, Jared,” he always said. “You’re all the ‘special’ I need.”
Dinner arrived, and we settled on the couch—me with a beer, him with a glass of wine that probably cost a stupid amount of money. We sat close out of habit, turned toward each other, only a foot of space between us. In many ways, these moments together felt like the most intimate part of our relationship. The sex, as I’d told Matt so long ago, was just gravy.
“You’ve hardly smiled since I got here.” Cole had a way of getting right to the heart
of the matter, every time. “Tell me what’s got you down?”
In general, I’m not the type of guy to sit around moaning about my feelings, even after a few drinks. But Cole and I had always understood each other. Before I knew it, I was telling him everything. Matt. Camping. My birthday.
The weeks of loneliness since he’d left.
We’d finished our pizza by the time I finished telling my sad tale.
“Closet door shut tight, then?” Cole asked, when I was done.
“And dead-bolted.”
He shook his head. “Denial is a powerful thing.” He sat back, studying me over the rim of his wineglass. “You’re not even angry, are you? Most people would be, but you’ve already forgiven him.”
I had to think about that. He was right. I wasn’t angry. I never had been. Hurt, maybe, and lonely as hell. But anger? No.
“It’s not like we were lovers,” I said. “If he’d called the next day and said he was drunk and hadn’t meant it or didn’t remember it… I would have been okay with it. I would have let him pretend it never happened. What happened that night means less to me than how we move forward.” I shook my head, frustrated at my inability to explain it. “It’s like with you and me. We’re friends first and foremost, right? The sex is secondary.”
He squeezed my hand. “Always.”
“I guess that’s how I feel about this too. He was my friend. The best friend I have in this shitty little town. Just about the only one, outside of Lizzy and Brian.”
He nodded. “That’s what you miss the most.”
I sighed, more miserable now than ever. “Yes.”
He set his drink on the coffee table. “I’d like to tell you it’ll all work out. But in my experience, it never does. Love and romance are pretty lies we tell ourselves, but real life doesn’t come with happily ever afters.”
Somehow, despite everything, Cole always made me laugh. “Wow. Was that supposed to be a pep talk? Because I have to tell you, your bedside manner sucks.”
He grinned, turning flirtatious once again. “Bedside just isn’t my forte. It’s what happens in the bed that counts.” He stood up and held his hand out to me. “Come on. Let me show you what I mean.”
I was happy to let him distract me.
BY THE time I got up the next morning, he was already dressed. I found him in the kitchen, staring mournfully into my refrigerator.
“Good Lord, Sweets. Nothing but mustard and beer. How do you even survive?”
“A lot of pizza delivery.” I yawned. “I should take you out for breakfast.”
“You should, but you won’t. I know you.” He shut the fridge and turned to pierce me with a withering stare. “God forbid anybody in this town find out you get laid once in a while.”
“I just don’t want to give them reason to talk.”
“Why live here at all if you can’t be out?”
“I’m out. I’m just… cautious.” It was an old argument and one we never pursued far. “Cole, please—”
“Whatever.” He waved away my excuses. “I’ll wait here while you run out and get something. And don’t even think about bringing me a donut. I want a—”
“A cinnamon bagel with low-fat cream cheese and a vanilla latte. I know.” I kissed his cheek—a peace offering, which he accepted with a tilt of his head. “Just give me five minutes to shower first.”
Just as I stepped out of the shower, I heard a knock on the door, and my heart sank. I knew it was Matt—anybody else would use the doorbell. I struggled to get my sweats back on and get out there, although I had no idea how I was going to handle the situation when I did.
I heard the door open.
“Well, hello, officer!” Cole said. “If I’d known we had company coming, I wouldn’t have gotten dressed so fast.”
Oh shit.
I made it into the living room, pants on but with my hair dripping wet, just in time to hear Matt say, “So. You must be Cole.”
“Well. My reputation precedes me. I’m flattered.” Cole threw a wink over his shoulder at me. “And you are…?”
Matt just stood there. He was in full uniform, and I’d never seen him look so angry. He glared at Cole like he was some kind of bug and he couldn’t decide whether to put him outside or just step on him. But Cole is not the type to be intimidated. If anything, he uses his flamboyance as a type of shield, a way to thumb his nose at people who look down on him. I watched him do it now. He put his hand on his hip, cocked it out a bit, looked flirtatiously up at Matt through his bangs, and even batted his lashes a little. “Is there a problem, officer?”
Matt’s cheeks started to flush, but I didn’t know if it was embarrassment or anger. He was completely still and silent. When it became obvious he wasn’t going to answer Cole, I spoke up.
“Cole, this is Matt.”
Cole’s eyes went a little wide, and then he was instantly in motion. “Okay, Sweets, it’s obviously time for me to be on my way. Give me one second.” Matt and I stood there, arms crossed, watching each other warily while Cole bustled around gathering up his jacket and keys. He stopped next to me and put an arm around my waist. He leaned in to nuzzle my neck, and I tilted my head a little to give him better access. Matt went stone-cold rigid. I was still annoyed enough over the tutoring incident to take a little bit of pleasure in making him uncomfortable.
“An absolute pleasure, as always, Sweets. I’ll give you a call next time I’m in the area.” He intentionally said it loud enough for Matt to hear but then whispered in my ear, “Go get him, Jared,” before kissing me on the cheek and heading for the door.
Matt and I stood there a little longer after he was gone, waiting to see who would speak first. It turned out to be him.
“I didn’t expect you to have company.”
“Obviously.” All this time, I’d been hoping to see him, hoping he’d call, hoping he’d knock on my door just like he had this morning, and yet now that he was here, all I could see was the judgment in his eyes. I turned away from him, went around the counter into the kitchen, and started making coffee.
“What is it, Matt? Did you come here to talk or to tell me how disgusted you are by my lifestyle? Or maybe to make sure I’m not tutoring kids in my bedroom?”
“Of course not. I wanted to see you. But, I didn’t expect—” He stopped, struggling to find the right words, struggling to get his rage back under control. “I didn’t expect him. I didn’t expect to find you with somebody else!”
“Why not, Matt? Why shouldn’t I be with somebody else?”
“Do you love him?”
It was a question I hadn’t expected. I countered with one of my own. “Do you love Cherie?”
“No.”
A flat, honest answer. I tried to hang on to my anger, because I knew if it left, I’d only feel dirty and depressed. “No. I don’t love Cole. You know that. If I had things my way, it would’ve been you in my bed last night. Last night and every night. But you’ve made it quite clear you want nothing to do with me.”
He glared at the wall about a foot above my head, and I knew he was struggling. He was angry and hurt and embarrassed, and I was pretty sure he was at least a little bit jealous too.
“I love only you,” I said. “But if you expect me to apologize for going on with my life after you walked out of it without a backward glance, you can go to hell.”
He stood there another second, still not looking at me. Finally, he said, “I think I should go.”
“I think you should too.”
THE NEXT evening, he was back. He knocked, and when I opened the door, he was there, leaning against the doorframe with a six-pack in one hand. He looked haggard, and embarrassed, and scared to death.
“You look like hell.”
A hint of a smile flickered on his face and was gone. “Are you alone?” I was glad to hear there was no judgment in his voice. He was simply trying to let me establish a boundary if I wanted to.
“I am.”
He sighed. “Can w
e try this again, please? Last time didn’t really go the way I planned.”
And any anger or resentment I still had over those last unfortunate visits vanished. I was just glad he’d come back. “Of course.”
“I heard about the baby,” he told me as he came in. “I guess you’re Uncle Jarhead now?”
I laughed, probably louder than I should have.
He went in the kitchen to put the beer away, came back out with two open ones, and handed one to me. And then there was a moment when we both just stood there.
For my part, I couldn’t get enough of looking at him, and it was all I could do not to throw my arms around him and hug him. It wasn’t a romantic urge. Sure, I was crazy about him, but we hadn’t been lovers. We were friends. And it was losing that which had hurt the most. Just having him walk back through my door—without the thunderclouds raging in his eyes, like last time—made me feel like I could breathe for the first time in weeks.
For his part, he looked scared out of his wits. His eyes flitted around the room, taking in everything but me. “Thanks for letting me in.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He resorted to staring at the floor. “You have every right to be mad at me.”
“Maybe so,” I admitted. “But I don’t think I am.” I just wanted somebody to watch football with again, as stupid as it sounded. “It’s really good to see you, actually.”
He finally risked a glance at my face, as if he needed to confirm that I wasn’t lying. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning like a fool.
He sighed with relief and clapped me on the back so hard, I staggered a little bit. “Let’s go sit down.”
So we took our usual spots, me on one end of the couch, him on the other, like we had a million times before. It felt so familiar. He leaned back with a sigh and sat there with his head back and his eyes closed. He was still wound up tight, but he seemed glad to be here.
“So how did you hear about the baby?”