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“You and Colton in the park throwing footballs. You and Colton going on business trips,” Justin hissed. “You and Colton going to a fucking winery!” he roared. “You could have taken me to a winery with you! Me, your son! Not him! You don’t even pretend to want me in your life anymore!“”
“Nick,” Justin spat. “You mean my dad.” “Yeah, but who was here with him?” Colton shot back.
My jaw DROPPED
“I didn’t plan it. It was just summer— It wasn’t going to last. It was just… It just happened. And I thought—” Colton stared at the floor, at the collection of candles Nick had lit the night before.
Ouch, Nick
Had Nick really said all that? It wasn’t going to last. It was just summer. His heart had popped like a water balloon inside his chest.
He’d thought he was becoming someone, especially to Nick.
Now he was nothing but pieces, the same broken jigsaw puzzle he’d always been, kicked over and scattered by other people. Pieces lost. Pieces broken. Pieces thrown away.
My poor baby
He’d wanted Nick to like him—no, to love him. To love what he saw when Colton showed him his carefully concealed heart, cradled in the palms of his hands.
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He’d imagined rings on their fingers, had whispered in the moonlight that he loved Nick.
He’d dreamed of forever, but Nick had been waiting for their end.
Wes had proven you could come out—be outed—and still be the best. Colton wasn’t the best anymore, not even close, and he wasn’t gay, but given the choice between letting Nick go and holding his hand in the park, Colton knew what he’d pick.
Nick had gone after Justin, leaving Colton behind in the wreckage of them. With the ghosts of his hands on Colton’s skin, his kisses still lingering on Colton’s lips. He was still inside Colton, too. The shape of him. His wet heat. His come.
Here he was, alone again, left behind by a man he loved.
He’d only had days left with Nick, and he hadn’t even known.
He left the football, the one-handed controller, and his broken heart behind.
He wanted to carve himself in two, one half staying with Justin while the other half ran back to Colton. He’d be on his knees before both men, begging for apologies he didn’t deserve.
They’re the relationship you always wanted with the son you didn’t have!”
On the road ahead, off the county highway, he saw a fleabag motel with a lit Vacancy sign. It was a way station for truckers and drifters and the homeless. That was him, now.
No, my baby boy
The old man at the check-in desk looked like he was three hundred years old, like managing the front desk was his second job after his first career as a scarecrow.
Stop this made me laugh so hard
Now, Wes kept his back to Colton. He never looked his way.
This book is making me dislike Wes
Instead of spending hours perfecting his form, he wanted to stop and sit on the grass with Nick. Gaze into his eyes. Feel his hands on his shoulder. Listen to him talk. About work, about Kimbrough, about Justin. Anything, as long as he could hear Nick’s voice.
