by Mari Carr
And Oakley was ready.
Oakley only fell back two steps after Joel rushed toward him and shoved. He had enough time to plant his feet so that he didn’t actually fall down, but barely. Joel wasn’t holding anything back.
Never one to walk away from a fight, Oakley came back fast, his fist connecting with Joel’s jaw.
Joel had anticipated the punch, dodging in time to lessen the intensity. He retaliated with a hard right that caught Oakley on the cheek. He was going to have a black eye from that. Unwilling to be the only one to wear a mark of this fight, he threw another punch, pleased to see blood welling at the corner of Joel’s mouth.
After that, Oakley lost track of who landed what where. There was a flurry of dust, fists, curses and pain—a lot of fucking pain. Joel was a scrappy fighter and he was inflicting some serious damage. Not that Oakley wasn’t holding up his own end pretty damn good.
The whole thing ended in an instant when they were hit by a blast of ice-cold water.
They fell apart and looked over to find Coach standing next to them with an empty bucket and an expression like thunder.
“What in blue blazes are the two of you doing?!” Coach roared.
Oakley bent over at the waist, holding himself up with his hands on his knees, trying to recover from Joel’s last punch, a hard one right to the gut.
Joel was wiping the blood dripping from his nose with his sleeve. “Nothing.”
Oakley would have rolled his eyes if the left one didn’t hurt like a mother. He could tell without a mirror it was swelling shut fast.
Yeah. Coach was definitely not going to let that non-answer fly.
“Try again, Joel,” Coach said, through gritted teeth.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Joel added.
Oakley snorted mirthlessly. “No, Joel. I’d say we understand each other just fine.” He needed to get out of here, away from all this bullshit. It was starting to eat at him like a cancer. “Sorry about this, Coach. Things got a little out of hand. It won’t happen again.”
With that, Oakley limped back to the bunkhouse. He needed a shower. And then he needed a fucking drink.
“Come with me,” Coach said, crooking his finger at Joel, and then pointing toward the main house.
Joel glanced back at Oakley, who’d made good on his escape. “Coach—”
“Get your ass in the house, Joel. And on the way there, get yourself ready to start speaking the truth about what just happened here. Because if you lie to me, I’ll fire your ass so quick, it’ll make your head spin.”
Joel followed Coach into the house and plopped down on the couch heavily. He didn’t have any more lies left inside him. He’d spent the past few weeks in a constant state of dishonesty. He needed help.
“Okay,” Coach said. “Let’s have it.”
And Joel gave it to him. All of it. Sadie, Oakley, the fling, the kiss, the feelings, the shame, the fear. It all fell out of him in a giant heap.
And through it all, Coach was quiet. Joel had no idea what the man was thinking because he hadn’t lifted his gaze from the floor. Joel couldn’t make himself look into the eyes of the man who was like a father to him and risk seeing disappointment.
Once he’d run out of words, he held his pose, his hands still clasped together, his elbows resting on his knees and his head bent as if in prayer, eyes locked on the rug beneath his feet.
“What’s the red zone?” Coach asked.
Joel was so taken aback by the question, he looked up. “What?”
“The red zone. Come on, boy. I taught you everything you know about football. Tell me what the red zone is.”
“It’s the last twenty yards before the end zone. It’s when the playing gets rough, dirty even. Offense is fighting like the devil to score and the defense is kicking ass to keep them out.”
“You’re in the red zone, Joel.”
Joel wasn’t sure how to reply. It was a simple answer, and when Joel thought about it, he realized it did feel like that. He’d been under a cloud of almost blinding desperation for days.
The red zone.
Coach’s words made sense of a situation that felt futile. Joel was on the verge of something big. Problem was he couldn’t figure out if he was the offense or the defense. Something told him he was both.
“What do I do?” Joel asked.
“I can’t answer that for you. You have to decide what you want. You in love with Sadie?”
Joel nodded. No hesitation. He was head over heels in love with her.
“You in love with Oakley?”
Joel nodded again. He was too tired to keep denying it.
“So why aren’t you fighting to get into that end zone?”
“I can’t have them both.”
Coach frowned. “Who says?”
Joel threw up his hands. “The whole world!”
Coach’s brows furrowed. “Bullshit.”
“What the hell would my mom think? She’s very religious, Coach. The ménage part is strange enough. If I tell her I’m in love with Oakley, that I want to have sex with him, she’ll…”
“She’ll what? Disown you? Hire a priest for an exorcism? Try to have you committed? What will she do?”
Joel shook his head. “I don’t know. I just know I don’t want to hurt her. I love my mom.”
“And she loves you, Joel. Probably a hell of a lot more than you realize.”
Joel still couldn’t relax. His mother’s approval was important to him. But so was Coach’s. “What do you think of all of this?”
Coach grimaced. “You’re still not getting it, boy, so I’ll spell it out for you. You’re responsible for one person’s happiness in this world, and that’s your own. Making yourself unhappy and denying a big part of yourself because you think it will please others has the opposite effect. I just had to break up a fight between two boys I consider sons because you can’t get your head out of your ass. I don’t enjoy watching you take a knee on the one-yard line. You know what would make me happy? Knowing you were happy, and I got a good feeling the same holds true for your mother. However you get to that place is okay with me. And even if it wasn’t, I’d still expect you to go for it, to push through with everything that you have because I don’t coach quitters.”
Coach was right. If Joel went for what he wanted, he would have to deal with the disapproval of others. There were a hell of a lot of people in town who wouldn’t approve of what he and Sadie and Oakley were doing. And there were some who would frown upon the kind of relationship he wanted to have with Oakley. Quinn—like the rest of the world—had its share of homophobes.
But if he let fear of those people’s opinions make this decision for him, it would be the biggest mistake of his life.
He’d find a way to explain it to his mom. And then he was going for it, making the play.
“I want to be with Sadie and Oakley. I want to spend the rest of my life with them.”
Coach smiled. “Then it’s time to stop playing it safe. Time to get out of the red zone and score.”
Oakley sat at a table near the back door of Pitchers and glanced over at the bar. Sadie was talking to Carter, pouring him shots. From the way the guy was slumped over, he’d venture to guess Carter was having the same shitty night he was.
Sadie had walked over as soon as he sat down and asked him about the bruises on his face. He’d been a dumbass to come here, but he’d needed to get the hell out of the bunkhouse and off the ranch. He wasn’t ready to face Joel. Or Coach. Plus he’d wanted to see Sadie and he needed a drink. Actually, a lot of drinks.
Sadie had gotten pissed when he mentioned having a disagreement with Joel. She’d muttered something about them being jackasses. When she had returned with his pitcher of beer, she’d merely set it down and turned her back on him without another word.
He was batting a thousand on pissing off everybody today.
Oakley sat alone in misery for a few minutes, and then looked up when Carter dropped into the seat acro
ss from him. “Hey.”
“Hey, Carter.”
“Sadie said I had to move it over here. I’m bringing her down.”
“That right?” Oakley looked past him to the bar. She really didn’t look happy, but that probably didn’t have a damn thing to do with Carter. “Well, I try not to argue with Sadie.”
Carter chuckled. “Good policy. What’s up with you?”
Oakley didn’t even bother to lie. The beer was soaking in and doing its job, taking away some of the rough edges. “Heartbreak.” Oakley lifted his glass in a silent toast to that bastard of an emotion.
“Is that what’s wrong with your face too?”
Oakley grimaced. Pretty much everybody in the bar had snuck a peek at his black eye. He wondered if Joel looked this bad. “Yep. What’s wrong with you?”
“Same.”
They sat in companionable silence for nearly a minute, then Carter asked the question Oakley was hoping he wouldn’t. “Someone I know?”
“Yep.” Oakley didn’t elaborate. He was pretty sure Joel didn’t want the world to know what was going on between them. He took another drink of beer. His pitcher was running low. Given the dirty looks Sadie kept shooting at him, he wasn’t sure she’d serve him another.
“What are you drinkin’?” Carter asked.
“PBR.” Oakley pulled the beer closer. “Pitchers are on sale. I’m not sharing.”
Carter grimaced. “PBR? You are having a shitty day.”
“You have no idea.”
Carter tipped his beer, draining the bottle before setting it down. “Bet I can top you.”
Oakley was about to take him up on that when Sadie reappeared. Oakley sucked in a deep breath, the floral scent of her perfume calming him down as much as the beer. She always smelled so good. She set four shots of tequila on the table. Maybe she wasn’t as mad at him as he thought.
“Looks like y’all might need these.”
Oakley grinned up at her, resisting the urge to stand up and kiss her senseless. “Thanks, Sade, you’re the best.”
She narrowed her eyes.
Nope, he was wrong. She was still plenty pissed off.
“The best,” Carter agreed, picking up one of the glasses.
She smirked at Carter, ignoring Oakley. “Yeah, I’m a regular humanitarian.” She walked away before Oakley could stop her.
Carter clinked his glass against Oakley’s and they both shot the liquor back.
“Okay, you want this next shot, you have to tell me why you deserve it,” Carter said, pointing to the two remaining shots.
Oakley frowned. “I have to deserve it?”
“Yep. Two shots to the guy with the worst day.”
“Fine.” Oakley figured this would be a piece of cake. Because he’d just had the day from hell. “I hit one of my best friends today.”
Carter arched a brow. “Okay, that’s bad. But,” he said, as Oakley reached for the tequila. “Count yourself lucky. The best friend I’d like to hit is dead. So…” He picked up a shot and drank.
Oakley’s eyes narrowed. “You really wanna do this?”
“Decide who most deserves to get shitfaced?” Carter asked. “Absolutely. Bring it. I’m the biggest asshole at this table.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Oakley sat up a little straighter. It was a stupid contest to try to win, but Oakley needed a fucking win today. If it was for Asshole of the Year, then so be it.
Carter went first. “I’m in love with someone I shouldn’t be. I’ll never be good enough for her, but I can’t let her go.”
Oakley toasted him with his beer. It was a good effort. But nowhere near good enough.
Before Carter could drink the last shot, Oakley said, “I’m in love with someone who feels the same way but can’t face his feelings for me.” He paused, then emphasized, “His feelings” one more time, just to make sure Carter understood how fucked-up it all was.
Carter hesitated. “Dammit.” He handed the shot glass over.
Oakley felt a strange sense of accomplishment as he swigged it down and then chased it with a gulp of beer.
“You know who you should be talkin’ to?” Carter asked. “My best friend. Garrett. Of course he’s dead now. The bastard. He was in love with me. And I couldn’t handle it.”
Good God. Had Sadie known what was bothering Carter? Is that why she’d sent the guy over? “The sex thing, right?”
“You got it. Was never into dude on dude,” Carter said. “Pussies are just too good. Why don’t you want that?”
Oakley laughed. It was either that or cry. So he just laughed harder. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Carter he shouldn’t knock it until he tried it, but he remembered how much Joel had freaked out when Oakley touched him.
Instead, he focused on the one thing he and Carter had in common. “Pussies are so good.” Oakley clinked his beer glass against Carter’s bottle. “I love pussy.”
“But you like dicks too,” Carter said.
Oakley nodded. It was pointless to deny it. It wasn’t like everyone in Quinn didn’t know he was bi. “That I do.”
“How come?” Carter asked, leaning in. “I’m being serious. What’s the dude thing like? Not bad, huh?”
Oakley remembered the kiss he had shared with Joel. It had been intense. Brute strength wrapped in a need so powerful, it had made Oakley dizzy. “No, bro, not bad at all. You don’t have to be nice about it. It’s sweaty and rough and, well, it’s a good way to get out some aggression and get your rocks off…all at the same time.”
“Looks like you worked off some aggression today,” Carter said, pointing to Oakley’s eye again.
“Yeah, but I didn’t get my rocks off.”
“So you like being the fucker or the fuckee?” Carter asked.
Oakley snorted, grateful to be able to talk about this stuff with someone. “I’m pretty often the fuckee, actually.” He fucked women, but when he was with a guy, he liked being on the receiving end. He could only assume it was because his first time had been that way.
Oakley wondered why he’d never hung out with Carter, and then he figured it was probably the cop thing. Oakley had never been able to walk a completely straight-and-narrow line—smoking pot, stealing beer from the convenience store when he was under age, driving his car way too fast—so he’d always just avoided cops. Apparently, he’d been wrong about them. Or at least this one.
“See, I was thinkin’,” Carter said. “That if I was ever gonna do that… and I did not think about that until he brought it up…it would have been with Garrett.”
Oakley leaned a bit closer, suddenly interested in Carter’s perspective. Maybe it would help Oakley understand where Joel was coming from. “Yeah? How come?”
“’Cuz he was my brother from another mother, man,” Carter said. “That doesn’t sound right though. He was just, like, this great guy and if it would have made him happy, then maybe I coulda been into it, you know?”
Oakley considered that answer and decided he hated it. “You would have done that just to make him happy?”
Carter shrugged. “Well, you know, that’s a lot of what really great sex is all about anyway. It’s about making the other person happy. Giving them pleasure, right? That’s what makes it so great. When it’s someone you love, you just want to do everything you can to show them that.”
Oakley started to get it. And it gave him hope. “Are you telling me that you think a straight guy could actually make love to another man?”
Carter nodded. “I think maybe so. If he loved the guy, you know? And maybe just that one guy. Maybe no one else in the whole world but that one guy and one girl. But yeah, I think maybe so.” He leaned in and dropped his voice. “Because sometimes a good hard fucking is exactly what someone needs, and if you love them, you want to be that fucker, right?”
Oakley stared at Carter. The cop got it. He really got it. Maybe Joel would too.
Jesus. What a conversation. Oakley couldn’t believe the absurdity of it. He was
sitting in a bar, feeling sorry for himself and thinking he had the most fucked-up problems in the world. Then Carter sits down and shows him that his issues aren’t that unique at all.
He couldn’t help it. Oakley laughed. Hard. Because it was all so damn crazy. Carter joined in. They laughed until their sides hurt and everyone in the place was looking at them.
Oakley wiped a hand over his face. “Holy shit, man, I needed that.”
Carter ran an unsteady hand through his hair. The guy was well on his way to shitfaced. Of course, he’d put down a lot more tequila than Oakley had.
“Hey, you know what?” Carter said. “You should totally come over and fool around with me and Lacey.”
Oakley laughed again, then groaned. “Man, stop, I can’t take any more.”
“Save that line for the bedroom,” Carter said with a grin.
If that line had come from Joel, Oakley would have gone rock hard in an instant. And he was flattered by Carter’s invitation. Even if the guy was drunk and didn’t have a clue what he was asking for.
Oakley shook his head, grinning. “You’re a funny guy, I’ll give you that.”
“No, see, that’s part of the deal. I’m not funny. We need a guy like you,” Carter told him. “We need the fun, laid-back guy that Garrett was. He balanced out my intensity. Lacey needs both.”
“Carter,” Oakley said, hoping he could help the guy out as much as he’d just helped him. Carter didn’t get the most important part. He thought he wanted a threesome, but what he really wanted was his friend back. And that wasn’t going to happen. “Just be both, man. You don’t want to have sex with me. Or any other guy. Maybe Garrett was the guy who could have changed your mind, I don’t know. But you love Lacey. So be the guy she needs you to be.”
“Really? You’re turning me down too? I’ve been told I’m good-looking and charming.”
Oakley was suddenly feeling less flattered. Apparently Carter had been scouting around for potential thirds. “Too?”
“That’s kind of a long story, actually,” Carter said.
Oakley chuckled, then realized how much had changed in his life in just a short time. “Well, you know what, Shaw? A few weeks ago I might have taken you up on the offer. Lacey’s hot, and you’ve got the whole uniform-and-handcuffs thing. But…”