Calvin was commentating on the action like a demented sports announcer, and almost everyone at the party was gathered and cheering for one team or the other or both. The racers reached the far end almost in unison and grabbed their beverages—beer for Liam, a can of ginger ale for Kevin—and that was where Kevin lost his edge. Liam chugged his bottle like a frat boy while Kevin took a gulp, winced, took a sip, looked pained, took another sip, made another face, took a sip—and Liam was off. His team roaring, the crowd electrified, all eyes on him as Kevin took one more sip, then set his can down on the messy, liquid-strewn table, on its side.
The base of the can was turned toward the crowd, and there was so much activity, so much commotion as Kevin grabbed his own buggy and took off after Liam, only a stride or two behind. Ben couldn’t really see, not for sure, that there was liquid spilling out of the can.
And Kevin didn’t waste any time worrying about it. He made up time as he and Liam weaved their way through the bags of disposable diapers, and he had almost caught up when they hit the final turn, charging around the huge stuffed elephant Calvin had said would belong to Tamara when the party was over.
They were close, but Liam was ahead, and there was no reason he wouldn’t stay that way. He stretched out almost horizontally, the stroller keeping him upright as he sprinted for the finish line, his entire body driven and focused on its goal, its destination, its home—
And Kevin collapsed to the ground with a yelp of pain. He was clutching his ankle as Liam blazed across the finish line and was absorbed into the arms of his jubilant teammates. Kevin looked up, caught Ben’s gaze, and looked down at his ankle, shaking his head.
Ben did his duty, but he didn’t rush. He edged through the crowd, made his way down the lawn, and crouched next to Kevin. “Twisted it?” he asked as neutrally as he could manage.
“I guess, yeah. There was a hole—not a hole, I guess, but an unexpected dip.” He forced a smile. “It’s not like we can expect Calvin’s backyard to be equipped for Olympic sprinting.”
“Olympic stroller racing,” Ben corrected absentmindedly. “Oh well. You gave it a good try. Want to get up and walk it off?”
“I’m not sure I can just walk it off.” Kevin poked gingerly at his ankle. “I wouldn’t have stopped running if it was just something minor, you know.”
Ben thought of the ginger ale can—it’d be empty by now, certainly. And it didn’t matter anyway. So what if Kevin hadn’t totally finished the drink? So what if he’d taken a fall and was faking an injury in order to cover up his loss? Ben couldn’t be sure any of that was true, and even if it was… so what?
“What do you want to do?” Ben shifted around so he could sit on the grass next to Kevin. “Do you need to go to the hospital? Or just ice it? Do we need to leave?”
That was when he noticed the shadow falling over their legs and looked up to see Liam peering down at them. “Everything okay?” he asked. His face was gently flushed, his hair tousled, and Ben had to force himself to turn away. He couldn’t see Liam like that, not without—well. He just wouldn’t look at him, and that made everything simpler.
“I’ll be okay,” Kevin said. “It’s too bad it happened—I think I had you.”
“You think so?” Liam didn’t sound angry, or even frustrated. The patronizing bastard sounded amused. “We’ll have to have a rematch someday.” Then something changed, shifted in the air, and Ben knew without looking that Liam’s attention had turned to him. “Calvin wants you, Ben. Apparently you’re surprisingly good at the boring games inside. Even though I’ve won a lot of events out here, Calvin says you made up enough points on the other stuff that we’re tied. He’s got some sort of head-to-head—”
“No.” Far too much emotion in that word, and Ben took a deep breath before saying, “I don’t know what Uncle Calvin’s up to, but—no. I’m done.”
“Done… at the shower? Like, Kevin needs you to go nurse him back to health?”
“No. Done with the games.”
Liam knew what Ben was saying—Liam always knew. But he pretended otherwise. “That’s not cool, man. Calvin’s put a lot of time into all this. I know it’s kind of surreal, but there’s just one more game, you might as well—”
“There’s never just ‘one more game’ with Calvin.” Ben knew it too well. “He’ll always keep pushing, testing, until somebody says ‘no.’”
Still, Liam played stupid. “I think he means it this time—he’s got the trophy all ready to present. There are quite a few trophies, actually, with all kinds of different titles. He’s put a lot of work into this, Ben. Be cool, okay?”
“Cool?” Too loud, and it all got worse when Ben pushed himself to his feet and glared at Liam. Adorably, sexily disheveled Liam. But Ben wouldn’t think about that. “There’s nothing cool about this! About him inviting you, you being here, him setting up all these contests—pressuring poor Kevin into this stupid race! And now Kevin’s hurt, and you’re still here, and—”
“Keep your voice down,” Liam said. A suggestion, calm and pleasant. “Kevin’s not really hurt—you know that. And the rest of it? What did you tell me about that disgusting coat he loaned me? Messing around with people is Calvin’s weirdass way of showing affection. That’s all this is. Don’t build it into something bigger.”
“Do not tell me how to handle my uncle!”
“Ben.” For the first time, Liam let a little emotion into his voice. “You’re losing it. If you don’t want to do the last game, fine. I’ll—” He cast a derisive look in Kevin’s direction. “I’ll tell him I pulled a muscle or something, okay? Fake injuries for everyone. Just chill out. This has been a really nice party for a lot of people you care about. Don’t mess it up.”
It was exactly right. Exactly what Ben needed to hear, and said in a way that let him really see what he was doing and how destructive it could be.
And that rightness—that fucking perfection—made it all so much worse.
“Oh, you’re the hero?” Ben growled. “You’re the golden boy who cares about everybody else and just tries to make it all work out, and I’m the asshole who wrecks it? Is that how you see things?”
“If you’re talking about fifteen years ago, then, no, I was the asshole. Everyone agrees on that. But if you’re talking about right now? Hey.” Liam stepped back and raised his hands in surrender. “If you’re so damn determined to wreck things? Okay, yeah. Right now, you’re the asshole.”
“You push and push, and when I finally say ‘no’—”
“How the hell am I pushing? I asked if I could come to this, and you said fine. You said you were past it all and none of it mattered. You remember that conversation? You said you wouldn’t have had a right to say ‘no’ even if you wanted to. And the other night? You said it was all over. So what the hell’s your problem now?”
“You know what my problem is!”
Not only too loud this time—also too damn honest. Liam stared at him for a long moment, then took a half step forward. “If I know what the problem is, I know what the solution is too. Jesus, Ben, there are no guarantees in life. I can’t—I can’t promise that everything will be perfect forever. But I really think we’re worth taking a chance on. Don’t you? You said the other night that this was over, but if it really was, it wouldn’t be an issue for you to see me.”
Ben stepped closer too, and his voice came out low and growly. “It was done fifteen damn years ago when you fucked—I was going to say when you fucked your Art History TA, but really I guess it was over when you fucked half the campus.”
“So I guess I don’t know what your problem is.” Liam’s gaze was still steady and level, too intense to be anything but intimate. “And I’m not really sure what my problem is, either, except—” He looked away, then back. “Except I miss you. I can’t really understand what’s wrong with my life in general, but the one thing that’s totally clear to me is that you’re not with me, and you should be. That’s—”
“Excuse me,” Kevin
said, his voice almost trembling as he rose to his feet. “This is outrageous. Ben has made his feelings on this matter crystal clear. It’s unfortunate that you’re struggling with something in your life, but to impose on Ben this way, to make him feel as if it’s somehow his fault or his problem?”
He stepped between Ben and Liam, and it was as if he broke a vacuum seal, neutralized a magnetic bond—did something that brought Ben back to reality, back to Uncle Calvin’s backyard with half the town staring at him as he listened to ravings—absolutely surreal lunacy—from Liam.
“It’s been fifteen years,” Ben said. “It’s over.” It had to be over.
“And there’s absolutely nothing left?” Liam said it wistfully, almost sweetly, but there was something else, something extra that Ben couldn’t quite figure out.
Still, he knew the answer he needed to give. “There’s nothing left,” he said firmly.
And Liam was ready. “So there’s no problem with us doing the final event, right? No reason you can’t play one more stupid game in order to make your uncle happy?” He glanced dismissively at Kevin. “Your date seems to have recovered from his horrible injury, and I think he’s still got about half a can of ginger ale he could be drinking while he waits for us to play. So what’s holding you up? Let’s go.”
A dare. That’s what it was. Sure, Ben and Liam had turned into something else, but at the heart of their relationship they’d always been friends. The two of them and Seth, endless summer days, almost-as-endless winter adventures after school or on weekends—they’d been kids together. And the inability to walk away from a dare was a bone-deep instinct in any kid.
And there was a part of Ben, a sweet, adventurous, joyful part of him that wanted to respond the same way now. Of course he’d take the dare, and play one final game, and spend more time with Liam. And his resistance was already so weak, his self-control so challenged, that a bit more time was all it would take before he crumbled. Kevin was nothing, Liam was everything; Ben would take Liam home, or hell, maybe just upstairs, and they’d be together in the way they always should be together, and it would be perfect and golden and glowing.
But not permanent. Liam would leave, and Ben would be left behind, empty and alone. And he just wasn’t strong enough for that to happen again.
“I’m leaving,” he said quietly. Kevin immediately put his arm around Ben as if offering support, and Ben resisted the urge to tear himself free. “I’m done.”
He knew they still had an audience, and he forced a smile onto his face for the benefit of the crowd. “We need to get some ice for Kevin,” he announced. “He’ll be fine, but there’s no point messing around.”
And Kevin supportively added a bit of a limp to his step, although Ben was pretty sure he was favoring the wrong leg.
“You guys are made for each other,” Liam said as Ben made his way past. “You’re both quitters.”
The words rose to Ben’s lips, the accusations and rebuttals. Maybe Kevin and Ben were quitters, but at least they weren’t cheaters. Except for the unfortunate ginger ale incident. And remembering that was enough to keep Ben’s mouth shut.
He made his apologies to Calvin, trying not to wonder if the disappointment in the old man’s face was solely because the playoff game was cancelled, and threw the jauntiest wave he could manage in Seth and Dinah’s direction. They waved back, Dinah making a face of slightly overdone sympathy in Kevin’s direction.
They were halfway down the front walk when Ben heard a cheer from the backyard. “They gave Liam the trophy,” he said.
“Liam,” Kevin said. “He’s—well.” They walked a few more steps; Kevin wasn’t even trying to limp anymore. He stopped at the sidewalk and turned to Ben. “I’m going home.”
“Oh. Okay. Is your ankle hurting?”
“No. But—I need to take some time. By myself.” He paused, maybe a bit more dramatically than necessary. “To think about whether it makes sense to continue this relationship.”
Oh.
It was clear that Kevin was waiting for a reaction. Begging, maybe, or at least reassurances. But Ben didn’t have them to give, and Kevin didn’t deserve to be lied to. “I guess that’s a good idea. I mean—Liam is not a threat. Not an issue. But I can see how this would all be a little unsettling for you.”
“Not an issue,” Kevin echoed. “Well. That’s—” He stopped and shook his head. “Maybe we can talk later in the week.”
“Sure,” Ben agreed. And then Kevin left, and Ben was alone. Standing pathetically in the street as his current maybe boyfriend walked away from him while his ancient definitely boyfriend received kudos and applause at the booze-soaked baby shower of Ben’s best friend. That was his life. That was what he’d managed to achieve for himself.
Damn it. He needed—maybe regular meditation wasn’t going to be enough. Maybe he needed some sort of retreat, some intensive intervention.
Maybe he needed a damn lobotomy.
If there was a surgery to remove just the Liam-related memories, a sci-fi storyline so he could travel back in time and—and what?
What would he change, exactly?
His own behavior, he supposed. When he’d first suspected that Liam was cheating, had it already been too late? Could he have fixed things if he’d spoken up, if he’d been brave enough to have the fight instead of hoping it would all just go away?
Could everything have been different?
He took a deep breath and started walking. There was no surgery, no time travel. He had only one life, only one chance. He needed to be smart and not waste time on daydreams.
He needed a drink. That, at least, seemed like an achievable goal, even if he’d be meeting it alone.
Chapter Twenty
LIAM WENT home with Seth and Dinah as they’d planned and helped Dinah sort and unwrap her gifts while Seth drove the babysitter home. He made sure his Sleep Sheep was opened early, which was about the only real victory he’d managed that day.
Sure, there was the trophy. The man on top of it was bowling, and the plaque on the base was Magic Marker on masking tape, but, still, technically—but, no. Liam hadn’t even won that, not really, because stupid Ben had refused to play the final game.
They were about a third of the way through the massive pile of gifts before Dinah said, “So. Ben was pretty mad today.”
Tempting to deny or divert, but there was also appeal in talking about it. “I guess he was.”
“At you.”
“Seems like.”
“For a reason?”
Well, Liam knew better than to get into that. But knowing better didn’t seem to have too much of an influence on his actions these days. “I shouldn’t have been there. He and I are over and done, and he doesn’t want me hanging around.”
“Wow. That’s—” She pulled a boxed leather football out of the gift wrap and smiled. “I knew it was going to be a football. Katie’s been talking to Calvin.”
Liam had no idea who Katie was, but he was suddenly almost overwhelmed with wanting to know. This Katie, this woman who took Calvin’s insane ideas and ran with them, who brought a smile to Dinah’s face, who was somehow part of this warm, weird, alcohol-drenched little community—Liam wanted to know her. He wanted to be invited to her house, and yes, damn it, he wanted the invitation to be for two people and he wanted Ben to be his companion. He wanted—
“Write it down,” Dinah prompted, pointing to the pad of paper on Liam’s lap. “You said you’d be the secretary, so secretary up. Katie—football. I probably won’t need to be reminded of that one, but you still need to write it down.”
He did as he was told.
Dinah took a sip of her punch before she asked, “Do you think you are over and done? You and him?”
“I guess. I mean—if he says we are, we are. Right?”
“But you wish you weren’t?”
“Yeah.” It didn’t even hurt to say it.
“Why?”
The question came quietly and was simple
enough, but it wasn’t easy to answer. Not with the depth Dinah probably wanted and definitely deserved. “Maybe I’m just chasing the past,” Liam admitted. “I think that’s what Ben thinks—he had some crazy theory about this being because my parents are getting divorced, but that’s not it. But yeah, maybe I’m just trying to go back to the last time my life was really good, you know? Maybe.”
“And what’s so not good about your life now?”
“I don’t know. I mean, it’s good, right? Good job—great job, really, as of a couple weeks ago. Nice lifestyle—good apartment, fancy parties with all the movers and shakers and artistic types. Yeah, I’m there as one of the—I don’t know, the supplicants? The ones kissing up, not the ones getting kissed up to. But still.”
“Friends?” she asked as she reached for another gift. “Romance?”
“Friends,” he agreed. Not great friends, maybe, but good enough. And romance? “I get laid all I want.” Which was probably a bit crude, but if this woman was married to Seth, surely she could handle it.
And she didn’t seem at all fazed. “But that’s not all there is to romance. I mean, Ben gets laid all he wants, too, as far as I know.”
That wasn’t something Liam really wanted to think about. Except— “Wait. Are you saying Ben isn’t totally satisfied, romancewise? Like, there’s room for growth there?”
She didn’t answer, just took a sip from her glass of lemonade, then began opening the present on her lap. As she worked she said, “So what’s missing from your life? What are you looking for, really?”
He sighed. Seth, bless his heart, had provided not only a glass of scotch but also the bottle in case refills were necessary. If this conversation continued, they definitely would be. “I think I got distracted by all the shiny things. Like, the things I’ve been chasing after—money, famous people, making a damn name for myself—I think they’re all surface-level. Does that make sense? And then after I chase them down? I’m like a dog chasing after soap bubbles—they look fascinating, and it’s fun to try to catch them, but when I do finally grab hold, they disappear and I’m just left with a bad taste in my mouth.”
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