3. Jamie
Chapter 3
Jamie
I was not in the mood to go to Frenchie’s and put on a front, acting like I was happy to be home. Also didn’t feel up to accepting condolences for lost dreams, seeing pity in people’s eyes, or being asked what I would do now that the NFL was no longer in my future.
Because I didn’t fucking know, and even attempting to consider a new plan made me depressed as hell.
I’d rather have stayed holed up in my old bedroom at Dad’s since being a nudist in his house wasn’t an option, and my balls only swung free behind closed doors. Since arriving back here, I’d done nothing but sprawl on my too-small twin bed and feel sorry for myself. I couldn’t wait for August and the high school football season’s start that would keep me busy and tired enough that my brain would shut down at the end of every day.
But someone had insisted on throwing a welcome home/retirement party—Coach Bernard—because the old guy was proud as fuck of his favorite past player who’d gone on to those bigger and better things. Never mind he couldn’t wait to hit the road for the southwest.
I agreed to go to Frenchie’s on this muggy July night for his sake rather than to meeting up with old friends or making new ones. While I’d committed to coaching the upcoming season for our tiny high school in the hopes I would find some sense of purpose again, I didn’t have plans to stick around long afterward.
Wasn’t sure I would be able to.
Life would be miserable enough having to see Chaz and Shelly together. Even worse, their hanging all over each other when I wanted to be the one kissing Chaz’s lips and littering his neck with hickies for the world to see.
But what else could I do? I’d chosen to return to Pippen Creek in order to have some sort of football in my life, and I would make the most of it while I could.
I’ve got this.
Stitching a smile onto my face at my motto ringing in my ears, I pushed into the thankfully air-conditioned and only bar in town. It had recently been bought by a woman named Frenchie and her wife, Iris. According to Dad, they were Mrs. Grumpy and Mrs. Sunshine. One glance through the massive crowd to the bar on my right revealed who was who.
Both appeared to be in their fifties, and while Frenchie had long graying hair and an icy blue gaze, her wife sported a short, spiky blue haircut, smiling brown eyes focused on me. Regardless of their opposite natures, they both hollered out a, “Welcome to Frenchie’s!” as the door shut behind me, wrapping my overheated body in coolness.
My arrival drew attention, and my smile faltered as dozens of heads swiveled my way. Sweat beaded on my forehead for a whole different reason.
“The man of the hour!” Coach Bernard hopped up from his stool and pushed past people to be the first to greet me. “Welcome home, son,” he said fondly, wrapping me up in his arms. Nostalgia made my eyes sting.
I’d put on some serious muscle weight since high school, so his barrel-chested mass could no longer lift me up off my feet like he used to, but we both chuckled, caught up in the reunion.
“Congrats on finally retiring, old man,” I replied with a teasing tone, slapping him on the back.
He laughed loudly, making it clear he’d already been celebrating for a while. Clasping my shoulder, he turned toward the rest of the crowded bar. “Jamie Forester, everyone!”
As if they didn’t know who I was.
Forcing my grin to stick in place rather than grimacing, I followed along where he led, allowing my old coach to reintroduce me to every patron in the room, bragging about my stats from the greatest rookie season ever.
Damn, did I wish he spoke truth.
While I appreciated his enthusiasm over what would have been a killer rookie season had I not gotten injured, I wanted to escape the crowd and attention focused on me. Being on the field with thousands of eyes watching me run plays had only ever psyched me up and pushed me to do better.
Now?
I felt like a damned anomaly on stage at some carnival freak show while everyone stared. My skin itched. Pulse thrummed. I kept glancing around like a skittish cat needing a way out even though the people were kind and smiling.
The bar’s door pushed inward, but rather than focusing on the means of escape into the darkness beyond, my gaze landed on the redhead who’d once upon a time been like a sister to me.
Shelly Henderson.
And behind her?
Jesus .
All thoughts of football and a bleak future faded to the back of my mind. I swallowed hard, that pulse in my head beginning to pound with every throbbing punch of my heart against my breastbone.
Tall, dark, and handsome. Haunted hazel eyes I wanted on me so I could drown in them like a lovesick puppy. Wide shoulders I lusted to grasp while he pounded into me. Trim hips my legs had always ached to wrap around.
Shelly grasped Chaz’s hand, dragging him in behind her when he seemed to hesitate, her head swiveling as though searching for?—
Her shriek and shimmy let me know she’d spotted me, but I couldn’t tear my focus off her husband’s face.
As though feeling my stare, he turned his head my way.
Our gazes snagged hold.
I fucking grinned like a goddamn dork when I’d expected to curl in on myself from the pain of having to see him again.
As though of the same mind, we stalked forward, brushing past people, and at the last second before we crashed into each other, I remembered the woman still clinging to his hand who he’d taken along for the short walk across the bar.
I wrapped my arms around them both and hugged them tight.
But my nose angled toward Chaz, and I breathed him in as deep as I could. Even smelling as though he’d recently scrubbed himself with soap, the underlying smell of the mechanic shop he’d worked in since high school clung to him.
And I fucking loved it. Longed to bathe in his scent. Lick him from head to fucking toe?—
Shit.
I stepped away before popping a boner, having to do so forcefully, considering how Shelly had attached herself to my side.
“My God , Jamie!” She laughed and finally released me to clasp my cheeks. “It’s so good to finally have you back home where you belong!” Her breath reeked of whiskey as she brushed a kiss over my cheek, leaving a smear of lip gloss.
“Thanks, Shell. Good to see you too.” I rubbed my face across my shoulder real quick to rid myself of the stickiness.
She grabbed hold of Chaz and leaned into him, caressing his arm with her usual possessive attention. I’d have given my left nut to be able to do the same to him.
I wanted to run my fingers through Chaz’s damp hair, attempt to tame the black waves he’d never given much effort into controlling. Same as always, he wore grungy jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days, and while his smile and hazel eyes appeared haggard, he was still hot as fuck.
“Next round’s on me!” Coach hollered, and Shelly let out a, “Woohoo!” before releasing Chaz like he had the plague or something. She headed to the bar without sharing another word. No “sorry about your knee,” no begging for gossip from the NFL, no prying into my love life like she used to do. She hadn’t even asked how I was doing.
Chaz and I were left facing each other in the middle of the packed bar, and I couldn’t find it in myself to care his wife had abandoned us for alcohol. I hadn’t gotten him to myself since those brief moments before we’d exited a side door near the church stage where he and Shelly would vow to honor and cherish each other until death parted them.
Should have been me.
“Missed you, brother,” he said, his voice low and gaze a little unsure, causing my throat to tighten.
“Same.”
Fuck it.
I yanked Chaz into my arms and squeezed the living hell out of him. The tension in my guts eased, and I exhaled all of my pent-up agitation at having to people that night. I could have lingered in being pressed against Chaz for hours, but only a few quick seconds passed before he stepped away, clearing his throat. He glanced over at his wife, who held a shot of amber liquid into the air.
She yelled out some nonsense about getting her party on before slamming the drink back. Her laughter and hip bump against the woman beside her I didn’t recognize made it clear she still loved getting buzzed, same as when we’d been teens. The girl had abandonment issues thanks to a father who’d fled the scene with another woman and a mother who’d been ill and pretty much unable to parent for close to a decade. Who wouldn’t want to drown their sorrows in her shoes?
“How are you doing, Jamie? Because that there’s a forced smile if ever I’ve seen one.” Chaz studied me like a bug beneath a microscope.
“Shitty,” I answered honestly, once more giving him my full attention, not bothering to keep my lips upturned. His eyebrows dented inward, creating a deep furrow between them. Smudges beneath his eyes suggested he hadn’t been sleeping well, and I yearned to spoon the hell out of him and demand he get some rest. “How about you?”
“Same.” He spoke low as though trying to hide how he really felt from everyone chatting around us. Typical of Chaz to put on a false front to appease his asshole father, who wasn’t even at Frenchie’s.
That need to comfort and help my best friend, same as all through our childhood, rose inside me as it did whenever he seemed to be hurting. “Maybe we can?—”
“Chief!” Coach’s holler pulled my attention toward the bar’s door, which once more stood open.
Dad strode inside, his uniform slightly wrinkled from having worked all day. His best friend Dexter, the captain at our small firehouse, followed behind him, white teeth flashing from his wide grin.
I’d often wondered why the two of them hadn’t hooked up. Dad had admitted to being bi when I came out to him in high school, and it was no secret around town that Dexter liked dick. But I assumed crossing best buddy lines didn’t always end well, and I expected they both appreciated their friendship too much to fuck around and find out.
If Chaz had even hinted at being curious about dick, I would have gladly jumped over that line and pushed to help him “find out” for sure. In secret, of course, because I’d been destined for the NFL, where being anything but straight wasn’t exactly smiled upon.
Dad headed our way, and I glanced at Chaz to find him staring at me.
Neither of us said a word, and if I hadn’t known better about him liking women, I’d have assumed he was drinking me in as though he’d been as starved for the sight of me as I’d been for him.
Wishful thinking.
Suddenly needy as fuck, I bro-hugged him once more and shoved rising fantasies to the back of my mind, determined to enjoy the parts of him that I could have. To make the most of my time in Pippen Creek before I figured out what to do with the rest of my pitiful life.
“Your dad still have that old tent?” Chaz asked, and I put a foot of space between us, my grin returning, because the immediate future was suddenly fucking bright as hell.
“Not sure, but I’ll buy a new one if you’re suggesting what it sounds like you are.”
“Guys weekend at the pond?” he questioned, and the lack of including his wife hit me low and hard even though things between us wouldn’t go anywhere near where I lusted for.
Still, the chance to have him all to myself?
“Fuck yeah, I’m in,” I agreed, my grin easy and real .
“Jamie—good to see you, kid.” Dexter clasped my hand and yanked me in for a quick hug, tearing my attention fully off Chaz. “Sorry shit worked out like it did.”
And just like that, the lack of end goals returned, dragging me down like a defensive lineman hellbent on tackling me into the ground.
“Same, man, same,” I mumbled, nodding my acceptance of his condolences.
“Chaz!” Shelly called loudly, waving at her husband. “Get your fine ass over here and do a shot with me!”
Chaz grimaced and nodded. “I’ll catch you later, Jamie. We’ll make plans.”
He ambled toward Shelly, who held two shot glasses in her hands.
He’d erased my sense of drifting without purpose for a few minutes, but seeing them in the flesh together caused my heart to ache twice as bad as having an aimless existence.
But goddamn, that ass. Made my mouth water.
“Sutton said you haven’t gone on any ride alongs yet,” Dexter said, pulling my attention away from a man I had no right lusting over. “That used to be your favorite pastime back in middle school when you weren’t hanging with those two.”
Memories of driving around with Dad in his cruiser after Mom abandoned us trickled through my brain, sending a fond ache through my chest. The sentimental moments just kept hitting hard tonight.
“Dad?” I asked, glancing at him.
He grinned. “You’re welcome to join me whenever you want. Can’t believe I didn’t think to suggest it before now with how bored you’ve been at home.”
“Tomorrow work for you?” I asked, excited to have something to look forward to.
“Swing by the station whenever. Just grab coffee and some scones before you show up.”
I nodded, fighting the need to glance over at Chaz again.
“Sutton said you spent a couple of months in Boston before coming home,” Dexter said.
“Yeah, but the few friends I have down there are still into clubs and partying.” I shrugged. “Not really my thing, so I was bored.”
Dexter turned dark eyes on Dad then back to me. “Ever run into the troublemaker Jimmy Riley? Remember him? A little older than you, on the smaller side. Blond. Didn’t know how to shut up?”
I choked on my own spit and coughed before finding my voice. “Nope,” I croaked.
While my answer wasn’t exactly a lie, I wasn’t going to out Jimmy and his way of making a living since leaving home. Last thing I needed was someone asking how I knew he was employed by the gay branch of Elite Escorts. Didn’t mind so much if people eventually found out I was into men, but having hired an escort for myself?
Yeah, no. Couldn’t take the chance of soiling Dad’s name or reputation in any way. Mom had done enough of that on her own.
Dad growled a few words beneath his breath, and I glanced between the two men.
“Am I missing something?” I asked.
Dexter snickered and slapped Dad’s back. “I think Sutton here has been a little bored since that boy left town.”
“I’ve been enjoying the peace and quiet,” Dad corrected his friend, his tone snippy.
“Sure. Sure.” Dexter’s eyes twinkled, and I wondered what the fuck was going on. “Want a beer?”
“Yeah,” Dad agreed, and Dexter left us alone.
“How are you holding up against all this attention?” Dad asked before I could question what the fuck that exchange with his best friend was about.
I shrugged, my focus once more flitting toward the bar as I considered what Dad had asked.
Chaz sipped a beer while Shelly talked animatedly to the woman she’d hip-bumped. Those feelings of being a third wheel and looking in longingly from the outside I’d always experienced as a teenager slid through me just as strongly as they had before I’d left town. “I’m alright.” I outright lied.
“Chaz appears exhausted.”
I tore my gaze off him before Dad questioned why I stared at my old best friend the way I did. Full of lust and heartache. “You said he bought the mechanic shop, right?”
“Yeah. His dad loaned him the money last year, and he’s been working his ass off to prove himself.”
Jesus.
Chaz and his dad’s relationship had been rocky enough, and Chaz’s supposed shortcomings had been pointed out harshly and often ever since as far back as I could remember. At least his mom had treated him decent enough. She wasn’t exactly the nurturing type but better than not having a mom at all.
“ Why the fuck did he get the money from his dad? You know as well as I do the man is an asshole.”
Dad shrugged. “Bank wouldn’t give him a loan. No credit or assets for collateral.”
“Fuck. He and Shelly okay at least?” I asked, remembering the not-so-positive response Chaz had given when I’d asked how he was doing. Call me an asshole, but I wanted to hear a negative answer from my dad. If their marriage crumbled, I could help Chaz pick up the pieces.
And maybe eventually more if he would ever be open to being loved by a man.
Shame slithered in like a snake, but I shoved that shit to the back of my mind. Couldn’t help desiring my best friend as much as I used to want the NFL. Football had been forced into the backfield, leaving Chaz with a wide open path toward the end zone of my full focus.
“Things seem fine on the outside, but I’ve heard some stuff,” Dad said, scanning the room with his ever-watchful gaze.
“Gossip or…?”
He lifted and dropped a shoulder. “Their neighbors say they fight a lot, but I’ve never gotten an official complaint that has warranted I check in on them.”
Shit .
For the next hour, between bouts of catching up with old football players from high school, teachers who’d claimed me as their pet back in the day, and other townsfolk I’d known my entire life, I studied the couple stuck in the forefront of my mind.
Chaz followed Shelly around like usual, but she definitely wasn’t the koala she used to be with him. She gave him narrowed side-eyes that suggested irritation, and once, I caught her lip curling with what looked like disgust when he’d leaned close to talk in her ear.
The fuck was going on between them?
I sipped my lemon water, wondering and wishing she’d dump him or take off like my mom had. Then I felt guilty for thinking about my best friend’s broken heart.
That part of him I could never have, no matter how much I still dreamed of making him mine.