Chapter 10
Oakley
Lawson has a gentle smile on his face as we ride along the trails at the back end of his family’s property. He seems at peace.
My head, on the other hand, is a chaotic swirl of emotions I don’t know how to begin setting to rights.
Lawson is going to find someone to fuck him. Tonight, if he can. And for some inexplicable reason I still can’t identify, I agreed to help.
The man’s voice floats over in a murmur. “‘All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.’”
I turn my gaze Lawson’s way. He’s squinting against the gentle dappling of light coming through the trees, motes of dust curling in the air in front of him, his hand waving through the specks.
My heart beats wildly at the sight, the memory of a much younger Lawson doing the same an ache in my chest. Lawson has always had a sort of unshakable faith in the world.
Not a religious kind. More that he believes people to be good on the whole, and he lives his life trying to prove it.
Trust, on the other hand, is a trickier thing.
But he trusts me. Even still. Even after the bumps we’ve traveled over and all the life we’ve lived, he trusts me to help him figure out something he doesn’t trust a single other soul with.
Faith, trust, and pixie dust. All a person needs to fly.
“Oakley?”
Wendy’s voice comes from the front of our little group, and I reorient my gaze, as well as my thoughts, her way. “Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you and Stevie work out?”
My chest pangs at her question, but the sensation quickly sloughs off. “Just weren’t meant to be, I guess.”
“Didn’t you love them?”
Well, shit.
I meet Lawson’s eye, the man’s amused expression telling me I’m on my own with this one.
Heaving a breath, I explain as best as I can to a seventeen-year-old who hasn’t yet experienced the complexities of romance.
“Yeah, I loved them for a long while. But not all love is the same. I thought… I dunno. I guess I thought our love was stable, but that’s not always enough in the end. ”
Lawson grunts.
“What?” I ask, curious about that grunt.
His head shake is a slow thing. “Stable won’t ever be enough for you, Oak.”
“No?”
“No,” he says. “You need fireworks.”
My head rocks back at his casually confident assessment. “Not everyone needs fireworks when it comes to a romantic partnership.”
“I’m not talking about everyone,” he replies, swaying gently in the saddle. “I’m talking about you. You’re too passionate to settle for stable, and you shouldn’t have to. You need someone who’s going to light the fuse you have ready and waiting. Someone who’s going to make you burn.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“I think burning is an indication of a medical problem,” I reply hoarsely.
Lawson chuffs, the sound amused.
Wendy looks pensive.
“What is it, Wen?” I ask.
Her gaze skips to her dad before she faces forward again. “Just wondering.”
“About burning? If something burns, go see a doctor.”
She shakes her head, and Lawson chuckles.
“Speaking of,” I say slowly, “you know you can always talk to us about…stuff, right? Like…if there’s ever anything you’re unsure of or need advice about?”
Wendy looks over her shoulder again, her eyes moving from me to her dad slowly. “Is he talking about sex?”
Lawson snorts. “I think so.”
She glances my way. “My parents already gave me the sex talk. You know, while you were gone.”
“Ouch,” I deadpan. “Aiming right for the heart, huh?”
Her lips twist into a proud smirk.
Christ, when did Wendy Darling go and grow up?
The three of us ride all the way to the base of the mountains before stopping for lunch. It’s a warm day, but the shade from the trees keeps us cool enough as we enjoy the sandwiches Lawson made before we left. Plus some leftover blueberry crisp Ash baked the other day.
Wendy talks a bit about her friends from school and her worry over what will happen once they all graduate. Whether or not they’ll stay close.
I don’t say it, but the truth is there are a lot of friends we lose throughout our lifetime. Not every person we meet is meant to stick with us. Some friendships only last a season in the grand scheme of time.
But the people who stick? Well, there’s a reason for it.
I’d know. Mine is sitting right next to me.
We get back in the saddle after lunch, riding leisurely through the woods along a different trail for a change of scenery.
Lawson takes up the helm this time, Wendy beside me.
It’s startling to see how much she’s changed in three years.
From a gangly teen to, well, still a teen.
But so much more mature than she was when I left.
She looks a lot like Laura. Always has. Her hair is a wavy brown. Her facial features are more petite than Lawson’s, with a small chin and eyes more hazel than his whiskey. The stubborn pride in those eyes, however, is certainly a Darling trait.
When we arrive back at the stables, it’s late afternoon. We take care of the horses, brushing them down, making sure they have plenty of water, and leaving them in the shade of the barn. Wendy gives both me and her dad a hug before getting in her car to head home. To Laura’s.
Lawson watches her go with an expression that causes my gut to pinch.
He stays at the ranch to wash up as I head home, although the plan is for him to join me once he’s done. My pulse doesn’t settle, not in all the time it takes to arrive home and shower off the day. Not even as I wait for Lawson to show.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to be calm when I’m about to help my best friend of over four decades get laid for the first time since his divorce.
For all the ways in which we’ve been close, I’ve never done this.
I never had to. Lawson was never promiscuous, never wanted my help finding someone at a college party or even before then, back in high school.
When I was testing out the waters, he was content to float at the surface, never dipping his toes in.
But now he wants to dive into the same pool I’ve been swimming in since my late teens, and I’m supposed to just…
ignore that for myself? I’m supposed to ignore the fact that Lawson asked to get intimate with me, even though I’m more than certain it would be a catastrophic error on my part to accept his proposal, tempted as I am by the possibility that was never in reach before.
Fuck. I don’t know how to do this. How to brush aside what every fiber of my being is telling me it wants.
That want doesn’t give a shit about the repercussions.
It’s base and instinctual and thinks if I get just one taste—one taste—I’ll be able to go on my way afterwards, same as before.
Yet I know that’s not the truth. I’ll be changed.
Lawson might think we can weather that sort of shift in our friendship, and maybe he’s right that it wouldn’t tear us apart. But it would tear me apart, at least a little.
Could I accept that damage for him?
The knock on my door is expected, but it ratchets my pulse back up nonetheless. Lawson lets himself in, kicking off his boots, wearing a nice pair of jeans and a button-down as if he’s going on a first date.
Jesus. The man is too fucking pure.
“Drink?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “No, I might have a long drive.”
Right. If we find him a guy to hook up with, Lawson will go meet him.
I think I might be sick.
I grab myself a glass of water before joining him at the couch. He has his phone out, the hookup app I told him about downloading.
“I got myself ready,” he says off-hand. “I wasn’t sure if guys would want to take the time to do that in this sort of situation.”
“You…” I have to take a breath and start again. “You prepped yourself?”
“Well, yeah. Laura wasn’t a fan of that, so I’d do it myself.”
Oh good God.
I’ve never been a violent person, but I have the sudden and desperate urge to find Laura and shake the woman. Compatible sexually or not, she couldn’t see to her husband’s own comfort?
“Any man that can’t finger you before he dicks you down isn’t worth your time, Lawson.”
He looks mildly surprised by that statement, eyes holding mine. “Truly?”
“Maybe some people have different opinions about it,” I allow. “And sure, some folks may prefer to do the prep themselves. But if your partner isn’t willing to make sure it’s a comfortable experience for you, find someone who is.”
He blinks, clearly thinking that over. “I just figured, being a quick thing and all…”
“A hookup doesn’t mean it has to be quick. It sure doesn’t have to hurt. You have a right to demand some respect from someone who’s about to stick their dick in your body.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, flushing slightly. “All right.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says, sounding more sure. “So how do I do this?”
Letting out a breath, I help Lawson create an account, and we start perusing men near Darling.
I let Lawson take the lead, not sure what he might be looking for.
Turns out, I’m not sure he knows either.
There’s not a single physical type he stops to look at.
Instead, he reads the information for each, not deciding based solely on appearances.
It’s slow going, and I can tell his frustration is mounting.
“How do I choose?” he asks after a good half hour.
“However you’d like,” I answer honestly. “You can see who’s willing to top.”
He nods, worrying at his lip.
“You’re not drawn to any of them?” I check, wanting to make sure.
He shakes his head. “Never am.”
“But you’re sure you want to—”
“Yes, I’m sure,” he says, pinning me with a look. “I’m doing this, Oakley. I need to know.”
“All right,” I mutter, my throat tight as I help him sort through some of the options. “What about this guy? He’s not too far away, and he’s a top. Online, too.”
Lawson hems. “I dunno. I don’t get the best vibe from him.”
I look over the guy’s info again, trying to figure out what’s throwing Lawson off. I guess he does sound like a bit of a douche, handsome or not. “Okay, what about this one?” I ask instead. “He seems polite.”
Lawson nods slowly. “That could work.”
“Yeah? Want to try messaging him?”
“What do I say?”
“That you’re looking for someone to fuck you tonight and is he interested?”
“That direct?” Lawson asks, the sweet summer child.
“Yes, that direct.”
Chest rising once before falling, Lawson starts a message.
My own chest constricts painfully as I watch him assemble words, my gut rolling in a way I try my best to ignore.
It’s just sex. Just Lawson having sex with a man so he can understand himself better.
It doesn’t have to be me. He asked me first, but it can be any guy.
It should be any other guy.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Okay,” he says, firing off the invite. The man is online, and chat bubbles pop up immediately.
I can’t fucking breathe.
I stand up, walking into the kitchen with my empty water glass, just to give myself something to do. Lawson makes a thoughtful sound, and then he’s typing again.
Bad idea. It would be a bad, bad idea.
“He’s free,” Lawson says, sounding relieved.
“’Kay.”
“I’m going to meet him at his place.”
Breathe, goddamn it. “Text me the address? Just in case.”
“Sure.”
My phone pings, but I don’t check it.
Lawson stands, heading toward the front door. My ears start to ring as he says, “Okay, well… I guess I’ll let you know how it goes?”
I nod numbly.
Would it be the worst thing? To fuck him just once? Surely I can remain detached. Surely. And even if not…
Lawson reaches for his boots, and my breath stutters.
Fuck, I can’t…
“Stay,” I say, my voice coming out much too loud.
Lawson pauses. “Stay?”
I swallow roughly, skirting around the kitchen countertop. “I… I’ll do it.”
Oh, fuck.
“You’ll—”
“I’ll fuck you,” I confirm. “Call it off. Don’t go. Just… Stay.”
I never said I was a rational man when it comes to Lawson Darling. I’ve been his in some form or another my entire life.
Friends seems like an inadequate word for a person you’d travel into literal Hell for.
I just pray the flames don’t consume me whole.