Chapter 7

The sun beat down on them, the temperature pushing eighty-five, ninety. Sometimes Texas was a merciless bitch.

Oakley took off his hat and wiped away the sweat that was dripping down into his eyes. It was only midday and there were still too many hours between now and quitting time. Ordinarily, he didn't mind the long hours or the heat, but he was running on empty. Low on sleep, energy, and patience. It was a dangerous combination.

Especially since Joel seemed to share it. The two of them hadn't spoken three words to each other since they'd gotten up this morning, which left Oakley too much time to think, to fume.

He'd let Joel continue to push him away, to treat him as if he had some contagious disease because he'd genuinely believed his friend would come around. Joel wasn't stupid, and while he had more than a fair amount of stubborn, he usually did the right thing.

However, the dumbass had wrapped his head around his feelings for Oakley and come to the wrong conclusion. Joel had convinced himself that being with Oakley would be wrong. Fucking idiot. Joel had been a part of that kiss. There was no way he didn't get it, didn't see exactly how right this was.

So, they continued to work in silence, trying to let the sun and exhaustion beat away all the heavy feelings. It wasn't working.

Oakley's temper sparked when Joel jerked his hand away as they both reached for a tool at the same time.

"Seriously, dude? I'm not going to jump you, Joel, so you can stop looking at me like I'm some pervert waiting to catch you in a dark alley."

"I'm not doing that."

"Bullshit. You think I don't see what you're doing? We lay in bed with Sadie and the second I get too close to you, you back away. What I have isn't catching, so you can take it easy. You're not going to turn into some raging queer if you get too close."

Joel scowled. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You don't want me. I get it. Okay? You don't have to keep ramming that fact down my throat. I'm choking on it already."

Joel's state of mind didn't appear to be any better than his, which pleased Oakley more than he could say. He'd tried to be understanding, tried to walk away, tried to pretend Joel's distance didn't slice through him like a knife, but he couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't swallow his feelings, pretend like they didn't exist.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Joel said.

Oakley laughed, the sound pure anger. "Fuck you, Joel."

Joel's eyes narrowed, the dark brown turning black. "Fuck me? Seriously? You fuck up everything. Everything! And you say ‘fuck you' to me? No, Oakley. Fuck you!"

"What the hell did I fuck up?"

"We had a good thing with Sadie. Maybe it wasn't perfect and maybe it wasn't going to last forever, but for just a little while, we had her. With us. And it was fucking awesome! Then you…you…"

"Kissed you? Touched your balls? Licked your dick? Which part freaked you out the most?"

Joel exploded. A week of pent-up frustration just burst into flame.

And Oakley was ready.

Oakley only fell back two steps after Joel rushed toward him and shoved. He had enough time to plant his feet so that he didn't actually fall down, but barely. Joel wasn't holding anything back.

Never one to walk away from a fight, Oakley came back fast, his fist connecting with Joel's jaw.

Joel had anticipated the punch, dodging in time to lessen the intensity. He retaliated with a hard right that caught Oakley on the cheek. He was going to have a black eye from that. Unwilling to be the only one to wear a mark of this fight, he threw another punch, pleased to see blood welling at the corner of Joel's mouth.

After that, Oakley lost track of who landed what where. There was a flurry of dust, fists, curses, and pain—a lot of fucking pain. Joel was a scrappy fighter, and he was inflicting some serious damage. Not that Oakley wasn't holding up his own end pretty damn good.

The whole thing ended in an instant when they were hit by a blast of ice-cold water.

They fell apart and looked over to find Coach standing next to them with an empty bucket and an expression like thunder.

"What in blue blazes are the two of you doing?!" Coach roared.

Oakley bent over at the waist, holding himself up with his hands on his knees, trying to recover from Joel's last punch, a hard one right to the gut.

Joel was wiping the blood dripping from his nose with his sleeve. "Nothing."

Oakley would have rolled his eyes if the left one didn't hurt like a mother. He could tell without a mirror it was swelling shut fast.

Yeah. Coach was definitely not going to let that non-answer fly.

"Try again, Joel," Coach said, through gritted teeth.

"It was a misunderstanding," Joel added.

Oakley snorted mirthlessly. "No, Joel. I'd say we understand each other just fine." He needed to get out of here, away from all this bullshit. It was starting to eat at him like a cancer. "Sorry about this, Coach. Things got a little out of hand. It won't happen again."

With that, Oakley limped back to the bunkhouse. He needed a shower. And then he needed a fucking drink.

"Come with me,"Coach said, crooking his finger at Joel, and then pointing toward the main house.

Joel glanced back at Oakley, who'd made good on his escape. "Coach?—"

"Get your ass in the house, Joel. And on the way there, get yourself ready to start speaking the truth about what just happened here. Because if you lie to me, I'll fire your ass so quick, it'll make your head spin."

Joel followed Coach into the house and plopped down on the couch heavily. He didn't have any more lies left inside him. He'd spent the past few weeks in a constant state of dishonesty. He needed help.

"Okay," Coach said. "Let's have it."

And Joel gave it to him. All of it. Sadie, Oakley, the fling, the kiss, the feelings, the shame, the fear. It all fell out of him in a giant heap.

And through it all, Coach was quiet. Joel had no idea what the man was thinking because he hadn't lifted his gaze from the floor. Joel couldn't make himself look into the eyes of the man who was like a father to him and risk seeing disappointment.

Once he'd run out of words, he held his pose, his hands still clasped together, his elbows resting on his knees and his head bent as if in prayer, eyes locked on the rug beneath his feet.

"What's the red zone?" Coach asked.

Joel was so taken aback by the question, he looked up. "What?"

"The red zone. Come on, boy. I taught you everything you know about football. Tell me what the red zone is."

"It's the last twenty yards before the end zone. It's when the playing gets rough, dirty even. Offense is fighting like the devil to score and the defense is kicking ass to keep them out."

"You're in the red zone, Joel."

Joel wasn't sure how to reply. It was a simple answer, and when Joel thought about it, he realized it did feel like that. He'd been under a cloud of almost blinding desperation for days.

The red zone.

Coach's words made sense of a situation that felt futile. Joel was on the verge of something big. Problem was he couldn't figure out if he was the offense or the defense. Something told him he was both.

"What do I do?" Joel asked.

"I can't answer that for you. You have to decide what you want. You in love with Sadie?"

Joel nodded. No hesitation. He was head over heels in love with her.

"You in love with Oakley?"

Joel nodded again. He was too tired to keep denying it.

"So why aren't you fighting to get into that end zone?"

"I can't have them both."

Coach frowned. "Who says?"

Joel threw up his hands. "The whole world!"

Coach's brows furrowed. "Bullshit."

"What the hell would my mom think? She's very religious, Coach. The ménage part is strange enough. If I tell her I'm in love with Oakley, that I want to have sex with him, she'll…"

"She'll what? Disown you? Hire a priest for an exorcism? Try to have you committed? What will she do?"

Joel shook his head. "I don't know. I just know I don't want to hurt her. I love my mom."

"And she loves you, Joel. Probably a hell of a lot more than you realize."

Joel still couldn't relax. His mother's approval was important to him. But so was Coach's. "What do you think of all of this?"

Coach grimaced. "You're still not getting it, boy, so I'll spell it out for you. You're responsible for one person's happiness in this world, and that's your own. Making yourself unhappy and denying a big part of yourself because you think it will please others has the opposite effect. I just had to break up a fight between two boys I consider sons because you can't get your head out of your ass. I don't enjoy watching you take a knee on the one-yard line. You know what would make me happy? Knowing you were happy, and I got a good feeling the same holds true for your mother. However you get to that place is okay with me. And even if it wasn't, I'd still expect you to go for it, to push through with everything that you have because I don't coach quitters."

Coach was right. If Joel went for what he wanted, he would have to deal with the disapproval of others. There were a hell of a lot of people in town who wouldn't approve of what he and Sadie and Oakley were doing. And there were some who would frown upon the kind of relationship he wanted to have with Oakley. Maris—like the rest of the world—had its share of homophobes.

But if he let fear of those people's opinions make this decision for him, it would be the biggest mistake of his life.

He'd find a way to explain it to his mom. And then he was going for it, making the play.

"I want to be with Sadie and Oakley. I want to spend the rest of my life with them."

Coach smiled. "Then it's time to stop playing it safe. Time to get out of the red zone and score."

Oakley satat a table near the back door of Cruisers and glanced over at the bar. Sadie was talking to Jack, pouring him shots. From the way the guy was slumped over, he'd venture to guess Jack was having the same shitty night he was.

Sadie had walked over as soon as he sat down and asked him about the bruises on his face. He'd been a dumbass to come here, but he'd needed to get the hell out of the bunkhouse and off the ranch. He wasn't ready to face Joel. Or Coach. Plus he'd wanted to see Sadie and he needed a drink. Actually, a lot of drinks.

Sadie had gotten pissed when he mentioned having a disagreement with Joel. She'd muttered something about them being jackasses. When she had returned with his pitcher of beer, she'd merely set it down and turned her back on him without another word.

He was batting a thousand on pissing off everybody today.

Oakley sat alone in misery for a few minutes, and then looked up when Jack dropped into the seat across from him. "Hey."

"Hey, Jack."

"Sadie said I had to move it over here. I'm bringing her down."

"That right?" Oakley looked past him to the bar. She really didn't look happy, but that probably didn't have a damn thing to do with Jack. "Well, I try not to argue with Sadie."

Jack chuckled. "Good policy. What's up with you?"

Oakley didn't even bother to lie. The beer was soaking in and doing its job, taking away some of the rough edges. "Heartbreak." Oakley lifted his glass in a silent toast to that bastard of an emotion.

"Is that what's wrong with your face too?"

Oakley grimaced. Pretty much everybody in the bar had snuck a peek at his black eye. He wondered if Joel looked this bad. "Yep. What's wrong with you?"

"Same."

They sat in companionable silence for nearly a minute, then Jack asked the question Oakley was hoping he wouldn't. "Someone I know?"

"Yep." Oakley didn't elaborate. He was pretty sure Joel didn't want the world to know what was going on between them. He took another drink of beer. His pitcher was running low. Given the dirty looks Sadie kept shooting at him, he wasn't sure she'd serve him another.

"What are you drinkin'?" Jack asked.

"Bud Light." Oakley pulled the beer closer. "Pitchers are on sale. I'm not sharing."

Jack grimaced. "Bud Light? You are having a shitty day."

"You have no idea."

Jack tipped his beer, draining the bottle before setting it down. "Bet I can top you."

Oakley was about to take him up on that when Sadie reappeared. Oakley sucked in a deep breath, the floral scent of her perfume calming him down as much as the beer. She always smelled so good. She set four shots of tequila on the table. Maybe she wasn't as mad at him as he thought.

"Looks like y'all might need these."

Oakley grinned up at her, resisting the urge to stand up and kiss her senseless. "Thanks, Sade, you're the best."

She narrowed her eyes.

Nope, he was wrong. She was still plenty pissed off.

"The best," Jack agreed, picking up one of the glasses.

She smirked at Jack, ignoring Oakley. "Yeah, I'm a regular humanitarian." She walked away before Oakley could stop her.

Jack clinked his glass against Oakley's and they both shot the liquor back.

"Okay, you want this next shot, you have to tell me why you deserve it," Jack said, pointing to the two remaining shots.

Oakley frowned. "I have to deserve it?"

"Yep. Two shots to the guy with the worst day."

"Fine." Oakley figured this would be a piece of cake. Because he'd just had the day from hell. "I hit one of my best friends today."

Jack arched a brow. "Okay, that's bad. But," he said, as Oakley reached for the tequila. "I'm in love with someone I shouldn't be. I'll never be good enough for her, but I can't let her go."

Oakley's eyes narrowed. "You really wanna do this?"

"Decide who most deserves to get shitfaced?" Jack asked. "Absolutely. Bring it. I'm the biggest asshole at this table."

"Don't be so sure." Oakley sat up a little straighter. It was a stupid contest to try to win, but Oakley needed a fucking win today. If it was for Asshole of the Year, then so be it.

Before Jack could drink the last shot, Oakley said, "I'm in love with someone who feels the same way but can't face his feelings for me." He paused, then emphasized, "His feelings" one more time, just to make sure Jack understood how fucked-up it all was.

Jack hesitated. "Dammit." He handed the shot glass over.

Oakley felt a strange sense of accomplishment as he swigged it down and then chased it with a gulp of beer.

"Not sure I'm going to be much help. Not into dude on dude myself," Jack said. "Pussies are just too good. Why don't you want that?"

Oakley laughed. It was either that or cry. So he just laughed harder. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Jack he shouldn't knock it until he tried it, but he remembered how much Joel had freaked out when Oakley touched him.

Instead, he focused on the one thing he and Jack had in common. "Pussies are so good." Oakley clinked his beer glass against Jack's bottle. "I love pussy."

"But you like dicks too," Jack said.

Oakley nodded. It was pointless to deny it. It wasn't like everyone in Maris didn't know he was bi. "That I do."

"How come?" Jack asked, leaning in. "I'm being serious. What's the dude thing like? Not bad, huh?"

Oakley remembered the kiss he had shared with Joel. It had been intense. Brute strength wrapped in a need so powerful, it had made Oakley dizzy. "No, bro, not bad at all. You don't have to be nice about it. It's sweaty and rough and, well, it's a good way to get out some aggression and get your rocks off…all at the same time."

"Looks like you worked off some aggression today," Jack said, pointing to Oakley's eye again.

"Yeah, but I didn't get my rocks off."

"So you like being the fucker or the fuckee?" Jack asked.

Oakley snorted, grateful to be able to talk about this stuff with someone. "I'm pretty often the fuckee, actually." He fucked women, but when he was with a guy, he liked being on the receiving end. He could only assume it was because his first time had been that way.

Oakley wondered why he'd never hung out with Jack because from the gossip he'd heard about the guy, Jack had been just as wild as Oakley when he'd been younger. Oakley had never been able to walk a completely straight-and-narrow line—smoking pot, stealing beer from the convenience store when he was under age, driving his car way too fast—and he'd heard similar stories about Jack.

"My college roommate, Brian, was gay. Great guy. One of my best friends. He got wasted one night just before graduation. Admitted he'd always had a crush on me. Asked if he'd ever hit on me…if I would have been tempted."

"What did you say?"

Jack shook his head. "Said no. I wouldn't. Could tell it hurt him. Sort of had me reconsidering my answer."

"Why?"

"Because he was like my brother from another mother. I loved the guy. Hated the look on his face."

Oakley considered that answer and decided he hated it. "You would have done that just to make him happy?"

Jack shrugged. "Well, you know, that's a lot of what good sex is all about. It's about making the other person happy. Giving them pleasure, right? That's what makes it so great. When it's someone you love, you just want to do everything you can to show them that."

Oakley started to get it. And it gave him hope. "Are you telling me that you think a straight guy could actually make love to another man?"

Jack nodded. "I think maybe so. If he loved the guy, you know? And maybe just that one guy. Maybe no one else in the whole world but that one guy. But yeah, I think maybe so." He leaned in and dropped his voice. "Because sometimes a good hard fucking is exactly what someone needs, and if you love them, you want to be that fucker, right?"

Oakley stared at Jack. He got it. He really got it. Maybe Joel would too.

Jesus. What a conversation. Oakley couldn't believe the absurdity of it. He was sitting in a bar, feeling sorry for himself and thinking he had the most fucked-up problems in the world. Then Jack sits down and gives him hope.

He couldn't help it. Oakley laughed. Hard. Because it was all so damn crazy. Jack joined in. They laughed until their sides hurt and everyone in the place was looking at them.

Oakley wiped a hand over his face. "Holy shit, man, I needed that."

Jack ran an unsteady hand through his hair. The guy was well on his way to shitfaced. Of course, he'd put down a lot more tequila than Oakley had.

"More tequila?" Jack asked.

Oakley groaned. "Man, stop, I can't take any more."

"Save that line for the bedroom," Jack said with a grin.

Oakley laughed. "You're a funny guy, I'll give you that."

"Glad you think so. So then here's my stellar advice for you."

"Can't wait to hear it."

Jack pointed at Oakley. "Don't fuck it up."

Oakley shook his head, laughing. "You suck at advice. Though what you said about making the person you love happy was pretty damn smart."

"Jack."

Tyson Sparks stood next to their table. He had clearly come to pick up Jack. Sadie must've called the guy.

Then Oakley realized she'd made two phone calls.

"Uh, hey guys."

Joel walked over to the table. He looked like shit too. There was a bruise on his cheek and a cut above his left eyebrow. Oakley felt guilty about putting those marks there.

"What are you doin' here?" Oakley asked.

"Sadie called me."

Tyson managed to get Jack up from the table and out of the bar, while Joel continued to stand there.

Before Oakley could apologize, Joel jerked his head toward the back door. "Let's go."