Chapter Twelve

After scribbling a few more notes, Brandon tossed down his pen and sat back from the writing desk. Thank God that was done—end of the year grades. Summer break was a breath away and he could hardly wait. Graduation was the day after tomorrow, he’d have one administrative day left, and then he could pack James into the closet and escape. The state tournament was next week and after that things would really calm down.

Brandon really looked forward to some uninterrupted time with Jake. They’d even talked about a week’s vacation, the farther away the better. Brandon had suggested Denver, where they could watch the Braves against the Rockies in a three-game stretch. Jake had countered with San Francisco and a four-game stretch, plus San Diego not so far away. They were still undecided on anything except that baseball would be involved.

Remembering he’d promised Jake he would tally the JV and freshman end-of-the-year stats for the spring sports banquet, Brandon started digging under the piles of papers, looking for the two different score books. With a quiet “Ah-ha,” he pulled them out from under his planner and shuffled them, deciding to start with JV and work his way down. The varsity stats were already figured and trophies ordered; Jake was out picking them up now in Atlanta proper.

He pulled out a memo pad and started tallying, shifting some haphazardly folded papers out of the way, his curiosity caught when he saw one page with a dark circle around some text. He unfolded it, gave it a glance, and abruptly straightened in the chair. It was an e-mail to Jake at his school address. What was circled was a long-distance phone number.

Hello Coach Campbell,

On the reference of Coach Chester at Fresno State, I wanted to send you this job listing. We’re really looking for someone to turn our Varsity Football program around, and after some research, I can see that you’re highly qualified. You’d definitely top out the salary range. Congratulations on your run at the Georgia state title in baseball, by the way.

I hope you’ll give this position due consideration. Give me a call anytime if you have questions.

Thanks,

Sam Weatherby

Athletic Director

Theodore Roosevelt High School

559-555-0134

What followed was what looked to be a job listing clipped from a paper, detailing a call for a head football coach at a school in Fresno, California. The school, the clipping said, had not won in over 40 years and was desperate for a football coach with a proven record of winning and running a program. The salary was generous if the applicant had a degree, and Jake certainly did, and the classes he would have to teach consisted of weightlifting and football. No P.E., just two whole planning blocks for what was apparently a major football program; a mere step down from a college program. The job was marketed as a challenge, something that would certainly pique the interest of a competitor like Jake.

Brandon sat there staring at the letter for two extra-long minutes, floored. It was dated two weeks ago. Jake hadn’t said a thing.

Slowly, mechanically, he refolded the e-mail and dropped it back with the other papers into the opened book. Telling himself sharply not to overreact, he decided a long, hard run was in order so he could think his way out of this sudden upset. Shifting the chair back and leaving the mess strewn across the desk, he went to change clothes. He’d drive home to run in the park. Peace and quiet would help him settle down.

Surely it was nothing. His jaw clenched as he packed a duffel bag.

The front door slammed and banged and Jake thumped into the house, loaded down with a heavy box of trophies. “Look at this shit!” he shouted irately, “They fucking have women on the goddamned trophies!”

In the bedroom, Brandon stood up from tying his running shoes. He’d half-hoped he’d get out of the house before Jake got back so he’d have some time to remind himself that Jake wouldn’t do anything rash. Right? He grabbed a tank top and pulled it over his head with one hand, the duffle in the other as he walked down the hall to stop and look at his lover questioningly. “Women?” he asked mildly, proud that his voice was normal.

Jake yanked the trophy out of the box he had opened on the way home and thrust it at Brandon petulantly. “Ponytails and everything,” he grumbled with another disgusted look at the little statue. He looked back up at Brandon and blinked in surprise when he noticed the bag. “You going somewhere?” he asked.

“A run,” Brandon said, setting the duffel on the counter as he went to the fridge for a Gatorade. “Thought I’d drive over to Mountain Park and get some stuff at the house, run around the lake.” It was easier to stay casual not looking at him.

“All righty,” Jake responded in slight confusion. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. “You okay?”

Brandon couldn’t help but smile. Jake seemed to worry about him a lot, especially since the burnout episode over spring break. “Yeah, just got grades on the brain, you know?” He turned around and grabbed the duffle and then stopped in front of Jake for a slow, sweet kiss that belied the elephants stampeding in his stomach.

Jake stood blinking as Brandon moved away. “’Kay,” he muttered, still confused and completely unashamed of showing it.

Milking the distracted daze for all it was worth, Brandon tossed a “See you at the banquet” over his shoulder before fleeing the house with some dignity intact. Once in the car, he got to the stoplight and had to wait. He noticed his hands were shaking. In a moment of unusual pique, he slammed his fist against the steering wheel.

Jake stood rooted to the spot, head cocked and upper lip curled in confusion, the box of trophies still tucked under his arm as he stared at the door. Finally he looked around the house as if there were some clue as to what had upset Brandon, because he was definitely upset about something, but Jake could see nothing unusual. He sighed heavily and walked to the kitchen, set down the box, and went to his cupboard of pills.

Even as he drove, Brandon couldn’t stop thinking about the damn e-mail. He turned on the radio, loud. He rolled down the windows. He tried to focus on happy plans for vacation, which just got him to thinking. How far was Fresno from San Francisco or San Diego? He felt faintly ill and wished he could shut his brain off. A near miss rear-ending a car at the next stoplight forced him to concentrate on driving.

It wasn’t until roughly an hour after Brandon left that Jake sat down at the desk and the scorebooks to see if Brandon had managed to finish the tallying. The first thing he saw when he opened the book was that damn e-mail staring at him. He hopped up with a curse and headed for the phone, hoping to catch Brandon at the house.

But he hadn’t even gone inside. Brandon just tossed his keys onto the back porch and set out for the lake. Although he’d calmed down quite a bit, he needed the mind wipe a long run would give him. He’d even almost managed to convince himself the e-mail didn’t mean anything. Jake loved him. He wouldn’t leave him. But as he picked up speed around the lake, that one little niggle of fear continued to eat at him.

The phone rang and rang in Jake’s ear and finally he hung it up with a clank, cursing inventively. What the fuck was Brandon thinking, running away like this? He hadn’t even asked about it. Jake prowled around his house, kicking at inanimate objects and muttering to himself. The fuck. He’d just run away. Jake had thought Brandon a lot of things, but a coward had never been one of them.

Brandon ran until he thought he might collapse, but he at least made it back to the porch before flopping on the steps and lying back on the wood. He’d managed to zone out for a little while, but it was a testament to how wrapped up he was in Jake that he just couldn’t shake the scare. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He’d have to ask about it. It would drive him crazy until he knew. Sighing, he dragged himself up and went back to the car for the duffle, then headed inside.

The more time that passed, the angrier Jake found himself. It didn’t help that he had an infamous temper. It didn’t help that he was terrified their carefully hewn relationship might be falling apart out there on a trail somewhere with no way for him to fix it. That was just adding to the anger. When the phone began to ring, Jake rounded on it and grabbed it, yanked it out of the wall and tossed it across the kitchen. He snorted at it and then walked out of the house into the back yard and disappeared into the grove of trees.

Brandon stopped still and stood looking at the phone. Calmer now, he felt not a little ashamed of himself. He’d never backed down from Jake, even when the other man was mad as hell. He’d never lied to him, either. And he didn’t think Jake had ever kept anything from him. Taking a breath, he set his hand on the phone for a long moment, then picked it up and dialed. The more the phone rang, the more resigned he felt. Finally he hung up and laid his forehead against the wall. He hoped Jake was in the shower or something. He glanced at the clock. Four hours to the banquet. More than enough time to head back to the house and talk to Jake. He headed to the shower and cleaned up, thoughts buzzing the whole time and on the drive back as well. When he pulled into the driveway, he knew what he was going to say.

Heading into the house, he called Jake’s name. No response came. The remains of the shattered phone met him in the foyer, and one of the little gold trophies sat on the corner of the bar, the bat pointing toward the cupboard of pills with the little pony-tailed head ripped off and hanging on the end of it.

Brandon stared at the mess for a long moment, then turned his chin to look at the desk. The score book lay open, the e-mail exposed. Christ. I really fucked this one up . Taking a deep breath, he started cleaning up the mess, figuring Jake had to come back sometime, if only to get the scorebooks and tallies for the banquet.

Jake spent an hour roaming the little clearing out back where he had grown up hitting rocks as a kid. He walked in circles, picking up bits of loose gravel and sticks. He would take a rock, toss it up, and swing. Over and over, for hours on end. He still had the ruined nub of the bat he’d used as a kid mounted on a plaque in his old bedroom.

He stood there, thinking about the last twenty years and where they had gone different from what he had wanted. Not wrong. Just different. Slowly his breathing calmed, his temper ebbed, and he was left standing in the middle of the clearing with a tight throat and chest, thinking about where he had left to go and what he would have were he to leave.

Lowering his head, Jake turned and walked slowly back to the house.

Brandon leaned against the wall facing the door, just waiting. The time dragged and dragged, until he heard footsteps. Jake walked slowly to the door, opened it, and once inside looked up at him. The look on his face about broke Brandon’s heart. “Jake,” he started, voice thick.

“I need a shower,” Jake responded as he headed for the hall.

Brandon set his jaw and stepped in front of him, hands touching each wall, blocking the way. “I want to go with you,” he said steadily.

Jake stopped and blinked at him. “What?” he asked flatly.

Tilting his head with a stern look, Brandon’s expression showed that he knew that Jake knew what he was talking about. “If you leave, I want to go with you,” he said.

“Why would you think I’m going anywhere?” Jake asked in a tired voice. He’d walked the anger out, and now he just felt flat and exhausted. “Why would you think I would even consider leaving and never mention it to you?”

“It scared the hell out of me, Jake,” Brandon said starkly. “I know I overreacted. Except for that vacation, when have we ever talked about the future beyond this weekend or the next game?” He dropped both arms, looking truly upset. “It just made me realize that I wouldn’t have anything if you left,” he said miserably.

Jake gave a pained wince and looked down at the floor. “ I wouldn’t have anything if I left, either,” he murmured.

Brandon’s throat ached as he slowly stepped forward, closer to his lover, reaching out to lightly touch his cheek. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he said. “I scared the hell out of myself, too.”

“You just fucking left,” Jake whispered roughly.

Brandon let his hand fall back to his side. He deserved that. “Yeah,” he said, voice full of self-recrimination. “I’m too good at running, I guess. But I am sorry. Please believe me. I know I fucked up royally.”

“Yeah, you did,” Jake answered with a nod of his head. “So did I.”

Nodding, Brandon’s shoulders slumped a little. “Are we—are we going to be okay?” he asked weakly.

Jake met Brandon’s eyes and his lips twitched. “You’re willing to move to California with me,” he murmured.

“Jake, I’d move to Antarctica with you,” Brandon replied honestly. Jake replied by stepping closer and pulling Brandon to him for a passionate kiss. He wrapped his arms around him and turned them both, pushing Brandon against the wall as he kissed him harder.

Brandon’s arms flew around Jake’s neck, and he held on tight, joining the kiss desperately, inside chanting Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God, thank you God...

“Don’t ever run from me again,” Jake pleaded.

Brandon nodded his head earnestly. “I promise,” he said. “Fuck, Jake. I love you so much it hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake responded as he pressed his forehead to Brandon’s and held the other man’s face between his hands.

“Just please, don’t ever leave me behind,” Brandon asked, voice cracking.

“You’re mine,” Jake answered with a shake of his head. “You won’t be left behind.”

Brandon tilted his head to kiss him again, one arm around his neck, one around his waist as Jake kept him smashed against the wall. It felt perfect, but that didn’t stop him from flinching and choking in surprise when the screen door opened and someone walked in.

“Hey, Jake, I came to help with the ... tro ... phies...” Troy’s voice trailed off as his eyes got big, blinking at what he saw as if he couldn’t believe it.

Jake didn’t move, closing his eyes as he kept his forehead pressed to Brandon’s. “The trophies are fucked,” he answered calmly. He was shocked, actually, by how calm he was. But he had no intention of acting guilty for kissing his lover in his own house.

Troy blinked again, hard, and then tilted his head. He looked startled. “ Brandon ?” he asked, voice rising at the end. The man was practically hidden under Jake’s body, they were so close.

Jake finally pushed away from the wall, meeting Brandon’s eyes with something like fear. The changeable eyes looking back at him glimmered with emotion and a promise. Jake turned and looked at Troy silently, waiting for him to say something else.

The blond man looked back and forth between them for a long moment before suddenly breaking into a huge grin. “Jonathan owes me fifty bucks!” he crowed.

Brandon’s jaw dropped. For once Jake was stunned, and it showed. “What?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

“Heh heh heh,” Troy chortled. “I told him. I told him you two had to be together. Had to be. He was like ‘ no way’ —kid’s too straight for his own good.” His eyes were dancing. “This is so great.” Jake was struck speechless. He just shook his head and let his mouth fall open.

“What?” Troy asked. “You’ve been in too damn good of a mood since spring break. That was when I first knew something was up, when you didn’t take Brandon’s head off after that shitstorm with Misty.” Troy looked awfully proud of himself.

Brandon shifted off the wall to stand behind Jake, looking over his shoulder at the gleeful man. “He seems inordinately happy about this,” he murmured.

“I think he’s high,” Jake responded in a stage whisper. “Maybe he won’t remember this tomorrow.”

Troy snickered. “Dream on, butterfingers.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels. “So, I’m right, right? You’re a couple? I mean, not just fucking around, but together .”

“Awful lucid for being high,” Brandon said doubtfully relaxing, though he still looked at Troy like he was off his rocker. It surely wasn’t the kind of response he’d expected if one of their fellow coaches discovered his relationship with Jake.

“Are you okay with this?” Jake asked his oldest friend, hope and disbelief warring in his voice.

“Hell, Jake. I’m just glad to see you happy and with someone, man,” Troy said seriously. Then his eyes twinkled as he glanced up at Brandon. “Even if it is with a nerd.”

Brandon choked on a curse and moved to come around Jake. “I’ll show you nerd!” he threatened. Jake reached out and snagged Brandon’s collar with a muttered, “Down, boy.” Troy just cackled when Brandon struggled a little only to get pulled back into Jake’s arms.

“Jake, I’ll just hurt him a little bit,” Brandon whined, his eyes shooting daggers at the blond.

The bigger man held him close and petted his head distractedly as he met Troy’s eyes. This was one outcome Jake had never even considered a possibility. He was shocked and touched, and it showed in his dark eyes as he smiled and mouthed a silent ‘Thank you.’

Although Troy was outwardly ragging on Brandon, his eyes were full of warmth and acceptance, and he nodded to his longtime friend and smiled.

Brandon huffed and leaned back against Jake to pout, which made Troy break into laughter again. “Do you find that look gets you anything you want from Jake?” he asked. Brandon stuck his tongue out at him. Jake’s hand soon followed, clapping over Brandon’s mouth. Brandon retaliated by licking Jake’s palm.

Troy grinned. “Well. I suppose being a friend and all, I don’t need to collect that money from Jonathan. I’ll just expect a favor sometime down the road. We will be seeing you two at the banquet tonight?”

“Ugh,” Jake answered with a roll of his eyes, thinking about the trophies as he wiped his hand absently on Brandon’s shirt. “Come look at these damn things,” he muttered as he pointed at the kitchen.

The science teacher chuckled and stepped aside to let Jake past him, and they all walked into the kitchen to look. “Jake, why the hell did you even bring these home? You should have chucked them back at them at the store,” Brandon said, making a face at one of the pony-tailed statuettes.

“They were boxed,” Jake answered defensively. “I only opened one ‘cause I got stuck in traffic and needed something shiny to look at.”

Troy looked between the two, another silly smile forming on his face.

“Never leave a store without checking that you get what you paid for, Jake. Now you’ll have to drive them back and either get them redone or get a refund,” Brandon replied. He glanced up to see Troy practically snickering. “What’s so funny?”

“You two. You’re like a damn old married couple,” Troy said. Jake picked up the head of the defaced trophy and chucked it at him. Brandon grinned when Troy howled and stomped his foot. “Fine. I’ll just be buzzing off in my cart, and you two can go back to necking. Or whatever you were going to do.” He winked and headed out the door, whistling.

“Jackass,” Jake muttered after him.

Now that Troy was gone, a bit of the daze was creeping back. “Did you expect that?” Brandon asked.

“No,” Jake answered immediately. “No, I figured ... I figured I’d lose him.”

“If you can’t depend on your best friend, then who?” Brandon said quietly. “I never had that. You’re lucky.”

Jake slid his eyes sideways to look at Brandon thoughtfully. “You do now,” he responded softly.

Brandon’s lips pulled into a happy smile, and he nodded, moving to slide his arms around Jake’s waist. “So,” he started, needing to nudge a little, “think we’ll be that damn old married couple someday?”

“Not in Georgia,” Jake answered with a laugh as he wrapped his arms around Brandon.

“Wherever. Don’t care as long as you’re there.”

“Sap,” Jake accused with a small smile and a stolen kiss.

Brandon rolled his eyes. “So lug me off to your bed, caveman,” he teased.

“Mm,” Jake responded with a shake of his head, “We don’t have time for what I want to do to you,” he declared.

“Oh really?” Brandon said as he raised a curious eyebrow. “And what would it be that you couldn’t do in...” he leaned back to look at the clock, “about an hour and a half?”

“Everything,” Jake answered smugly.

Brandon laughed as Jake pulled him closer. “Everything? Wow. Uh ... that’s ... quite a bit,” he commented. “When are you going to start on that?”

“Tonight,” Jake answered. “I’ve got some steam to let off because of you, y’know.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Thundercat,” Brandon purred as he nipped at Jake’s lower lip. Jake jabbed him in the ribs. Hard. Brandon squawked and tried to jerk away, turning to protect his sides as he laughed.

“Bastard,” Jake snarled playfully as he held onto Brandon and finally dragged him to the ground to pin him there.

Brandon cackled and kept struggling, though he knew full well there was no way he’d get away from Jake—he was caught. And he didn’t want to run any more.