Rock Bay 2 - Letting Go (7 page)

spent a lot of nights on the foldout.” He gestured at his couch.

“When you’re a world-famous neurosurgeon, I’ll expect an entire wing in your vacation home.”
Oh, jeez
. He and Logan had that conversation when they were, what, thirteen? “You have a long memory. I’m not sure that med school is in my stars, though. I’m happy here. I like nursing.”
Logan shrugged, but he obviously wasn’t buying it. “If you’re happy, that’s all that matters. As long as I get my vacation house in the islands somewhere.”

Mason slugged him in the arm. “I’ll keep you posted. You want pizza?”

 

Chapter Five

 

M
ONDAY
was a bitch after spending the weekend with Carrie and Logan. They’d stayed up late and had pizza and beer that Logan got with his very real ID. He of course had to gloat about it. Mason just laughed and stuck out his tongue. Like it mattered down there if he was twenty-one or not, he didn't have anywhere to go. Still, after weeks of no partying, no drinking, and no staying up late, the weekend had most assuredly taken its toll.

“Morning!” Amy said brightly.

Mason groaned. “Shhhh. My brain is still asleep.”
“Did you have a fun weekend with your friends?” Her grin was evil; her voice was loud. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“I know you’re my boss, but you officially suck,” Mason groaned.
“You’ll like it even more when I tell you it’s your turn with Dolores today.”
“I officially hate you. What’s she dying of?”

Amy shrugged. “Boredom. Go in there and flash your pretty smile and blink those lashes, and she’ll be happy and healthy in no time.”

Mason made a very satisfying rude noise and turned to get Dolores out of the ER’s waiting room. She smiled when she saw Mason, who’d quickly become one of her favorite nurses, and followed him happily back to one of the curtainedoff examining areas. Sometimes Dolores insisted on seeing a doctor, but usually just talking to him was enough to make her happy. They were partway through her long list of ailments when the emergency room was ripped open by the squeal of sirens. Mason peeked his head out of the curtain.

“I need you!” Amy called from the reception desk. Mason ducked back into the cubicle.

“Dolores, I’m going to have to ask you to sit tight. We have an emergency.”
“But—”
“Ma’am, I’ll be right back.”

Mason rushed out before Dolores had a chance to complain further. He jogged through the ER to meet up with Amy. The victim was wet and alarmingly grayish on the gurney. He’d been dressed in suit pants and a jacket, which were in tatters where the EMTs had cut into them.

“We got a jumper,” Amy told him. “Some kids saw him swan dive off the bridge and pulled him out. He’s had CPR, pulse is steady, Dr. Morris is prepping for surgery in room three. There are multiple broken bones and signs of internal injury.”

Mason jogged behind Amy toward the operating room, leading the way for the EMTs. As they were turning a corner, he nearly ran into a man coming from one of the elevators. The man jumped out of the way, but not before Mason looked up, startled. It was
him
. They stood there, staring, electric, for what must have been only a second or two, but it honestly felt like time stood still. Mason opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment the gurney turned the corner and nearly crushed his mystery man.

“I’m sorry!” his guy exclaimed and squished up against the wall to make room for the EMTs and the patient. Mason stared at him for another moment before he squeezed his eyes shut and turned back to his patient. Amy glanced up too, and nodded, before turning back to rush down the hall toward surgery. Mason thought she looked like she knew him, but that was impossible, right? Astoria wasn’t
that
small.

Three long hours later, the jumper, who was still without identity, was resting in recovery. He was unconscious, but stable. Breathing on his own. He had two broken ribs and a shattered tibia, but he was alive despite his best efforts. Mason cleaned up and went out to the main nurses’ station. Part of him was hoping that his mystery guy would still be there, waiting. Most of him knew that was impossible. No one would sit around for three hours waiting for someone they’d said hello to once. That knowledge didn’t stop Mason’s stomach from sinking just a little when he found the emergency room of the hospital sadly empty of one peacoated preppy guy.

D
REW
felt really awful. He could see the strain in Tally’s eyes—there really was something wrong with him and Lex, and Drew knew it was his fault. That one guy’s night had turned into a few weeks’ worth of Tally helping him pour Brock onto his couch in the middle of the night. And it never seemed like the right time to bring up Tally’s serious boyfriend, or the fact that Drew might really like to have one. Brock was too busy sprinting down memory lane as fast as he could, away from his adult life, his wife, and any place where he and Tally weren’t the football gods they’d been all those years ago.

Earlier, Tally had told Drew that he was done. One more night, and he was going to come out to Brock and end the whole dumb charade before Lex dumped him over it. Drew wished he could grow a pair and tell Tally just to stay home with his boyfriend, that he could handle things on his own. He nearly picked up his cell phone to do just that, but then the cold sweats hit him, and he put his cell back down on the coffee table.

Tonight’s not going to be a disaster. It’s not. Tally had been really annoyed earlier, at the river, when he’d told Drew he was daydreaming

about spending time with his own boyfriend instead of hanging out with Brock and his crew. Drew understood. He didn’t want to be with them any more than Tally did. At least it would be over soon, for good or for fucking disaster. Dressed, if not quite ready, Drew picked his phone up off the dresser to call Brock. He’d have preferred to call Tally, but Tally had cancelled his line a few months before and said he liked it better without one. Brock sounded surly on the phone, but he told Drew everyone was going to meet at O’Toole’s. Something shocking and unusual for them. Drinking. At a bar. Drew wasn’t in the mood to drink. Watching Brock petrify his liver on a regular basis tended to have that effect.

Brock was his usual pain-in-the-ass drunk self at the bar. Drew tried to move his drink a few times, so that maybe, with a stroke of luck, he might lose track of it and not get so out of his head that he’d be puking later. On Drew’s couch, most likely. Tally tried to talk to Brock a few times, but Brock wasn’t listening to anyone, not even Tally. At the speed he’d been downing his beers, it was amazing that he could stand. Even with assistance.

It was only about midnight when they left the bar. The owner had asked Drew to get Brock home before he either started trouble or made a mess getting sick all over the pool table. The manager was smart. Brock had done it before and they’d had to replace all the felt on the table. Tally and Drew managed to sling Brock’s arms over their shoulders. Rick and the other guys melted away, home to their wives and families for the night. It was assumed that Drew would take care of Brock. He always did. Drew decided right then that it was the last time. Even if Tally didn’t come out, even if everything remained the same, Drew wasn’t going to deal with Brock’s drunk butt anymore. He had a wife. She could deal with him. It was tempting to call her right then. He almost did, then decided that, no, he could just wait for morning.

Of course the late movie happened to get out right when they were dragging Brock down the street toward Drew’s house. It was one of the only times he wished he had a car with him. How embarrassing. All those people. Hopefully none of them noticed their wobbly little threesome stalled on the sidewalk. Of course Brock had to ruin that dream.

“Oh, look. Ith’s Sexshie Lexshie!”

 

Drew wanted to punch him. Hard. Tally and

Drew tried to shut Brock up, but as usual it was impossible. He kept heckling Lex and—
holy shit
. It was the guy from the hospital.
Drew’s
guy. Drew knew he worked with Amy, after that day in the emergency room, but things had been so weird lately with Brock and Tally that he hadn’t thought to ask her about him. And there he was. Everything else went blurry. All Drew could do was stare. His guy was staring back, but the look on his face was
not
happy.

“Amy, Mason, let’s get the hell out of here.” Lex looked like he was about ready to kill Tally. Tally, who should’ve used that exact moment to stand up to Brock and tell everyone about his relationship with Lex. Not that Drew could talk.

“Your name is Mason?” It fit him. Cute. Unique. Mason didn’t answer, just stared back. He flicked a look at Brock and rolled his eyes in disgust. Then, with one more disappointed look, Mason turned and followed Lex and Amy from the scene. Drew’s heart crashed. He wanted to run after Mason, tell him it wasn’t how it looked, that he wasn’t
really
friends with a homophobic asshole. How more than anything he wanted to get to know Mason better.

Tally took off after Lex, which didn’t surprise Drew, since he’d wanted to do the same thing. Part of him said to do it anyway, leave Brock drunk on the street and let him find his own way home. Might teach him a lesson. Drew wished he could be that mean just once. He hoisted Brock’s considerable mass and turned toward the building that held his loft. The nine blocks from the movie theater had never seemed so long.

They weren’t there more than a half an hour when Tally came pounding on the door. Drew had barely been asleep when he heard voices out in the living room. He flipped his legs over his bed and stood sleepily. The room shifted, more from exhaustion than from the two beers he’d had earlier. Drew shoved his feet into a pair of flipflops and stumbled for the door. He came out to the main room to find Tally and Brock arguing about Brock’s drinking.

“What’s going on here?” He already knew, but the question came out anyway.

“I’m dealing with it now, D. Lex just ended things with me over this. It’s not fucking worth it. I’m not losing him.”

Damn
. Drew was impressed that Tally had just spit it out that way. Brock didn’t look so impressed. He looked confused.

“What the hell are you two girls talking about?” he slurred.
And Tally proceeded to tell him. Point blank. He told him that he was with Lex, that he loved him, that Lex had just left him because he kept hanging around with someone who was such an ass to Lex and every other gay person. And then he told Brock that he didn’t want to see him again. Ever.
Shit. He really did it
. Drew could feel Brock’s slow, angry reaction. Tally turned to Drew. “It was never going to work the way you wanted it to. You know that, right?”
Drew nodded. He’d come to that conclusion earlier. It didn’t matter who came out, how much Brock had adored them. He was homophobic, and nothing was going to change that. Drew admired Tally for realizing it as well. It was scary to realize that, no matter what, things weren’t going to be okay if he came out. He would lose Brock, not that he’d ever really
had
him, or that he wanted him. But he
did
need him. That much sucked. He would lose business. Maybe. Probably. Okay, for sure. Brock had sway with a lot of people in town. If he told them to stop doing business with Drew, they would. It was more complicated than simply telling the truth.
“I can’t fucking believe that fucking fucker!” Drew had forgotten about Brock until his stereo’s remote control smashed against the wall.
“Watch it, asshole! You want to throw stuff, go home and do it.” Drew pushed Brock until he was sitting on the couch. “You need to sleep it off. You’re drunk and pissed. This is something to deal with in the morning.”
“But Tally—”
“Yes. Tally. He wasn’t here for years, and now he’s gone again. He’ll be around, but he’s with Lex. Not you. Just let it go, dude. Tally loves him.”
“Fags can’t really love each other. They just want to stick shit up their asses. It’s just
wrong
.”
Drew gagged. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“What? So now you’re a fag too? You want some guy up your ass?”
Drew sighed. He didn’t have a rational reply for that question. “Sleep it off, Brock. We’ll deal with things in the morning.” Hopefully he’d be more reasonable then. Hopefully.
“Whatever, asshole.” Brock slumped back down on the couch and lifted his legs onto the pillow. “Where’s my whiskey?”
Drew noticed an unfinished tumbler of whiskey on his kitchen counter. “You finished it. Just go to sleep.” He walked over and tossed Brock’s usual blanket over him. “Everything will be different in the daylight.”
Brock casually flipped him the finger and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders.
Same old asshole.
A snort and a few muffled snores came from the vicinity of the couch. He was asleep.
Good
. Drew swallowed his disgust and went back to his room, where he could close himself in and pretend that Brock didn’t exist in his life. He seriously thought about moving away. The only part that sucked about that was his new friends. He really liked Lex and Amy, and he’d always liked Tally. Now that at least one part of his life was looking up in Rock Bay, it sucked that it might be the best time for him to leave. And then there was Mason—potentially no one to him. Really, they’d barely spoken. But Drew couldn’t get rid of the feeling that there was something there.
It took a while to fall asleep. Drew stared at the ceiling and wondered when his life was going to change—more if he’d ever have the balls to change it himself. He woke not too long after he fell asleep to the sound of his front door closing.
Maybe Brock decided to go home for once.