My Only Reason (A Love is Love Book Book 1) Page 4

  “What I mean is, I don’t think he’s the one. And until I find the one—the only one, we’re just having fun. Being what we both need for each other,” Ryder rationalizes.

  Why does jealousy wrench my entire body in pain? I try to figure out how to tamp down this emotion, which has only resonated recently in me.

  “So, is he local?” I ask.

  “No. He travels all over the place, so when our paths cross, we spend as much time together as we can. And though we’re not committed, and I can see others, as he can, too, at this point, I’ve not found anyone worth giving my whole self to. And honestly, if I knew he was my forever, wouldn’t I be overloaded with so much jealousy that I’d want to mark him as mine?”

  Fuck, the cool water does nothing to soften my hardening cock when he says the words marked and forever.

  I swallow hard, and simply answer, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” But man, I wish I knew the reason my body is betraying me like this. Even though a part of me likes it, too.

  5

  Ryder

  After all these years, my heart still beats differently when Christopher Colton is a part of the equation. After a night of swimming, eating manly steaks, and playing Call of Duty, he leaves but not before asking if I want to ride with him to Dallas Phillips’ barbecue the next day. I only know the way to the stadium and the practice fields, so I take him up on his invitation.

  I’m in a pair of khaki shorts and a button-down linen top, and he texts to say he’s in my driveway. And this sends my heart further into a longing for a man I know I’ll never call my own.

  There he is, in his big ass pickup truck, fresh shaven and his blond hair cut short against his head. “Did you get a makeover today, pretty boy?” I tease, using the term he has called me.

  “A haircut doesn’t classify as a makeover, and you’re the pretty boy, pretty boy,” Crush counters. “Anyway, Alison took Brooklyn to her parents for the weekend. What a bitch.” In his complaint, it sounds like Alison, but I don’t quite understand their custody agreement.

  “Um, was today your day to have her?” I question.

  “No, but I’ll take her if I can. And I wanted her. She does this shit just because she’s Alison. Plus, if either one of us takes her out of the city, we’re supposed to tell the other. This is just Al being Al.”

  Whenever this man hurts, I physically hurt. “Shit, I’m so sorry, man, but think of it this way. Now you get to hang out with me. I’m not as cute as Brooklyn, but I’m pretty.”

  Pulling out of my neighborhood, he turns to me. “Yeah, and not cocky at all, bro, but thanks for the laugh. I needed that.”

  He’s jamming to his beloved country music, a tune I don’t know because it’s not my thing. I grew up four hours from Nashville. Then there’s Crush, the old country boy at heart, who grew up in Seattle. “This is Banks Weston. He’s the next big thing. He came out last year. And his lyrics are deep,” Crush explains.

  “If I didn’t know any better, Crush, I’d say you were trying to fix me up?” I’m teasing him, but with the tic in his jaw, it’s clear he’s not feeling it. I instantly change the subject, not wanting to lose the momentum of basically picking up where we left off. “You know, we should have been switched at birth. I don’t understand how a boy from Seattle can listen to this country crap.”

  His eyes are fixed on the road, but his smile is broad. I’ve missed him, but because I’m a guy, I don’t verbalize this. His gaze darts over to me for a second, then goes back to the road.

  “Whatcha looking at, dude?” he asks.

  “Nothing, I’m looking out your side of the window.” It’s not believable, but as men, we don’t dig deep into our emotions, and we keep them to ourselves. But through it all, I can enjoy his profile because in the five days he’s been back in my life, I’ve realized my feelings for him have only intensified through the years.

  The party is large. We emerge from Dallas’s house onto the back deck. But when I say his back deck, I mean, his own little mini city. His pool isn’t a pool, but a small water park, and there are three different kitchen areas, all with unique food options written on chalkboards outside each place. Under a large covered patio are several picnic tables as if it’s a shelter at a park.

  The landscaping is immaculate with the edging done around the patios, and the plants and flowers only add to the aesthetics of the entire environment.

  “Hell, man, I think I need to renegotiate my contract if this is what Dallas’s digs look like.”

  “Yeah, the man is as cheap as they come unless he wants something, and this was his vision from the beginning. He’s recently added onto it, and who knows what he’ll do next year. But I’ve often wondered why he does these meat-loaded barbecues because he’s a strict vegan.”

  My eyes fall on the kids running around, and a couple of lifeguards are on duty. “Yeah, he does his parties up right. And because we’re in training, no alcohol. The guy is a stickler for his body,” Crush explains.

  I woke up a little worn down after drinking so much beer, amidst the overhaul of our bodies during the first week of training camp.

  “Yeah, man, it’s nice, and no asshole is forcing beer down my throat here.” I redden at my words because hell, I want him to force something else down my throat. There’s no denying it.

  “I think you were a willing party in it all,” he continues. “And we need to repeat it tonight. A couple of beers, for old times’ sake. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Before I can comment with a hell no, Dallas approaches. “Ah, look at the two of you. Y’all have kissed and made up! How very sweet.”

  “Man, you’re an asshole,” Crush retorts when someone calls his name. “I’ll be back. Try not to corrupt the new player, Phillips!” he yells behind him and disappears into the crowd of people.

  “I had a feeling he’d come around. I mean, he’s a jackass but not unreasonable.” This is Dallas’s expert explanation.

  I don’t want to think of his ass, and now it’s all I do as I catch sight of it. “Yeah, man, I was the one to mess up, and what can I say, he punished me. I deserved it. Now, hopefully, things will go back to normal,” I concede.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, was it because of your sexual orientation?” He looks down, and his face flushes. I know what he’s asking in his demeanor. I understand it. Oh, fuck, do I understand this.

  “Does anyone know?” I respond.

  His gaze cuts to mine, and I have my answer. “Man,” I whisper, “mum’s the word with me, I swear.” And then I remember the question. “And no, Crush didn’t have anything against me being gay. More like I had a complex over kissing him. I thought he was disgusted. And I’d been the one who walked away.”

  I had no intention of sharing this with anyone, yet he opened up, so I showed him it is a two-way street.

  “It’s just...” Dallas begins.

  “Man, you don’t have to explain, but if you ever need an ear, you know where to find me.”

  He’s about to reply when someone calls out for him. “We’ll talk later,” Dallas says, as he excuses himself.

  It’s nice to know I’m not alone on the team, and though Dallas Phillips is one pretty boy, he’s not my type. As the large wide shoulders of my best friend appear out of nowhere and he empties the space between us, I’m staring straight at the type of man I want in my life.

  A couple of hours pass, when my phone rings, and it pulls a smile at my lips when I see the person who’s on the other end. I stand from the table where I’d been chatting with some of the offensive linemen. “Sorry, guys, gotta take this.” Several make crude but funny comments about it being a booty call. And they aren’t too far off base.

  “Garrison,” I answer as soon as I’m out of earshot.

  “Ry, hey, hon. Something came up at the last minute, and I had to fly to Nashville to cover a story.” There aren’t many pro teams here. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Nothing with football. Our normal anchor ju
st had a new baby, and I jumped at the chance. I’m off the clock until tomorrow. I was wondering…”

  Garrison and I will never be more than anything casual, but we happen to be good friends, too.

  The idea of losing myself in someone tonight as my eyes catch Crush, laughing his loud as fuck chuckle, appeals to me. As I had explained to Crush, I think of my words of the all too familiar saying—if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.

  “Fuck, yeah, I’d love to see you. I’m at a teammate's house for a party, and I drove here with someone. Let me order an Uber.”

  “No, send me the address, and I’ll come get you,” Garrison offers.

  “Okay, sharing my location with you now,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, hon, get ready for one hell of a night because I’m going to wear you out.” With Garrison’s promise, I giggle like a girl into the phone, ending the call with his reply.

  Being balls deep in him is the distraction I need, so by Monday morning at practice, I can look at Crush as just my friend. Yep, Garrison is what I need to fuck Crush out of my system.

  6

  Crush

  I wander around Dallas’s estate, both inside and out, after Ry had taken a private phone call. I can’t find him. It’s as if he’s disappeared. All the men were giving him shit. “I bet you it’s a late-night booty call.” When Ry stood, he’d winked at us, and for some reason, the idea of him getting it on had filled me with rage. I had to cover up my jealousy by chiming in with the rest of the table with fake as fuck laughter.

  My phone buzzes, and I smile at the incoming text.

  Pretty Boy: Hey, something came up, and I’m getting ready to leave. Don’t worry, I have a ride. You don’t need to leave the party just for me. I’ll catch up with you on Monday.

  This turns the grin I had on my face to an out-and-out frown, and since I’d been looking for his ass, I stalk to the front door just in time to see some man pull him into an embrace and kiss him in a way that can be R-rated at best.

  I fumble for my phone and shoot off a reply.

  Me: Sure, blow me off for a booty call. Have a good time. Make sure he wraps it.

  When I hit send, I realize I come across as a jilted lover. Fuck, what the hell is he doing to my mind? I don’t have time to think, not when his return is quick.

  Pretty Boy: If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous. And I didn’t blow you off. I have a good friend who came into town at the last minute. See you Monday.

  He’s called me out on every emotion I have surging through my body, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why and how I’ve let it get like this. I have unresolved feelings for my best friend. I’ve known the answer to this for years, but I don’t want to contemplate it for a second longer.

  My entire disposition changes, and I’m not a person anyone wants to be around. It’s eight at night, and I say my good-byes and make it back to my house, and the silence is deafening.

  Flipping through my contact list, I come across some girls who are down for a quick fuck, but even the thought of pushing into one of these girl’s pussies does nothing for my raging hard-on. But the thought of Ryder kissing the putz I had recognized as Garrison Fisher, a renowned sports reporter, triggers a combination of both pure anger and hunger at the same time. And it’s a hunger—a need to think of Ryder naked, dripping with sweat, hitting the showers.

  Once I’m home, my erection is so excruciating and when I finally unlock my door, I don’t make it to my bedroom. Dropping my keys, I hold the wall near the entrance. I unbutton my shorts and pull my boxers down with my bottoms. My cock pops out, and as I watch the pre-cum glistening on the tip of it, I feel almost silly talking to it, but I do. “What in the world has gotten into you?” But the more I think of Ryder, undressing for me in my doorway, then leaning down on his knees and pulling my cock into his mouth, I barely need to stroke it. I’m slow, with each back and forth motion, and continue to think of more than just his body parts.

  I want to be shocked over my reaction to Ryder, but it’s not the first time I’ve jacked off to the idea of Ryder’s lips on my dick, his fingers rimming my ass, or his tongue doing all sorts of naughty things to my body. I’ve told myself in the past, all my fantasies were solely due to him no longer being in my life, but now, I can’t say this. He’s back as my best friend, and it’s almost as if we’ve always been this way.

  “You aren’t confused, are you?” I ask my dick, but no, my dick and my mind are on the same page. I have feelings and have known for some time that it’s not some schoolboy crush. I have intense feelings for my best friend. Fuck. Me!

  A major news story breaks in the hockey world. Garrison the putz, which is his name from now on, represents one of the largest sports’ networks. It’s why he’s here. But it coincides with a fun night of friends with benefits, as Ry had explained his relationship the previous day.

  My mind has been fucked since last night, plus Alison had taken Brooklyn out of town without my approval to punish me. Time with my daughter normally calms me, but it’s not an option.

  I stomp to my truck, blaring the music, driving nowhere, anywhere just to escape the emptiness of my life. I’d been loyal and faithful to Alison in our marriage. Since her, I’ve had my share, not many but enough women to ward off my need for sex. But I’m lonely, and when Ryder’s arms were wrapped around another man’s neck, I finally realized who I’ve been waiting for.

  It doesn’t occur to me I’m at Ry’s until my gaze falls upon his ultra-modern posh house like a fucking stalker. There’s no car in the driveway, and this fills me with confidence, a hope Garrison might not be here. Am I ready to admit what I’ve always known from our first kiss in the locker room so long ago?

  I don’t think before I spring into action. A man on a mission, I climb out of my truck and walk to his door. One ring, and I hear footsteps approaching. I have a smile on my face at the idea of seeing Ryder, but it instantly deflates when my eyes fall on Garrison Fisher.

  “Holy fuck, this is not something I see every day. Christopher fucking Crush Colton is standing in front of me. Man, we’ve met a couple of times, but I’m not sure you remember. I’m Garrison Fisher.”

  How had he gotten back to Ryder’s so fast after the big news break and his piece on it? “Yeah, um, hi. I know who you are.” I’m not polite in my tone. I don’t care if he’s a big fan. He can find another quarterback to fanboy over, and maybe one who’s not in love with the man he’s fucking. Yeah, I said it, finally admitting it to myself. I wished Ry was there on the day of my daughter’s birth, and at every milestone. I had wanted to share all my firsts with him. It’s why I’ve been so mad. And why I’m jealous as fuck right now.

  “Hey, where are my manners? Come on in, man. Let me get Ry for you.”

  “Yeah, thanks, I’d appreciate it,” I reply. All my courage on the walk from the truck to the front door has deflated with the appearance of this putz in front of me.

  I walk toward the couches we’d sat on while gaming the other night, and they are still as uncomfortable as fuck. All modern and not enough padding for a big guy like me. He stands at the entrance of Ryder’s master bedroom at the bottom of the steps. “Hey, Ry, can you come out here?” he calls.

  I see the large arms of Ryder wrap around Garrison’s body. “What? Are you ready for me again, hon?” Ry is unable to see me from his angle, but I can see him as my hands tremble with rage.

  “Um, no. Someone’s here to see you.” Garrison rotates his body, giving him a kiss, and it equally sends my blood to boiling. “I’ll give you some privacy. I need to make some calls. Can I use your office upstairs?”

  Ryder gives him a nod, not taking his gaze off me.

  “Hey, man,” he begins, and he’s casual in his greeting.

  This isn’t what I came to say, not entirely anyway, but he has someone, and it’s obvious it’s not as casual as Ryder had made it out to be just two days ago. But I do owe him an apology all the s
ame.

  “I thought I’d come by and say sorry for being a bitch yesterday, for getting my panties in a bunch over you leaving with your man. Of course, he’s in town, so you deserve to see him.”

  Ry threads his fingers through his jet-black hair, a nervous habit he’s had for years.

  “Thanks, man. And I should have come to find you instead of just sending a text. It’s just, Garrison and I have had this thing for a while, and I wanted to see him.” There’s this nervous quiver in his voice. “And it’s the first time you would have seen me with another man, and honestly, I was nervous you’d get all grossed out by it.”

  I’m so turned on, and I want it to be me. But I don’t utter these words. “It’s the reason I came by, but I’ll leave you to spend some time with him.” I want to call him Garrison the putz, but I don’t. It will show my true feelings, but in my pout, I wonder if Ry sees this.

  I make it to my feet to take my leave, but he stands in my way, stopping my clean exit. “No, you don’t have to go. I know Garrison is going to be up there for a while. You saw the news. He has some things to do. We have a crazy week ahead of us, so hang out for a while. Garrison is a great man, and boy, is he a fan of yours.”

  Yeah, so I could tell. And I keep the sarcasm at bay and in my mind. “So, I can kick your ass at Call of Duty, we can go for a swim, and you can stay for dinner.” I’d rather do anything than watch these two together, but I can’t say no to Ryder. So I don’t.

  We finish Call of Duty, and we’re out on Ryder’s back porch, sitting on the edge of the pool with our legs dangling in the cool water when Garrison joins us. “Hey, hon, I was wondering where you went off to. Sorry, I was longer than I thought.” He leans in to kiss Ry on the cheek. I watch Ryder’s body language, and he’s casual but comfortable.

  “This isn’t my first rodeo, Gare. I know how you work.” He leans into him, placing his hand on his knee as we all sit in a line on the edge of the pool.