Returning Your Love (Pippen Creek #1)

24. Chaz

Chapter 24

Chaz

I kept my front porch light off on Halloween. Didn’t even put up any decorations in the front lawn like Shelly used to do every year trying to outdo the neighbors around us who went overboard, in my opinion.

Whiskey was my sole company, but I limited myself to two drinks that night. Dry-eyed, I sat and listened to neighborhood children’s laughter outside for two hours, recalling the happier memories we’d had when trick-or-treaters came to our door.

Jamie, Shelly, and I had spent every Halloween night together from fifth through twelfth grade, flitting from porch to porch and filling pillowcases with candy. The best year had been when we’d all turned sixteen and went as the Three Stooges. We acted like morons, snort-laughing while running down Pippen Creek’s roads.

I did miss Shelly in some ways. The friendship we’d had prior to our relationship becoming more had meant a lot to me. Even though she’d basically tagged along with Jamie and I wherever we’d gone, she’d been a welcomed breath of fresh air. Sunshiny and upbeat alongside my best friend. They had been a double dose of happiness for me once upon a time.

Our tears had mingled when we’d had to put her mom in the long-term care facility. She’d clutched my hand that afternoon when we’d driven away from the only family member she had remaining. I’d been determined to knock her up after that Friday afternoon.

Heaving a sigh, I set my empty glass aside and focused on the tightness in my chest.

Grief was a fucking funny thing but far from amusing. Different reasons for it weaved throughout my brain, but I realized not all of what I experienced stemmed from being upset for her and the life she’d missed out on.

I might have fucked up, but I was starting to believe the therapist I’d been seeing for a couple of weeks when she said I wasn’t at fault. I was coming to understand that it was okay to grieve for myself over the loss of my wife too. Doing so wasn’t selfish like I’d thought it would be considering my infidelity I’d yet to discuss with anyone but her.

A tear slid down my cheek, and I let it drip onto my old T-shirt while slouched on the couch. There hadn’t been a big breakdown or agonizing sobs over my own loss as I’d done while hugging the toilet when feeling sorry for Shelly, and that was okay too according to my therapist. People dealt with loss in different ways. I needed to allow myself to feel the emotions, let them happen, and accept them.

The guilt was just as real, understandably so considering my failing to fulfill Shelly’s dreams and how I’d fucked around with Jamie behind her back, but I was learning not to let it rule my life. A slow process for sure, but I would get there eventually.

I’d been to therapy three times, and it actually felt good to unload to a complete stranger who wasn’t from Pippen Creek and didn’t know me or other townsfolk. She would never judge me or tell my parents about my shit. Or about how I was desperately in love with my best friend and wasn’t ready to pursue a relationship because I needed to love myself first.

My fourth online meeting was the day after Halloween, and I left the shop early again, actually anticipating talking with her.

We discussed the self-confidence I’d been building, and she recommended stretching myself a bit more. Start opening up again to friends and loved ones. Sharing my grief rather than hiding from or stifling it because I didn’t want to be vulnerable with others and show that supposed weakness as Dad had called it.

The first person I thought allowing back in—as a friend for now—had his final home game on Friday night.

I showed up early and sat on the fifty-yard line.

Babs was there, same as she always was in support of our Bobcats. She smiled, hugged me, and welcomed me to the land of the living. Nothing was said after that about Shelly or questions about how I was doing. She simply chewed my ear off about the town’s latest gossip, keeping my brain occupied until our team tore through the banner held by the cheerleaders.

Jamie and Coach Dave trotted behind the players, the energy not nearly what it’d been the last game I’d attended with Shelly. Still, grim determination lined both coaches’ faces when they rounded the boys up on the sidelines for a quick pep talk.

I couldn’t tear my eyes off Jamie.

He once more wore khakis that fit his ass snugly and made my mouth water. A thick fleece, red and sporting the school’s logo, covered the bulk of his upper body, but I’d memorized every inch beneath. Lusted to touch and sample the dips and swells of his muscles. Maybe even shove my nose in his armpit again. Lick over his skin and get a proper taste of him.

It’d been weeks since I’d gotten myself off out of sheer need to empty my balls, but he’d been front and center in my fantasy while doing so.

Guilt had accompanied my spunk shooting from my dick and hadn’t disappeared down the drain like my cum had.

Technically, I was free, but my head wouldn’t allow my heart what it wanted. Remorse and a desire for betterment constrained me, but I wasn’t sure how to let go of the self-imposed shackles that were stronger than any ball and chain I’d imagined being imprisoned by before.

The heaviness of those thoughts carried on throughout the game the more I looked at Jamie. And with every touchdown from the opposing team, Jamie’s shoulders slumped further. I wished I could hug him.

A shutout ended the season, but with it being senior night, the crowd didn’t disperse right away.

One-by-one, the graduating players strode across the field on the arms of their parents or loved ones, waving or fist-pumping the air as their name announced over the tinny speaker. Kyle, the starting quarterback, got the biggest round of applause, his backup, Josh, a close second and hot on his heels.

The guys lined up along the edge of the field in front of the stands, and the whole town offered thanks and the edification the kids deserved for fighting so hard. They hadn’t once given up, and according to Babs, had the best season team-wise in years. They had only won one game, but their comradery soared.

Jamie stood behind his quarterbacks, a smile on his face, pride in his eyes as he watched the two boys in front of him.

Kyle and Josh turned toward each other, laughing. Josh said something in Kyle’s ear—and they were suddenly kissing. Full-on lip-lock, Kyle holding the back of Josh’s neck in a firm grip as though desperate to keep him in place. Not that Josh appeared to have any intentions of backing away. He clung to Kyle’s jersey with both hands.

I stared, my heart pumping as their mouths moved over each other’s in view of everyone.

That bit of news hadn’t gone ‘round the town. Even Babs gasped beside me before whistling shrilly along with dozens of other folks.

My gaze went to Jamie behind the kissing boys.

His smile had faded, and he watched with such longing in his gaze that pain knifed at my heart. He lifted his focus, eyes settling on me without surprise, as though he’d been aware of my presence the entire game.

Ears muffling, I could only hear the whoosh of blood rushing through my body as our gazes locked. Want carried on the cold air between us, intensifying the puffed white exhales from both of our lips. My body leaned forward to erase the distance, but the team suddenly crowded around their coach, hiding him from my sight and returning me to the reality of the cold biting my nose and the chilled metal beneath my backside.

I swallowed hard and turned away to find Babs peering up at me.

Her kind eyes said it all—not to wait, to take what happiness I could while I still had the chance.

While half the town headed to Frenchie’s, I was too amped up, too hyped on desire and fear to be in a crowd. Temptation to text Jamie and…I didn’t know what else, made my fingers itchy to pull my cell from my pocket, but I didn’t.

I drove home in silence and entered the tomb-like house that no longer felt like a home.

At least I’d been taking better care of the place the previous couple of weeks, vacuuming and doing dishes rather than allowing them to pile up. I’d even scrubbed the bathrooms the day before, so the place smelled somewhat lemon-like.

I eyed the whiskey I’d left on the kitchen table. A few shots would chill me the fuck out, but I needed to learn to cope without the alcohol. Emotions were healthy, I’d been told, and I ought to let them happen. Feel them. Hell, the therapist had even suggested talking to them as though they were my children, as though nurturing them would create a better relationship between us.

Sadness over wanting what I didn’t deserve was the most prominent. Yearning for connection attempted to overrule the first, a not-so-sweet war between my head and heart.

If Jamie stood before me?—

Headlights flashed on the wall, and I moved toward the front windows as a red SUV pulled into the driveway, causing the motion-detecting floodlights to flick on across the yard.

My mouth dried, pulse thrumming with unsteady beats.

We hadn’t spoken in a couple of weeks. He’d finally given me the space I’d asked for, and every necessary second without him had sucked.

Eyes closing, I rested my forehead on the front door, hand gripping the handle.

Silence settled in my mind, all thoughts of being torn in two directions going quiet. Hadn’t we been headed toward this moment for our entire lives? Whether proper or too soon to be ethical, this was always where we’d been meant to be.

I wasn’t sure I was ready, but I couldn’t say no any longer.

He knocked quietly as though knowing I waited a mere panel of wood away, heart in my throat.

Refusing to give in to the shame wanting to creep into the back of my mind, I pulled the door inward.

Dark blue eyes shadowed by the overhead light atop the stoop met mine. Emotions poured through them and off his body. Pain. Longing. Perhaps even his own sense of guilt.

“Can I?—”

I grabbed the front of his fleece and hauled him inside, causing him to stumble into me.

Our mouths slammed together as our bodies collided, hard and hungry. We were desperate with aching desire, making the show those two boys had gifted the town on the sidelines look like child’s play.

Somehow, the door shut behind him, leaving us alone in oppressive silence broken by heavy breathing and low moans. Jamie held my face in his warm palms, moving my head at an angle so he could plunder my mouth, own me with deep strokes of his tongue along mine.

My legs went weak, and I clutched at his thick fleece, his strength kept me upright.

How could this kind of lust be healthy? This consuming craving to connect on a spiritual level far beyond the caressing of flesh?

I had to touch him. All of him.

I shoved my hands up the back of his shirt, hot skin meeting my fingertips. Mapping the muscles along his spine and across his shoulders, I submitted to his kiss, to whatever he wished to do with me.

Jamie Forester owned me in that moment, and no amount of shame or guilt would convince me we were in the wrong.

Maybe later, but right now?

“Want your dick, Chaz.” Jamie’s statement lit my insides on fire.

There was no stopping us.