Accepting the Fall

by Meg Harding

  “How’d you get into teaching?” He stilled his fingers where they’d been fiddling with his fork. The question felt like a lifeline.

  Cole’s shoulders noticeably relaxed a notch. His hair shifted with the ocean breeze, becoming tousled on top. “I was getting my gen eds out of the way, and I took this communications class. One of the assignments was to go into a classroom and teach part of a lesson.” He smiled, soft and fond. “I loved it. They were so enthusiastic to learn, full of questions and they tried so hard to grasp the information. It was fun, and I felt useful.” He drew a random pattern over the tabletop with his pointer finger as he spoke. “How’d you end up in Florida of all places?”

  Pure luck, or maybe, Zander was starting to believe, fate. “I let Savanah pick. My place didn’t have room for the two of us. It was a bachelor pad through and through: fold out bed, one room, pretty minimal. I wasn’t particularly attached to anything, and I couldn’t stay there with her.” He hadn’t had a clue what to do with her, or what life outside the military looked like for him. He’d asked her where she wanted to go, and her little finger had landed solidly on Florida on the map. He hadn’t argued with the decision. Florida was at least warm—too warm, he was finding out.

  Cole’s eyebrows rose. “That’s brave. You could have ended up in Antarctica.”

  “I had veto power,” said Zander wryly. “No frozen tundra’s in my future.”

  Cole was, inch by slow inch, relaxing as they talked. “And St. Pete? How’d that come about?”

  It happened how most things did. “I knew a guy, who knew a guy.” Someone he’d served with briefly who had a brother-in-law at the station and the number of a few realtors.

  The waitress came by with their drinks, and they leaned back to give her space. Zander hadn’t realized they’d gravitated toward each other over the table until then. He wished they hadn’t been interrupted, already he could see a return of tension to Cole as their moment was broken.

  He tried to salvage the situation. “I’m curious, and be honest here, how crazy do the kids drive you? I can barely deal with my own. I can’t imagine managing a classroom full.”

  It worked. Cole’s smile was wide and open, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “They make me insane,” he said, laughing. He sat forward, elbows returning to their propped position on the tabletop. “I frequently want to rip all my hair out from frustration. Almost all my clothes are stained, and I’ve been scarred for life thrice over. But they’re not mine. At the end of the day, they go home. What I do can be difficult, but I’m not doing the truly hard stuff. I’m teaching them things anyone can learn. Their parents though, they’re teaching them morals and life lessons. They’re taking care of them full time.” His chin rested on his joined hands. “What you do with Savanah is far more complicated.”

  If by complicated Cole meant wild-guesses, then he was right. “You know, she adores you.” Sometimes he got the impression Savanah liked Cole more than him, and he had a hard time blaming her for it.

  Cole relaxed into his chair, leaning away but not tensing up. He waved his hand. “I’m fun, and I care. Kids know when that’s real, and they respond to it.” He cocked his head. “Did you ever find her a therapist?”

  Zander’s grimace was instinctive.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” Cole sighed, and Zander fought the urge to squirm like a schoolboy caught cheating on a test. “Why not?”

  Zander ducked his head, staring at the breadbasket. They hadn’t touched the rolls yet. He grabbed one and began buttering it. “She’s doing better, and she has me to talk to.” The kick to his shin had him wincing, and he glared at Cole. “What was that for?”

  “Getting help isn’t failure. Not looking into your options is. Give your daughter every available chance to be as mentally healthy as she is physically.” He wasn’t talking down to Zander. His tone was earnest, and much like he’d said a minute ago, he cared.

  Their food came then, before Zander could speak. When they were once more alone, he asked, tentatively, “Have you seen one?”

  Cole’s expression shuttered for a few seconds before clearing. “Yes. The University I went to offered free counseling.” He drizzled dressing over his salad. “We’ve gone and made the conversation all serious again. Tell me something light.”

  “Something light?”

  Cole nodded. “You’re a fireman. Tell me about all the hot firefighters you work with. Do they walk around shirtless? Do you guys play pranks?” He pulled his side platter of vegetables closer.

  Zander was all for veggies, but what was with the lack of meat? “I….” He registered Cole’s words. “I’m the hottest firefighter,” he said, instantly regretting it. Jealous much? His cheeks heated. God, Cole turned him into a moron. “We do pranks. So there was this one time….”

  They filled the moments between taking bites of their food with stories of work, purposely keeping things from drifting back to too personal ground. In their own way, this was playing catch-up. Zander listened to Cole talk about his volunteer work, and his students, and he couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like if he’d taken a chance on Cole at seventeen.

  It hit him, between a mouthful of Mahi-Mahi and Cole’s rendition of a craft day gone wrong, that if he had chosen Cole over his father’s expectations and his own fears, he wouldn’t have Savanah.

  His daughter wouldn’t exist.

  The realization sat like a lump in his chest, heavy and painful.

  “Zander? You all right?”

  He blinked, focusing on Cole’s concerned face. “I’m fine, yeah. Sorry.” He waved his fork and the chunk of fish on it. He didn’t want to think about a world without Savanah, and so he pushed that thought down. She was here, and could-have-beens were simply that: things that couldn’t happen now. “You were saying?”

  The food was long gone, the waitress had been dropping hints for a while now, and the clock was nearing ten before either of them were willing to call an end to the evening. They both tried to pay the bill, reaching for the check at the same time.

  “Let me,” said Zander.

  Cole acquiesced. “Look at you, Mr. Big Spender. Can I at least tip?”

  Zander rolled his eyes. Dinner and drinks hadn’t been cheap, but it wasn’t going to burn a hole in his pocket. “If it makes you happy.”

  “It does.” Cole pulled out his wallet. Beneath the table, their knees brushed, and then Cole’s leg was slotting against his. “This was… this was good.” He blushed prettily. “I’d like, that is, if you wanted to do this again—”

  Zander’s heart was in his throat. “Yes,” he blurted. Yes to whatever Cole wanted. There had been not so good moments during their dinner, but overall it had been fantastic, and Zander without a doubt still felt pulled to Cole like a magnet. “We could, uh, go back to mine?” he suggested, holding his breath.

  Cole’s beautiful eyes widened. The flush in his cheeks spread to the bridge of his nose. “I’m not, ah, not ready for that,” said Cole quietly. The warmth of his leg beside Zander’s disappeared as he retreated back into his own personal space. He wrung his fingers together. “I had a boyfriend. Recently. Like, really recently. It’s over now, but I don’t want to… rush into anything. I know we’re supposed to be pretending the past doesn’t exist tonight, but I can’t do that again with you. I can’t be all in from square one.”

  Zander yanked a shirt over his head—a worn thin Stones shirt which belonged to Cole. It was too small on him, straining around his biceps. “You think you do. You’re young, and I was your first. It’s understandable you got things confused.”

  Cole’s chest heaved. His eyes were watering, tears threatening to spill over. “Excuse me?” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “You’re a year older than me, Zander. Don’t play the age card. Don’t give me half-ass excuses. If anything, I think I know my feelings better than you know yours. Will you at least fucking look at me while you break my heart?”

  It to
ok a minute, one in which the room was filled with the sound of Cole’s harsh breathing, for Zander to turn. He made sure his expression was hard, the line of his lips thin and his eyes cold. “This isn’t my fault.”

  That’s all he said. That’s all he could say. His lungs felt like they were on fire. Cole gaped at him, and the tears finally fell, dragging tracks down his too pale cheeks. “You’re what… breaking up with me? But it’s not your fault?” His volume rose at the end, incredulity pitching it high.

  The memory was akin to acid on his brain. Zander barely contained a flinch. Cole not trusting him from the start this time was smart.

  Zander didn’t trust himself to not ruin it all again.

  “Yeah, no, I understand.” He smiled weakly. “Let me walk you to your car at least?”

  “Okay.”

  Zander pushed the boundaries, knocking their knuckles together as they walked, and his heart leapt when Cole’s fingers entwined with his. His hand was smaller than Zander’s, barely, and they fit together perfectly. It made warmth fizzle in his stomach. He’d never felt anything like this with anyone else.

  It had only ever been Cole.

  God he was fucked.

  Cole’s car was a newer model Toyota RAV4, big and shiny. “This your rental?” he asked as they came to a stop.

  “I bought it. I didn’t have the rental for too long.” He lightly tapped the hood with the fingers of his other hand. “It’s nicer than what I had, so you know, plus-side.”

  “I like it. It’s safer.” It was bigger than its predecessor, sitting higher up.

  “Good to know.” There was a smile in his voice, and their gazes met. “I told myself two feet all night.”

  Zander frowned. “Am I supposed to understand that?”

  “No.” Cole tilted his head, closing the distance between them, and their lips met. It was too fast, barely anything, and he was gone before Zander could even start to process the contact. His heart was going to jack rabbit out of his chest. Cole disentangled their hands, moving away and toward the driver door. “Good night, Zander.”

  Zander watched him go, rooted to the spot.

  Chapter 12

  Thanks to Cole’s hectic schedule and Zander’s own unusual one, there had to be a week between dates. They’d texted during that week, Cole finding it easier to talk to Zander when he could take however long he needed to give a response. They discussed the shows they were watching, the food they were eating, the traffic they sat through. It was all boring, ordinary details, but it was an easy and comfortable sharing of their lives at the time.

  Safe.

  Cole had chosen the second date—the rush of shock straight to his core every time he thought about what he was doing with Zander was simultaneously nauseating and exhilarating—after careful consideration. Marvel had a new film out, and Cole wanted to see it. The first date had been spent talking and reacquainting themselves. Cole had, until the end, maintained a careful distance from Zander. It was probably all in his head, but he swore his hand had felt oddly empty for several hours after they’d parted ways.

  Tonight he’d really test their physical boundaries. He figured the lack of opportunity to talk would be beneficial. He didn’t want to have to focus on a conversation while trying to maintain casual contact with Zander and keep from climbing into his lap and throwing his waiting decision out the window all at the same time.

  It had been hard enough not to do that at dinner, and they hadn’t even been touching until the end.

  How much of Cole’s judgment was being swayed by lust? He didn’t like the rush of feeling; the desire he could barely contain. He needed to have control.

  Acting on base instinct with Zander would do nothing but get him hurt.

  There was only one sure way he could think of to help with the incessant Zander related arousal. He had an hour before he needed to leave the house, and a shower had been on his to-do list anyway.

  He set the water to just the right side of too hot and efficiently stripped to nothing while it heated. He was already hard, his cock jutting up from the trimmed thatch of curls. He palmed himself slowly, a loose grip and glide, nothing more than a tease. It made his breath catch, anticipation causing him to shiver.

  He got under the water, letting it pound on his shoulder blades and gradually began to relax. He rolled his neck, wincing as it quietly cracked. Water beaded on his shoulders and rolled down his pecs. He turned into the spray, tilting his head to keep the stream from his face. His abdomen twitched, sensitive, to the touch of the hot spray. When his limbs were tingling and feeling like jelly, a dull red flushing his skin, he tweaked one nipple and then the other. The peaks hardened, and he hissed, low. He ran his palm down from there, nails scratching lightly at his skin as he went, until he could cup his cock.

  He squeezed, dragging his thumb over the head at the same time. His hips rocked forward of their own accord. He repeated the motion with his thumb, biting his lip to keep back the noise clawing its way up his throat. He closed his eyes, slipping his hand down to the base, holding tight.

  He imagined it was Zander there. Zander’s fingers around his base. Zander’s mouth around the tip of his cock. His other hand occupied with Cole’s balls, or maybe even his ass. He looked up at Cole from his lowered lashes, sultry and obscene with his lips spread wide around Cole. A moan. And then Zander bobbed, lips lowering to meet his hand. Droplets clung to Zander’s lashes, slid down his cheeks as he came back up. His hand twisted. The other cradled Cole’s balls, a finger pressing the oh-so-sensitive skin behind them.

  Cole bucked forward, and Zander took it. The movement drew a squelching sound, a small gag from Zander.

  “Sorry, sorry.” He touched Zander’s face, running his fingers over the fine bone structure in apology.

  Zander didn’t come up, instead he removed his hand from Cole’s cock and sunk down, taking him all the way in. His cheeks hollowed, his throat bobbed. It was so tight. So fucking hot and wet.

  Cole’s knees trembled, and he came with a cry.

  When he opened his eyes, he was alone in the shower, his semen washing away down the drain.

  Breathing erratic, Cole set about washing himself and trying to still his trembling. Every touch to his skin felt like too much, all of his nerves jangling with awareness now. It was possible that hadn’t been his best idea. Why did he have to think of Zander when he got off? He should have stuck to the normal spank bank material of Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth trying to prove who had better stamina in bed. That was a fantasy that could occupy Cole for days. Hell, his cock gave a weak twitch at just the thought of it.

  Overwhelming lust: 1. Cole’s common sense: 0.

  Far grumpier than anyone should be after an orgasm, Cole exited the shower. His foot slipped, and he nearly busted his face but caught the towel rack just in time. “It’s going to be that kinda night, huh?”

  His phone rang in the other room, the ringtone sounding so suddenly causing his heart to race with adrenaline at first. He wrapped his towel around his waist and trekked a dripping path into his bedroom. He was expecting Zander—maybe he was canceling or maybe Cole had been in the shower way longer than he’d thought.

  But it was his mom.

  Knowing better than to avoid her call—she’d just call back and text him a million times—he answered.

  “Hey, mom.” He crossed to his dresser and debated which pair of briefs he was feeling tonight.

  “Cole. Hi.”

  Cole frowned at the drawer. Why did she sound like he’d called her and not the other way around? “Is everything okay?” he asked, concern bubbling. It’d been a while since they’d last talked.

  “I was thinking of flying down to see you. There’s some decently priced flights for next week, and I don’t have anything going on. I could stay for a little. If that’s okay with you.”

  “I—yeah, of course. You’re always welcome here.” She may drive him crazy most of the time, but she was still his mother, and he wouldn
’t ever reject a request to see her. “If you text me the details, I can pick you up from the airport if it’s after school hours.”

  Her sigh definitely sounded like relief. “Thank you, baby. I can’t wait to see you.”

  Something was definitely amiss. “Mom—”

  “Cole, honey, not now. Okay? We’ll talk when I’m down.”

  And what was Cole supposed to do till then? Worry himself sick with the millions of possibilities. “Did someone die?” he asked, heart somewhere in his throat.

  “No one died, and no one’s dying.”

  Well, that was a huge relief. “All right. I love you.”

  “I love you too. I’ll text you when I have details.” She ended the call before he could say anything.

  He stared at his phone screen. What in the fuck?

  Despite the time Cole spent pacing his house trying to think of scenarios for why his mom suddenly wanted to see him, Cole arrived at the theater first. It was a Saturday night and things were, predictably, busy. There seemed to be an equal amount of adults on dates as there were teenagers, though the teenagers were far louder.

  It reminded him of sneaking off to small German cinemas with Zander and watching movies neither of them could understand. They’d always sat in the very back, and they never held hands, but Zander would—after several minutes—rest one hand on Cole’s leg and leave it there for the rest of the movie. Popcorn was split and candy shared. If the film was incredibly dull, sometimes Zander would kiss him until nothing else seemed to exist.

  Cole had gone into every showing with his fingers crossed that it would suck.

  He watched the milling sea of people come and go, and while the majority were male and female couples, he did spot a couple of men, joined at the hands, and a pair of women with their fingers entwined.

  The sight always loosened a knot that had been in his chest for far too many years. One day he was hoping to see it gone for good.