by Sierra Hill
I’m struck with a sudden desire to see him naked and find all the tattoos he has hidden from the world that the casual observer wouldn’t know exist.
“If you think I was the one to take care of her, you obviously don’t know me at all.” He replies heartlessly. He stares off toward London who is now brushing the horse’s coat near the stable.
Sage’s voice turns wistful. Nostalgic. “She was the only one who ever loved me no matter what. And I fucking pissed all over that. She’s a tough girl, though. She knew her mind and never gave in just to placate me.”
He grows silent and bends his head as I stand up and move behind him. Placing a hand at the nape of his neck, I squeeze gently but firmly, feeling the bristle of his hair over my fingers. Unable to stop myself, I tip his head toward me, closing the distance between us.
My lips land at the top of his head and I kiss him once. He resists for a moment, but then gives in with a sigh. It’s my way of telling him thank you for being with her. For his perseverance in digging himself out of the hole that was left behind in his life and making something of himself. It’s a kiss that says, I’m sorry I hurt you and fucked up. I love you, still.
My lips move down the side of his face, over the bristle of his jawline until they land on the corner of his mouth. Neither of us move for a moment, scared of what happens next. Worried it will open Pandora’s Box and the history of our lives will come barreling out.
I cover his mouth with mine, a kiss to say all the things I can’t tell him. His lips infuse with mine and our breaths are labored. There’s no tongue and it’s not overly lustful, but the kiss packs enough punch to prove to him that I truly mean what I say. As I pull away to a wide-eyed Sage, the words to tumble out of my mouth.
“Sage, I’m so sorry for the way I ended things. How I treated you and left you when you needed me the most. You have absolutely every right not to forgive me, but I hope someday you will consider it.” I stop for a moment and purse my lips together tightly. “I was young and stupid and scared.”
“Yeah, fucker. You and me both.”
I swallow, trying to get out all the words that have lived inside my heart for years.
“I know. But I was scared of you. Scared of having you. Losing you. Loving you. It was never my intent to hurt you when you were going through the worst ordeal of your life. Especially when I loved you so fucking much.”
He yanks his head back and out of my grasp, glaring at me with malice.
“You loved me? You’re a fucking asshole,” he spits, pushing me away with a hard shove at my pecs, stepping out of my reach. “You sure had a funny way of showing it.”
I rub a hand down my face with disgust. Sage is absolutely right to resent me for being such a dick to him. I’m just about to say more when London appears and interrupts us.
“Good morning, boys.”
Her megawatt smile washes over us and casts a magic spell, making the last ten years disappear into thin air. “How about I go wash up and meet you two in the kitchen in fifteen and we can make some breakfast and get caught up.”
She waves at us both and heads into the house, turning to give us a flirty wink.
“And don’t you think I don’t remember how good your pancakes are, Cameron Lucas.”
My eyes dart from London’s retreating form to Sage and back again when he pivots and follows her.
“You heard the lady,” he calls over his shoulder, with a chuckle and a shrug. “Better not keep her waiting. She’s a bitch when she’s hangry.”
I guess I’m on pancake duty. And the rest of our conversation will go on the back burner, along with that kiss.
Chapter 14
Ten Years Earlier
I’d avoided the calls and texts and other attempts that London had made to reach me for two days straight. I was still seething with pent-up rage and confusion over what I let happen with Sage. With the way I just let it happen.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Oh yeah, that’s right, I wasn’t. Sage had done some gay erotic voodoo magic on me the minute he touched me.
At least that’s what I thought, anyway. And thankfully, he’d been kind enough to find ways to avoid me and had slept on the couch the previous two nights, only coming home when I was already asleep in my bed. I should’ve felt guilty for acting like a prick when he was the one who was going through so much turmoil. It made me sick to my stomach to know that once he went to trial, there was a really good chance he’d be sentenced to prison.
I’d be heading to boot camp to learn combat skills to fight for our country’s freedom, and he’d likely be locked up for an unknown period of time without his freedom.
My head throbbed with the constant reminder and the possibility we’d lose him.
Laying in my bed, I covered my eyes with my forearm, blocking out the sun peeking through my blinds. I didn’t want to get out of bed or do anything today. I just needed some downtime, so I could figure out what the hell I wanted to do about Sage.
A knock on my door had me swiveling my head to the side and dropping my arm against the bed as London’s voice echoed softly through my room.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure,” I agreed, although inside I was wishing her away. Hoping she’d leave me alone and not ask any questions.
There was no doubt in my mind that she didn’t know about the riff between me and Sage. I just didn’t know if she knew what caused it and she was sure as shit here to talk about it. So, I beat her to it, attempting to slam the lid on any potential inquisition.
“I don’t want to talk about it if that’s what you’re here for. Go away.”
She sat down gingerly on the side of my bed and sighed. She never did heed my warnings and was stubborn as a mule. So, instead, she launched right into it.
“I don’t know what happened, and if you can’t tell me, I guess I’ll have to be alright with it. But please don’t do this to him, Cam. He needs us. He needs you in his life. You’re his best friend and I know he’s hurting inside and we’re all he has in this world.”
“Goddamn it, London,” I cursed, swinging my feet off the edge in the other direction and bending over my knees to cup my aching head in my hands. “You wouldn’t understand. Just leave it alone.”
I stood up and made my way to my dresser, pulling on a pair of shorts and a fresh shirt and haphazardly combing through my bedhead hair. When I turned back around, I found her lying on her side, chin resting in her palm to prop her up. A sweet cherry-red grin across her lips.
Even though worried for Sage, she looked sexy as fuck. Gloriously tan, smooth skin, freckles dotting her shoulders that are visible under the straps of her tank top. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her arm and down her back. She looked like the All-American girl. The girl-next-door.
An angel who is currently my adversary.
“He didn’t tell me what happened, but something obviously happened. He’s all surly and combative when I ask him about it. And if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But Cam, we’re running out of time. I know you’ll regret it if you leave without making peace.”
Deep down, I knew what she said was true but there was just too much at stake for me. It was one thing to have fooled around with both Sage and London in our previous encounters because Sage and I were careful never to touch. We didn’t kiss or play with each other. And he certainly never had my dick in his mouth. I knew where things stood when it was the three of us. I was a hetero dude.
But now, I was just fucking confused.
Maybe I could chalk it up to “experimenting” or some shit like that. It happens, right?
I’d be stupid to say I didn’t have feelings for Sage. Of course, I did. He’d been my best friend for as long as I could remember. Not a day had gone by where we hadn’t been together. He knew everything about me and vice versa. I loved him in ways that best friends love each other.
But there was never any dick touching ‘til now.
And that freak
ed me the fuck out. It changed the definition and dynamics of our friendship. Now it felt murky and fluid with no shape or box to describe it.
If he identified as a bisexual, and he blew me, did that mean I was one now, too?
I’d never given any thought to my sexuality before now. Never figured I’d have a reason to label myself anything other than heterosexual. I was straight, and I liked girls. I loved fucking London. Plain and simple.
On top of which, my parents held very strict religious beliefs that held no room for gay or queer or trans or anything outside of sex and marriage between a man and a woman.
I tugged at the end of my short-cropped hair, not yet buzzed for boot camp regulations. “London, it’s messed up. I’m confused, and I need to straighten it out on my own, apart from him. I can’t be around him right now.”
When I looked down at her face, it about killed me.
“I’m sorry. It’s just the way it has to be.”
I landed on my knees beside the bed and pulled her into my arms. She rested her chin in the curve of my neck, swallowing her sorrow behind wet tears.
“I’m going to lose you both, aren’t I?”
Pulling away so I can see her face, I answered her with a flat-out lie. A refusal to believe that it would come down to that. I had no idea how it would turn out, but still had some sort of hope for the best. Even if I was lying to save both of us.
“No. No. Absolutely not. Like I’ve said before and I’ll say it again. I’ve got you and I will always be here for you.”
Chapter 15
Present Day
“You eat this stuff? Turkey bacon…really dude?”
I wave the packet of bacon in my hand, garnering over-the-shoulder looks from London and Sage who have their backs to me at the counter. They are slicing up fruit and making fresh orange juice in Sage’s state-of-the-art kitchen as I work at the commercial grade stove.
London pipes in. “I bought it for him. Sage needs to start eating healthier. Don’t you, honey?”
From the corner of my eye, I notice the look Sage gives her, sticking his tongue out as she bumps him in the hip with hers playfully.
It reminds me of how things used to be. The fun we had together. How we’d joke and laugh and tease each other unmercifully. We had good times, and this is just a small glimpse into our past life.
I see the meaningful look that passes between them and for a moment I feel like an interloper. And for the most part I am, having been out of the picture while they’ve been together over the years with stories to share and relive with one another. It creates the tiniest of cracks in my heart.
On the drive here yesterday, London shared a little about her history with Sage and all the ups and downs they’ve been through while I’ve been gone. London had returned to Nashville after graduating college and leaving New York, Sage’s star had just begun to rise, and he was touring for months at a time. Sometimes she’d get calls from him well into the middle of the night when Sage was lonely, drunk or high, barely discernable, pleading for her to come and join him on tour.
The few times she did, however, they’d get in a fight and she’d return home with a broken heart and a promise to herself that she’d never be that weak again.
And I was never there to ease her pain.
Yet London never gave up on him. Even now, she wants him to get back on the healthy track. To eat better. Drink less. Or better yet, get sober altogether.
Sage speaks to me over his shoulder. “It’s times like these that I really wish I had a dog to feed all this healthy foo-foo food to.”
London smacks him on the ass with a ladle. “You had a dog once if I recall and you were never at home for him. Poor Ralph had to go live with another family.”
“Well, it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t take him with me on tour because he farted all the time! No one could be on the tour bus without wearing gas masks.”
I chuckle at the story as London giggles and adds to it.
“You blamed that poor dog for his flatulence, but we all know it was probably you or anyone of your bandmates. Ugh, that bus stunk to high heaven. It was dirty socks, beer, and pizza. That’s why we need to get you back to eating turkey and lean meats. Your gut needs it.”
Sage laughs with mirth as she jabs him in the stomach with a nail. He twists around, grabs her wrists and pulls her into his chest as she giggles with delight.
“You know I’m a sausage guy,” he remarks provocatively, with something dark flashing in his maple-brown eyes as he turns toward me and nods. “But maybe Cam will eat your bacon.”
The comment is so heavily-laden with innuendo that my body tenses with a mixture of arousal and anger, blood surging in my veins as I watch his hands roll over London’s ass, his fingers flexing and tightening and exploring the lush curves there.
My eyes remain fixed on them, unable to shift my gaze, as Sage places a hand on the back of London’s head and claims her mouth in a kiss. She squeaks loudly, her posture stiffening before relaxing against him, tilting her head to the side and throwing her arms around him. The ladle hangs loosely in her hand, dangling behind his back, swinging like a pendulum as they move together.
I’m caught between desperately wanting to watch this unfold and needing to get the hell out of Dodge. My heart hammers in my chest, my body yearning to take part. But then my jaw clenches, in the same manner that my fists tighten at my side, and I look away for a moment before returning my gaze to them.
I should use this opportunity to walk away and allow them privacy.
That’s what I should do, but I don’t.
Sage lifts his chin toward me, covered with a mass of dark stubble, a sated and lecherous grin fixed on his mouth. The same mouth I kissed earlier.
“You remember how good her bacon tastes, don’t you Cam?”
He slowly unravels from London’s arms, leisurely leaning against the edge of the countertop, fingers spread at the rounded granite ledge. The position makes it very clear how turned on he is from the kiss and PDA.
London feigns disgust, slapping his shoulder. “I am not one of the four food groups, Sage Hendricks.”
And then I remember that he slept with some random chick last night, yet here he stands so casually offering up memories of sex with London and kissing her like…like she’s just a piece of meat to him. My blood boils in my veins and I can’t contain my disdain for his actions.
“That’s enough, Sage. It’s not funny. You’re being a rude asshole and degrading London.”
Sage straightens and stalks toward me. As a grown adult male, he’s a little taller than average, but nothing compared to my size. I’ve been in the Air Force for six years and now a full-fledged forest firefighter. I’m massive and could overpower his too-lean frame in a second. I could have him sprawled out on the floor with my hand at his throat in a flash.
And yet I’m slightly intimidated. Or maybe turned on when he wedges up against me with his thigh and chest, pushing me back into the stove.
“My house. My rules. You’re the guest. I have the right to be a rude asshole if I want.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. Very mature of you.”
Brushing past him, I return to the pancakes to ensure they don’t burn, flipping them over and hoping to hide my erection from Sage. The low, baritone timbre of his voice, smoky and arrogant, has a way of wiggling under my skin. It’s potent and mercurial as it sends sparks of heat racing through my blood. And it obviously turns me on when he talks dirty and nasty like that.
Sage backs away and resumes what he was doing, as I open the package and start frying the bacon.
“Why are we making breakfast, anyway? Don’t you have a shit ton of money for cooks to do this for you?”
My gaze meets his and he shrugs. “Yeah, I normally do have a cook and housekeeper on staff. But I sent them home.”
It has me curious about his lavish rock and roll lifestyle. In the last five years since his star has risen, touring with the likes of
other alt-country, folk-rock stars like The Avett Brothers, Brandi Carlile, and Ryan Adams. He’s been on a plethora of magazine covers, some touting his music-writing genius and crooning voice and beautiful face that have women young and old wanting to drop their panties.
He’s also had stories and pictures published of his conquests. Both men and women. It wasn’t news to me, but certainly made for titillating headlines when he’d have some young hottie doing the walk of shame outside his hotel or home.
Sage’s rock star lifestyle doesn’t make me envious but makes me angry for the way he’s gotten away with treating London. It pisses me off that he’s so cavalier with his sex life with others, flaunting it in front of London who has allowed for that disrespect to go on. My mother raised a southern gentleman and I’d never do that to her. Ever.
You did when you left her.
I shake my head free of the internal smack talk and return to their kitchen PDA. Sage kisses her liked he owns her, like she is his property, when just a few hours earlier he had two other women slipping out of his bedroom and out the front door. Who the hell does that?
I turn the burners off and grab the plate on the counter next to me, filling it up with the bacon and pancakes. A few blueberries for London. Her favorite. My ire grows the more I think about how badly he is disrespecting London.
My London. Our London.
“Just like you sent those groupies home this morning before London woke up? Fucker.” I grumble the last word quietly to myself.
Sage’s brow lifts skyward as we sit down in the dining room adjacent to the kitchen. It’s a table that could seat sixteen and I wonder if he has ever hosted a dinner party. Or if it’s simply a house to host pool parties for groupies to attend, their sights set on hooking up with Sage Hendricks, lead singer of Crenshaw.
“You got something to say, Cam? Just fucking say it.”