28. Phoenix
Phoenix
M y heart hurts for Walker and I hate myself for not being there for him. “I wish you would’ve told me what was going on that night.”
Walker quirks a brow. “Don’t you think that would’ve put a damper on things?
Hey man, I know we’re competing for the same title, we just met, and we’re about to fuck, but you should know I’m barely legal, never had sex with a guy, knocked a girl up though, oh and I totally abandoned her to kill our unborn child alone…
tonight as a matter of fact. So, when we get done here, I’m going to go in the woods and off myself behind the arena. ”
I don’t find his monologue humorous one bit.
“Don’t fucking talk about ending your life ever again, Walker. It was an impossible situation. Have some grace for yourself,” I reprimand.
“I will when you do,” he fires back, holding my gaze. Touché. “Since we seem to be on a roll with spilling our guts,” he continues, “how about you tell me what was really going on that morning? ”
My answer seems so fucking lame compared to what he was struggling with. It makes me hesitant to tell him.
“Phoenix,” he says after a full minute of my silence. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
My eyes find his, but I can only maintain the connection for a second before looking away again. “Look, it’s gonna sound really fucking stupid after hearing your side of the story.”
He pulls his knee up on the couch and turns to face me. Leaning forward, he places a tentative, gentle kiss to my cheek, like he’s waiting for me to push him away again. “Phoenix, the significance of my pain doesn’t diminish yours.”
I think on his words, and finally decide he’s right.
I tell him about the first time I had sex with a guy.
The trauma of being left alone on the bathroom floor, unsure of what to do next, and the pain of that guy’s dismissal the next day.
“It was like we’d never met. I wasn’t ever ashamed of being gay, but the way he refused to acknowledge me made me feel cheap, like his dirty little secret, like maybe I should be ashamed. ”
Walker growls next to me. “I’ll find that asshole and knock his fucking teeth out.”
I huff a laugh. “Thanks, but he’s not worth going to jail over.”
“Oh, fucking hell!” Walker yells, dropping his forehead to my shoulder as he connects the dots. “The next day, in the shoot, I was totally in the zone and didn’t even smile or…are you telling me I could have saved your career if only I’d given you a wink or something?” he asks in disbelief.
“No. I thought that at the time which is why I was so fucking mad—at you and myself—but now I know the problem was with me, not you.”
“If things like that are such a big deal to you, how’d you get a reputation for being such a player?” Walker asks, both of his hands on me now .
I shrug.
“My looks garnered a fair bit of attention as soon as I hit the circuit. You know what that’s like,” I add, knowing he’s hounded even more than I was.
“My marketing team wanted to capitalize on that, and I needed the money. Figured it was easier to go along with it. Eventually, I realized people just wanted to be near me because I look good and I won all the time, but they didn’t really want to get to know me…
so, I stopped wanting to get to know them too.
I still have not had near the amount of sex the media made it seem like I did, but it kept them off my back and was good for business.
Plus,” I add with a sad smile, “they pegged me as a heterosexual playboy, which helped give me cover.”
Walker stays silent and I let him process. At some point, both of my hands ended up on his body as well, and I can no longer delay trying to find his skin. So, while he’s mulling this information over, I mirror his position, pulling my opposite knee into the couch and reach for his torso.
Fuck, it feels good to have him under my hands again. My fingertips burn with the intense heat he and I create every time we’re near each other.
Finally, his eyes close and he smiles that devastating grin I love so fucking much.
“So, what you’re saying is that deep down, you’re a romantic?”
A smile of my own spreads across my lips. “Of course. You couldn’t tell from the way I held you down on the floor of that tack room by your neck?” Immediately, I wince at the memory. “God, I’m so fucking sorry about that. I would have done it so differently if I’d known.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted you to,” he says.
“Honestly, that night was perfect, Phoenix. I was in so much emotional pain, the little bit of physical pain you provoked was the outlet I needed.” He grabs my face with his good hand, his braced wrist awkwardly cupping the other side.
“I wasn’t lying when I said you saved me. ”
I’m still not sure how to respond to that one, so I switch gears to a different, but equally heavy, topic.
“I’m coming with you on Saturday,” I announce. When he sits up straighter, I know he’s about to argue, so I cut him off. “I’ll stay in the truck. I just don’t want you to drive in case you’re too nervous, or distracted, or upset.”
Seeing the rationality in my statement, Walker nods.
“If you’re sure. Thank you.”
Unable to tolerate the distance between our bodies, I reach for his uninjured hand to pull him fully onto my lap.
“Come here.”
He comes willingly, planting his knees on either side of my hips, and when he spreads them wide enough for his groin to sink down onto mine, I fight back a groan.
“You don’t know how much I’ve thought about you since that night,” he tells me. “How much I’ve missed you. How much I wanted to tell you the truth, but didn’t know how…or even if you’d want to hear it.”
The first thing I do is trace his lips because they’re just as perfect now as they were back then, and I can’t stand not touching them anymore.
He pushes them into a slight pout so he can kiss my fingertips as they caress the soft flesh.
Slowly, I wrap my hand behind his neck and pull his face down to meet mine.
“You still want me? Want this?” I ask, trying my hardest to preserve my heart, knowing it’s a lost cause with him.
“Always,” he replies with no hesitation.
His lips part, and I’m in fucking heaven.
When he starts sliding back and forth, his cock hardening in his athletic pants, mine follows suit in my jeans, and I can no longer keep my noises contained.
His hips roll in and upward as he ruts against me, and I find myself moving my hands to them, pushing down, grinding him into me even harder.
“Fuck, that feels so good, Phoenix. Let me feel your skin,” he pleads.
Reluctantly, I let go of his hips so I can rip my shirt over my head. I toss it behind the couch before helping him with his. “This too,” I demand.
Careful not to bump his wrist, I slide the material over his body, my fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake as they coast along his sides.
With him straddling me, it’s hard to get our chests flush while I kiss him, so gently, I lay him down on the couch and roll on top of him, careful to support my weight on my forearms. The Velcro straps on his wrist brace scratch the skin on my back as he wraps that arm around me, but I don’t mind.
I want all of him, even the broken parts.
I’m trailing my lips down his neck, sucking lightly on the skin below his ear when he whimpers, “Can we take this to a bed? I need more space. More skin. More everything.”
I’m about to agree, my desire ramping higher, until a thought occurs to me.
“What’s wrong?” Walker asks, noticing I’ve paused my movements.
“There’s no way we could keep this a secret,” I point out as disappointment floods my system.
Walker’s brows pinch together. “I wouldn’t want to. Hell, I want nothing more than to tell the whole fucking world that you’re finally mine.”
My chest cracks open as I slip off of him to sit on the floor, my knees bent and my back against the bottom of the couch.
Walker follows me, wiggling his way back onto my lap, which is pretty comical considering he’s slightly taller than me. “ No, no, no. Please don’t pull away. I just got you back,” he pleads.
My eyes drop to the phoenix inked into his skin. I trace every line and curve, finally settling on cursive letters I hadn’t noticed before.
“Sit up on your knees,” I command, wanting a better look.
“I’m already on my knees,” he points out, clearly not wanting me to see what’s written here.
Tapping his thigh, I clarify. “You’re sitting down on my lap, sit up higher on your knees. I want to read this.” I brush my finger along the letters.
Slowly, he begins to rise, bringing his skin closer to my face.
There, underneath the bird’s tailfeathers, are my initials, the date of our night together, and the phrase From the Ashes.
“Well?” Walker asks nervously.
I have no words for this, but that doesn’t stop me from leaning forward and planting a kiss along the words on his skin, grateful he found the strength to rise despite his world going up in flames. “This is so fucking hard,” I admit, gripping him tighter.
“It doesn’t have to be,” he whispers as he sits back down, fully seating himself in my lap.
“Then why aren’t you already out?” I ask.
Walker laughs and shakes his head. “You’re more concerned about my closeted status than the fact that I share an eight-year-old son with my high school girlfriend?”
Okay, so logically, I can see that the kid might be the more challenging item overall, but honestly?
“Yes. I have no doubt that you’ll make a great addition to Colton’s life no matter what role or title you guys choose.
But look at the response you got from your coach when you came out, Walker.
How much worse do you think the responses will be from other riders? ”
His left hand dives into my hair, curling into a fist to grip me by my roots as he responds.
“I cared once, but that was because I’d already lost you.
If getting you back means I have to endure some ridicule, pigeonholing, and harassment from small-minded, insecure people, then so fucking be it, Phoenix. ”
The passion in his voice almost makes me cave, but one of us has to think this through. What would our future actually look like? Since neither of us expected the current situation, I know he hasn’t thought past the summer.
It kills me to do it, but I try to explain why we still can’t start this. Why it may never be in the cards for us. I run my hands up his back, selfishly reveling in his warmth and vitality for as long as I can.
“I’ve thought about you every day for the last eight years, Walker.
Not one day has gone by without your name crossing my mind.
Truthfully? I’ve watched every ride you’ve taken and read every article that’s been published about you.
I follow all your sponsors on social media just so I never miss a picture or an update about your season.
I’ve played ten million what if scenarios in my head, but never in a million years did I expect this to be one of them.
And the reality is that this is temporary.
You’re leaving at the end of the summer, and when you’re gone, I’ll still be here, in this house, with all the memories we’d make.
I can’t live like that, and you can’t give me more.
Not without risking your career. So, we can’t start this because I won’t survive the end when it comes. ”
It's fucking ironic that I’ve spent so long being mad at him and hating myself for what transpired between us, and when I finally find out that I never should have been angry at him or myself, we still can’t be together.
Walker grabs my face and passionately protests, “I’ll come out. What people think doesn’t matter to me.”
“You’ll lose your sponsorships,” I argue. “At least half. Maybe more. You could miss out on invitational events that offer big prize purses and necessary points for the season. And the list goes on.”
“Fuck the sponsors,” he says, growing angry. “And the rest of that is speculation. I’ll figure it out. Just please, don’t say no . Give this a chance.”
“We can’t,” I say weakly.
“Stop being such a goddamn coward!” Walker yells, punching me in the shoulder with his left hand. “I’m telling you I don’t care about the sponsors. I’ll ride the fucking IGRA circuit if I have to, Phoenix. It’s my career. It’s my choice!”
“You won’t be happy at the top of the IGRA circuit, Walker, and you’ll grow to resent me for the fact that you’re there.
Don’t kid yourself. The Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association is the largest rodeo association in the world.
The IGRA hosts a fraction of events compared to them and while the IGRA has some phenomenal fucking riders, we both know your talent deserves the stage of the PRCA,” I point out, completely bypassing his comment.
“Maybe you should let me decide what stages I’m willing to compete on and stop projecting just because you didn’t have time to make different choices for your career.”
I know he’s hurt, but damn if that wasn’t a low blow. I’m trying to protect us both. Can’t he see that?
I gently push him off me and stand, having maxed out my ticket for this emotional rollercoaster. As my foot hits the first step in the foyer, I call over my shoulder, “I pray you never know what it feels like to be forced out of the sport you love.”
Walker’s response is immediate from the floor of my living room. “I can’t imagine it’s any worse than being forced away from the man I love . ”
My step falters.
Did he just say…love?