by Wyatt King
I roll over onto my side, kicking away the constricting bed sheets. It’s too hot in this room, and I’ve long since given up on getting any sleep tonight. I reach for my phone, wincing as I see how many calls I’ve missed.
No, not missed.
Ignored.
But it’s for the best, right? Surely Garrick can see that. He has to know that it was never going to be as easy as he made it sound. It was always going to be complicated.
Too complicated.
Too much like losing for a man who is so used to winning.
My phone vibrates in my hand, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s Garrick again, of course, and it breaks my heart all over again that I have to ignore him.
Except instead of pressing the button to end the call, I swipe to accept it. He’s on the other end of the line saying my name, and it’s suddenly way too hard to pretend that I don’t want to talk to him.
“You can’t call here,” I say, doing my best to stay strong even though it feels like I’m dying inside. “I can’t… can’t do this.”
“Dusty, baby…” His voice is urgent and raw with emotion. “I swear we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just need to know that you’re okay.”
“I am,” I say, nodding even though he can’t see me. “I am okay,” I repeat, hoping that he’ll believe me if I say it again. Hoping that I’ll start to believe it, too.
“If I did something to make you leave, I’m so sorry,” he says, making my eyes instantly well up with tears. “Just tell me what it is, beautiful. Tell me what I can do to make things right. Anything, and I’ll do it. I’ll move mountains. Whatever it takes.”
It sounds too good to be true, but I know he means every word. And that’s the problem. He will do anything to make it right, even if it means his business and reputation have to suffer for it.
I can’t let that happen.
God, I want to believe that it can all be okay. I want to run to him, to let him take care of me, to just let go and trust that he knows what he’s getting into.
But I just… can’t.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. “You’ve been… amazing.” God, please don’t let me start crying now. Please, please, please let me hold it together for just a few more minutes. “But what we want isn’t realistic. I just… please don’t call again, Garrick. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.”
“If that’s really what you want, you’ll never hear from me again.” He pauses for a moment, then continues—ripping my heart out more and more with each word. “But I have to know it’s what you want. I have to know this is coming from you. Tell me that’s really how you feel—that you really don’t want to talk to me again. I just have to know that you’re doing this for you. If that’s the case—if that’s the truth—I promise you I’ll leave you alone for good.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
Not even a whisper.
What am I going to say?
It isn’t what I want—it’s the last damn thing I want—but why can’t he understand it’s what we both need?
Why do I have to say the words out loud?
I can’t.
I won’t.
So I simply hang up instead, then turn my phone off completely. I won’t lie to him, but I can’t let him sacrifice everything for me. If he can’t see it, I’ll just have to make the decision for both of us.
Up until now, I’ve been letting him take care of me, but despite how my dad’s been treating me—despite anything Garrick might think, too—I’m not a child. I can do this if I have to, for him.
Because I love him.
I set my phone aside again as the tears finally start rolling down my cheeks. I don’t even try to stop them this time—in fact, I welcome the tears.
At least it feels like my heart and my brain can finally agree on something—that whatever I might have had with Garrick is over.
Tomorrow, I can start to put him behind me.
But tonight I just want to mourn what we might have had. Tonight, I just want to cry myself to sleep.
11
Garrick
I’m not sure how I’ve made it through this day.
Going to the office was the last thing I wanted to do this morning, but what was the alternative?
Taking another day off to wallow in self-pity?
That’s never been my style. And I can’t see how it would make things any better.
But I can’t stop thinking about him, either.
I don’t want to stop thinking about him. I just want to be with him.
And the worst part is, I know that he wants the same thing. I’ve seen it in his eyes and I’ve heard it in his voice. He wants me just as badly as I want him.
We can be so good together, if he’ll just give me a chance.
I turn my attention to the computer screen in front of me, trying for the hundredth time to make sense of the numbers there.
Nope.
Fuck it.
I check my phone—also for the hundredth time today—and can’t stop myself from frowning. I’ve been hoping all day that Dusty would call, especially after he hung up on me last night.
It took every ounce of willpower I have not to call him back immediately then, and it’s killing me now that I can’t just dial his number and at least check on him. I just want to hear his voice and to know that this is really what’s going to make him happy.
He couldn’t say the words last night when I asked, but what does that mean?
Was it because he doesn’t really feel that way? Or did the pressure of the moment get to him?
I don’t know for sure, and I need to know.
I have to know.
Fuck it.
Fuck this not knowing anything… fuck all of this.
I push myself back from the desk and stand up. I don’t know where I’m going, exactly, but I know I can’t stay here.
And I sure as hell can’t go home to that empty house alone.
So yeah… fuck it. I guess I do know where I’m going—the same place I should have gone from the very beginning.
I’m going to talk to Dusty.
In person.
Face to face.
And I don’t care if I have to go through his dad to get to him.
If there’s even half a chance of getting him back, it’s one hundred percent worth whatever awkward conversation—or fight—that might happen at his front door.
Whatever is going to happen, I know this much for sure: I want him. He wants me. We need to be together.
Now I just have to make him see that it can work.
12
Dusty
I’m not sure which is worse, feeling like a prisoner in my bedroom or trying to mentally prepare for leaving my room and facing off with my father.
It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I hung up on Garrick, but it feels like a lifetime has passed.
The only times I’ve stopped crying have been when I’ve passed out for a couple of hours, only to wake back up and start the process all over again.
This is supposed to be for the best, right?
Shouldn’t I at least have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve done the right thing? The responsible thing?
Why, then, do I feel like shit? Why do I feel like I might have made the biggest mistake of my life?
“Dustin,” my dad yells from downstairs. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Get down here.”
“Coming,” I answer, holding back an eye-roll and a sigh at the same time. “Just give me a… a second.”
Okay, maybe I didn’t hold in that sigh, after all.
I don’t know what he wants to talk to me about—okay, so maybe that’s a lie, too. I do know what he wants to talk to me about… I just don’t know why he wants to do it now.
And I also know for sure that I’m not ready.
Not ready to talk about Garrick.
Or my feelings.
Or what my pla
ns are now that he’s out of the picture.
I don’t even want to think about those things right now, but the conversation is coming whether I’m ready or not. My dad never makes dinner for me—usually I’m the one who does any cooking for the two of us—and the timing is just too suspicious for me to think this meal is coming from the goodness of his heart.
He wants information, and he’s going to expect me to give it to him.
I dash my hands across my cheeks and look into the mirror.
Yep, still a hot mess.
But I’ve got to get it together, because going downstairs looking like death warmed over is only going to make things worse for me.
If I can just pretend like I’m okay, like everything is okay, then maybe he’ll just… just…
The sound of the doorbell startles me out of my thoughts, and I catch my breath as the very first thought that jumps into my head is that it must be…
Garrick.
But no.
It can’t be him.
Can it?
He hasn’t called or sent a text or a smoke signal or anything since I hung up on him. Would he really show up unannounced at my door—at my dad’s door—just to talk to me again?
Oh no.
I’m already out my bedroom door and hurrying down the stairs because yeah, that sounds exactly like something Garrick would do.
And if I don’t get to the door before my dad does, there will be hell to pay—for me and for Garrick.
“I’ll get it, Dad,” I call out, breathless as I reach the foot of the stairs. “It’s probably just a—”
My voice dies in my throat with a strangled little sound as I round the corner into the living room, just within sight of the front door. Dad is already there, already reaching for the door handle and already muttering about dinner being interrupted.
No.
No no no.
Please, please no.
Please, God, just let it be a vacuum cleaner salesman or a little girl selling cookies. Anything, anyone but Garrick.
“Garrick,” my dad’s voice sounds as surprised as I feel—and also makes my stomach fall to the floor as I freeze in place. “What the fuck are you—”
“I’m here to see Dusty,” Garrick cuts Dad off, looking past him and scanning the room until he sees me. I can feel it the moment his eyes settle on me. It’s like an electric jolt surges through my body. “Dusty, I need to talk to you. Just for a few minutes, please.”
For a moment, it’s like my father isn’t even standing there. Garrick is talking past him, looking through him, and I’m stepping closer to him even though I don’t remember making the conscious decision to move.
“Yes,” I say, nodding. It’s the only word that comes to mind, the only word I want to say.
My father’s head whips around, pinning me with a hard, angry look that stops me in my tracks all over again.
“Dustin, go back to your room.” My dad stabs his finger back in the direction of the stairs I’ve just come down. “You’re not going to talk to him. Not now, not ever. I forbid it.”
“Dusty, don’t move,” Garrick calls out, overriding my dad’s demand and making me feel like a deer caught in headlights.
The last thing I want is for Garrick to get hurt trying to get to me. I’ve never considered my dad to be a fighter, but judging from the way his face has contorted into a furious mask? I wouldn’t put it past him right now.
“Brian,” Garrick says, turning his attention back to my dad. “Listen to me—please just listen for the first time in your life. I want to talk to Dusty, but I want to talk to you, too. I want to make this right between the three of us.”
“No,” dad shakes his head. “You can’t make this right. It’s gone too far. You’ve gone too far. You need to leave. Now.”
“I’m not leaving without Dusty,” Garrick says, making my heart leap into my throat. “So we can either do this the easy way or the hard way. I’d prefer if we handle this like adults, but I’m not above doing whatever needs to be done.”
“How dare you threaten me in my own home.” My dad’s fists clench and I know I need to do something before this turns ugly.
I just don’t know what.
“Dad wait,” I say, placing a hand on his arm. It feels like every muscle there is tense, ready to spring into action. This is bad, but it doesn’t have to get worse. “Don’t do this. Listen, please. He wants to talk. I want to talk.”
My dad’s eyes flick from Garrick to me, then back again. I can tell that he’s hearing me… sort of. But he’s still not listening.
I have to do more.
And I have to do it quickly.
“I love Garrick,” I blurt out, grabbing onto the first thing that might actually get through to him. Then, realizing what I’ve just said, I say it again, this time directly to Garrick. “I… I love you. I love you.” I turn my attention back to my dad. “And Dad? I’m going with him. I want your blessing, but I don’t need it. Because he loves me, too. He needs me just like I need him.”
“It’s true,” Garrick adds. “I love him, Brian.” Then, to me, “I love you, too, Dusty. More than anything. It’s what I came here to tell you. I know you’re worried about things being complicated or about what other people might think…” He gives a pointed glance over to my dad. “But I don’t care about those things. I know what I want in life. I know what I need, and I know that I care about you. I just hope you’ll give me the chance to prove it. I promise I won’t let you down. Not ever.”
I move past my dad, and I’m sort of aware that he’s actually stepping aside to let me pass through the doorway. But what I’m mostly focused on is Garrick.
The way he’s looking at me. The glimmer of hope in his eyes that suddenly starts to spread across his face, lighting him up from within until he’s grinning, smiling, beaming at me as I close the remaining distance between us and fall into his arms.
And for the first time in the past few days, I feel like I’m home.
“Jesus, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, pulling me tight. The way his voice is heavy with emotion makes my eyes well up, and I know without a doubt that this is right. He was right. This is what I need—what we both need.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I say, meaning it. I look up into his eyes and melt against him all over again. “I’m sorry, I just… I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You don’t owe me an apology, beautiful,” he whispers, then kisses me so deeply that I forget where I’m at and what we’re doing. “But I don’t want you to feel like you ever need to leave me again. I love you, Dusty. I’ll take care of you if you’ll let me.”
Behind me, my dad clears his throat, and I feel my cheeks flush as I reluctantly tear my eyes away from Garrick. I have to admit that I forgot he was there for a few seconds, but his hard look brings me crashing back to reality.
This is my reality, though. It’s my life. My love.
“I love him, Dad,” I say, smiling again in spite of myself as I hear the words spill out of my mouth. “I love him and I’m going with him.”
For a moment, he doesn’t respond at all. He doesn’t move a muscle.
Then, he heaves a sigh and slowly shakes his head. “I can’t say I understand it,” Dad says, quietly. “I can’t even begin to think of what you two have in common, or—”
“You don’t have to understand it,” Garrick interrupts, his tone calm but firm. He’s not picking a fight this time, just stating a fact. And God, I love him even more for it. “You don’t even have to approve,” he continues. “But I think Dusty and I would both feel a lot better knowing you’re not going to try and make things difficult for us. I’m not trying to take him away from you, Brian. I just want to love him.”
“I don’t know if I should believe you,” my dad replies. “But… I do. I see the love between you. How can I argue with that? And even if I could, what good would it do?”
The smile that’s been plastered on my face grows even wider. “
Does that mean you’re okay with… with us?” I ask. “You won’t try to stop me from seeing Garrick?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I won’t try and stop you.” He looks at Garrick. “I hope you meant what you said just now—that you’re going to take care of him. I may not understand him, but he’s my son and I love him, too.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Garrick says. “I’ll prove myself to both of you every day if I have to. I want Dusty in my life, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t need you to prove yourself to me,” I say, turning my attention back to Garrick. “You’ve already got me, and I’m not going anywhere, either.”
“There isn’t much more for me to say, then,” my dad shrugs, sighing again. But I can see the corners of his mouth twitch in the tiniest hint of a smile. “Go. Both of you. I know you’ve got some catching up to do.”
It’s the closest thing to a blessing as I’m going to get today, I know that for sure. And as far as words of encouragement from my father go?
Yeah, that was basically a ringing endorsement.
For now, it’s more than enough.
I look up at Garrick and he’s smiling down at me. “Are you ready?” I ask.
“Let’s go home,” he answers, giving me another kiss before looking back to my dad. “And Brian? Thank you.”
My dad doesn’t answer, and I can only imagine there’s some kind of unspoken communication going on between the two men who have been friends for so long. Whatever the case, I take Garrick’s hand and don’t look back.
I’m ready to leave with the man I love.
Ready to go home.
Kissing Garrick like that in front of my dad was something I never thought I would have done. Just talking to my dad like that—telling my truth and being unapologetic about it—was a huge step for me.
But in the moment, I didn’t care. I couldn’t think of anything else.
And now? Now that we’re going to Garrick’s house—our house—together? As a couple?
Oh my God.
It’s been nearly impossible to keep from touching him during the car ride.