Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
WELLS
Ifucked up. I know that. I pushed Kellan too far, unfairly, and now there’s no one to blame but myself for the black cloud the size of Texas that’s sitting in my living room, casting a shadow over everything.
Work out? I tried that. My speed bag hit me in the face within ten seconds.
Hang out in my bedroom? It made me want to crawl out of my skin.
The scent of Kellan still clung to my sheets, and I felt like if I stared hard enough, I could still see the imprint of his perfect body.
The one that I’d slept next to all night, tracing light patterns across his skin and wondering how this could be real life.
I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. And I don’t blame Kellan for giving me the verbal ass-kicking that happened earlier. He probably thinks that I’m staying out of his way because I’m pissed, when the reality is that I’m embarrassed. Deeply, disgustingly embarrassed.
And even the sliver of a chance to make things right comes with cutting open my own metaphorical scars and letting them bleed all over the place, just like he did.
I don’t know if I’m a good–or brave–enough person to do that. Not like he is. Tackling life head-on and always working hard to make the best of things.
The reality is that, regardless of what happened between us when we were younger, he’s become a much better person than me.
I’ve let all my anger and rejection twist and fester and morph inside of me until it’s made me someone that even I don’t like.
A person who treats people like they’re disposable.
Someone who’s so wrapped up in themselves that I poke and prod and claw at other people because of my own insecurities until they break under the weight of my scrutiny.
It’s a wonder he didn’t tell me to fuck off weeks ago.
In the past three hours, I’ve run my apology over-and-over again in my head so many times that I feel like I’ve almost said it out loud at this point. I wish it was that easy.
Instead, I’m standing in the kitchen while the aforementioned black cloud–true to his word– is sitting twenty feet away on the sofa and ignoring me.
His feet are kicked up on the coffee table, and while I was in my bedroom for the last hour, he finally turned the television on and is watching a documentary on… whales?
Apparently wonders will never cease where Kellan O’Reilly is concerned.
He doesn’t look my way as I take out two of the meal prep portions I put together for this week’s lunches and start to plate them. Chicken breast, brown rice, and broccoli. It’s not one of my more creative meal plans, but I’ve been a little distracted lately.
I wait until both are heated up before cautiously walking over to the sofa and sitting down next to him.
“A peace offering,” I say, not looking at him. Instead, I focus on the documentary.
He stares at the plate for a few seconds before taking it wordlessly. He takes a bite, and out of my peripheral vision, I can see the strong muscles in his jaw flex. Finally, he speaks. “I saw the plows starting to come through. I should be out of here soon.”
I need to say something. I need to make this right.
But whenever I think about opening up, I feel like I’m choking on my words.
Still, I can’t let Kellan walk out of here with things the way they are right now.
“I’m sorry. About earlier,” I tack on, even though it’s as obvious as an elephant in the room what I’m apologizing for.
Kellan continues to stare at the television, and I can’t figure out if I’m desperate for him to look at me or desperate for him to not. “Not about all the other times you’ve been a dick, too?”
I let out a strangled laugh. “I’m sorry about those times, too. This has been an illuminating morning, that’s for sure.”
Finally, his head turns, and he meets me with a somber look that makes my stomach ache. “I don’t know what your deal is, Wells, but I’m not going to be your punching bag. I like myself too much for that, even if we have chemistry.”
I drop my head. The guilt sluices through me, the ache in my stomach making me a little queasy. “I know. I know that. I just…”
The silence extends between us, until, shockingly, he hands me a branch that I know I don’t deserve. “Just what?” he asks, his voice soft. Coaxing.
When I look up, he’s staring directly at me, dark eyes searching my own.
I want to unburden myself to him. But I’ve spent years fortifying these walls. And Kellan, for his complete lack of guile, doesn’t know what he’s asking me.
Still, I don’t want to lose him. Not like this.
And that’s all I’m thinking about as I push past the lump that’s stuck in my dry throat.
“I think I’m jealous,” I admit. I let out a deep breath, willing myself to keep going.
“You make it seem like we’re the simplest thing in the world, when I struggled for years with who I was.
How I identified. What it all meant. Coming out. So, I guess it just makes me think…”
“Think what?” I have every ounce of his attention, the empty plate back on the coffee table as he tracks every micro-expression I know is flashing across my features.
Maybe I’m not ready to open my wounds completely, but with Kellan looking at me so sincerely, like I really can trust him–and I feel it in my bones, too–I want to at least try. Pick at the scab to see how the pain I’ve tried to stave off for so long actually feels.
“That it must not matter to you. Like it’s something that you could take or leave at any moment.
” The knot in my stomach pulls tighter, and I know I’m on the right track.
I’ve spent a long time living by a very strict code oriented around not getting hurt.
Not being rejected. And I know that I’m probably going to feel worse before I feel better. If that ever happens at all.
“I ran into you last night looking for an end-of-the-night hook-up” Kellan says matter-of-factly, but his brows are furrowed in confusion, trying to make sense of the contradiction. Well, that makes two of us.
“I don’t know what I was looking for. Maybe not to feel so alone in my apartment. I had a shitty weekend, and I was trying to escape it.” I give him a look. “And I absolutely didn’t realize that you were free last night.”
He gives me a small, teasing smile, and I wonder if I’m going to melt when he places his hand on my thigh. “Is that how you ended up at my game or is ending up at the game the reason you had such a bad weekend?”
“The former,” I say quickly. I don’t want him to stop touching me. His big palm is so warm. It centers me, and I want to exist in this moment forever. “You played a hell of a game.”
His brow lifts. “I thought you hated hockey.”
“But I don’t hate you.” I take a deep breath, my words tumbling out.
“I really like you, in fact. And I’ll admit that I wasn’t expecting to, but I’m sorry that I pushed you.
It’s not my business to judge your life or how you’re living it.
” My heart is racing with the admission, but for the first time, I feel the smallest loosening of the knot.
“You just think I’m a liar?” But there’s no malice in his voice. It’s just genuine curiosity, the same tone he uses during our tutoring sessions when he’s trying to wrap his mind around a concept.
“It’s hard for me to believe you’re not struggling with what’s happening between us.
That you aren’t picking it apart and examining it and wondering what it means.
” I can’t make it make sense, no matter how hard I try.
But I want to. Because I don’t want to lose Kellan.
I don’t want to lose whatever this is, even if I don’t understand it.
Maybe that’s part of why I’m so insistent to hold onto it. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve been challenged by someone who doesn’t give into my bullshit. Someone who’s unapologetically themselves, and makes no excuses for it.
He squeezes my thigh, and I feel the touch through my whole body. I clear my throat, hoping it doesn’t crack. “I do… want to get to know you. For the record.”
I watch Kellan watching me, feeling the weight of his stare. “Then it’s your turn.”
“My turn?”
He nods. “Your turn. What are, let’s say, three things that I should know about you.”
“Are you trying to make me do ice breakers? Pretty cliche for a hockey player. Ba-da-buh,” I say, making a little gesture like my fingers are drumsticks.
He laughs, and I don’t miss the way he scoots a fraction closer. “Having a terrible sense of humor can be number one.”
I almost say something glib, but I stop myself. I’ve been given the gift of a second chance, and I don’t want to waste it. I run my hand along my jaw, trying to come up with something. Finally, I settle on, “Boxing is about the only sport that I truly appreciate.”
Kellan looks contemplative, even as I don’t miss the once-over he gives me. It causes a little thrill to shoot through my body. “Not a fan of team activities?”
“Honestly, no. If you can believe it, I’ve never played especially well with others.”
“Why not?” I’m sure for someone like Kellan, who’s been part of a team since he could walk, it’s a totally foreign concept.
He’s rubbing over a wound, picking at its scabbed edges, even if he doesn’t know it.
“I’ve never had great coordination. I was always scrawny for my age.
I was way more interested in academics than sports.
” He gives me another stare, this one more overt, as his eyes run down my arms. I don’t know what possesses me, but I lift up my shirt, showing him my abs.
“This is a development in adulthood. I had to fill out the extra foot I grew in the last few years of high school. I was the definition of a bean pole.”
I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches out his free hand and slides it across my stomach, tentatively. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
My heart races uncomfortably. “It offsets the personality,” I push out when he starts scratching lightly against my skin, caught between needing him to stop touching me and begging internally that he won’t.
“Do you like this?” he asks, and I know that I’m being toyed with but can’t find the will to care.
I manage to lift a half-hearted eyebrow. All I can think about is the blood rushing to my cock, how much I miss Kellan against me. “Do you?”
I’m not expecting the thoughtful answer that I get in response.
“I like that you’re as big as me. I like that you can hold me down.
” I can see his irises growing while he maps my body with his fingers.
I don’t dare speak. “I like that you’re dominant in bed.
Usually, if I even have time to be with someone, they expect me to be in charge.
To control the situation. I like that I don’t have to be that way with you.
” Our eyes meet, and he wets his lips. “I guess I’ve just never thought about what I really wanted before.
Life has always happened to me, and I feel like I’ve been playing catch up. ”
I draw closer to him, anxious and exhilarated. The rock in my stomach has become fully dislodged. In its place, a tumult of butterflies are flapping their wings, making me feel weightless. “And now?”
His lips are just beyond reach as he whispers, “And now, I want to watch some gay porn with you to see what all the fuss is about.”