Chapter Two

The alarm on Booker's phone blared, pulling him from the sleep of the dead. The memories flooded back immediately. His gaze shot to the other side of the bed. It was empty. Dash's chair was gone. Disappointment washed over Booker. He had no fucking clue how he slept through Dash leaving him. It had just felt too damn good in Dash's arms. Booker slept like he hadn't in years.

He silenced the phone and rolled from the bed. His heart felt heavy as he headed for the shower. He tried keeping his mind on lockdown as he showered. There was no stopping the tidal wave of rats scratching his brain. He had a terrible feeling in his gut. It was too late to take anything back. Booker couldn't even rush to talk things out because they had a bus and a plane to catch. They wouldn't be back home and alone for hours. Even then, they would be surrounded when they reached the arena.

Dark thoughts carried him through his routine. With his bag packed, Booker took one last longing look at the bed he shared with Dash. He rubbed his chest. Fuck. He wanted there to be a them so goddamn bad. Booker didn't know how to make Dash see it.

With nothing left but to move on, he headed out and took the elevator to the first floor. A few players still milled around, grabbing coffee for the road. Booker grabbed one too, looking for Dash on the sly. With his hot cup in hand, he had no choice but to head for the bus. When he climbed the steps, he immediately spotted Dash. Near the middle of the bus, his wheelchair had already been secured for the ride. He stared out the window beside him with earbuds in his ears. Sadness poured from him. Booker headed his way. Maybe they couldn't talk about last night, but he could make damn sure Dash knew he was still interested.

Murphy stopped him before he made it five steps. "Have a seat. We have some shit to go over for Monday's game."

Booker cast one last look Dash's way. Dash turned his head. Their gazes collided. Dash's eyes looked dead. He didn't acknowledge Booker at all before going back to staring out the window. Booker's throat swelled as he filled the seat next to Murphy. "What's up, Coach?"

Murphy's dark blue gaze moved over Booker's face. "You good?"

Booker forced a smile to his lips. "Yeah. Just tired."

A soft chuckle rumbled from Murphy. "I guess so, with those hickeys."

His mind blanked. He didn't know how to react. Booker hadn't noticed that. He had been too in his head.

Murphy snorted. "Don't look so worried. You're grown and single. No one expects you to live like a puritan." Murphy leaned closer. "Live a little. Where do you think I was last night?" He laughed.

Booker kept smiling by force of will alone. All he could think about was Dash sneaking away. He pretended to listen as Murphy dominated the conversation. Murphy loved the sound of his own voice sometimes. Booker knew all he had to do was nod and make the occasional appropriate noise. Murphy was a great guy, but could definitely entertain himself. Meanwhile, Booker couldn't think about anything except the way Dash had looked at him. Dash didn't want a repeat. It was obvious they had been a one and done. Everything inside Booker ached. Of all the outcomes he had considered, this hadn't been one. He felt lost. Booker hadn't meant for things to get this complicated. Now there was no going back. It was no one's fault but his own.

The bus ride back to the airport and then a plane ride home felt like it took forever. Dash stared out the window the entire time while his mind raced. A podcast played in his ears, keeping anyone from talking to him. He didn't hear a word of it. All Dash could do was sink deeper into depression. He had failed. His biggest fear had come true. Booker had finally been his, and Dash had fallen short. He had spent the entire night awake and hating himself. A normal life had been within his grasp and he had bombed spectacularly.

His grip tightened on the arms of his wheelchair. Sometimes he wanted to tear it to shreds. Each time he thought he had accepted this new life, he found a new level of hell. Fuck. He ached to scream and rail against everything. It had been so goddamn nice to be touched. Booker had looked at him like he was still a real man. Dash craved that more than he could vocalize. Now, it wouldn't happen again. He knew now he had died in that wreck. More often than anyone knew, he wished he had.

When Booker had made his move, this was exactly what he feared. Dash knew he could still get hard and come. Obviously, it had been one of the first things he tried the first moment he could. He had practiced. Unfortunately, it wasn't easy with the loss of sensation. He hadn't considered what would happen when a condom was added to the mix. It turned out to be just enough to prevent him from feeling anything. He honestly hadn't thought that would be a problem, since condoms had never been an issue for him. Now here he was, humiliated and empty. There would be no sex life or relationships for him. He was just going through the motions of life like an invisible ghost. It seemed it would be that way until he dropped dead.

His black thoughts carried him all the way to the arena where his truck was parked. As he got his bag from the storage beneath the team's bus, his phone buzzed. He checked the face. It was Booker. He fought not to look for him.

Booker: Please wait for me so we can talk.

Dash considered doing exactly the opposite. In the end, he knew it was best they smoothed things over now and called last night the mistake it had been. If they let this fester, it might interfere with the team's performance. Dash didn't want that. He wasn't the only player on the team who only had hockey left to keep them going.

Dash took his time wheeling toward his truck. He pushed the button on his keys to open the door and lower the ramp. The parking lot cleared pretty quickly. Not everyone on the team was like him and some had rides waiting. By the time the floorboard lock clicked onto the bottom of his wheelchair, the passenger side door opened and Booker climbed inside. Dash closed his door, giving them privacy. He didn't want to risk anyone hearing his failures.

Booker turned sideways in his seat and stared at Dash as if waiting for something.

When Dash became uncomfortable, he always turned fake. It was out of his control. A bright smile he didn't feel lit his face. "What? Are you about to accuse me of going through your phone or something while you slept?"

Booker didn't smile. "May I take you to dinner?"

The question caught Dash off guard. "Why?" He didn't even think. The question just burst from him.

Booker gave a sharp nod, as if Dash's reaction confirmed something in his mind. "Okay."

He slipped from the truck and headed for his car. Dash panicked as he watched Booker leave him behind. He honked his horn before he knew what he would do. Booker glanced over his shoulder. Dash waved for him to come back. Booker's expression looked dark as he moved back to Dash's truck. Dash's throat swelled. Life never stopped kicking him.

Booker climbed back inside the truck.

Dash couldn't let him go. It was too hard. "Where would you like to go?"

Booker looked his way. He didn't look mollified. "Why? You already sneaked away in the middle of the night and ignored me this morning. Do you need a meal to tell me you're no longer interested? That's already pretty fucking obvious."

He had been handed the perfect opening. This was his chance to spare Booker from a sexless relationship. Dash couldn't breathe. He didn't want to be alone. His life had been so goddamn empty since everything changed. "I'm still interested." The words burst from him like his heart refused to give his brain time to ruin his shot. Still, he had to give Booker a chance to walk away now. Otherwise, he would always wonder if this was pity. "I just don't want to keep you tied to—" He searched for a way to explain his thoughts. Finally, a growl burst from him. He slapped the arm of his chair. "This. You have a choice. I don't."

Booker didn't look appeased. In fact, he looked pissed. "Tell me what I did wrong last night. In what way did I make you think I don't want every part of you?"

Dash pinched the spot between his eyes. He didn't know how to express the ugliness inside him. He dropped his hand and focused on Booker. "You didn't do anything wrong. I honestly thought I could follow through." Dash took a breath and pushed on, exposing the worst of his thoughts, even though they were humiliating. "Unfortunately, I didn't consider the condom aspect and how that would interfere with what little sensation I have left. I can't trap you in this. You might think it doesn't matter now, but eventually, it will."

Booker's mouth quirked in one corner. "Before last night, I hadn't engaged in anything the least bit sexual in over three years. I haven't missed it at all. Not saying I don't like to get off, but I'm just…" Booker made a helpless gesture, as if he didn't know how to explain.

God. Dash just fucking liked Booker. Despite the horror of the topic for him, he honestly didn't feel as uncomfortable as he expected.

Booker stared at him with pleading eyes. "I just wish you'd trust me. When I invited you upstairs last night, it wasn't the sex I wanted. It was the intimacy. I really like you and I miss having someone to kiss and hold. Please let me decide my feelings. You can trust I know what I want."

Dash never dreamed anyone would say those words to him. His eyes burned. He wanted to believe. Hope was a vicious thing. He knew how cruel it could be, but Dash knew Booker was right. Dash had to trust that Booker knew his feelings.

"Okay."

Booker nodded. "Okay." A sweet smile touched his lips. "Let's go to dinner."

Dash started the truck. A wave of happiness washed over him unexpectedly. Booker was serious about them. He couldn't believe his luck.