Chapter 17
Casey Joe
Fuck.
I wanted a smoke.
I wanted a beer.
I wanted that numbness from the chemicals taking over.
And that right there was ninety-nine percent of what made me know without a doubt I needed to take a step I was scared to fuckin’ death of taking.
Just wasn’t sure when I’d finally talk myself into jumping.
I was damn proud of being sober and smoke-free for so long, but I wasn’t gonna lie and say it was easy.
Some days I fought against the shakes and nausea with only that damn rubber band and Bryce distracting me with a run.
Some days the headaches almost took me down.
If I stayed busy, it was easier. But that didn’t mean I didn’t fight it every day.
I wasn’t na?ve enough to think I’d beaten these demons completely. It was like I was waiting for that one moment to send me running back to the bottle.
Let’s face it, it was just a matter of time. No one thought I’d stay sober this long, least of all me. But I was willing to keep fighting.
I at least knew it wasn’t going to be that night.
No, right then, I’d gotten myself all up in my feels, and I needed a bit of time. Sending Bryce in to take a shower was the perfect plan.
Just when I thought he was headed inside and leaving me with the chaos of my thoughts, the fucker went on a sneak attack.
“Hey.” His words were soft on the cool breeze. “What I said the other day—”
“Don’t worry about it…” I really didn’t want to talk about it. I mean, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to talk about it. Because in reality—no, it was best to not let my mind go there.
Well, not let my mind go there any more than it already had.
Which was every damn minute of every day since that fucker had opened his god damn mouth.
“No, Case, let me get this out. Please.”
Not like I could give him permission or stop him or any fuckin’ shit.
I grunted, hoping the noise didn’t sound as anxious and wheezy as it felt.
“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry,” Bryce said. “If I read things wrong, gave it too much wishful thinking, anything like that, I really am sorry, and that wasn’t my intention.” He huffed. “But my intentions don’t mean shit if I put you in a bad position.”
I didn’t say anything. How the fuck was I supposed to say anything to that?
Fuck, maybe a pack of smokes and a case of beer was better than this shit.
Bryce moved a bit farther from the fire.
Part of me prayed he’d just drop it and go inside.
The other part of me was on my damn knees, whimpering for him to keep at it until he finally wore me down and made me admit how badly I wanted to act on what he’d suggested.
Instead, I found myself flailing smack dab in the middle layer of purgatory when he just kept babbling.
“I mean, the offer was sincere.” His sigh was a leaking balloon dying a slow death, and I imagined him rubbing a hand over his face.
“I like you. I like what we’ve got going here.
And I don’t ever want to fuck it up.” His chuckle was a bit too high pitched.
“But I also don’t want to miss out on something good between us if you’re maybe feeling the same as me. ”
Again, I had no words.
No.
I had words. I just wasn’t sure how to string them together in a way that even came close to making sense.
Bryce was quiet for several moments.
“Can you say something?” The plaintive tinge to his words hurt something deep inside me.
“Don’t know what you want me to say,” I muttered, refusing to look at him.
He chuckled with absolutely no humor. “I don’t know.
Say I didn’t fuck things up. Say we’re fine.
” When I took a long breath in through my nose and let it out slowly, Bryce went on, but this time his words were softer and laced with hope.
“Say you’ve been thinking about what I offered.
Say I haven’t misread things.” And then the final nail in my coffin. “Say you want me the way I want you.”
My brain pleaded with me to just keep my mouth shut, but my heart couldn’t let my friend stand there and suffer.
I cleared my throat, but my words were still gravel against sandpaper.
“It’s all those damn puzzle pieces.” I swallowed the lump of fear.
“I want to put them together, but somedays it just seems like too much. Like I waited too long.”
I wasn’t sure how long the silence hung between us, but I swore neither of us breathed.
“So…” Bryce hedged.
“Good god, man,” I grumbled.
Bryce made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
“You didn’t fuck anything up,” I bit out.
“And I sure as fuck don’t know what book it is, but you damn well didn’t misread shit.
” Rolling my head toward him and cracking an eye, I nodded toward the apartment and tried to keep my breathing steady.
“Now go take a fuckin’ shower and leave me some hot water. ”
Bryce studied me for a moment before grinning. With a quick nod, he headed inside.
What the fuck had I just done?
The next morning, I was still asking that same question when I woke to the scent of coffee and Bryce’s shampoo.
My dick was immediately ready to start the day, and I couldn’t help but think of the way I’d imagined Bryce’s mouth on me when I’d jerked off in the shower the night before.
Fuck.
On one hand, it felt really good to let go and give in to something I’d been fighting for so many years. On the other hand, it was scary as fuck, and I wanted to gather up all my thoughts, words, and actions in a slop bucket, slam the lid onto it, and throw it out back to be ignored forever.
But the images I’d allowed to run through my head—Bryce on his knees for me, bent over whichever piece of furniture we reached first, spread open on my cock…
hell, I’d even let myself imagine what it would be like to give myself over to him—those pictures ran on a wild loop, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to rein them all in.
Recalling how good that orgasm had been when I let myself pretend my soapy, slick hand was Bryce’s mouth, a shiver ran through me, and I was damn fuckin’ sure I didn’t want to ever give up on that feeling.
And why should I have to? I’d been burying the real me my entire life. Hiding behind the anger, the booze, feeling sorry for my damn self. I didn’t have to hide any more if I didn’t want to.
Did I want to?
Everything was fine until Bryce came to town. I had my boys, my best friend, and…well, that was pretty much all I had, but it was enough.
Really, it was.
But then Bryce showed up and…
No, I couldn’t put it all on Bryce.
The health scare was the catalyst.
Facing death forced me to look at my life and what I wanted for the future.
Cutting out the smoking and drinking cleared away a curtain I’d been hiding behind.
And then Bryce came to town.
Having him in my life gave me something I hadn’t known I was missing.
Actually, that wasn’t true.
I’d known something was missing, but I’d pretended not to notice and just kept drinking everything away.
And what the hell was I going to do about all this shit now?
I ran my hand down my chest, scratched my short nails through the hair on my stomach, cupped my dick, and gave myself a squeeze as I contemplated giving myself another go.
Which was the exact moment Bryce chose to pop his head through the bathroom door into my room. “Get your ass out of bed. We’ve got a run to take.”
Getting caught with your dick in your hand was one of the best ways to deal with morning wood, and I could only fuckin’ hope Bryce hadn’t noticed.
But I’d definitely noticed him completely naked after his shower, covered only with the towel he held loosely, swaying tantalizingly in front of his crotch.
Fuck.
That was not the way to turn my dick off.
Luckily, Bryce was already gone. Which meant he missed me flipping him the bird, but it also meant I could roll the fuck out of bed without worrying my dick had a fuckin’ audience.
After a long, satisfying piss—which was only slightly awkward thanks to the fuckin’ thoughts my dick definitely shouldn’t have been having—I hopped into the shower.
I’d showered the night before, but I always felt better when I started the day with a quick wash and rinse.
Once I’d climbed out and grabbed a towel, I was at least slightly more ready to function.
With a towel around my waist, I went to my dresser. “Mother fucker,” I muttered as I recalled my laundry in the dryer.
I made my way into the kitchen, took a long swallow of the coffee Bryce had left for me on the counter, and moved toward the door. With slides on my feet, I headed down the stairs. “Damn sure ain’t gonna miss this shit once I’m back in my own place,” I mumbled.
But in truth, I had a feeling I’d miss Bryce like hell once I was back in my house.
As I rounded the corner to the washer and dryer, my brain registered Bryce’s cup of coffee had still been on the counter next to mine, and he wasn’t already in the gym as evidenced by the lights still being off.
And then I came mother fuckin’ face-to—
Well, fuck.
Face-to-ass?
Bryce, dressed only in a fuckin’ jockstrap, was bent at the waist pulling clothes from the dryer.
“God damn, mother fucker,” I muttered. “What the actual fuck are you doin’?”
“Fuck, man!” Bryce jerked upright so quick I worried for a moment he’d slipped a disk. The basket of clothes lay forgotten on the floor, and he held a hand to his chest. When his eyes caught where my eyes had landed, his hand shot to his crotch.
As if he could hide anything.
Did he seriously think his hand would cover the fact his package fit very nicely in the snug little pouch of the jock?
“What the fuck?” I repeated, my brain synapses misfiring left and right. The question was all I could manage while I tried to get my cognitive function to reboot.
“Sorry!” Bryce didn’t get flustered very easily, but I saw it flash in his eyes at that moment.