CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JORDAN STOOD AT Brantley’s front door the next evening with a cooler full of wine in one hand and his cell phone in the other.
It was Saturday night and he’d been trying to get a hold of Derek without any success ever since he’d left his place. He must’ve called half a dozen times, left voice messages, and finally texts, and what had he received in return? Radio silence.
This dinner party was the last thing he wanted to do tonight, but he’d figured if he felt compelled to show up and make an appearance then maybe Derek would too. It was wishful thinking, he knew that, but he figured turning up at Derek’s place would likely result in a door in his face, so he would try his luck here first, and then go and beat down a door if necessary.
He raised his hand to knock, heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and turned to, thank you, God, see Derek, who’d stopped halfway up the deck that wrapped around Brantley’s beach house.
Jordan’s breath caught at the sight of him. Other than tired eyes, which Jordan knew would match his own, Derek looked perfect. But the closed-off expression on his face told Jordan not to come any closer.
He was wearing black jeans and a tailored army-green shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his beautifully tattooed arms. His nails were painted their signature black and he was wearing his favored boots, buckled but not laced. The entire getup was a “back off” signal. It was rife with attitude, and the arms crossed over his chest were a fuck off if ever Jordan had seen one. But he was determined to say something before they were faced with Brantley and Daniel and a dinner that would more than likely be awkward as hell.
Jordan took a step forward just as the door behind him opened and Brantley’s voice echoed into the silent night.
“Oh, good. You’re both here.”
Derek’s eyes lifted to where Jordan knew his friend was standing.
“Yeah. We’re here,” Derek said as he dropped his hands down by his sides and marched forward. As Derek passed by him their shoulders collided, but he kept on going, and Jordan shut his eyes, wanting to scream.
He counted to ten, hoping he had the fortitude to get through this night when all he wanted was five minutes to talk to Derek alone and explain what he’d been thinking when he started up the damn charity.
Jesus. This was so not how it was supposed to go. He’d wanted to tell Derek about it in private. Invite him to be a part of it. But before he’d had a chance, his mother had unintentionally stepped on a mine. Now, instead of showing Derek how much he admired him and how all that he’d accomplished could be an inspiration to others, he would be explaining what a giant ass he was for not telling him earlier.
When a hand touched his shoulder, he jumped. Shit, Brantley. He’d forgotten he was there. He’d called Brantley last night to give him a heads-up that Derek might not show tonight, and by the end of the conversation he’d been drinking wine and spilling his guts about what a colossal mistake he’d made.
“Hey,” Brantley said. “You okay?”
Jordan tried for a smile but knew by the concern marring his friend’s face that he’d failed spectacularly. “Yes?”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not if you want me to get through dinner.”
Brantley eyed the wine cooler and reached for it. “How many bottles are in here?”
Jordan shrugged. “Not enough to put me out of my misery.”
“He’s still mad about you not telling him?”
“Mad is an understatement. He won’t take my calls, won’t text. And, well, you saw him just now.”
“Maybe Finn can talk some sense into him. I can understand why he’s upset, but what you’re doing is a wonderful thing. Surely he can see you weren’t doing it to hurt him.”
“Yeah, I don’t know, Brantley. You didn’t see his face when he heard. We’d had such a great evening, and then it all went to shit. So, um, sorry in advance for whatever happens in there.”
“Hey, I hid all the fine china just in case.” Brantley flashed a smile and then looped his arm through Jordan’s elbow. “And you brought alcohol. So maybe it will go better than you think.”
Yeah, judging from the look on Derek’s face a minute ago, Jordan highly doubted it.
* * *
“HEY, MAN,” FINN said as Derek walked through the large archway of the kitchen.
“Hey,” he said, crossing over to see what Finn was doing at the sink, and to take his mind off the fact that he wished he was anywhere other than where he was right that second.
Fuck. He almost hadn’t come tonight, and when he’d walked up to the front door and seen Jordan standing there, his first instinct had been to run. Before he’d had the chance, though, Jordan turned around, and one look at his miserable expression had Derek frozen in place.
He’d wanted to take Jordan’s face between his hands and kiss the hell out of him. But then he remembered why he was upset, and the anger at being so blindsided the night before slammed back into him and made him resentful.
After the taxi dropped him home last night, Derek had lain awake in his bed and listened to every single message Jordan had left for him. From the first apology to the very last plea that he pick up the phone and talk to him, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to call him back.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew what Jordan had done wasn’t meant to hurt him. What he couldn’t understand was why he hadn’t told him. Why wouldn’t he have asked him if he was okay with his name being on some national platform for people to know what had happened to him? It made him feel nauseous, but at the same time he knew the importance of what Jordan was trying to do.
“You don’t look so hot, man,” Finn said, as he peeled jumbo shrimp in a colander.
Derek grunted in response. That was Finn, straight to the fucking point. “Thanks a lot, Danny boy.”
“Just keeping it real, man. What’s up? You come with Posh tonight?”
When Finn waggled his eyebrows, Derek shook his head.
“But I thought—”
“Yeah, well. We had a fight.”
“So I heard. But—”
“What do you mean you heard?” Derek interrupted.
“He was chatting with Brantley last night.”
Derek wasn’t sure if it was due to the annoyance already festering inside of him, but that little tidbit of information brought the fury he’d managed to keep on a low simmer to a boiling point. “Oh, that’s just fucking great.”
“Hey,” Finn said, and glared at him. “Newsflash. You two are always fighting. It’s like foreplay or some shit. So what’s the big deal this time?”
Derek looked at the shrimp, thinking the idea of ripping something’s head off wasn’t a bad one. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Well, that’s nothing new either, is it?”
He turned his head toward his friend, suddenly finding that every single word coming out of Finn’s mouth was rubbing him the wrong way. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
Finn threw the shrimp he was holding back into the sink and turned around. “That you bottle shit up. You’ve done it for as long as I’ve known you, and you’re still doing it.”
Derek wanted to tell him to back off and it must have been obvious, too, because Finn called him on it.
“How much do you want to tell me to get fucked right now?”
“About a hundred percent.”
“I can tell. But you know what? I’m right. You’ve always been like that. I’m not saying it’s wrong, because it’s how you deal with shit, and you’ve had way more to deal with than others. But maybe it’s time to stop bottling things up. Hell, the fact that you couldn’t tell me for years that you moved out of your house and moved in with fucking Devaney proves that.”
Okay, Derek thought as he glared at Finn. Way to bring up years’ worth of resentment, Danny boy. “If you knew or felt that way, why didn’t you say something?”
“Because you were already dealing with enough,” Finn shouted. “You didn’t need me the way you needed him. So I let you go, Derek. It wasn’t until I came back that I even realized you gave a shit because you finally told me so.”
Finn’s words were a punch to the gut, and fuck, that hurt. Where did he get off bringing up all this shit now? Just when Derek needed his goddamn friend, when he’d shown up here even though he hadn’t wanted to, Finn was acting like a total dick. And he wasn’t finished yet.
“Then we all went out to Boyz,” Finn said, on a roll now. “And you told me you loved him but that he didn’t feel the same. I wanted to go inside and kick that guy’s ass for you.” Finn took a step toward him then, brave move, all things considered, and when they were close enough that their shoes touched, he said, “But you know what, Derek? A man who builds a charity in your name for issues that he has watched you fight your way through and survive…that’s a man who not only loves you but one who admires and respects you—deeply. And you know that. I can see it on your stubborn-ass face. So are you really willing to let him go for doing something because it fucking terrifies you?”
“Are you done?”
“Not quite. I have one more thing to say. There’s no excuses here, Derek. He might’ve gone about this the wrong way. Hell, he probably did. From what I remember, he was never subtle or very good at having a brain around you. But he did this for one reason only. Don’t let your fear get in the way of seeing that.”
As silence finally descended between them, and Derek was left standing there staring at a man he’d thought was his friend, he shook his head, shell-shocked.
“Wow,” he said, his voice low as he tried to control the urge to tell Finn to take his opinions and shove them up his ass. But instead, he reminded himself that he was in Finn’s house, as a guest. “It must be nice to be so sanctimonious. Huh, Danny boy? Aren’t you the one who got pissed and stayed the fuck away for close to a decade because the man you loved did what was best for you?”
“That was totally different, and you know it.”
“Do I? Fuck you. I don’t need this shit tonight.”
Derek turned, ready to leave, only to see Brantley and Jordan standing just inside the kitchen. He had no idea how long they’d been standing there, but judging by Brantley’s pissed expression, he’d at least caught the tail end of it, whereas Jordan…he just looked…sad.
“Then maybe it would be best if you left for now,” Brantley suggested as he walked into the center of the tense room.
Derek heard Jordan gasp, but before he could say anything, Brantley had taken another step forward, and this time his eyes softened, and Derek hated that worse than the irritation he’d originally seen.
“You are always welcome in our home, Derek. But not when you’re talking shit about two of the people I love most in this world. Got it?”
Derek swallowed and tried to compose himself. “No sweat, professor. I figured this was a mistake anyway.”
He looked over his shoulder to Finn, whose jaw was clenched and his eyes downcast, and then without another word, Derek turned and headed for the door.
* * *
JORDAN COULDN’T BELIEVE what had just happened and what he’d heard. He watched Brantley walk over to where Daniel stood, offering him a hug, and then…well, then Jordan lost his shit.
“Are you both out of your fucking minds?”
Brantley looked over at him, his eyes wide, and he looked as if he was going to speak, but Jordan didn’t want to hear it.
“I can’t believe you just did that to him.”
“Jordan, he was in a foul mood and you heard what he said when we walked in. It was just going to get worse.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he snapped. “You two were hardly hearts and roses when you were working your mess out. How dare you be so judgmental now, especially when there is so much going on with him that you don’t even know. Good job, Daniel. Maybe I should be the one kicking your ass.”
“Jordan,” Brantley growled.
“Forget it,” Jordan said with a shake of his hand as he spun on his heel and made his way out of the kitchen, running toward the front door. He yanked it open and caught sight of Derek walking down the driveway toward the Jeep he’d parked out on the curb.
“Derek,” he shouted, and ran after him. By the time he caught up, Derek had the door open and was climbing inside. “Would you wait a goddamn minute?”
“Why?” Derek barked.
“Why?” Jordan repeated, and when Derek looked at him, Jordan gripped the door where the window was wound down and told him, “Maybe because we need to talk?”
“Oh, so now you want to talk? What about, Jordan? Charities? Okay,” Derek said as he pushed open the door and climbed down before slamming it behind him. He was heaving with pent-up frustration. Yet even with all of the power and fury Derek was radiating, he didn’t frighten Jordan in any way.
“Let’s talk,” Derek said. “I’ll go first. Do you remember a conversation you once had with a student of yours where you told him flat-out that he wasn’t a charity case?” Jordan opened his mouth to deny it, but Derek got in first. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Now, can you possibly understand how it might feel to that same student—hell, let’s cut the bullshit—how it feels to me, the man who has sat in front of you broken and beaten to a fucking pulp…can you imagine how it felt to that man to hear that you…” Derek paused and dragged his bottom teeth over his top lip, then shook his head. “That the one person I believed would never do anything to shake the trust I had in him, had gone and done something so personal without asking my permission first.”
“Derek—”
“Can you?” he shouted, and Jordan shook his head. He’d never thought of it that way, never even considered that it would be seen as anything other than how he’d meant it—a gesture of love and respect.
“I’m so sorry.”
“So am I,” Derek said, as he spun away from him and reopened the door. Before he could climb back in, Jordan put his hand over the fingers Derek had on the car and tried again.
“Derek. I wasn’t thinking. I never meant to—”
“I know,” Derek said, and then glanced over his shoulder. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I know that, Jordan. But it doesn’t change the fact that you did.”
Jordan’s hand slipped away, and as it fell to his side, he nodded. “I understand.”
Just when he thought that would be it, that Derek would get in the car and drive away, he rounded back on him. He grabbed Jordan’s shirt and pulled him in to take his mouth in a bruising kiss, and the spark was instantaneous.
They caught alight as quick as gasoline and a match. Tongues tangled, hands fumbled for purchase, and all of the worry and upset Jordan had experienced the night before fueled the passion now blazing back to life between them.
When Derek finally tore his mouth free, he rested his forehead against Jordan’s and whispered, “I am so fucking hurt right now. But just so we’re clear, I’m not breaking up with you.”
The words from their argument a week earlier registered, and Jordan was amazed at how comforting they were even as his heart splintered in two.
“I’ll call you,” Derek said, and climbed into the car.
Jordan stepped up onto the curb, and as he watched Derek drive away, the only question that remained was…when?