hurt-so-good

by Scott, Myra

  Crash just grunted, unsure what the apology truly meant.

  Was it an ‘I’m sorry and we made a mistake and it can never happen again’ type of apology or was it an ‘I’m sorry and I can’t wait to take you back into my arms again and I can’t wait to rip your clothes off right here in the middle of this kitchen’ type of deal?

  Crash wouldn’t let his hopes rise for the latter, though his heart began to beat just a little bit faster, betraying him.

  “My job just means so much to me.” He sighed softly, eyes falling. “I’ve worked so hard to get where I am. To have the reputation that I do with my patients. I… can’t risk anything interfering with that.” His shoulders slouched down, though his chin remained lifted high.

  Ah, Crash realized, it was the former, the gentle letdown. Crash’s heart wrenched in his chest, but he kept his face calm and gave a simple nod instead. So, Jake had canceled all of his appointments just so he could come here and let Crash down easy.

  Crash understood Jake’s dedication to his career. In fact, Crash hated just how much he understood. Would he have risked his hockey career for Jake when they’d only just met a few weeks ago?

  To be honest, the goalie wasn’t sure what he would do in that situation. That frightened him and made the ache in his heart more intense.

  “Why don’t you go to the living room, and I’ll bring in your plate?” Jake said softly, watching as Crash turned without a word and hobbled slowly back to the couch. Jake closed his eyes, sinking down to the kitchen floor and pressing his hands to his face. This was so hard. So unimaginably hard. Was he making the right choice? If he was, why did it feel like he was so entirely wrong?

  And just how was he going to tell Crash that he’d decided he could no longer be his physical therapist?

  He just couldn’t stand beside the burly man, his heart thundering and his palms clammy. It was all Jake could do to resist brushing his hand against Crash’s own, tangling their fingers together into that tight embrace that Jake longed so much for. It was all Jake could do to resist pressing against Crash’s chest, breathing in the man’s kiss as desperately as a man left out in the cold would embrace the warmth of a burning hearth.

  Jake swallowed and pleaded with his heart not to shatter, to stay firm and whole, though it began cracking even as he bargained with his mental resolve. With shaking hands, he pulled the cooked chicken out of the oven and set it on the stove. It smelled delicious even though Jake couldn’t imagine eating right now, not when his whole soul was in such pain. He breathed in deeply, hoping that his eyes didn’t betray his sheer sadness when he faced Crash again.

  With only the clatter of silverware as the noise, he doled out the cooked food onto their plates, carrying them out to the living room where Crash only had a sofa, not a table.

  As he walked, he saw a familiar blue sedan roll slowly by, creeping down to a crawl as it lingered in front of Crash’s house.

  “Hey…” Jake said abruptly, “What kind of car does Timmy drive?”

  “Timmy?” Crash echoed, head tilting. “I don’t… I don’t think he drives.”

  Jake frowned, watching as the car waited a few minutes and then drove away. Shaking his head, Jake headed back to Crash’s side, sitting down with the plates in their laps.

  Crash just stared down at his food, pushing it around on the plate. Though he wasn’t one to waste a good meal, he couldn’t find an appetite anywhere inside of him.

  “This is it, isn’t it?” he whispered abruptly, just as Jake sat beside him. “This is the last time I’ll see you, isn’t it? That’s what all this is about?”

  Jake gave a faint grunt of surprise and melancholy. How could he just sit here in silence when his heart was cracking into a thousand little pieces that would never be able to be put back together?

  “Yes,” Jake answered honestly, his voice hoarse.

  Crash pushed away his plate, turning towards Jake and grabbing his hand.

  “If there’s anything I can do to change—”

  “No,” Jake pleaded, lips contorting into a twisted but beautiful line. “No. Crash, if I could—”

  Crash shook his head, leaning to Jake and pressing a hungry kiss against his lips.

  Jake instantly pressed against him, their plates forgotten on the floor as Crash dragged Jake into his lap, ignoring the faint twinge of discomfort in his knee. They collapsed backwards on the couch, mouths everywhere, fingernails dragging across skin. The kiss deepened, passion overflowing as they clung closer.

  But all too soon, Crash was alone on the couch with nothing but two cold plates of food and a heart ripped out of his chest. Shit, he ran again.

  Chapter Ten

  “You should be back on your feet in no time, Mrs. Bennett.” Jake smiled, trying to muster up the willpower to actually mean the forced joy on his mouth. “I think your arm just needs another few days of rest before it’ll be as good as new.”

  Mrs. Bennett chuckled, shaking her head as her middle-aged daughter beamed from across the room. “I don’t think anything on my body is ever going to be like new again, Jake,” she warbled gleefully.

  “You’d be surprised.” Jake smirked back, patting her shoulder. “I’ve seen some incredible things in my line of work.”

  Mrs. Bennett’s daughter approached, thanking Jake heartily. While normally Jake liked to chat with his patients and their families, today was just not one of those days. It hadn’t been one of those weeks. He wished he was in a better mood; Mrs. Bennett’s Sunday roast was the closest thing to heaven that Jake had ever witnessed. But the last five days had left him in a sorry state of despair that he had yet to pull free of.

  Wait, had it really been only almost five days since the last time he’d seen Crash? It felt more like five years. Five lifetimes even. Jake had recently discovered that heartbreak made him melodramatic. He’d even considered writing sad poetry before he remembered he was a terrible writer.

  The hockey player would be starting on his third week of rehab sessions, Jake knew. He’d looked at the schedule. He looked at it every morning, pretending to be interested in what new patients the office was collecting. Jake had passed Crash off to one of the best therapists in his office, though he’d noticed the confusion on Lucy’s face when he requested the transfer. He’d never once given up a patient. He’d always fought his way to the very end of their rehab process.

  When she’d asked why he opted not to care for Crash, he’d given her some bullshit answer. He’d told her that they just couldn’t get along, that they were too different and he felt that Crash would respond better to another therapist.

  He’d hated every one of those lying words as they spilled from his lips. He wasn’t a liar. He wasn’t good at it, and Lucy had been less than convinced. Fortunately enough, she also had not pressed the issue. She’d just smiled and agreed to take care of it immediately. As far as Jake could tell, Crash was doing well. He tried not to ask too much. It hurt to hear that someone else was helping Crash recover when Jake could not. Lucy hadn’t complained about Crash’s reluctance, so Jake assumed that Crash was going easier on his new physical therapist. He wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or jealous.

  The thought would’ve made Jake laugh if he’d been able to muster up a real smile in the last few days. Monsoon had even been able to tell that Jake was down lately. Though the mutt loved attention, he wasn’t a huge cuddler, or at least he hadn’t been before. He practically laid all over Jake’s lap now, lapping wet kisses across Jake’s cheek and sleeping curled up close at his side, breathing puppy breath into Jake’s face. If it wasn’t for that dog, Jake might not have been able to crawl out of bed in the morning.

  It was silly, the way this was affecting him so deeply. He’d gone through breakups before, and none had bothered him—and this wasn’t even a real breakup. He and Crash had never discussed the possibility of being anything. So why did Jak
e feel as though his world was coming apart at the seams?

  When Jake turned around, his bag fully repacked, Mrs. Bennett was gazing at him with wise, gentle eyes.

  “Do you want to talk about it, Jake?” she asked softly, the sound of her daughter making dinner in the kitchen clinking through the house that, while it was small, was larger than Crash’s modest little place.

  “Talk about it?” he echoed, blinking, though the elderly woman just gave a little nod. “You’ve hardly been yourself. You’re like a lightbulb, Jake, or a candle. A bright little lamp that comes into our home, and many others I’m sure, and you scare away the shadows in everyone’s life. I don’t think you even mean to. It just happens.”

  Jake’s throat went tight, but he forced another smile that didn’t convince the woman sitting before him.

  “Come now, there’s no need for that. There’s no ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ when it comes to sadness like yours.”

  Jake stumbled forward, sinking down next to her. She stroked the top of his head like his mother once had.

  “It’s love troubles, isn’t it?” she sighed. “I can see it in your face. You’re not broken, Jake, even though you might feel like it. It does get better, once you decide on a remedy.”

  Jake didn’t answer. He didn’t trust himself to speak or the tears that he’d been fighting for days would come leaking behind his long, tawny lashes. But Mrs. Bennett was quiet and continued to stroke his hair. To her, Jake was more family than a stranger who came and visited her home. She knew that most of his other patients felt similarly. Jake had a way of making those around him feel special and tended after.

  But who would look after him and his vulnerable heart in such a way? It was a burden, Jake’s sensitivity. One she identified with.

  “You have a choice here. Move on or move back. It depends on the situation as to which direction you go. Who did something wrong, Jake? You or the other?”

  “Neither,” Jake croaked. “I don’t think either of us did anything wrong. But it won’t work.”

  “Why?” she chuckled. “Timing? My boy, that is a cop-out if I’ve ever heard one. Love never has great timing. It happens when you least expect, and sometimes when you least want.”

  “But I can’t…”

  “I would think long and hard about what you can and can’t do.” She chided gently, giving his shoulder a little pat and nodding her chin towards the door. “Now why don’t you head on home. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  Jake nodded, knowing that it was getting late and that he needed to head home. With another thank you to the sweet woman and a goodbye to her daughter, he collected his things and headed slowly out the door.

  As he did, he mulled over Mrs. Bennett’s words.

  Was what she said true or was that just the wishful thinking of an elderly woman living with some regrets in her fading years?

  As he walked with his duffel bag on his arm, he felt the bag vibrate against his side. Curious, he set it down on the sidewalk and began rummaging through his supplies until he found the bright screen of his cell flashing inside.

  He picked it up, kneeling back on his haunches as his blood went instantly cold, like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over his head.

  Twenty missed calls. Twenty missed messages. Each text message said the same thing, a quote that chilled him to the bone.

  I see you. I want you.

  He stared around him desperately, seeking out a pair of eyes watching him, though he saw nothing except inky, endless shadows. When he climbed to his feet, there was only one place in his mind that he could run to that would be safe.

  Chapter Eleven

  Loud, heavy banging jolted Crash awake from where he lay peacefully in his bed.

  He’d gone to sleep early, before nine o’clock in the evening. He tended to be a night owl, but he’d begun sleeping more lately. His dreams were better than his reality, which was living without hockey and without Jake. At least when he was wrapped up in his cozy sheets and his eyes were closed, he could see Jake’s face and feel his supple skin as clearly as if the lean man was standing before him.

  At the sharp noise, Crash jerked upwards, eyes wide, listening for another sound. His brain felt muddy, like his thoughts were slogging through a deep swamp of sticky mush. He couldn’t quite figure out if he was still dreaming.

  He’d only just flopped back down, letting his head rest on his cool, fluffed pillow once more when the banging erupted again at the front door.

  Grumbling, Crash carefully swung around, easing himself up off the bed. His knee ached with the movement, and his eyes were still so sleepy that he could barely see, but he somehow managed to make his way to the front of his house.

  Taking firm hold of the doorknob, he yanked the door partially open, forgetting that he had put the chain on it for once. Last time his neighbor had stopped by, she’d rebuked him for not being more careful with his home security. He’d agreed immediately to start locking his doors. He’d do what he had to do to keep getting those cookies.

  Jake stood before him, trembling.

  “What happened?” Crash asked instantly, slamming the door to unlock the chain before hastily swinging it fully back open and dragging the younger man inside. “Jake, are you hurt?”

  Seeing the look on Jake’s face was worse than any heartbreak Crash had ever experienced. He never wanted to see such an expression on that handsome face again.

  When Jake didn’t answer and only numbly blinked his dull eyes, Crash wrapped his arms around him, embracing him tightly, wishing he could protect Jake from whatever it was that had terrorized him. He wanted to be a shield for Jake, a wall that would keep him safe and sound.

  Jake’s whole body shook in Crash’s arms, so much so that it felt like he was vibrating. Even still, Crash didn’t loosen his hold, burying his face atop the man’s sandy hair.

  Jake’s face pressed into Crash’s neck, clinging to him like a child would cling to a favorite teddy bear.

  “I’m scared.” Jake forced the words out of this throat, making himself share the details he hadn’t told anyone.

  “What happened?” Crash asked again. “Did someone say something to you?”

  “I’ve… I’ve been getting these letters,” Jake finally choked. “For a while now. Maybe a month, maybe longer…”

  “Letters?” Crash asked softly, rocking Jake gently back and forth. “What kind of letters?”

  “They’re all the same. They all say the same thing. Crash, I think someone is watching me. All the time. I can feel them everywhere.”

  Crash didn’t answer, stroking his hand up and down the man’s back, keeping him clutched tight in a warm embrace.

  “But now I’m getting calls and messages. I’m starting to get worried. I thought it was a prank at first. Someone messing with me. I’m not sure anymore.”

  Crash pulled slightly back, cupping Jake’s cheeks and pressing his forehead to the other man’s damp skin. “Jake, stay here tonight. We’ll go to the police in the morning. I can sleep on the couch.”

  “No,” Jake whispered, cutting Crash off. “No.”

  “I’m not letting you leave,” Crash insisted with a frown. “Like hell I’m letting you out this door after you just told me that you think someone may be stalking you.”

  Jake gave a limp shake of his head, chewing his lower lip. “That’s not what I… Crash, I don’t want you to sleep on the couch.”

  Crash stilled, confusion twitching his brow. “What?”

  “I want… I want us both in the bed. Together.”

  “Are you sure?” Crash asked softly. “You made it seem like you didn’t want that at all. I can’t do this back and forth anymore, Jake. I need you to be honest with me. With yourself.”

  “What I want, Crash, what I want more than anything… is you. I don’t care about anything else.
Since trying to distance myself from you, I’ve felt like a shell. I’ve felt like my arm is missing or my leg. You’re a piece of me that I never knew I needed-”

  Crash cut him off, capturing Jake’s lips in a deep and tender kiss.

  Jake leaned into his chest, wrapping his arms around Crash’s corded neck.

  “Fuck me, Crash. Make me forget,” Jake whispered against his lips, making Crash’s entire body go from chilled with worry to white hot in a single second. “I want you. I need you. Now.”

  Crash didn’t need to be asked twice.

  He backed slightly from Jake, still holding his hand tight, their smoldering eyes glowing in the shadow of the dark like embers.

  Jake had been fighting this desire for so long that to finally give in was like a weight being lifted. Even in the face of his worry and confusion, all he could imagine was sinking into Crash’s arms, the only place in this world that he knew for sure was safe, the only place in this world that he knew for sure he wanted to be.

  Without a word, Crash guided Jake back to his bedroom, where their clothes were discarded with the ferocity of a whirling tornado. Socks flew onto the fan, shirts vanished under the bed, boxers rest in a crumpled heap as the pair collapsed together onto Crash’s mattress.

  Crash’s lips hurriedly nudged Jake’s, and he responded by opening his mouth wider and letting his tongue soothingly caress the velvety interior. For a moment, Jake seemed unsure where to put his hands, so Crash grabbed them and held them over his head, pinning his arms to the back of the bed as Jake’s tongue collided effortlessly with his own.

  “Ah, Jake,” Crash whimpered against the taste of feverish skin. He’d been yearning for this, but he hadn’t realized how much until this very moment, when his body was roughly rubbing up against Jake’s.

  Unable to hold onto the position any longer, Crash ran his hands down Jake’s arms, and Jake slipped his arms around Crash’s body, pulling him chest to chest. As they kissed, Crash reached down and started to slowly stroke Jake’s cock. He jerked and let out a murmur that caused Crash to smile between their lips. He ran his hand from Jake’s balls to the tip of his length. Jake squirmed in his grasp and that excited Crash.