18. Charlie

CHAPTER 18

Charlie

I turned away from the window, my back pressed against the wall as my breath caught in my throat. Anxiety twisted my stomach into knots as my heart began to pound. Had he seen me? Had Phoenix McKean noticed me staring out the window at him, gawking at his underwear in broad daylight?

As much as I was freaking out, there was a voice in the back of my head that I couldn't shake. Nix looked good . Like damn good. And I especially liked seeing him on that motorcycle. There was something about the way that riding suit clung to his body, the way he wrapped his legs around that bike, and the way the suit bulged at his groin that just did it for me. And then when he nearly pantsed himself in broad daylight? Let's just say I didn't have to look down to know my shorts were slightly tented.

And that worried me. In all the years since Phoenix had left Creekside, I'd looked at nobody the same as I looked at him. How could I when I knew he was the man I loved more than anyone else? And that included sex. Sure, I watched porn and jerked off. I had to or else I would go fucking insane. But every time I closed my eyes and my hand wrapped around my cock, it was Nix I saw. Even after all these years, he was the only man for me. A few failed attempts at hookups proved that to me. And now that he was back, my body was like a compass near north.

Of course, it didn't help that the man standing at the end of the McKean's driveway was an absolute hunk. The last time I saw Nix, he was a scrawny teenager with freckles and messy hair. But the man he'd become was so much more than that. He had a stubbly jaw that could cut glass, thick biceps, and a trim waist. Even from a distance I could see the abs as his sweaty shirt clung to his skin. And, more than anything, I saw those beautiful green eyes glinting with mischief just like they always had.

"Okay," I said, forcing myself to breathe. "Think about something else."

Wandering through the house, I headed to the back porch. Maybe a little sun and some fresh air would help me clear my mind. However, as I pulled open the sliding glass door and stepped out, I was struck by the scent of fresh cut grass. I'd been so lost in my thoughts that I'd totally tuned out the sound of the mower and the fact that it was Patrick's day to come work on the lawn.

Of course, it was too late to go back inside. The moment I showed myself, Patrick lifted and hand and waved, turning his mower in my direction. I didn't show my face often, but when I did, he always came over to chat. In fact, he was the vast majority of my social interactions for the past few years. He'd become somewhat of a good, albeit distant, friend.

"Hey there, Charlie," he called as the sound of the mower engine died. He lifted a bare muscular arm and wiped the sweat from his brow, returning his ballcap to its previous position. "How are you doing? "

"Okay," I muttered, keeping close to the door. "I'm sorry. I forgot you were here today–"

"It's cool," he interrupted before I could finish. "I needed the break, anyway. The sun is hot today. Weird weather for late March. I can't believe I even had to mow at all!" He glanced back at the yard. "Well, I probably didn't. But I missed those last three mowings at the end of the season because my dad was in the hospital. So, I figured I should knock it down before it all starts to grow back."

"Y-Yeah. It got long I guess…"

He was right. The yard had been a practical meadow by the end of the season and the snow came before it could be cut back. But now, thanks to his work, it was looking normal again and I could even see little tufts of green here and there trying to poke through.

"Want a beer?" Patrick offered, walking toward the back gate. "I've got plenty."

"Uh… probably not," I replied, hunching my shoulders and turning my face away. "You know… meds and stuff…"

"Oh yeah. Probably not a good mix."

"Yeah."

"No worries. I've got some soda too. I'll grab you one."

Before I could reply, he was gone. I just sighed, letting my shoulders sag once more. I hated mentioning the cocktail of drugs I had to be on just to stay sane. It was my least favorite subject. Although Patrick, to his credit, never made me feel bad about it. In fact, he treated it like it was a totally normal thing. Some people took heart medication and some took pills for depression. Me, I just happened to take pills because light, sound, and people got me worked up into such a frenzy that I would just pass out. And then, if I was lucky, someone would find me before I died of exposure or rolled into a ravine.

"Heads up!"

I looked up just in time to catch the can flying toward my head before it struck me. It was wet and I nearly dropped it twice, thoroughly shaking it up in the process.

"Whoops," Patrick laughed. "Sorry. I thought you saw me coming."

I shook my head. "Spaced out."

"No worries." He gestured me over to the Adirondack chairs I had on the far side of the covered porch. "Come on. Let's sit and chat a bit. We haven't caught up in a while."

As much as I didn't want to talk to anyone right now, maybe Patrick's invite came at an opportune time. I wanted to think about Nix and his perfectly sculpted body less than I wanted to talk to Patrick. It was a welcome distraction.

"So, how are things?" he asked, plopping down in the chair. He popped open the tab of his can and took a swig. "Everything going alright?"

"Yeah," I muttered, taking a seat beside him. I left my can on the small side table, waiting for the pressure to recede. "I guess so."

"You guess so?"

"It's just the same old stuff," I added. "Things aren't getting worse. But they aren't getting better either."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine. I'm used to it. How are things with you?" I asked, hoping to change the subject. Talking about my problems was something I tried to avoid. "Did your dad recover from his surgery alright? "

"Yeah. He's been a right pain in the ass ever since though. Being waited on while he was laid up spoiled him," Patrick laughed. "But he's getting around okay now. Seems that double bypass really did him a world of good. I've never seen him so energetic. Now if I could just stop him from eating junk for every meal, he might actually live a bit longer."

"My mom was that way too," I smiled, recalling the memories. "We didn't have a lot of money, but she always made sure we had tons of junk food around the house. And she was always bringing fast food home after work."

"You must miss her."

My smile faded. "Yeah."

It had taken me a long time to start speaking in past tense about her. Even so, there were still times I didn't realize she was gone until someone mentioned it.

"You ever gonna get that SUV up and running?" Patrick asked, changing the subject for me. "It might need a little work to get it going, but I'm sure it would get you around just fine."

I shook my head. "No. I don't want to be in a car ever again."

"Charlie… I understand what you're saying, but… isn't it a bit much to sentence yourself to life inside the confines of this tiny town?"

My gaze caught his as I furrowed my brows in anger. "You mean like you did?"

I could tell from the look on his face that I'd gone too far. Immediately I felt the guilt well up in my chest.

"I'm sorry, Patrick… I–"

"No," he said, holding up a hand to stop me. "You're not wrong. I did choose to stay here in Creekside instead of taking that football scholarship up in Portland." He looked up at me, his gaze intense. "But I chose that, Charlie. I didn't stay here out of fear. I know you have your problems and your reasons. But I stay here in Creekside because I want it to be my home. You stay here because it's the prison you've crafted for yourself."

That got my hackles up immediately. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about," I spat, getting up from my chair. "I have a disorder!"

"Charlie," he said softly. "I'd like to think we're friends."

I opened my mouth to retort, but he silenced me once more with a wave of his hand.

"I say this with all the love in the world. You are a good man and you deserve to be happy. But sometimes it's hard to watch you play victim to your own trauma. I get it. What happened to you was awful. Nobody should have to live through that. But you did." He looked at me with pity in his eyes. "But what good was you surviving if you refuse to live ?"

My jaw worked, my muscles tensing over and over as I gnashed my teeth, trying to figure out what to say. But nothing would come. I wasn't sure if I believed he was right, but I knew that he definitely wasn't completely wrong either. And that pissed me right the fuck off.

"I'm gonna go finish the lawn," he said at last, getting up from his chair. Before he left, he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Tyler and I would really like to have you over some night for board games or whatever. We could even come here if you like. He really wants to meet you still."

"I'll think about it," I grumbled, trying not to be too venomous. After all, Patrick was my only friend in this town. He and his boyfriend were the only other gay men I knew. "I... I'm going inside. "

Patrick squeezed my shoulder and let me go. "Talk to ya later, Charlie."

I stomped back inside, the lawn mower firing up a few seconds later. Leaning against the wall once more, I let myself slide to the floor. In my attempt to forget about Nix, I was reminded how pathetic my life was here in this tiny town. Patrick wasn't trying to hurt me, I knew that logically. And when I really thought about it, I wasn't mad at him.

I was mad at the situation, mad at the hurt I'd experienced, and mad at myself for being hurt in the first place.

If only the accident had never happened. Then, just maybe, I could be happy.