Chapter 37
Mostly.
rt. Good Am sad stupidgay asshole undr th tbl thrwng up Cnt miss me
Jase was more or less on time. A little less than more, but he was there, and that was all that mattered, right? He waved the waitress over again for his tab and didn’t even wince when she told him. Instead, Scooter just peeled off the twenties that Chris had given him, left an extra one as a tip for the trouble he’d been.
“Come on, Scooter,” Jason said, getting one arm under him and levering him out of the chair where Scooter’s pants were sticking. Yuck. “Let’s go.”
Scooter opened one eye. “Do you think I’m unlovable?” He was trying for light-hearted and sarcastic, but it came out more like he was an inch from falling over and sobbing like a little kid. “Like, completely, totally, not even worth it unlovable?”
“If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t be here, you idiot,” Jason sighed. He grabbed Scooter’s wrist and hauled it across his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you home to sleep it off.”
“Don’ wanna sleep,” Scooter complained. “Ma’s gonna freak at me again for bein’ gone the last two days an’ not callin’ her. I ain’t a kid anymore, Jase.” Scooter almost walked right into the door jamb before Jason got them straightened out and into the parking lot.
Scooter was probably just imagining the collective sigh of relief that came from the pub.
“I know, pal, but she’s your Ma. She still worries. Gimme your keys.”
Scooter dug around in his pocket, fumbled a few times. “He put his wedding ring on the dresser, Jase. Right there! On the dresser.” He hitched in a breath that threatened to become a sob. “I don’t…I don’t know…He couldn’t’ve left it at home? Or somethin’?”
“Well maybe,” Jason suggested, unlocking the truck and helping Scooter climb up into the passenger seat, “you shouldn’t be fucking a married guy, even if it’s just a political marriage of convenience.”
“They’ve only been married like three months,” Scooter said, sullen. “She’s at her mom’s. Stefanie. Stefanie Sharpe. It’s not fair, Jase.I love him. It’s just not fair.”
Jason sighed and closed the door without answering. It took him ten minutes or so to lift his bike into the bed of Scooter’s truck and tie it down so it wouldn’t get scratched up. “Someday,” he promised Scooter as he climbed into the cab, “someday you’re going to find someone who loves you back. Someone who actually deservesyour love.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Scooter said. He tipped his head to look up at the ceiling. “Doesn’t even matter. No one makes me feel like Chris does. Doesn’t matter. I love him, Jason. He doesn’t love her. S’not his fault that we can’t be together all the time. He doesn’t love her, he loves me. He does. He said so.” At least, Chris said it sometimes. Not this time. Tears shimmered under his lashes and he closed his eyes, letting them fall.
Jason snorted indelicately as he started the engine. “Christian Sharpe doesn’t know howto love anyone,” he muttered.
“Mmmm,” Scooter said. “He knows. God, he knows. I’m not gonna walk right for a week.” At least he had that. Chris had left those marks all over him. Proof that Chris wanted him. Needed him.
“That’s not love,” Jason grumbled. “That’s just sex.”
Scooter tipped his head back again, suppressing the urge to vomit. “Ugh. Whose idea is it to serve beer and raw oysters at the same bar?” Jason didn’t answer. “Besides, how would you know th’ difference between love an’ sex, little brother? You been gettin’ some that I don’t know about? Come on, fess up. When was the last time you got satisfied?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jason told Scooter tightly. “When was the last time Sharpe did anything for you that didn’t involve your dick?”
“Hey, my dick is prime real estate,” Scooter protested, but he could feel the flush creeping up his neck and staining his cheeks. “We haven’t seen each other since before the wedd—since May. Of course we want to spend it naked. S’not like he cares about m’ stupid classes or my damn job or nothin’.”
“That’s the point, Scooter,” Jason argued. “If he cared about you at all, he’d care about your life! And if you were just getting your rocks off, too, I wouldn’t care. Well, not as much. But he’s making you miserable. It’s driving me crazy.”
“I don’t have a life,” Scooter pointed out. “It’s not his fault. I should…I should just deal with it. I just…I love him an’ it hurts, every time he has to leave me. I should be happy. We get some time together. I’m th’ only one he ever comes back to, Jase, an’ he loves me and I should be happy with that. It’s not his fault I’m greedy. I just…I just want to be able to go somewhere with him, hold his hand, not…not have to worry if anyone sees us. What that’ll do to his reputation. I just…I wish he didn’t have to be ashamed of me.”
“He should be ashamed of himself,” Jason snarled. “You deserve better. You deserve someone who’ll give you more than a couple of days a damn year and will stand by your side, not shove you in a dark corner.”
Scooter closed his eyes for a long while, wishing he could sleep it off. Wishing Jason could understand. Wishing Jason didn’t have to see him like this. “Thank you,” he said. “F’r comin’ to get me. Sorry I piss you off so much. I’d change it, if I knew how.”
“It’s not you, it’s him,” Jason said, sighing. “You know I’m always gonna come for you.” 15
Sometimes, Scooter thought it was deliberate. That Chris would create this long moment just as Scooter walked into the room. Chris would be paying attention to his phone, or reading a book or newspaper, a breathless eternity for Scooter to just stare, without having to school his expression. And then it would end. Chris would look up and smile that hundred-megawatt smile, like seeing Scooter was absolutely the best part of his day, and call out, “Hey, kid. How’s life treating you?”
For eight years, Scooter had both hated and lived for that moment where there was no one in the world except him and Chris.