“I know. I hate that he’s hurt. I knew he would be. But if I had told him sooner—”
“You would’ve gotten caught up in his needs and ignored yours,” Ricky stated, knowing me pretty damn well.
“Exactly. Anyway, it’s done. Now I can focus on my curriculum for this semester.” The moment I brought up school, Ricky’s expression tightened. Ignoring it, I flipped the conversation back to him, digging for any information I could get. Besides knowing he had spent a lot of time at his office, catching up on all the paperwork he’d neglected for weeks—my fault, apparently—I didn’t get much more out of him. As always, it was like pulling teeth.
When I realized my questions and statements hijacked the conversation, I decided to end the call. “Okay, well, I’m going to try and get some sleep.”
Even though he failed in hiding his disappointment, I held firm while silently imploring him to speak, to open up, to tell me he hated our separation. To tell me he was flailing as badly as I was.
Instead, he nodded at my statement. “Okay. I’m glad you called.” How glad? Speak up! But again, I got nothing. “I’ll talk to you soon, I guess?”
Not committing to that, I took one last look at him before saying, “Night, Ricky.” Before I could chicken out, I tapped the screen and blackened his image.
No progress yet. Sure, it’d been only a few days, and I had no choice but to give him the benefit of the doubt… for now.
“Coming!” I called while struggling to pull a pair of shorts up my damp legs. While using the towel slung across my shoulders to wipe the fat drops of water dotting my face, I peeked at who it was and opened the door, shocked to see him. “Hey.”
“Hey.” When I had yet to move, Sam looked at me sheepishly. “Can I come in?”
“Of course. Sorry.” He walked past me in the doorway and headed straight for the couch.
His demeanor gave me no indication of how this visit would go down, so, cowardly, I hovered near my small kitchen and asked, “Do you want something to drink?”
“No, I’m good.” Nervousness became obvious when he sat and leaned his elbows on his knees, mindlessly playing with the wedding band on his finger. His coming to me after days of silence meant he was lost, and I took a seat facing him, feeling bad for the guy. This wasn’t easy on him. Sam avoided uncomfortable situations even more than Ricky did.
I gave him an out and said, “It’s fine, Sam. No worries.”
“Don’t do that, Coop. I was a shit, and I made it about me. Lydia helped me realize how badly I failed you as a brother.”
“You didn’t fail me—”
“Yes I did,” he argued again, staring at his hands and then meeting my eyes. “I fucked up.”
Playing the part that he needed me to, I replied, “Okay… I forgive you for fucking up.”
“You were always so quick to forgive.” He gave me a smirk. “But thank you. I’d hate to have you dragging my misery on and on.”
“Yes, we all know what a prick you are when you’re miserable.”
“Fuck you.” Just like that, my brother relaxed and all tension left his expression. “So now that’s over with, talk to me. Why are you here and he’s there?”
“That’s complicated.”
“Why? You love him. Do you not know if he loves you?”
“No, he does.”
“You said you felt drawn toward him. Did he… um… did he come on to you?” Sam waited patiently while I organized my main complaint.
“No, actually. I made the first move.” If Sam was surprised to hear my claim, he schooled it pretty well. “I guess we came to be because of a crazy buzzing attraction we mutually shared. Regardless, Ricky had been hesitant because he got burned in his past by getting involved with a straight man. And even now, after all this time we’ve been a couple, yes, he finally professed his love while still sending signals that he doesn’t trust my decision.”
Sam nodded. “That’s understandable. He probably feels you need to live with this a while before committing to him. Most important thing is he loves you.”
“Yeah… but does he trust me? I’m the one that came out and admitted I wanted him. I put myself out there, and I even revealed my feelings for him well before he did. He doesn’t get to sit back and watch me make all the decisions, and then use that as an excuse if things don’t work out. He wants to be with me, then he needs to fucking tell me that. Tell me to pick up my life and move to Florida, or don’t. Tell me we can long-distance it for a while and figure it out together. Speak the fuck up.”
By the time I finally stopped for a breath, Sam grinned. “But how do you really feel?”
“Shut up.”
“Coop, for some men, the daunting task of admitting love is putting themselves out there in the scariest of ways.” My scowl now caused a chuckle. “I’m taking it you don’t like that theory.”
“No, I don’t.”
Sam took the opportunity to blatantly laugh at me. “Wow, I thought drama was just a heterosexual thing.”
“This is not drama,” I snapped.
“You’re right. It’s a run-of-the-mill boy meets straight-boy-turned-gay,” he countered with an eye roll. “You’re here; he’s there. Completely normal relationship shit.” I watched him stand and walk into my kitchen, helping himself to a beer. Not until he popped the top and took a long swig did he continue. “I’m going to give you advice.” Since Sam was a mind-your-own-business type of person, a dramatic pause while folding his arms determinedly meant he was proud of himself. “Don’t use your stubborn expectations as a life preserver. You know that I know not every relationship is textbook from start to finish. With Ricky, you may have to jump in the deep end first for him to follow.”
I hated that advice. I hated it because he’d struck a nerve. Deep down, I knew the chances Ricky would change for me were slim to none. Maybe he wasn’t the only one holding on to an excuse if we didn’t make it. Maybe I was using his emotional caution as my excuse.
As the saying goes, it took time to build trust, seconds to destroy it, and a lifetime to rebuild it. And there I was, asking for it because I felt I deserved it.
After a significant stretch of time, I groaned. “When did you become a fucking relationship guru?”
“I’m wise… I know.” Sam raised his beer and winked. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ricky
I may have scaled back on our phone calls and texts the past couple of weeks… and I may have even gone radio silent the last three days. But it was all part of my master plan. And knowing Cooper, my ghosting probably had his balls twisted in a knot, especially since I had done it once before.
In my defense, avoiding him had more to do with the ton of shit I had to get done—cleaning out my fridge, forwarding my mail, and swearing Rebecca to secrecy. Once I made my decision, I waited three full weeks.
Not because I didn’t miss him.
Not because the time flew by in a blink of an eye.