Steamroller, page 10
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
“Oh, but you came.” He shivered. “I knew you would.”
“You did not. I didn’t even know.”
The noise he made, contented and deep, made me smile. “I hoped.”
I wanted to kiss him, the need almost desperate.
“Your smell,” he rasped out quietly, under his breath. “I missed it.”
I smiled in spite of myself.
“Kiss me.”
I cleared my throat softly even though a doctor had come in and so everyone had turned to him. “Your family is here.”
“Don’t care, can’t feel anything unless you’re touching me.”
That comment again, from before. “When you’re better, you’ll tell me what that means.”
“Tell you now.” He took a breath. “Other people touch me, it’s like nothing. When you do it, it’s like electric current on my skin, and it goes right to my heart and other places.”
“Nice.”
“You asked.” He smiled wickedly; the sarcasm had not been lost on him.
“Just lie there and try and look hurt while I listen to the doctor.”
“Okay. Just for a minute, and then you kiss me.”
“Agreed.”
His wrist was fractured, the radius and ulna as well as his humerus. The breaks were all transverse fractures, and I knew that meant basically across the middle. He had a complete tear of the bicep tendon as well as a full-thickness tear of his rotator cuff. Basically, his arm was a rubber band. They had performed surgery to reattach the tendon to the head of the humerus for the rotator cuff as well as the bicep tendon. There were also pins in his arm in three places. When asked what the prognosis was, the doctor said the word “long.” Between the broken bones, the torn muscles, the rehabilitation, and the physical therapy, just… it was going to be a very long road. They should not expect football ever again. A useful arm, a functioning limb, the doctor said, should be the only real goal.
“My boy’s not a quitter,” Mr. Cress—I had seen him on all those sport specials on ESPN, so I knew who he was—told the orthopedic surgeon. “He’ll heal fast and be right back out on the field to—”
“Mr. Cress.” The doctor took a breath. “I appreciate your belief in your son, I do. It’s very admirable. However, the reality is—”
“He’ll play and—”
“Oh no.” Amelia Cress shook her head, cutting off her husband. “No. No, never again. If he gets hit again, he might reinjure his arm and—”
“Honey, he needs to get—”
“No,” she said, and her tone left no room for argument. “It’s over. I spoke to the university and the football coach this morning. He’ll transfer to Davis College in Augusta for the remainder of this year and the next. I paid off the scholarship so he’s all squared away with Everson. The tuition at Davis has already been paid and his grades and credits are being transferred as we speak. He’s off the football team at Everson, that part is done. They know he won’t play again, and they need a new quarterback going forward. I—”
“Amelia, that’s Carson’s choice to—”
“It’s mine,” she insisted. “Until Carson can afford to pay his own way, what I say goes, and I say he’s done. Carson signed the papers this morning, I witnessed them, and they are being notarized and filed as we speak.”
“That’s why your lawyer was here,” Mr. Cress whispered.
“Yes.”
“You had no right to—”
“I had every right. He’s my son.”
“He’s my son too!” Henry Cress yelled.
“And we’ve done what you wanted since he was nine years old,” she told him flatly. “All the choices for football were yours. Well, now, that’s over. I won’t have my son lose his arm for a game.”
“It’s not a game, Amelia. It was never just a game.”
“Which I understand to some degree,” she allowed. “But football has ceased to be a priority, has ceased to be a part of Carson’s life. I will not have him work hard simply to go back and play again and become irreparably damaged. Not to mention that simply the rehabilitation itself would mean that he would have to red shirt for all of next year and not graduate, simply for the chance to play again.”
“Amelia. Listen to—”
“No.” She shook her head, her voice rising, cracking just a little with the volume. “He’ll graduate with his degree in Construction Management next year and then go from there. Football is done, Henry. You need to come to terms with it.”
The room erupted in sound, and as they closed in on themselves, the surgeon and his team walked over to the bed where I was.
“Hello.” One of them smiled at me, offering his hand. “I’m Dr. Behari. I’m from the Mayo Clinic, and I was flown out to care for Mr. Cress after he sustained his traumatic injury.”
“Thank you so much for coming.”
He nodded. “And you are?”
“I’m his—”
“Boyfriend,” Carson offered quietly, and when I turned to him, I saw that his eyes were open. They were red and raw, and you could see the pain, but they were clear. “He’s with me. Tell him everything.”
Dr. Behari nodded. “He did very well in surgery, but he has a long road ahead of him. I am sorry—and you are welcome to get a second, third, hundredth opinion—but I’m telling you truthfully, professional football is not possible. That kind of repetitive physical abuse is simply not something the arm will ever be able to sustain on a recurring basis.”
I nodded even as I squeezed Carson’s left hand tight.
“My hope is that with therapy he will be able to lift with it, pull, and that his range of motion will not be severely impacted.”
“When does he get to go home?” I asked.
“By the end of the week.”
He had five more days there, and I had to go home and work. But the thought of leaving him was horrible.
“I will be back, Carson,” Dr. Behari said before he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze and left.
At the same time, I was treated to the power Carson Cress’s left arm still possessed when he yanked down hard and I ended up almost sprawled on top of him. I stopped myself with my left hand flat on his sternum.
“What are you—?”
“Gimme kiss now.”
My hand stroked over the washboard abs under my palm, I couldn’t help it. “Your family will freak out.”
“They won’t, you heard my mother. She took care of everything already.”
“But your father—”
“Doesn’t matter.” He sighed. “Mom’s the one with the money, and her prenup was scary, from what my grandfather––her father––told me before he passed away last year.”
I only looked at him.
“Rich people.” He chuckled. “Don’t know what to tell you.”
“Well just in case you missed it, your mother’s kind of terrific.”
“I know, right? I had no idea she didn’t give a crap that I was gay, though. It’s a nice surprise.”
“You’re not gay,” I told him.
He scoffed. “Oh no?”
“You’re bi,” I informed him.
“I don’t think so.” He grinned up at me. “I don’t look at girls and get a hard-on.”
“Could you please keep your—”
“But just smelling whatever shampoo you use gives me wood.”
“Lucky you’re under lots of blankets, then,” I teased.
“Yes, it is.” His smile was pure evil.
“So… construction management.” I arched an eyebrow at him.
“You thought I was what, a big dumb jock? I told you I was smart.”
“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. It’s nice, 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.” 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 shit 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, 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 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.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Vince,” Carson whined, and it would have been really cute if he weren’t in quite so much pain.
I turned fast and bent and pressed my lips to his, and it would have been quick, the kiss, but he opened under me and all my fear and panic went into the grind of my mouth over his teeth, my tongue dragging over his, sliding, rubbing, and the sexy moan in the back of his throat.
His hand was on the back of my neck to make sure I couldn’t pull away, and I felt his surrender, his desire, all of it, all of his need there in the kiss he gave me.
I touched the sides of his neck, and I could feel his pulse beating under my fingers. Amazing that it was me who filled him with excitement, who brought a flush to his skin, who made his pupils dilate and his breath catch.
It was me.
I pulled back just enough to unseal our lips and then smiled. “You’re crazy about me.”
“Have you even been listening?”
“I’m an ass.”
“I’m aware.”
I glowered but he must not have noticed since he was nuzzling his nose under my chin. “And you’ll be the only person I know in Maine.”
“So you’ll be dependent on me,” he growled, and the sound let me know that just the idea of that pleased him.
“It will be hard for me to leave Matt.”
“He’ll live, I won’t.”
“You—”
“My life just changed,” he informed me, and we were so close, nose to nose, his hand once again on the back of my neck. “And I’m about to lose more because my father will not have a gay son, and—”
“Oh baby, I’m so—”
“Stop,” he hushed me. “I’m so lucky. Every day kids tell their folks they’re gay, and they get thrown out on the street like garbage. All that history between parent and child just disappears because of who they choose to love.”
I was quiet, listening.
“But that’s not me. I’m blessed. I’m not gonna spend a second feeling sorry for myself. My mother loves me. She’s giving me the opportunity to finish my education, and then I have to make my own way after that. I couldn’t be more thankful.”
I nodded quickly as his fingers traced over my jaw.
“Yeah, football is over, and I think the fact that I’m not dying right now tells the real truth about who I really am. Football was never my dream; I want to build things. That’s why I’m getting a degree in Construction Management. And now I have the opportunity to finish that and you—please, just look at the program at Davis, okay? See what you think before you say no.”
“It’s gonna be hard for you,” I predicted even as my eyes fluttered with the sweep of his tongue over my throat. “You’ve been the big man on campus, the guy the world stopped for, and now you’ll become just another guy.”
“Won’t I be your guy?”
“Th-tha-that can’t be enough,” I stuttered, so thankful that everyone was still fighting and yelling, because I was seconds away from ravaging Carson’s mouth.
“Man, was that cute.” He smirked at me, his left hand fisted in the collar of my shirt, still strong enough to hold me immobile in his grip. “And yeah, it’ll be enough, idiot. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“How?”
“Because I finally made you stop and look at me.”
“I told you, everybody looks at you.” I sighed.
“And I told you… not anymore,” he said, and amazingly, it didn’t sound like he was sad about that one bit.
“What if you miss the glory days?”
“What if I don’t?”
I shook my head. “Carson, you haven’t even given yourself a second to let this all sink in or to see how you’re—”
“It’s life, Vince,” he said, pulling me closer to him.
“You might not feel like this in a month. You might want someone different.”
“Nope, I won’t. Just you.”
“But if you do—”
“I won’t.”
“Carson,” I pleaded.
“Fine, we’ll get a contract. If I wanna screw other boys, I’ll still pay my half of the rent or whatever. You’ll still finish your education.”
“And I’ll be all alone.”
He started laughing.
“In Maine!”
“Ow ow ow.” He winced and smiled at the same time. “You jerk, I’m in pain here. Don’t make me laugh.”
“I want guarantees!” I exclaimed, indignant.
“We can’t get married in Maine,” he informed me, “but we have a domestic partnership law on the books.”
“I—”
“We can get married in Massachusetts if you want, or Vermont.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“You want a ring?”
I was going to pass out. I just knew it.
“Whatever you want that will make you say okay.”
“Carson, you—”
He grinned up at me. “Yeah, I love you.”
My hands smoothed down his sides, over his ribs as I held on.
“You look like you’re gonna faint.”
“I… you can’t. It’s too fast.”
