Steamroller

“Yes, you did, baby.” I smiled at him because he simply steamrolled me flat.

“Don’t patronize me,” he grumbled. “Just kiss me already.”

“Kissing leads to other things,” I told him, leaning closer. “With us.”

“Yeah, to sweating on your sheets.” He chuckled, and the sound was rich and decadent, even though he was lying there in pain.

And it hit me suddenly that I was in so much deeper than I’d thought.

He cleared his throat. “So I gotta move back home.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I heard.”

“Come with me, ’kay?”

It took me a second. “What?”

“Come to Davis College with me in Augusta. Maine is nice, picturesque and all that. You’ll like it.”

“I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can. My mom’ll help you.”

“Carson, you don’t even know what you’re—”

“I do, and I have plans.”

“Carson—”

“I wanna move in with you.”

I shook my head. “How drugged are you?”

“Pretty drugged, not gonna lie.” He laughed softly, tugging on my hand. “Can you lie down on top of me? I would love that.”

“Carson—Christ, just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“I wanted you to look at me for so long.”

“Everybody looks at you.”

“Not anymore. No one gives a crap anymore,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “But you do, huh? Vince? You do?”

My vision blurred, and I felt the hot tears welling up. “Of course.”

“And the quarterback thing, that wasn’t something you cared about.”

Easing my one hand free of his hold, I put both on his face. He turned his head, kissed my right palm, and then stared up at me as I stroked over his eyebrows and cheekbones.

“Vince,” he pressed.

“No,” I assured him.

“No what?”

“No, the quarterback thing was not the important part.”

He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He was so drained. “I knew it. I knew you’d wanna do me whether I’m that guy or not.”

I shook my head, seeing the tension drain out of him, watching him take hold of my wrist with his left hand, feeling his thumb rub over the underside and gently stroke the pulse point. “Carson, it’s too fast for you to like me this much.”

“Do you like me?”

“Car—”

“Do you?”

I whimpered in the back of my throat. I couldn’t help it. And his eyes drifted open, the deep violet, so much the melding of the two colors blue and purple that it was hard to say which they truly were.

“You do.” He smiled slowly. “You came a long way just to make sure I was okay.”

I trailed my fingers through his hair, and I saw his eyes flutter over the sensation.

“I was terrified that you wouldn’t come. I mean, I must’ve checked a hundred times to see if you used your ticket, and when the game started and you still hadn’t, I—”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he promised me, making a noise of pure pleasure as I ran the backs of my fingers down his throat. “Just glad you made it.”

“Carson—”

“I needed you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough. Gonna keep you.”

God, the things that came out of the man’s mouth. “You’re insane. You—”

“I was trying, you know?”

I went along because he was out of it and rambling. “Trying to do what?”

“Not get hurt, not fail. I took your advice. I was being careful. I was making sure that I had a future.”

“You still have a future.”

“I know,” he whispered. “Just not doing what I thought I would.”

“Sleep for a while.”

“First you kiss me.”

“Carson, honey.”

He rolled his head so he could see his mother, who had returned to the room and moved up beside me. “Awww, Mom.” His breath hitched. “I always figured it was Dad, ya know, who liked me.”

Her eyes scrunched up as she bit down on her bottom lip.

“I mean, you were so busy with all your stuff and… we weren’t close, yeah?”

Furious nodding.

“But….” His eyes filled fast, and it was just heartbreaking to see a man who was so broken let his emotions swell and swamp him. “It’s you. You listened when I thought you weren’t.”

She leaned over and kissed his forehead, pressing her cheek there before she straightened up to look at me.

“Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for letting me.”

She took a breath. “Are you coming to Maine, Vince?”

Even though she had said my name, it took me a minute to process.

Jesus.

“Vince?” she said, trying to get my attention.

“Yes?”

She cleared her throat. “I can transfer you as well, if you like. I would be happy to do it.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“My son knows you, and that’s enough for me.”

I stared at her.

“I’m so sick of expectations—I won’t have them anymore.” She was irritated, but not with me, and her voice was firm. “From now on, we’re going to do what we want and not hide. Let the chips fall where they may.”

I needed a minute to think.

“Let me know,” she said, quick hand on my cheek, a gentle pat of support. “Whatever you need.”