Chapter Six
Jet
I understood where Harte was coming from. It couldn’t be easy for a pro athlete to find himself in a same-sex relationship. And I kind of liked us having this time together. Us against the world. But right now, I needed to take care of Emerson.
Harte was in the kitchen, getting some food together, and I sat with Emerson on the couch.
“Talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling.”
This wasn’t the happy-go-lucky Emerson who never lacked for a joke or sexual innuendo. Big green eyes filled with anguish met mine.
“He was just a kid, Jet. Couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or two.”
“I know. But he made a choice. He and his buddy beat an old lady and put her in the hospital. They locked a little boy in a closet while they pistol-whipped the parents. And he was gonna kill me. I swear I almost shit myself when he raised that gun to my face. Thank God you have the reflexes of a fucking cat on a hot tin roof, ’cause I would be singing with the angels now. ”
“As soon as he moved his arm, I knew I had less than a second to make a move.” He covered his face with his hands. “So why do I feel so guilty?”
“Em.” I put my arms around him as he cried. “It’s not easy to take a life. If you had no reaction, I’d be worried. Let it out. You’ll feel better.”
He sniffled into my chest. “I haven’t cried like this since senior year of high school.”
“What happened then?” I figured telling me would take his mind off everything else.
“The usual. At prom, I asked some girl to dance. She was a cheerleader, but we’d had some classes together, and I’d helped her with math homework after school a lot. Turned out she was Starr’s date. In front of everyone, she asked me, ‘Why would I dance with you when I have him?’ ”
I winced in sympathy. “Ouch. What did he do?”
“That asshole? Nothing. Just smirked, and they walked away. Everyone else laughed at me. I left and walked home, crying, feeling like a dumbass. Of course she’d want to be with him. I was a puny nerd.” He let me go and wiped his face.
“Come on,” I protested. “You gotta be kidding me. You’re a beast.”
“Nah, man. It’s true.” He shook his head, staring at the floor. “I had a late growth spurt—after high school ended, of course. That’s when I joined a gym and got my tats.” He smoothed a hand over his colorful arm. “I wanted to erase every memory of who I was.”
Harte joined us and sat in the club chair opposite the sectional. “Bullying is never right, whether its name-calling or physical abuse. It’s all wrong.”
“We all know it, yet it still happens.”
I had to agree with Emerson. “That’s the truth. It’s why I’ve kept my sexuality to myself. It’s no one’s business who I choose to sleep with.”
“We had that on the Kings,” Harte confessed.
“Devlin Summers told me their kicker sensed he was gay and constantly made nasty innuendos about him and Brody. When they retired and came out, he was the first to text and call him a pervert. And you know Trick Sloane is bi. He’s had some pretty awful things thrown at him, both by fans and in the press. ”
“That sucks,” I agreed. “Being in the public eye makes everything twice as hard.”
“You have no idea,” Harte muttered.
“So you’re planning on staying up here in Appleton Falls?” Emerson asked.
A faint blush stained Harte’s cheeks. “Yeah. I really like the quiet. I grew up in an area similar to this, so it kind of feels like home.” He chuckled. “I’d better sharpen my driving skills, though. I’m not looking for a repeat of what happened.”
“You look like you’re pretty well healed. Gonna be going home soon?”
I held my breath, hoping Harte would want to stay.
“Yeah. I’m sure Jet wants me out of his hair. It was nice of him to offer to help me, but he needs his life back.”
Two could play this game. “It’s been good to reconnect, but yeah. I’m sure you wanna get settled in your new place.”
“That’s a nice part of town you’re in,” Emerson remarked, and Harte’s brows flew up.
“Uh, how do you know where I’m living? I didn’t even get to spend a night there before my accident.”
“I looked you up. Dude, you think a pro athlete’s gonna come live in this rinky-dink town and I’m not gonna see where he lives? Besides, we gotta make sure your privacy is protected. You never know when groupies might show up at your door.”
“You mean like you?” I teased, and Emerson blushed bright red.
“Shut up. I mean, the guy’s a Super Bowl champion. Multiple times. That’s fucking cool.”
Harte’s smile was wry. “I was just the backup to Dev and Trick.”
“Dude, don’t be modest. A ring is a ring. And you played plenty. That pass you made in the fourth quarter to Rio Durant in the game against the Bisons was a work of art.”
“Well, thanks. But I gotta say I’m in awe of both of you. I don’t think I could ever do what you do.”
“Be a deputy? Why not?” I asked, curious.
“Life and death in my hands? No way.” He shook his head.
“I don’t think of it that way,” I answered. “It’s more about helping people and protecting them. Making sure they’re safe in their homes, on the road, at work. If you had the training, I bet you could do it.”
Harte waved a hand in front of him. “Well, good thing I’m not going to. But I do have to think of a way to occupy my time.”
“You’ll figure out something. Our high school football coach is young, so that job isn’t in the running.”
“I’m not interested in coaching, so that’s not a problem.”
Emerson finished his muffin and coffee. “I’m gonna get going. I really do feel better. I appreciate you letting me bust in on your day.”
“I’m glad, but don’t miss your meetings with the shrink. They won’t let you return to work otherwise.”
“I know, I know.”
I walked him to the door. “Call me later. And you know you’re always welcome here.”
“Yes, Dad,” he teased, then gave me a bear hug. “Thanks for everything. And I don’t care what you say, stud muffin.” My face flamed. “Harte’s into you, and you want him. Go for it.”
“You’re a funny guy.”
I shut the door behind him and sighed. “I’m still worried about him.”
“I know. I feel like he’s holding everything in. But no one can help you through your grief. He’s got to work through it himself.” Harte collected the mugs and plates and took them to the kitchen.
“That’s very true and very wise.” I came behind him while he was stacking the dishwasher, and when he straightened up, I put my arms around him and buried my lips in his hair. “How are you feeling? Still hurting?”
He faced me with a smile, his hands on my waist. “It feels weird, but I know it’ll get better. I’m just achy and a little sore, but some of it is left over from my ribs. Whatever it is, I don’t mind it.”
“We’ll take it easy tonight. Let’s sit. You should rest.”
We settled on the couch, and Harte kissed me. “I think I should go to my place tonight.”
Shocked, I stared at him. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. But like Em said, it’s been a while since my accident, and I don’t need help anymore. I should go home.” He pushed the hair out of my eyes. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be together. Does it?”
Dizzy from the relief flooding me, I grabbed Harte tight. “No, no of course not. I got scared for a moment. It’s all so new, and I know you’ve never…done any of this before. It’s bound to be overwhelming and a bit scary.”
“Yeah. Thanks for understanding. I was serious about what I said earlier. I do need to have something to occupy my time. I can’t sit all day and wait for you to come home, and I’ve never been a gym rat.
I’m not interested in going to school, and while I might want to start gardening because I like growing vegetables and stuff, it’s the dead of winter now. That’s not happening for months.”
“So what, then, if you don’t like coaching? Any ideas? Something related to football? Lots of ex-players become television commentators or something like that.”
He exhaled a deep breath. “I’m gonna call Dev and Brody and ask them their opinion. Maybe I’ll call Trick as well.”
I’d never been a fanboy, but I had to admit it was cool to think he had these superstars on speed dial. I had my mom, my sister, Emerson, and Angelo’s pizza.
“That’s a great idea.”
“Enough about me.” Harte searched my face with a furrowed brow. “And we’ve talked about Emerson, but you had the gun pointed in your face. We barely touched on that. How’re you holding up?”
“I-I’m fine.” My smile came and went quickly.
Harte’s face revealed his skepticism. “That’s impossible. Don’t hold it in. You can’t always be the strong one, Jet. I have a feeling that’s how you’re programmed, but sometimes it’s okay to let go.”
“No. No it’s not. Not for me.”
Harte took my sweaty hand and led me to the couch. “What do you mean?”
“My father died when I was in college. I knew I had to step up and take care of my mom. My sister’s older—she was already married and had her own life. It all fell on me. I didn’t mind, but sometimes it would be nice to not always be the one everyone depends on to get things done.”
“That’s a heavy burden, especially when you were so young.” Harte squeezed my fingers.
“I probably stayed at home longer than I should’ve, and my mother’s a little more involved in my life than necessary.”
“Do your mom and sister live close by?”
“You could say that. They live across town, but that doesn’t stop them from popping in to say hi. And the only reason you haven’t met them yet is because Laura, my sister, took our mom on a cruise. They’re due back in a week.” I chuckled. “Prepare yourself.”
Visibly nervous, Harte chewed his lip. “You haven’t told them you’re bisexual?”
I stared at the floor. “No. All my mother’s ever talked about is me getting married and having children.”
“Something you can still do even if you’re married to a man,” Harte pointed out.
I grimaced. “I know that. I’m just not sure she does.”
“So you’re not going to tell her?”