To be running down my dad’s dream.
He believed in me.
Miguel seems to believe in me too.
I watch Miguel watch the traffic as he drives. His hair is loose around his face and it swishes a little as he turns his head to check his blind spot. His large hands grip the steering wheel of his truck with authority. There’s a curve to his thumb from spending hours on his bike gripping his handle bars.
Heat flushes through my body at the memory of how we spent the night. I’ve never masterbated in front of someone before and I lost myself completely to the moment. It was erotic, and felt almost dangerous, but at the back of my mind I knew I was completely safe.
Then the way he gave me my third orgasm of the night with his mouth and fingers? Unbelievable.
And feeling his silky, thick cock on my tongue was enough to drive me to my fourth.
I haven’t dated much, having spent my twenties on emotionless hookups to help me feel anything besides the crushing mundaneness of my life. I spent my days working an inside sales job for a logistics company and going out mostnights because being at home meant I had time to think about how disappointing I was to my dad for not making the Olympic Team.
We come out of the S Curve on Lake Shore Drive and pass the hospital where Dad spent his final weeks.
When he was diagnosed, my nights and weekends at the bars were exchanged for being at his bedside or helping with housework so mom could get him to and from treatments.
Bills for his care and all the costs you don’t think about added up. Parking at the hospital every day, eating meals out, and lost wages from taking sick days to care for him put us behind so I started sending part of my salary to my parents.
Dee got me the delivery job to earn even more. And she became my emotional support animal, coming with me to the hospital, helping me get things done for my mom, just sitting with me and my dad when he was too weak to speak but I didn’t want him to be alone.
The memory of our last coherent conversation refuses to vacate my mind. My heart contracts remembering the pleading in his eyes. The tears that clouded mine.
I push a shaky exhale through my lips.
“You okay?” Miguel asks.
“Yeah, just took a trip down memory lane.” I say as I will the memories to return to the dark back closet I’ve locked them in. The task becomes easier as the city blocks where my pain is cemented into the ground slide away behind us.
“Care to share with the class?”
“Not really.”
“Fair enough.” He lets the quiet fall around us again and I mentally refocus on my training and I remind myself why I am doing this in the first place.
I made a promise.
To my dad.
And I’m making it happen.
Chapter nineteen
Miguel
10x Double Chins
“Miguelito.”Ismileatthe scolding tone.Mamácalling me her “Little Miguel” is ironic since I am nearly a foot taller than her but I’ll always be her little boy I suppose. “You haven’t called me all week!”
Her voice rings through my kitchen. I’ve put her on speaker as I finish up my meal prep. Six mason jar pasta salads for Laney, six for me, a tray of homemade protein bars, and cottage cheese egg cups.
“I know, I’ve been busy with training.”
“For next week’s race? I thought you were going to cancel?”
“Yeah, I’m not running it. I’m training someone who is.”
