Slow and Steady Rush (25 page)

What was this pull he felt toward her? This consuming need to protect, claim, absorb? He didn’t know. Had never experienced anything like what she made him feel with a simple smile. Without a word, he shook his head and dragged himself away from her when every nerve screamed for her touch.

Robbie eased into the cab of his truck. Sweat dotted his forehead, and his fingers trembled around the steering wheel. Maybe he should call in sick, but his pride refused to give the bastards any sense of victory.

He survived his classes. Although by last period, teaching integrals had been beyond his ability. The kids high-fived when he started a video about the Hubbell telescope. He practiced deep breathing exercises at his desk.

Tyler had been noticeably absent from school. Maybe he should have told Rick about him being there last night. Maybe something truly horrific had happened, but even in his drugged state, Robbie knew better.

No, Robbie would find Tyler, force the truth out of him, and would hunt down Cottontop and de-nut him if necessary. Assuming, he could force the truth from Tyler. If it had been Robbie in that position, at that age, he would have lied his face off.

First though, he had to deal with eighty-plus energetic, curious teenage boys while hiding his pain. With his lips curled in the facsimile of a smile, he forced a normal long-legged gait through the practice pavilion. Kids dropped their weights and nudged each other. A buzz rose.

“You’re not X-men. The weights aren’t going to lift with the awesome power of your minds. Now get pumping,” Robbie said loud enough for the entire pavilion to hear.

Laughter erupted. If his voice sounded harsh and frayed, and he couldn’t summon answering laughter, no one seemed to notice. Like a popped bubble, the tension dissipated, and the clank of metal on metal replaced the hum of whispers.

The tough-man exterior took a toll. He needed privacy to lick his wounds and put the façade back together for practice. He banged his office door open. Darcy was leaning back in his chair with her feet up on his desk, reading a book.

“What are you doing here? Get out.” It was inexcusably rude, but he’d make it up to her. Later. When he didn’t hurt so damn bad.

Her eyes narrowed and examined him like a specimen. She stalked to the door but didn’t walk straight through and slam it in his face. Instead, she closed it and flipped the lock.

“I’m here to change your bandages.”

She pushed him toward the desk, and he propped himself against it. A slight groan escaped despite his best efforts. His eyes and mouth squeezed shut. He didn’t want her to think he was a wimp. Her fingers worked on his buttons, and cotton skimmed down his arms.

“Robbie …” she breathed. “Poor baby.” Lips brushed above and below the stitches on his arm, and although he knew it was impossible, the intensity of the burn seemed to cool.

Fingers probed his side, and he winced away, his body tense. Her hands left the wound and caressed his chest, gentling and distracting him. Soft breasts brushed his arm. She thrummed his nipple with a thumb.

His pain eased, and a theory presented itself in his muddled brain. Her body would heal his. It seemed imperative he prove the illogical hypothesis.

“Tell me you brought a condom,” he said in a rumble.

He pressed into her, his eyes still closed, his face nuzzling into her hair. Sweet honeysuckle took him to another place and time. Early summer. A spot by the river where he could lay her out on a blanket and strip her naked in the sun. Love her. Spread her legs and—

“Holy fuck!” His side throbbed in tune with his heartbeat.

“Be quiet, you big baby.” She held the bloody bandage she’d ripped off with two fingers. Her face scrunched as she bent over to examine the wound. “You’ve bled a bit through the stitches, but they held, and I don’t see any sign of infection.”

After he was cleaned, disinfected, and rebandaged, she pressed two pills into his hand. “They’re non-narcotic. You need something to take the edge off.”

“I know what would take the edge off.” He swallowed the pills and pulled her between his legs.

“You’re in no shape to participate in such strenuous activity,” she said in her prim librarian voice.

She was anything but prim. Skinny-dipping, going down on him in the library, barely there underwear … all the while denying her wild, passionate side. He wouldn’t allow it.

“I’ve got a heartbeat. That’s all I need.” He drew her hand to his partially erect dick.

She didn’t balk but measured his length and girth with the palm of her hand. He came to full attention in two seconds. Color flushed into her face. They stared into each other’s eyes, only inches apart.

“Are you wet? Do you want me in your pants?”

“You shouldn’t—”

“Admit you want me.” He kneaded her ass. Her body melted into his, signaling her surrender. Her nails left erotic trails of sensation on his back.

Her voice was close to a moan. “I want to rip your pants off and climb on top of you. Or rip your pants off and have you bend me over your desk. Or rip your pants off and take you in my mouth again.” She licked her lips, and his dick jumped. “Or, rip your pants off and—”

“You want my pants off. Have I got that about right?” His laugh was shaky, and his hands trembled.

The doorknob rattled. A hand rapped on the door. “Come on, lover boy. The team’s waiting.” Logan’s voice floated under the crack, amused but impatient. “I know you’re in there, cuz.”

The flush on her face wasn’t from arousal anymore. Her hands shook while she taped a fresh bandage over the wound. He slipped his shirt back on and buttoned it, feeling like he would at least survive practice if not enjoy it.

“Did you talk to Tyler?” she asked, gathering the first aid supplies together.

“Nope. Have to take care of that after practice. And, get Avery.” He sighed. A long, lonely night stretched.

She glanced at the clock. “Ada’s waiting.”

They parted, each headed in a different direction. Robbie watched over his shoulder until she was out of sight.

Chapter 19

Practice concluded on a high note. His already good team was improving with every practice. Just in case, he spent extra time with his backup center, drilling the handoffs and blocking assignments repeatedly.

On to his next mission. Robbie drove through Tyler’s aging middle-class neighborhood. Well-manicured yards abutted lawns overrun with weeds. Many of the cookie-cutter ranch brick homes had playsets peeking out of backyards. To Robbie, it looked as unattainable as leaping into a Rockwell painting.

A regular at The Tavern for happy hour, Tyler’s father worked at a local manufacturing plant. Black greased fingernails and a gray uniform denoted his blue-collar status. He drank beer, played darts, and enjoyed a dirty joke. A gay son was an odd-shaped puzzle piece that would have a difficult time fitting into his life.

He pulled in behind Tyler’s truck and killed the engine. What the hell was he supposed to say? Should he encourage Tyler to come out of the closet or bury himself inside it until he left Falcon for college? If he came out now, would recruiters still be interested?

He rapped on the door, and a middle-aged woman with skin that had seen too many years of sun greeted him. “Coach. Tyler’s sick. He hasn’t left his room all day. Not even to eat.”

“Can I talk to him?”

She gestured him into a homey den. Pictures were everywhere. Baby pictures, family pictures, vacation pictures. The worry and love in the woman’s eyes stabbed at Robbie’s gut. Maybe Tyler’s family couldn’t afford the biggest flat-screen TV, but they were rich in other ways.

“Last door on the right.” She pointed down the short hallway.

Robbie knocked. No answer. Undeterred, he eased inside and assumed the 230-pound blanket-covered lump in the twin bed was Tyler. Skirting a pile of dirty clothes heaped in the middle of the room, he dumped a stack of sports magazines off the only chair in the room and sat.

“I understand some of what you’re dealing with, you know,” Robbie said, his voice low.

The lump curled into an even smaller ball. “You can’t understand. I saw you kissing Miss Darcy. You’re normal.” His voice strained high, childlike.

“Normal,” Robbie chuffed. “Dude, I’m more screwed up than you can imagine.”

His words got a reaction. Tyler’s head popped from under the covers. Matted hair emphasized swollen, red eyes. His face looked as if he’d scrubbed an entire layer of skin off.

“What do you mean? The guys on the team idolize you. Miss Darcy sure has a thing for you. I only wish—”

“Don’t wish yourself in my place.” Robbie dropped his elbows to his knees and rubbed a hand over his jaw. After a decade, he’d confessed a portion of his pent-up memories—that morning. He wouldn’t, couldn’t do it again.

Except, one look at Tyler’s face told him he had to.

Robbie shifted. The chair’s protesting squeaks broke the silence. “I walked into your house tonight, and you know how I felt? Jealous. I’m jealous of a seventeen-year-old kid.”

The boy sat up against his headboard. “Why?”

“You have a home. A mother who obviously loves and cares about what happens to you.”

“If they knew …”

“They’d what? Disown you? No. They might struggle, but I think—”

“You don’t know what it’s like to hide something, to feel so ashamed you want to die.” Tyler’s chin wobbled, and a tear escaped. He looked to the wall and wiped knuckles roughly along his cheek.

“I know exactly what that’s like.” Robbie waited until he’d snared Tyler’s attention. “I grew up in foster care. I didn’t have a home like this. I didn’t feel an ounce of love or welcome when I walked through the door. I was kicked, punched, slapped. I hid the bruises, hid the shame. For years. I didn’t tell a teacher or a social worker.”

“But that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t bring it onto yourself. You were a victim.”

“And you brought this onto yourself? I thought if I could be a better person, I wouldn’t get hit. If I could stop talking back, I wouldn’t get hit. If I somehow wasn’t me, they would love me.”

Tyler dropped his gaze to where his fingers picked strings out of his blanket.

“Can you make yourself like girls?” Robbie asked.

“No,” Tyler answered in a small voice.

“Being gay is who you are and nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You’re not disgusted?”

“Of course, I’m not. Listen, did any of those rednecks touch you, or …” Robbie wasn’t sure how to ask the question that had to be asked.

Tyler flushed. “No. Not like you’re thinking. They put … well, you saw what they did to my face. They threatened some things, but besides pulling my pants down, they didn’t do anything. Maybe they would have if you and Miss Darcy hadn’t come along.” He hugged a pillow to his chest. “I can’t believe she saw me like that. What did she say?”

A glimmer of humor shot through Robbie. “Believe me when I say, she’s very open-minded. Ask her about Oscar Wilde next time you see her.”

“Is that her grandpa or something?” Tyler’s puzzled question made Robbie swallow a guffaw.

“I’ll let her explain. What do you want to do about the team? Do you want to tell them, not tell them? I’ll support you no matter what.”

“There’s no way I can face them, Coach. Rumors are probably flying already. If those rednecks know, it’s only a matter of time before everyone does. I’ve been waiting for the cops to show up. I heard my dad talking about it this morning.” Tyler buried his face in the pillow he clutched like a teddy bear.

“No one knows you were there except me and Darcy and those boys. Did you recognize them?”

Tyler’s silence answered the question.

“I can guarantee those boys look like hell. If they step out, I’ll know. But, I want names. Where are they from?”

“A county up. The dude with the blond hair is Jeremy something, but they call him Whitey.”

“Has he caused you problems before this?”

Tyler’s gaze shot to Robbie’s and back down a couple of times. “No, but …”

“It’s okay. You can trust me.”

“There was a party awhile back down in Tuscaloosa. A cousin invited me. I met a guy there. I don’t know how, but he knew about me, and he was cute.”

They looked away from each other. It was hard enough talking to his players about girls. Robbie had never imagined advising one about a cute boy. Feelings of inadequacy caused sweat to pop out on his forehead, but he tried to hide his unease from Tyler.

“We talked all night and went outside. It was dark, and I was a little buzzed. We kissed. That’s all we did, I swear.” Tyler bumbled out the last, clearly ashamed. “I didn’t think anyone saw, but Whitey was at the party too.”

“It’s completely normal to be attracted to someone at your age. I’d be shocked if you weren’t. No shame. Promise me.” Robbie used his best don’t-give-me-shit coach’s voice.

“No shame,” Tyler repeated half-heartedly. “There’s something else. I was over on Maple Street when they jumped me. At first, I thought they dragged me under the bleachers to be symbolic or something—maybe Miss Darcy’s lessons rubbed off—but, it’s like they were waiting for you.”

Every muscle in his body tensed, shooting pain from his cuts and bruises. “I remember one of the boys saying something like that to Whitey.”

“After they tied me up, they stood around and joked, hyped each other up. I didn’t catch on until I heard you. I tried to warn you.” Tyler shrugged.

“I had a run-in with Whitey when all the rumors were circulating about me,” he said absently. His first encounter with Whitey at the convenience store had been by chance. The boy had been ill prepared and full of misplaced bravado. The second encounter was different. Organized and with bait, reinforcements, and weapons.

Maybe it was time to talk to the police. Only it would be difficult to keep Tyler out.

“Coach, I don’t want anyone else to know about me. Not yet. My parents can’t afford college. You said I might be able to get a scholarship, but I’m not an idiot. Will scouts recruit a fag?”

Robbie recognized the pain in Tyler’s voice. He laid a hand on Tyler’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t demean yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of, but I won’t say anything. This is your secret to bear until you decide to reveal it.”