He winces like my words are a punch to the gut, but I can’t take them back. I wouldn’t even if I could. When I kept the voicemail from Cruz in the hospital, I did it to protect him. This is the same thing. I remember the way he was when he first came to Denver. He tried so hard to hide his pain, but it was there. Every single day. Cruz was a shell of the person he is now and he’s worked so hard to get his life back.
He needs this closure and I would never stand in the way of that because not only is Cruz my best friend, but he’s the man that’s stolen my heart one piece at a time until he owned the entire thing. My future is his future. And he’s just well enough to run for short distances again. Nothing about a trip to St. Louis to track down the man he thinks causes his brother’s death fits into his recovery.
If he refuses to protect himself, then I’m going to do everything in my power to protect him from himself by reminding him what he’s risking: his health, our future. Flying across the country on a whim to track down your brother’s killer is about as stressful as it can get.
Cruz drops to his knees in front of me while I sit at the end of the bed, tilting my chin up so that he’s looking me in the eyes. I try to pull my head away to wipe my tears. I am so fucking scared for him. I don’t want him to see that weakness, but he grips my chin, not letting me look away.
“Get Willa and Mikey to cover atBuns & Roses. Come with me.” His voice is barely a whisper and I can hear the uncertainty in it even as he asks. He knows what he’s asking is a lot. I just got back to work. It was the longest I have ever been away from the shop, but that’s not even the problem. I trust my employees, and I want to be there for him, but not if it means standing by and watching him put himself in a harmful situation.
“I can’t.” The heat from the tears burns as they roll down my cheeks. Wiping them away now is pointless, they are coming too fast.
“Can’t or won’t?” Cruz asks, still not letting me look away. The sadness in his eyes is enough to break me. I’m making this harder for him, and I know it. But why does he need to leave right now? He has no idea where this is going to go. He could stay here and wait for Rich.
“Can’t. I can’t watch you put your health at risk like this when you don’t have to,” I finally admit—the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
“And I can’t stay.” His grip on my face tightens, pulling me to him. When his lips meet mine my heart feels like it might stall in my chest. Normally his touch makes my heart beat right out of my chest but this is different. He pulls back still cradling my face and I can see the same heartbreak swimming in his eye. This feels like goodbye. His hands drop from my face and he lowers his head to my lap, hugging my waist. “You know I can’t, right?” The words are muffled as he hugs me tight.
“I know you think you can’t, but that doesn’t mean I like it. I’m scared, Cruz.” My tears fall into his curls, but he doesn’t look up from where his head is resting on my thighs.
He’s never held me like he’s not sure when he’ll see me again. It cracks my chest wide open. Logically, I know he won’t be gone long. He’s got a contract with the team that requires him to be back to play.
But that doesn’t matter, because I don’t know what version of Cruz will come back. This feels like this could change everything for us.
My chest feels like it’s been cracked open, my heart carved out and packed in his bag as I repack the suitcase I brought with me when we left for St. Louis so I can go back to my apartment for the first time.
When I walk back into my apartment I collapse onto my bed, calling my Dad and Pops. I sob to them through the entire story. How we finally got our shot and how it might already be over, about my fear for Cruz. I admit that I’ve been holding back because I knew how much it would hurt, but I was wrong, it’s worse. Being without him hurts more than I could have imagined.
Right now I would give anything to erase the ocean between us so they could wrap me up in their arms and comfort me in person. But that feels as selfish as asking Cruz to stay. They earned their retirement in Hawaii and I know they would give it all up if I asked. They would move back to Colorado. Raising a little girl as two gay men wasn’t easy, but they gave me the very best family. So I suck back my tears and promise them I’m okay. That I’ll lean on the girls and call the second I need to talk.
CHAPTER 38
Flying the Lonely Skies
Present
It takes me a minute to talk myself into turning off the engine of the Bronco when I pull into the parking spot in the private terminal at the airport. Nothing about this afternoon is sitting right with me. Rich dropped a bomb on me today and I need to see this through, not just for Jarrett but for me.
I’m not blind, I know that my life has been tied to his death for the last three years. I need this closure. Delilah might think I’m risking our future and my health by doing this, but I don’t see it that way. I need to do this for us. She deserves a man that is fully present. Not one that’s got one foot in the past.
As far as my health goes, I know the risks I’m taking, but I also know what a slippery slope grief is. One wrong step here and I’ll slide right back into the black hole that I was in when Delilah and I met.
This is the right thing to do, for both of us, even if it feels like I just ripped us apart.
God. I wish she was here. This would be so much easier with her by my side. The irony that she asked me to stay and I walked away is not lost on me.
Sliding the keys free of the ignition, I pocket them and step out of the Bronco. There weren’t any flights available, so I called in a favor with Dean. My offer to pay his pilot’s fee to get to St. Louis tonight was brushed off. Luckily he was able to help because I knew if I stayed any longer I’d let Delilah talk me into waiting it out.
Nothing can slip through the cracks, we are too close to getting answers. And I want to be where I can get updates from Rich as we figure out what the hell happened with Miller and Jarrett before his accident.
Pulling my suitcase behind me, I walk towards the small private plane. I still need to call Coach, but I’m not released to practice yet, only light activity. As long as I continue to workout and go to follow-up appointments in St. Louis, I don’t expect any problems.
My phone vibrates on the seat next to me. For a second, I find myself hopeful that it’s Delilah telling me she’s on the way, but it’s fleeting. It won’t be. She wants this to be the closure I am looking for, but she meant it when she said she couldn’t watch me put myself through this. I get where she’s coming from. She already picked up the pieces of my shattered soul and put them back together once, one coffee and pastry at a time. Still, I wish she was here.
Reaching across the arm rest I pick up the phone. Hendrix. Of course. Delilah would have gone right to Poppy after she left.
“Please don’t give me a hard time,” I answer without a greeting. This day has left me so drained I don’t have the patience to listen to him try to talk me out of this.
“I’m not going to. Just checking in. Are you okay?”
