“It’s cool,” I replied. “I just don’t like it.”
“It’s a really hateful word,” Elias said. “There’s no reason for anyone to ever use it.”
“Would you play the fucking game so I can have a turn?” I nudged Elias playfully, and that did the job to change the subject.
“Chill out. It’s gonna be a while anyway. You know I’m better than you.”
“You wish,” I countered.
“You’re both shit compared to me.” Darren jerked the controller out of Elias’s hand, and we continued playing and talking crap to each other the way we always did. But I couldn’t help wondering if they were still thinking about what had gone down, or why my brother had watched me so intently as I’d spoken.
It wasn’t until I was alone that I realized I’d thought about when Darren found out I was gay, not if.
I’d never done that before.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Weston
June
I was spending the night at Anson’s for the first time. He felt more comfortable coming to me, like he could let go, be in another world without his friends and family close. It was as if California Anson had a freedom Georgia Anson didn’t because it was easier to pretend his life was different there. Reality wasn’t around every corner at my place…only outside the door. As long as we stayed inside, we were safe.
But the charity event for childhood cancer that we were both attending was in Atlanta, and he had a few engagements he couldn’t get out of, so it was either lose time together by waiting for him to finish or for me to stay in Georgia.
I’d left the decision up to him and held my breath while waiting for his answer—not that I would ever share that tidbit with anyone. I’d quickly learned that having actual feelings for someone made you worry and stress about things you would never worry and stress over otherwise. It was like the possibility of getting hurt lurked behind every decision, and if he wasn’t so adorable, if he hadn’t made me fall for him, I wouldn’t have thought it worth it, but it was. And when he’d asked me to stay in Georgia, I finally breathed again. The more time with him, the better.
We’d managed to meet up once in May, but only for two nights. He’d come to DC to see me, and when I hadn’t been working, we’d done nothing but hide away in a suite, talk…and, well, fuck. Anson was insatiable, taking what should have been his for so many years, being true to himself with men, and soaking it up while he had the chance.
While he had the chance.
And that…that had been on my mind a lot lately. Not that he was saying it to me. We did a good job of pretending this wasn’t a disaster waiting to happen. That the distance wouldn’t come between us, and that Anson staying closeted wouldn’t come between us, but the truth was, we both knew it would. It didn’t matter how much we lied to ourselves; we were a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate, and it would wreck both of us when it happened.
Regardless, I still wouldn’t push him to come out. How could I?
But…I didn’t have to worry about those things right then.
I was in Atlanta, with Jeremy in tow, and we had a plan. He’d gotten a suite, and I was staying with him before the event. He would drop me off at Anson’s afterward, and then we’d…have our time together.
Two fucking weeks. I felt like a goddamned eager teenager, I was so excited about it.
“Are you looking forward to seeing your man?” Jeremy asked as he sat beside me on the couch in his suite.
“Is that really a question?” I countered, and he chuckled.
“Yeah, I guess not. You really are crazy about him, aren’t you? I’ve known you since college and never seen you in a relationship, especially not an exclusive one.”
I’d never expected to be in one. Fucking football players ruined everything. One football player in particular. “He’s a good fuck.” I shrugged, and Jeremy rolled his eyes.
“Don’t pretend this is less than what it is.”
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” Of course I was crazy about him, and Jeremy knew that. It wasn’t the first time we’d talked about Anson since he’d found out.
The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, a sort of dimness to his gaze that said he had something important on his mind, something he knew I wouldn’t want to hear and that maybe he didn’t like having to say. “West…”
“Don’t.” I held up my hand, cutting him off. I didn’t want to hear it. I knew the risks. I knew what would happen. I knew this wouldn’t last, even if Anson insisted it would. I’d deal with the fallout when it happened. I always dealt with whatever was thrown my way.