Page 70 of The Right One


Font Size:

Maybe he was getting sick. That had to be the only rational explanation for why his head pounded, his heart raced, and he broke out in a sweat. It could be food poisoning from that old burrito he’d microwaved for dinner that caused his stomach to cramp in painful knots.

“Whatever. I don’t need this bullshit.” Angry with himself for allowing Morgan Cantrell to get to him, Leo strode over to the couch, picked up his helmet, and walked out. He hopped on his bike, kicked the stand up, and took off, the engine roaring loudly in the still night. Block after block fell behind him, taking him farther and farther away from the place he really wanted to be. With Morgan. But being with him came at a cost, and Leo wasn’t sure he had the emotional capital to spend.

He reached Ocean Parkway and idled at the red light, wondering if Morgan’s date had shown up yet. A horn beeped behind him, and he flipped them off, then took the turn onto the main road toward home. He pulled into the back area of the apartment building, killed the engine, but stayed on the bike. Thinking.

It shouldn’t bother him that Morgan was meeting new men. His best friends were a couple, which meant they wanted to see him packaged up in a nice, neat little twosome as well. It was inevitable. A guy like Morgan Cantrell wasn’t able to have a purely physical relationship. He was built for monogamy and the long-term. Movie nights and time spent with family and friends. A home for the holidays. Leo’s hands clenched into fists as he thought of the future and having to see Morgan walk into the building with his dates, knowing they’d be going upstairs and getting naked.

Nausea bubbled in his stomach when he pictured another man touching Morgan, tasting him.…Good thing his lease would be up next year. Leo had no doubt Morgan would move out and he’d never see him again. The flowers he’d planted would probably wither and die, and Leo wouldn’t bother to replace them. He had no use for things to make his life beautiful. Why bother when they only turned to shit in the end?

Nothing mattered. He’d keep to himself, go to Peter’s, and hook up with randoms whenever he needed to get off. Once the rehab of the new building began, he’d be busy with that and wouldn’t have time to waste thinking about a smartass mouth and big green eyes and kisses that tasted like forever.

“Goddamn it.” He pounded the handlebars. God had nothing to do with it. Every choice he made was his.

He took off once again, heading toward Flatbush, then over to Tilden Avenue. In less than ten minutes he’d arrived at Holy Cross Cemetery, where he parked his bike illegally, risking a ticket but not giving a damn. The front gates would be locked, so he skirted the perimeter, searching for a break in the fence. When it curved around the block, he found an opening wide enough to slip through. He kept to the path, even in the dark knowing where he was heading, until he came to his father’s tombstone.

He ran his fingers over the cold, carved letters:

Joseph DeLuca

Forever Loved

He sat down on the grass and bowed his head, waiting for the peace he’d always found here to steal through him. This time it didn’t come. His mind remained at Peter’s house, where Morgan waited for his date.

Anger welled inside him that even here, the one place where he could quiet all that inner noise, Morgan found a way to intrude.

What am I supposed to do?He stood up and started pacing in front of the headstone.I can’t…he doesn’t understand.It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I can’t give him what he wants.

Peter’s words came back to him, and it was as if a cold hand slapped him.

What the hell do you want? Do you even know?

A twig snapped in the distance, and the beam of a flashlight swept along the grass.

Shit. Security.

“Bye, Dad.” He touched the headstone and hustled in the opposite direction, taking the long way around to the original place where he’d sneaked inside. Within minutes he was on his bike and heading home.

Except he didn’t end up there. Like the devil himself nipped at his heels, Leo retraced the same path he’d taken not an hour earlier, and once again found himself standing in front of Peter’s door. Maybe Morgan’s new guy was there and they were already making plans, but Leo didn’t care. He knocked.

A stone-faced Morgan opened the door. “What do you want?”

“Don’t you check to see who it is before you open the door?” he growled. “This isn’t upstate where you come from. I could be anyone.”

“And yet it’s you, and I knew it, and opened the door anyway. What do you want now? Did you forget something?”

“Yeah, this.” He took Morgan by the shoulder and swooped in for the kill, crushing their lips together over his protestations. A warm sense of rightness flowed over him, and as Morgan’s mouth softened under his, he tightened his grip on him. Velvet stroked velvet, and they clung to each other as the last vestiges of Morgan’s reluctance melted away.

“What was that for?” Almost frightened, Morgan inched away. “What’s going on with you?”

“Is he here? Is that the problem?” Leo pushed past Morgan into the living room, but it was empty. “Where is he?”

“Who the hell are you talking about?”

“Your date.”

“There is no date. Leo, you’re acting crazy.”

“You’re right. I must be crazy. I can’t stop thinking about you being with that guy.”