Chapter 20 #2
Tate rolled his eyes. This guy was all about stirring up shit.
Tate's grip on Pilot's thigh tightened, but it didn't do much good.
Pilot stood and yelled at Colin and Colin yelled back.
Tate felt like sliding under the table. Johnny slunk out of the room, leaving only the three of them.
Tate hoped someone would come out and break it up, but the other guys in the house didn't seem interested.
“You have a lot of nerve bringing your fuck of the week home like this, Sean.”
“You're a clueless dick. I don't have fucks of the week.”
“This guy's trash.” He flung his hand out at Tate. If he'd been meaning to hurt Tate's feelings, he missed the mark, but Pilot flew into a rage, and that's when Tate figured it out. This guy wasn't really attacking him or Johnny earlier; he was attacking Pilot.
“Pilot. Come on. Let's just go,” he said, tugging at Pilot's arm. He just wanted to end this craziness.
Pilot shoved Colin and his voice dropped low.
He wasn't yelling anymore and he sounded dangerous.
He shrugged out of Tate's grip. “Tate is a Supercross racer.
He makes more money in one race than you do in a year.
He has more class in his little finger than you have in your entire fucking body.
He is-is-he's everything and you're fucking nothing.”
Colin backed up a step.
“Pilot. Pilot. Come on.” Tate grabbed his arm again, turning him away from his brother. His face looked murderous for a second, then morphed into something softer, yet still angry. “Yeah. I'm done here. Let's go home.”
They put their coats on and walked out to the car. “Can I drive? Please?” Tate really wanted to drive the sexy beast, just to drive it, but he also didn't want a pissed off Pilot behind the wheel.
Pilot tossed him the keys. “Know how to get back?”
“Eh. Kinda. You can navigate for me, bunny.” Tate's happy attitude seemed to bring Pilot around and they climbed in the car.
For a bit, the only conversation was Pilot directing Tate, until he was comfortable he knew where he was and how to get back to Pilot's house.
Then, he decided he'd go ahead and break the ice before they got to the house. “Hey, Pilot?”
“What?” he answered, sounding sad.
“You know he wasn't really attacking me. He doesn't know me enough to attack me. That back there, you know, what your brother did? That was about you.”
“What do you mean?”
Tate sighed. “He doesn't really give a shit about me or Johnny. He says that shit to get to you. You're his brother and he loves you, so he can't attack you directly, so he goes after your friends or lovers.”
“Hm.”
“I'm not mad or hurt or anything. So don't worry about that. But, you'd do better to stop reacting to his shit. Just like a bully, if he doesn't get the reaction he wants, he'll stop.”
“You think?”
Tate shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You're pretty fucking smart, Tate. I've been dealing with his shit storm since I got out of the service and hadn't even thought of that. You know, he's always been a dickhead, so...”
“I think there are more issues with Colin than you realize, and I'm not that smart.”
“Turn here.”
“Got it.”
Pilot chuckled. “Okay. So? What makes you say all this?”
Tate thought about it for a minute, gathering his thoughts. He turned into Pilot's driveway and turned the car off, dropping the keys back in Pilot's hands. “I love this hot car,” he murmured.
“Tate?”
“Right. I don't know. Maybe it's just easier to see from the outside.”
“Come on.” Pilot got out of the car and headed to the front door. Tate smiled to himself. Now that it was over and Pilot was happy again, he could acknowledge just how sexy a furious Pilot could be, even though he never wanted to be on the bad side of that rage.
Later that night, Tate crawled in bed and snuggled up to Pilot, happy and satisfied with his life for the first time since his parents had disowned him.
Being able to take care of yourself and make it on your own was a bit overrated when you had to do it so young.
Tate started down that what if path again for a minute: what if he hadn't had Supercross, what if he'd have come out sooner, what if.
.. He stopped and cuddled his head on the pillow beside Pilot.
It didn't matter and he wasn't alone. At least for now.
“Hey, what are you thinking about so hard?” Pilot asked, pulling him closer.
“Nothing. It doesn't matter. Hey, did I tell you how happy I am to be here?”
Pilot's lip curled up into a half smile. “No.”
“Well, I am.”
Pilot's eyes lit up “Let's open a present.”
“No. That's tomorrow.”
“It's customary to open one present on Christmas Eve.” He got up and bounced up and down on the bed.
“What are you? Three?”
“Come on, Tate. It's Christmas Eve and, uh, I want to give you your present. Well, one of them. It's, uh, you know, personal. I want you to open it while it's just us here. Together.”
Pilot was serious. He smiled, but it wasn't a good humor smile, just a happy, wanting smile.
Tate was pretty sure he'd give Pilot anything he wanted as long as he kept looking at him that way.
“Okay. I have one for you, too.” He jumped up to dig through his duffle bag for where he'd hid Pilot's presents and pulled out the small box with the bracelet in it. He hoped Pilot would like it.
When he crawled back on the bed, Pilot was on his knees on the floor beside the bed with his elbows leaning on the mattress. He held a small box in his hands. It was wrapped in shiny red foil wrapping and had a silver bow on top. “Here,” he whispered, extending it to Tate with a shaky hand.
Tate handed his present over, but Pilot didn't open it. He waited, nodding for Tate to go first, so he ripped open the red paper and opened the box.
Two silver dog tag charms rested against black velvet. “What?” He picked one up. They both had “Tate & Pilot” engraved on them.
“I got one for both of us.” He cleared his throat. “I want you to be my boyfriend. I want more of you, Tate. I-I can't imagine...”
“What?” Tate's eyes were wide and he had to force himself to shut his mouth. What was Pilot asking him?
“Since you've been here, Tate, I've realized how great it is and I don't ever want to be without you. I want you here with me.”
Tate shook his head. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend? Or move in with you?”
“Yes. Both. You're already here, so just like, don't leave. Ever.”
Tate smiled. He would have never imagined how sweet Pilot was with his shy smile, his mile-wide protective streak, midnight ice-cream, and 80s sitcom reruns.
And his sexy car. Tate raised an eyebrow.
It would be so easy, wouldn't it? But, no.
“There aren't any tracks here. I need to ride.
I have to leave next week. I need track time before the season starts and that's barely a few weeks away. Joey has camp in Florida scheduled already.”
“You sound like it's over before it's started.”
Tate shook his head. “I don't know how to do this. I'm going to be gone. All the time. You know this.”
“So, that doesn't mean we can't find a way to make it work. And there's got to be a track around here somewhere. Closer than Florida for sure. Can you look? Please?”
He was about to say no, but something in the way Pilot stared at him, made him stop.
He didn't know what to say. He wanted it, wanted Pilot and everything he was offering.
He wanted a home and this was the closest thing to it he'd ever had.
Even when he was living with Donny, it hadn't felt so warm and he'd never felt this welcome. “I—”
“I'm going to be at every race anyway.”
“This season. What about next?”
“I don't know, but if I’m not working for Apex, I'll be at as many of them as I can.
Look. I get this Supercross thing. For the next five or six years, while you're on top, I'll sacrifice. Then, what? You come home and we settle down and find something else to do.” He held up a hand like it was all settled.
Maybe it was.
“Tate? What are you afraid of?”
“I-I. Shit. I'm afraid I'll say yes and this will be perfect.
For a while. Until you get tired of it. Tired of me.
Then, I really will be brokenhearted. When Donny and I split up, it was hard.
Not because of him. I never loved him. Hell, I didn't even like him much.” Tate chuckled.
“I missed having a home, feeling like I belonged somewhere.
I never fit. Anywhere. I want a boyfriend.
I want everything you're offering. But, more than that I want you and if we split up? I'm going to be shattered. I don’t know if I could get over losing you and that's...I don’t know...too much.”
“Tate?” Pilot's eyes teared up, glistening in the low light.
“Shit. It's too late anyway. I'm already there.”
Pilot leaned forward on the bed. “Does that mean?”
“Yes. I'll call Oz. I didn’t want to go to Florida, and I have to call him tomorrow anyway.”
Pilot jumped on the bed, tackling Tate, pushing his shoulders down on the bed. His mouth covered Tate's and his tongue probed, asking for more. Tate couldn't hold him back. Didn't want to. He opened for him. His mouth. His body. His soul.