Chapter Two #2
“Well, I was off duty. But I can’t ignore someone if they’re in a car wreck.”
“You’re such a good person, Jet,” she purred and put her hand on my arm. “I can wait with you after I get off. We can catch up. I miss you.” She fluttered her lashes, and her fingers tried to tangle with mine, but I pulled away.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Her brown eyes held mine. “I thought we were good together.”
“I’m sorry.”
Carmela sounded resigned but accepting. “I am too. You can tell Emerson I didn’t mean to be a pest.”
“You weren’t. I’m glad we had this talk.”
“Me too. Night, Jet.” With a final smile, she walked away.
Relieved we’d worked it out, since I didn’t like her thinking there might be a chance for us, I took out my phone and scrolled through my emails to read some news stories. After an hour or so, Harte was wheeled in. His eyes brightened when he saw me, and he waited until after they left, to speak.
“I-I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”
“I said I would, and one thing you’ll learn about me is that I always keep my word.”
With some difficulty, he shifted in the bed. Blue eyes dark and hollow with pain bore into mine, and my stomach tied into knots. Why did I feel as though he was about to say something that would upend my world?
“Am I going to learn more about you?”
That sounded like a challenge. Like he was hoping I’d say yes.
But I had to be certain because I wasn’t going to make any assumptions.
Infrequent as they might be, my hookups with men were discreet and not close to home.
I’d travel to Albany or Saratoga, far enough away so I could feel safe.
We’d have dinner and then a few hours in a hotel room, or if they lived close by, I’d get an invite to their place, but never to stay.
Not that I’d want to. I’d come to the conclusion that these apps weren’t geared toward forever.
Only for the moment. The quickie encounters depressed me, and I hadn’t even bothered to look in over a year.
I’d started dating Carmela, but after two months, she’d wanted to move in and started talking about marriage.
She wasn’t my forever, and I broke it off.
No one knew I was bisexual—not my family, friends, or the people on the force.
Not even Emerson, with whom I was closest. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was, but I wasn’t sure how he’d react.
He was only twenty-eight and a player. A transplant from New York City, who’d only been here around a year and a half, but we’d clicked immediately.
“I’d like that…to learn more about each other,” I told Harte, taking a chance. Even in these days of Pride parades, rainbows, and unicorns, we were afraid to say the words out loud. “If that’s something you might be interested in.”
A pink flush rose over Harte’s face, and his gaze lowered.
“I-I’ve never done anything like this, but…
” His voice dropped as his eyes darted to the open door of his room and the people hustling back and forth in the hallway.
“I always knew who I was but never acted on it. I couldn’t, you understand.
Not when I was active. I didn’t have the strength Patrick Sloane did.
” His fingers gripped the bedsheets, the only indication of his internal turmoil.
My heart hurt for him. “I’m not sure I have it now but maybe… .”
“Everyone’s story is different. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” A powerful surge of joy rolled through me, coupled with a protective instinct to keep him safe, but I’d have to take it slow with Harte. “If anything did happen, it would be between us. I don’t advertise my private life.”
We stared at each other, and I couldn’t begin to guess what was going on in Harte McKinney’s mind.
“You probably think I’m a coward for hiding who I am. I mean, Patrick came out, and he’s married now with a child. The fans still love him, and he’s the Kings’ quarterback. No one would give a damn about me. I’m a washed-up second stringer.”
Why did I have the feeling he was repeating someone else’s words?
“I would give a damn,” I said softly. “I do. People remember you, Harte.” There was so much pain inside him, I had to let him know how much he meant to me. “I’ve never forgotten you.”
With my heart banging in my chest, I reached out and touched his hand. A mere brush of skin on skin but enough to let him know. His lips parted, and I watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
Voices sounded right outside the door, and I jerked my hand away just as the doctor walked in.
“Mr. McKinney, you are a lucky man.”
Harte grimaced. “My body would beg to differ, but I’m glad to hear that.”
The doctor chuckled. “You don’t have any broken bones, and there’s no evidence of any cracked ribs either. There’s some deep-tissue bruising, which is most likely the cause of your pain. Your nose, however, is broken.”
“So much for my pretty profile,” he joked.
“We’ll keep you overnight to monitor the mild concussion and send you home tomorrow.
You should see about getting yourself some help around the house because you’ll need rest to recuperate.
It’ll hurt for a while, and you won’t be steady enough on your feet to take a shower on your own or walk up and down the stairs. ”
“Thanks, Doctor.”
“Good night, Mr. McKinney.”
After he left, I sat thinking. I didn’t want to take advantage of the situation, but I had an idea that might work to our benefit if Harte agreed.
“I guess that’s good news,” Harte said, “except for the needing-help part. I hate the thought of having a stranger in my house.”
“I have a suggestion. A way to make something good out of a bad situation.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Harte’s brow furrowed.
“Why don’t you come stay with me?”
“You?” his words came slow, his tone wary. “Why would I do that?”
Heat rose in my face. Maybe I was rushing things. “I just thought it would be a way for us to spend time together without all the prying eyes.”
“But you work, so I’d be alone during the day.”
“Not starting tomorrow. I’ll be on night shifts—midnight to eight a.m.”
“Oh?” A gleam of understanding sparked in those blue eyes. “So you’d be there all day?”
“Uh-huh. I could help you shower, and we could—”
“Jet?” Harte murmured. “Close the door.”
My brows shot up. “Th-the door?” I pointed, and he nodded. I jumped up and did as he asked, returning to him slowly. “Why? What is it?”
My stomach fluttered like a flock of birds taking wing.
“I was hoping to kiss you and see what it was like.”
My heart leaped, while nerves popped like firecrackers under my skin. Sweat broke out under my pits and my brow. Christ, I was as nervous as a virgin. I hadn’t even realized I’d walked to the edge of Harte’s bed. I sat and hitched the chair closer.
“You don’t…I mean, we don’t have to rush things. Maybe you want to wait until you feel better.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I’m not gonna be able to wait for all my injuries to heal. I’ve been knocked around enough on the field to know.” His smile grew broader. “Besides, I’d be dealing with a serious case of blue balls, so it’s not like it’d get any better.”
When he put it like that, I couldn’t disagree. “Oh. well yeah. I’d like that.”
His lashes swept down. “Just a warning. I’ve never kissed a man. I’ve only really been with Maya. I might disappoint you.”
I cupped his cheek and watched desire rise in his eyes.
His breath caught with an audible hitch as I closed the space between us to press my lips to his.
Mindful of his injuries, I kept it slow and gentle, fighting the urge to drag him close and ravage his willing mouth.
Harte’s soft sigh of pleasure was a song I’d never get tired of hearing.
The tip of my tongue traced the outline of his mouth, and he trembled underneath me.
“Not a chance in hell.”