Chapter 3
Jaxon
Samuel arched a dark brow at me as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was in his work clothes—a dark t-shirt with a pair of coveralls on over his jeans, the top part tied around his waist. He’d filled out a lot since high school.
Gone was the skinny boy who’d missed too many meals.
Now, he was healthier and stronger, his body more defined.
Hunter, Samuel’s boyfriend, made sure Blaze and I knew how much he fucking loved this version of his man.
It was a hell of a lot more than I ever wanted to know about their relationship, honestly.
“What’s up?” he asked, reaching up to adjust the ball cap on his head, which had the Mazda logo on it.
“Need an oil change.” I tossed him my keys, which he easily caught. “How long is the wait?”
He glanced behind him at the three bays, all of which were full. “Probably about thirty to forty-five minutes before I can get your truck in here.” He looked back at me. “You want a full service or just the oil change?”
“Full service.” Wasn’t like I didn’t have the funds.
My parents, while mostly absent from my life, leaving me with nannies until I got old enough to take care of myself, provided for me well financially.
They had more money than they’d ever know what to do with, and so long as I didn’t wind up in jail or the morgue, they didn’t really care what I got up to.
They just deposited insane amounts of money into my account every month.
Honestly, I could probably be a bum, never attend another college class, and never get a job, and they wouldn’t care. I wasn’t even sure if they’d notice, to be real.
Samuel nodded. “There’s coffee inside,” he told me.
Then, he headed into the garage bay, tucking my keys into his pocket.
He was the only person I let do any work on my truck.
When I came to the shop he managed, everyone knew not to even get near my truck, or Samuel would bite their heads off.
In fact, when I’d bought my truck, it’d been so down in the dumps, I had to have it towed here.
Samuel not only fixed everything and made it run like new, but he also did the paint job, got all the dents and dings out, and reupholstered my interior.
Crazy to think at one point, I bullied him.
And there was no excuse for me acting like a homophobic asshole toward him.
I should’ve never followed what Hunter did, especially when, apparently, Hunter only did it because he was closeted and afraid of coming out himself.
There was no excuse for how we’d treated Samuel.
We did all that shit to look cool, and now look at me.
Maybe my injury was karma coming to fuck me in the ass—raw and without lube, at that.
Hell, if anyone were to ask me, I thought every man was at least a little bit gay.
I certainly was. How I felt for my best friend was proof of that.
But honestly, how could I not start falling for Blaze when he literally was the sole reason I hadn’t unalived myself yet?
Depression was a bitch I struggled with daily, and some days, she was much louder than my will to stay alive.
But then, I just pictured how stricken and stressed Blaze looked when I finally opened my eyes in the hospital, and I decided to keep living for him.
I dropped into a chair inside the waiting room and pulled my phone out, surprised to see a text from Blaze.
Blaze:
Hey, I turned in your assignment for math. You forgot to submit it.
Fuck. I scrubbed at my face, once again frustrated with this new fucking memory thing I had to deal with. I couldn’t even remember simple shit like submitting a damn assignment before the due date.
Blaze:
I also emailed your professor explaining you had a migraine and it made you forgetful. He’s waving the marks for it being late.
Me:
Thank you. Can’t believe I forgot.
Blaze:
That’s what I’m here for. You’re at the shop, right? I’m nearby. Wanna meet up for lunch?
Blaze always knew where I was, considering since I’d been discharged from the hospital, he tracked me on Life360 in case I ever forgot where I was going and got lost. It hadn’t happened yet, but the doctor warned me it might.
And when I told Blaze, he grabbed my phone, unlocked it, downloaded the app, and shared my location to his phone.
The old me would’ve been pissed that I was being tracked all the damn time.
But the new me? I was thankful he cared enough.
Fuck knew how terrifying it would be to end up somewhere I was unfamiliar with.
I’d had enough memory issues to know the frustration just led to migraines, which led to more problems like jumbled speech and agitation.
Me:
Lunch sounds good. Where do you want to meet?
Just as I sent the text, his car pulled into the lot.
Unable to help myself, I smiled and pushed to my feet, heading out the door.
Samuel was walking out of the bay when I emerged.
I opened the passenger door, and Samuel gripped the open door as I slid into the passenger seat, leaning down to look at Blaze. “Don’t you have practice?”
Blaze shook his head. “It got cut short. Hunter got into an altercation with one of the freshmen.”
Samuel sighed and tugged his phone from his pocket. Without another word, he shut my door and walked away, already pulling his phone to his ear to no doubt call his boyfriend and find out what the fuck happened. I looked at Jaxon as he headed back for the road. “What happened?”
“Kid mouthed off at Hunter. Called him a fag. Hunter broke his nose. Coach is making Hunter do more drills, but he’s not benching him or anything.
But the other kid… he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t lose his scholarship for his homophobic slurs.
” The head coach of the football team was pansexual and poly, with a wife and a current boyfriend.
And while he got a lot of hate in the sports world from football fans, there were even more who adored him for being open, out, and proud.
If he wanted to have the kid’s scholarship revoked, he could. And would.
“You’d think the kid would know better,” I muttered. “We’ve been young and dumb once, too, and we’re lucky that Samuel doesn’t absolutely fucking hate us.”
Blaze nodded in agreement as he finally managed to turn onto the busy street. “Samuel isn’t like most other people though,” he reminded me. “I mean, every fucking chance he got, he antagonized the shit out of Hunter.”
I snorted a laugh because he wasn’t wrong.
But Samuel’s home life had been absolute dog shit with a homophobic, abusive brother and parents, and we hadn’t made school any easier for him.
Some days, that guilt still ate at me. How many other lives had we inevitably fucked up by accident when we’d targeted Samuel?
“Pasta good?” Blaze asked as he merged into the left lane, drawing me back out of my head. “I’m craving garlic bread.”
I arched my brows at him. “Pasta and garlic bread are the last things you should be eating before your game tomorrow.”
Blaze shrugged. “What the coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Then, he winked at me before sliding into the center lane to make the left turn into the pasta restaurant’s parking lot. And fuck, pasta did sound good. So, yeah, I agreed… What his coach didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.