Chapter 25
25
Colt Bishop
S hooter couldn’t have shittier timing, I swear to God. William and I get dressed in complete and utter silence, as he’s most likely panicking. He won’t even look at me. Shit. Buckling my jeans, I grab my hat where it fell off earlier, placing it on my head as I glance over at William. He’s tying the strings to his pants, his jaw tight and his brows set in a hard line.
“You good?” I ask.
Eyes drifting up to meet mine, they narrow as he scoffs at me. “No, Colt, I am not good . Your friend, who, may I say, clearly has no boundaries and should learn to knock?—”
“Hey, I heard that!” Shoot chimes in through the door, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. William finds nothing about this funny.
“As I was saying,” William grits out, running a hand through his hair. “Your friend just walked in on us having sex .” He says the word like he’s a little boy trying to hide his porn stash from his parents. “There’s nothing good about that. ”
Scrubbing a hand over my mouth to hide my grin because he’s sexy as fuck when he gets all huffy, I clear my throat. “I just meant, are you decent enough for me to let Shooter in?”
His jaw clenches as he stands up straight, brushing a hand down his abdomen as his nostrils flare on a heavy exhale. He looks from me to the door, then back at me. “Yes, that’s fine.”
I cross the room in a few long strides as William reaches for his shoes. Pulling the door open, Shooter’s already waiting for me, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You guys could’ve finished,” he drawls as he steps past me into the house. Internally, I groan, knowing whatever is about to come out of my friend’s mouth isn’t going to bode well with William and his current state of fight-or-flight.
“What’re you doing here, man?”
“Uh, what do you mean?” he asks, looking positively offended. “We had plans.”
Staring at him, befuddled for a moment, it clicks. “Oh, shit, you’re right. We did.”
I completely forgot that Shooter and I made dinner plans tonight to check out this sushi place they just opened right outside of town. His boyfriend, Sterling, doesn’t like sushi, and he asked if I’d go with him. How the fuck did I space that?
Shooter snorts as if he can read my mind. “Given the way Dr. Andino just had you pinned to the couch with his cock in your?—”
“Alright, okay,” William growls. “That’s about enough from you. I will be leaving now.”
“You don’t have to go,” I murmur, even though I know it’s futile. He’s practically one foot out the door already.
“Yes, I do.” He still won’t look at me, but he has no problem looking Shooter right in the eye as he points a finger at him. “I trust you to keep this to yourself?”
My God, he’s so serious. The vein in his forehead is about to burst.
Shooter, looking like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, pinches his lips together as he nods. “Yes, sir.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so shocked.
Finally, William’s gaze flits to mine, but only for a moment. “Very well.”
Then he leaves. Very well? The man gets caught balls deep in somebody, and he turns into an eighty-year-old professor? Shooter and I don’t say anything for a moment. The sound of William’s car door shutting and the engine starting reaches my ears, and I finally glance over at Shooter, who’s already watching me. Laughter bubbles up his throat as I shake my head, a rogue smile splitting my face.
“This is bad,” I curse, bounding down the hallway toward my room, needing to change before we leave. Although, now I don’t even want to go. If I’m being honest, I’d rather follow William. Yes, to finish what we started—because that was insanely fucking hot—but also to smooth things over. He was already on edge and not wanting to take things there with me, but now that he knows somebody knows, he’ll never want to touch me again.
And oddly enough, that makes my stomach clench in a way that’s foreign to me. I don’t like it.
It’s no surprise to me when I hear Shooter’s footsteps following behind me. “I’m going to need a little fucking clarification here,” he drawls.
“What you need,” I call out, “is to learn to knock, my friend.”
He scoffs. “Not you too. ”
“Well.” I laugh as I rip my shirt over my head, tossing it in the hamper as I pull a new one out of the closet. “I knock when I come over to your house. People do that, you know. It’s called common courtesy.”
Flopping onto my bed, Shooter rests his hands under his head. “Oh, fuck off.” He huffs out a chuckle. “You’re just mad that I scared your fuck buddy away.”
“He’s not my fuck buddy, and I’m not mad. Get your fucking shoes off my bed, you animal.”
Flipping on the light in the bathroom, I hear the sound of his boots hitting the floor as I reach for the stick of deodorant.
“So, how long has that been going on?” he asks.
“I don’t know, not long.”
“Well, what I saw definitely looked far too comfortable for a first time, so how long? A few weeks? Months?”
I chuckle to myself, knowing it’s driving Shooter nuts, not knowing. “We made out at my dad’s birthday party.”
He’s quiet, most likely doing the math in his head. “That wasn’t all that long ago.”
“Yeah… and there was that time when I was twenty-one…”
Wait for it…
“What the fuck?” Chuckling, I turn my head, watching as Shooter sits up, eyes trained on me. “This has been going on for multiple years, and I’m just now finding out about it?”
“No, dipshit. Let’s go. I’ll explain on the drive.”
Locking up the house, we opt to take his truck. As soon as we hit the road, I give Shooter the CliffsNotes version of the history between William and I, starting with our very memorable one-night stand in Seattle.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he mutters when I finish. “You sneaky bastard. Does your dad know? ”
Turning my head and staring at him, deadpan, I ask, “What the hell do you think? It was never meant to happen more than the one time, but it just… kind of did.”
Shooter laughs, pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. “This is blowing my mind, Bishop. But hey, good for you, my friend. That is one fine-ass doctor, and by the looks of it, he damn well knew what he was doing to you.”
Despite myself, I feel my cheeks flame. I don’t even know why; it’s not like Shooter and I have never talked sex before. We’ve known each other since we were kids, so it’s definitely a topic that’s come up a few dozen times over the years. But something about sex with William feels different. Personal. Sacred almost. That’s fucking dumb to think.
Clearing my throat, I glance over at Shooter, flash him a sardonic smirk, and say, “Yeah, well, thank to you, it’s probably the last time we’ll be doing that.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” he chuffs.
“He couldn’t even look at me before he left. There’s no way he’ll want a repeat.” William has always been a little flighty, but he seemed pretty agitated when he left, which makes me think he won’t brush it off as easily as I’d like him to. I try to ignore the way that leaves a bad taste on the back of my tongue.
Shooter takes the keys out of the ignition, but doesn’t make any move to get out of the car yet. Turning my head, I find him watching me, an expression on his face I can’t read. It’s unnerving.
“What?”
“You…” His smirk grows as he shifts in his seat, his body facing me. “You have feelings for this guy.”
“What?” I scoff, looking away. “I do not. We’re having sex. That’s all.”
He snorts. “Right, because I believe that. ”
“Well, it’s the truth, so…”
“You forget that I, too, was very much in denial about my feelings not that long ago, and I sounded an awful lot like you do right now.”
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I heave a sigh, reaching for the door handle. “We going to go inside to eat or what?”
Chuckling, Shooter follows my lead, exiting the truck. “Fine, we’ll drop it. For now.”
Spoiler alert: we didn’t drop it. But the sushi was good, so there’s that. Shooter brought me back home about a twenty minutes ago. As soon as I got through the door, I sent a text message to William, and haven’t heard back yet. Granted, he could just not be near his phone or he could be busy, but I think the more likely conclusion is that he’s ignoring me. Or avoiding the message altogether.
And I don’t like that. Don’t like it one bit.
Which is why I’m currently in my truck, driving over to his place like a lunatic who has lost his ever-loving mind. After seeing the look on William’s face when he left earlier, I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I have to fix this. But why, though? It’s the million-dollar question I haven’t been able to figure out. I’m no stranger to a hookup, but never have they felt like this. This need to get to know William. The need to be near him. To breathe the same air. To make him laugh, make him loosen up a little bit.
Earlier in his car, the way he watched me as I sang along to that song like an idiot… it warmed me, made me feel a way I wasn’t used to. The smile on his face and the way it made the creases on the outside of his eyes deepen. It lit up his whole fa ce, and it was directed at me. I want to make him smile like that more. That thought makes me uneasy, though, because I’ve never wanted something like that. And not even for any good reason. I’ve just always been so focused on rodeo and going pro, that anything else that could’ve potentially stolen my attention, I shut out. It didn’t seem worth it to me. Relationships and feelings and all that shit weren’t even on my radar. So why are they now? Why can’t I shake this fucking feeling I get deep in my chest when I think about William? Why can’t I accept his silence and move on?
What the fuck is it about him?
Pulling into his driveway, I turn my truck off and get out, not giving myself a moment to talk myself out of this. As I glance down at the watch on my wrist, I note it’s a quarter to eight. Bringing my fist up, I knock on the door and wait. And wait. Finally, after about a minute, I hear rustling on the other side before the door is opened. Roger appears in the doorway, dressed in matching pants and shirt wiener dog pajamas.
Okay, that’s fucking cute.
“Well, hi, Colt,” he greets, stepping to the side to let me through. “What brings you here?”
“Is William home?” I ask, feeling like an idiot for being here at all. What good, appropriate reason would I have for showing up unannounced this late at night?
If Roger finds it weird that I’m here, though, he doesn’t show it. “He’s taking Winnie potty. They should be back inside in a minute.” Ushering me farther into the house, he adds, “Come, come. Would you like anything to drink?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”
“Will told me about the birthday celebration you guys had for Meg. Sounded like a lot of fun. ”
For some reason, I think it’s so sweet knowing that William talks to his father about his day. “It was. What about you? Did you do anything fun today?”
“Oh, Winn and I took a nice, long walk on the trail earlier. That’s pretty much it.”
“It was sure nice out. Sounds like a great way to spend the day to me.”
“How’s the shoulder treating you, son?”
“Eh, it’s still not one hundred percent yet, but it’s getting there.”
The back sliding glass door opens before Roger can respond, and my head turns, gaze colliding with a startled pair of ocean blues. My heart clenches, not knowing how William’s going to respond to me being here.
“Colt,” he says lowly before clearing his throat, gaze flitting to his dad for a second before returning to me. “What are you doing here?”
Roger heaves a sigh, our attention turning to him. “I guess I’ll be off to bed now.” Patting his thigh, he says, “Come on, Winnie girl.” That’s all it takes for her to scurry after him, her tail wagging behind her. They’re halfway down the hall before he turns around and adds, “Now, I hope you two are a bit quieter tonight than you were the last time you were here.”
With a wink and a Cheshire cat grin, Roger turns and disappears into his room without another word, leaving William and I to sit with that bomb he just dropped on us.
Jesus fucking Christ. First Shooter, and now this. He’s going to toss me on my ass before I even get a chance to say a word at this rate. Chancing a look at him, I find him as expected: jaw clenched, lips pinched, and his hardened gaze staring at the area his father was a moment ago. The air feels thicker. Goosebumps are raised on my arms, and not the good kind.
Deciding it would be best to just cut to the chase, I say, “Can we talk?”
Gaze flitting to mine, my body heats up from the one look, the memory of what we were doing just hours ago coming back to the forefront of my mind. How good it felt to have his hands on me and his cock in me. The way his filthy words washed over me like the most potent of drugs. Experiencing William in that way—feral, hungry, and so goddamn free—is a high unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. He’s breathtaking when he lets go.
Nodding tersely, brows set in a hard line, William mutters, “Let’s go on the patio.”
Well, I guess this is better than kicking me out.
Sitting in one of the spacious patio chairs, William drops into the one beside me. There’s a tense silence that passes between us, and I don’t like it. It’s uncomfortable.
Fuck, may as well get this over with. “Shooter’s not going to say anything,” I blurt out. When his eyes lift, meeting mine, I add, “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
Sighing heavily, William brushes his fingers through his hair. “I’m worried about a lot of things, and Shooter gossiping about what he saw isn’t high on the list.”
My brows pinch with confusion. “It’s not?”
“Not necessarily, no,” he mutters.
“Then why did you run out of my house earlier in such a hurry?”
“Colt…” The way he says my name, like it pains him, has my throat tightening. “Where do I even start? Aside from the obvious, that even being with you in an intimate way is a betrayal to my friendship with your father, how about the fact th at you’re half my age?”
Annoyance flares in my chest. “Those are fucking coward excuses, and you know it.”
His eyes flash to mine, narrowing. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not a betrayal to your friendship,” I start, my pulse racing. “Do you have some romantic history between you two that I’m not aware of?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Colt,” he scoffs. If I wasn’t so irritated, I’d laugh. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Okay, didn’t think so. It’s not a betrayal.” Sitting forward, I press my elbows into my knees, my hands clasped in front of me. “Sure, he’d probably be kind of pissed if he found out, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. And who fucking cares if I’m half your age. I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Everything we’re doing is consensual, so why does it fucking matter?”
“Kind of pissed?” he balks. “Colt, have you met your father? He’d be more than kind of pissed . This is so much bigger than you and I being consenting adults, why can’t you see that? I’ve known you since you were a baby! You don’t see anything wrong with that?”
I huff. “Not really, no. It’s not like this started when I was a child, and you moved away when I was a teenager, William! It had been years since I last saw you before that night in Seattle.”
“You really think people would believe that?” he scoffs.
“Who fucking cares what people think!”
“Colt, I am a doctor!” he shouts before lowering his voice. “I am a goddamn professional, a respected member of this community. My reputation matters. I can’t not care what people think. Quit being so fucking ignorant. You may be able to live however you want, do whatever you want, and not give a fuck about how the world perceives you, but I don’t have that same luxury. ”
“Excuse me?” Blood roars in my ears as my pulse races, my body boiling.
“You’re behaving like a child, throwing a temper tantrum when he doesn’t get his way.”
A child? “Fuck you,” I spit out, standing up. “You want to talk about throwing a temper tantrum? Look in the fucking mirror, Doc .”
William raises, grabbing my arm as I try to pass by. It takes me by surprise, my body reacting like I’ve been shocked. My head snaps to the side, gaze crashing with his, and for a moment neither of us says anything. It happens so fast, I don’t even see it coming. One minute, his hand is wrapped around my forearm, and the next, it’s hauling me into him by the back of my neck. Our mouths collide brutally and messily. There’s nothing sweet or soft about this kiss, and it's over before it even has a chance to begin because as soon as my brain catches up, I shove him away with a hand to his chest.
Fuck that. He wants to act like an asshole and call me a child, he doesn’t get to kiss me like nothing happened. “Don’t touch me,” I grit out, my head spinning from the metaphorical whiplash William is giving me. But also, maybe a little from the kiss.
Clenching his jaw, he takes a step back, putting some much-needed distance between us. “You should probably go,” he murmurs.
“You think?” I huff out a laugh. “It’s probably past my bedtime anyway, since, you know, I’m a child.”
As I blow through the backdoor, I don’t hear him following me. It’s probably for the best. The entire drive home is spent in silence, my mind reeling over what the fuck happened today. It’s not until I park my truck in front of my house and turn off the ignition that I realize how fucking gutted I feel. There’s an ache deep in my chest that refuses to go away, and I don’t understand it.
William is just a man I was fooling around with. Nothing more.
So, why does it feel like so much more than that? Why does it feel like I’ve lost something?