I swayed, gripping his shoulder to steady myself. “I want to go home,” I said, the words hitting deep, like a truth I could no longer deny.
“Okay.” He grimaced, his eyes filled with worry. “Que Dios te bendiga.”
I thought about Paul, begging me not to tell on him for whatever he’d given me, and Tez, a stranger who inquired after my health, then asked God to bless me.
Only one of those men had my best interests at heart, and it wasn’t the guy who’d known me since he’d recruited me back in high school.
I dug into my beat-up leather wallet and fished out a hundred dollars, then thought better of it and doubled the amount, pressing the bills into Tez’s palm. “Gracias por todo.”
Thank you for everything.
I walked off before he could protest and slipped into Mexico City International. This airport was always crazy, but it was a manageable sort of crazy, especially with Global Entry and a first-class ticket.
I normally couldn’t make sense of paying five times the price of a regular seat, but today I needed every advantage I could get. I laughed. Sawyer, my poshest friend, the one who nagged me more than anyone, would be so pleased with that choice.
Once I was through security, I pulled my hoodie up to minimize the risk of being recognized and made my way to the boarding gate. The gate agent started the boarding process a few minutes after I arrived, and I went in with the first group. I took my seat and leaned my head against the window.
I didn’t remember taking off.
“Sir?Sir?”
Startled, I took a sharp inhale. I blinked, trying to orient myself. The last thing I remembered before I’d passed out was firing my entire management team as one of the flight attendants asked me to put away my phone.
“Where am I?” I asked the guy in a familiar flight attendant’s outfit.
“Sir, you’re in San Antonio,” he said, the line across his forehead deepening. “Are you… Are you Hendrix Cavanaugh?”
I nodded, letting him help me out of the seat and into the aisle. I’d started toward the exit when he stopped me again.
“Your bag, sir,” he said, holding it out for me.
“Shit, thanks.”
Looking around, I realized that I was the last person on the plane. “Sorry for holding y’all up,” I said, my voice a horror show.
“Not at all, sir. I, uh, saw about your collapse earlier today.”
“Fuck.”
“Sir, can I have our concierge arrange for a driver for you?”
The world was starting to swim again. “I need to get to Seguin. To my cousin’s place,” I said, reaching for my phone.
I found the right screen and handed it to him.
I didn’t remember much after that, not even the ride to Ozzie’s house. Blearily noting the pretty Texas sunset, I let myself in with the key he’d given me years ago, then sat at the kitchen table and laid my head down on my crossed arms.
I was awakened by Walker’s rough twang and my cousin Ozzie’s lyrical voice. When I raised my head, there was just enough moonlight coming in the window for me to spy them kissing. No, they wereconsumingeach other.
Back in school, I’d never had the guts to tell Walker how much I fucking loved him. He had no idea that my biggest hits were all about him; no one did. Not long ago, Ozzie’d asked me if I was okay with him pursuing Walker, and I’d said yes. Some foolish part of me thought I was over him, or perhaps I’d said it because I’d been distracted by the hot guy about to go down on me. Bit of both, probably.
If I was being brutally honest, though, I’d said yes because I hadn’t thought Oz had a chance in hell. Walker had only ever been straight.
The evidence in front of me was incontrovertible, though. For years I’d imagined what Walker would sound like when he was turned on, how he’d moan and say my name.
“Ozzie, baby, I?—”
His fuck-me voice was deeper and more sensual than I’d have ever guessed, and I had to stop them before they went any further, if only to preserve my sanity.
