26. Lucas

Iwrap my fingers into tight balls to keep from touching Jase's ink-covered back. His head is buried in a pillow, his breathing slow and steady as his body rises and falls.

He doesn't move. Doesn't snore. He looks the most peaceful that I've ever seen him right now.

Naked. In my goddamn bed.

What the hell was I thinking by letting him in? And I'm not just talking about the condo.

After the whole pep talk I'd given myself about us needing distance because my heart is at risk of being smashed to pieces, and Jase would be the one holding the hammer, I fucked him. But what's way worse is that I've fallen for him. So damn hard.

The hammer may as well have been in my hand.

And as soon as the Dark Knight rises, he'll realize it, too, and bolt.

I run my tongue over my lips, my eyes still locked on his ripped muscles. My God, he felt so amazing, plastered against me, inside of me. I've never been so rocked—physically and emotionally—by any other man, much less one who's still trying to figure out how to accept his sexuality.

I turn to peer at my phone sitting on the charger. It's six o'clock. Ella is a pretty early riser, even on weekends, and I don't want to have to lie to her about why Jase, of all people, is here at this hour.

But maybe we still have a little time. I can't drag my gaze away from him. Tiny flutters unleash a delicious assault on my heart and fuck me for letting my dick do the decision-making when he showed up at my door looking hotter than hell and equally vulnerable.

He totally suckered me with that combination.

Broken and brooding? Sign me up. I can fix you!

A contented sigh quakes his broad shoulders and he turns his head the tiniest bit, cracking open one blue eye.

"How long you been starin' at me?"

A quick smile lifts my lips at his exaggerated Southern accent. "Long enough to wonder how you sleep on your stomach comfortably with that cast on your arm."

It's a little white lie since there were about a million other things swimming through my mind as I watched him sleep.

Jase flips onto his back and rests the cast arm on his thick chest. His hair hangs over his eyes, caught in his long eyelashes as he tilts his head in my direction. A shiver zips through me when I remember the scrape of his stubbled chin against my skin.

Why the fuck did I do this to myself again?

A crack of sunlight peeks through the blinds across the room, perfectly angled to cast a glow over him so that he looks almost celestial and far beyond my reach.

"I guess you really tired me out." He yawns. "Best sleep ever."

The smile fades from my face, brows furrowing. This can't be cute and fun, not when we both know what's about to happen. He'll realize he made a mistake by coming over here, and my constant reality of picking the wrong guys will plague me after he leaves.

The reason why we're here right now is all because of a fucked-up situation that drove us together. We both have a lot of angst, and uncertainty hangs over us like a dark cloud. He's only here because I'm in the same boat as him and he needed an outlet.

My mind runs at top speed, trying to explain everything away. I suppose it's my own coping mechanism, not that it's helping me at all. I stay on my side of the bed, knowing if I move closer, he'll pull me right back into his net.

And fuck my life, I want more than anything to be caught in all that's Jase Maxwell.

"Why are you so far away?" He rolls onto his side, squinting slightly since the sun now hits the side of his face. "You seem like the type who likes to spoon and shit."

With a hammering heart, I stare at him, the tug of his eyes like the ocean's undercurrent on a stormy day.

Say it. Say it, dammit.

"Look, last night was great…" My words drift off, an icy hand squeezing my throat as if it's trying to keep me from speaking. But he needs to hear it. Hell, I need to hear it.

"But… ah… things are complicated. With the kids. They have lots of stuff going on right now, and the whole mess with the social worker…"

Wow, I don't think I've ever been so inarticulate in my damn life.

He raises himself off the mattress. I have to drag my eyes away from his pained gaze before I lose my nerve, launch myself at him, and take his mouth the way I've fantasized about since waking up.

"What do the kids have to do with us?"

I give a half shrug, picking at the edge of the bedsheet. "They have a lot to deal with at school right now. They're worried about our family being torn apart. They have a brother who's MIA." A shuddering breath expels from my lips. "Besides, that social worker is hawking me. Someone tipped off social services. That's how I ended up on her radar in the first place. I don't know who it was, but I just can't?—"

Jase nods his head. "Be associated with me because it might cause you more problems?"

"It's not like that."

"Then what's it like?" Jase rolls to the opposite side of the bed and stands up, every inch of his godlike body on display for me to drool over. He grabs his clothes from the floor and struggles to pull them on with his one working hand. "I fucking came over here last night because…"

My throat tightens when he suddenly stops short, like if he keeps going, he'll choke on the words.

"Because you were upset," I croak out when he doesn't finish his thought. "You were bothered by what happened with Trevor, and you wanted someone to make you forget all of it. That's why you invited me back to your place and why you came here last night. You figured I'd break because you knew how I felt about you."

His jaw drops. "You think I came here to use you? To use your feelings against you and for my own benefit?"

I get out of the bed and pull on a pair of shorts. "I think you needed someone to make you feel better about yourself. I was the guy. The sure thing."

His face turns to stone. "I can't believe you just said that. You rejected me once. I had no idea if you'd do it a second time."

"You think I like knowing that you see me as a fucking welcome mat?" I say in a loud whisper. "Lucas wants me, so I'll just go and screw him to build up my self-esteem. Then I'll just walk away because that's what I do since I can't handle my own feelings."

Each caustic word seems to hit him like a dagger. He winces like I'm stabbing him and it makes my heart free-fall.

He slowly walks toward me. I suddenly feel small, even though we're about the same height. The anger in his now darkened eyes spits at me like sharp little razor blades slicing my skin.

"You're a fucking asshole," he seethes. "I told you more than I've ever said to anyone else in my damn life. I let you in and what you just did… what you just said…" His jaw twitches, and for a split second I think he might take a swing at me.

"You can't be true to yourself," I mutter. "Because you don't like the person you really are, no matter how anyone else feels about you."

"And because you're smart, that makes you think you can fucking read everyone, yeah? But you don't realize what a condescending prick you sound like with all your preaching because you don't know shit about me."

My throat dries up like I've just swallowed a mouthful of sand. "Whose fault is that? It isn't like I haven't asked. I've tried to connect with you and all you do is?—"

He closes the space between us, the faint scent of his cologne wafting under my nose, making me want to do all sorts of bad things, which would be even worse right now because Jase is clearly dangling over the edge of something.

"Before you get all judgmental and say shit like I can't be true to myself, maybe you should stop and think about why." His eyes narrow as he dips his head close to mine. "You once asked me what it was like to have a brother like Bryce." He pauses and takes a breath. "But you don't know what it was like to have a brother like Kyle."

My heart stutters to a stop. Kyle?

"Kyle was my oldest brother. If you think Bryce is a superstar, you should have seen Kyle play." Jase's eyes take on a faraway look, his voice no longer edged with malice but sadness. "He was on his way to the NFL. Scouts were all over him when he was only a freshman in high school. Not even Bryce got that kind of attention."

Jase rakes a hand through his hair. "One night after a homecoming win, he and my dad had a blowout. I couldn't understand why. He'd just played an amazing game, and college scouts were on him like maggots on garbage. I didn't get why my dad was so pissed off. So I crept close to the living room to try and listen." He raises his eyes from the spot they were studying on the floor, and I suck in a breath.

"He'd just told my dad he was gay. And my dad went fucking nuts. Told him his career would be over before it started, that he'd never accept him, that the world would never accept him. Then Kyle stormed out of the house, got in his car, and a couple of blocks from the house, he was railroaded by a drunk driver. He was killed instantly."

"Fuck," I breathe, reaching for his arm. "Jase, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

He stares at my hand for a long second. "Yeah, well, now you do. My brother, my idol, died thinking he was less than, that he'd never be loved again or supported by his family. He died thinking his father couldn't stand the sight of him because that was the last thing he heard before leaving the house that night."

I press a hand to my forehead, my brain scrambled with so many things I want to say, to comfort Jase, to reassure him.

"Kyle never got a chance to experience the happiness he deserved and he never knew that I'd have loved him no matter what because I didn't get a chance to tell him. I never said anything to my dad or my mom or Bryce. I just buried the truth about myself deeper and deeper along with that secret." His icy eyes fix me with a glare and he shakes off my hand. "Until you pulled it all out of me. And now I realize the truth can't possibly hurt as bad as the way you just rejected me. So have a nice fucking life, asshole."