Bas had spied Martin’s the first day they’d arrived in Vienna. From the back seat of the van that took them to the academy, he’d craned his neck to check out the pub with the Irish and Union Jack flags out front. Later, when Jacob had been on the phone with his dad, Bas had gone for a walk around town and drifted into the establishment, lured by the waft of fried chicken and nineties grunge music. The oddities continued inside, namely a merry Australian lumberjack behind the bar. An Irish/English pub, in Austria, that played American music, served American food, and was run by Australians. The mishmash was perfect, reminding Bas of home, and Ernie, the brawny barkeep and owner, wasn’t too hard to look at either.
The auburn-haired highlander clone slid a basket of chicken nuggets and a pint of hard cider onto the bar in front of Bas. “Brought the whole team tonight, did ya?” Ernie’s words and face were cheerful, not at all bothered by the horde of athletes invading his pub.
Pushing aside his napkin sketch, Bas laid down the pen he’d stolen from behind the bar and took a swallow of the cold, bittersweet brew, bubbles of sharp citrus bursting on his tongue. “Idea I had at practice today,” he said.
Martin’s was a scene at night, and a good trial run for the sort of chaos his teammates would face in Madrid. A training exercise to practice how they’d behave out of the pool in the face of temptation. “Give them a measured taste,” he’d pitched to Alex. “See how they handle it.”
Alex and Nat had talked it over and gotten their respective coaches’ approvals, with two ground rules—midnight curfew and a two-drink limit. Alex, Bas, Nat, and Eva, the women’s second, were limited to one drink each. They needed to stay sober and observe, watching out for the flagrant rule breakers and also those who might be swayed to do so by inexperience or the need to fit in.
“So far so good,” Ernie said. “They seem to be enjoying themselves.”
“I’m sure the familiar music and these—” he picked up a nugget “—help. Just like home.” He popped one into his mouth, smiling.
Ernie chuckled. “When do you leave for Madrid?”
“Two more days of practice, then travel day.”
The bartender unwrinkled Bas’s doodled-on napkin and scribbled a number on the back. “You get to feeling lonesome before Sunday, you know where to find me.” He pushed the napkin under Bas’s nose, then threw him a flirtatious wink as he shimmied his bubble butt to the other end of the bar. Not a bad view at all.
Grabbing his pint glass, Bas spun on his stool and rested back against the bar, sipping his cider and tracking the team around the pub. Natalie, Sean, and several others were huddled in two front-window booths; Alex was presiding over a pop-up billiards tournament in the other front corner; and in the back, to the right of the bar, Eva stood on the border of the dance floor, monitoring their swimmers bouncing and swaying to the music, including Jacob.
His spiky blond hair refracted the dance floor lights as he threw himself into a white-boy head-bob, not an ounce of rhythm in his movements. Leah didn’t seem put off in the slightest, laughing and lifting on her toes to shout at him over the music. Bas hid his scowl behind the rim of his glass. Of course she wouldn’t be put off; Jacob was adorable in his guileless enthusiasm. And Bas had no right to begrudge Jacob a shot at someone who appreciated him just the way he was. They seemed genuinely interested in each another, spending more and more time together, in and out of the pool. Maybe it was a summer fling, or maybe it would develop into more. With that thought sitting like an elephant on his chest, Bas drained his cider and spun back around.
Not long after, Alex sidled up next to him, flagging Ernie down for a soda.
“You’re the captain, right?” Ernie’s good-humored smile stretched into a leer as he handed Alex a Coke bottle. “Seen you on TV. You and Red over there”—he gestured at Dane—“need a third while you’re in town, I’m game.”
“Fucker!” Bas exclaimed in mock protest, tossing a balled-up napkin at him. “You hit on me not five minutes ago.”
“Can you blame me? My bar is crawling with hot athletes. I’m gonna keep shootin’ darts until one of ’em lands.” Leaning forward, he braced his freckled forearms on the bar. “So, what do you say, Captain?”
Alex smiled, looking not the least bit put off. “Appreciate the offer, but we’ll pass.”
Bas had lost count of how many times he and Alex had been propositioned together in LA. When Natalie had shown up their junior year and started hanging out with them, she’d been a welcome third on their going-out adventures, making it appear they were an established throuple. In reality, it’d only ever been friendship among the three of them, but the mistaken impression of more took the pressure off in clubs.
“Shame,” Ernie said, shaking his head. “Wasted two darts that time.”
“Keep slinging ’em,” Bas said. “You’ll hit something.”
Snickering, Ernie moved on to another customer, and Alex shot Bas a curious side-eye. “You didn’t take him up on his offer?”
“Not really in the mood.”
A crease formed between Alex’s dark brows, his lips pressing together.
Bas knew that look well. “Spit it out, Cantu, whatever it is.”
Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket. “This probably isn’t going to improve your mood.” He sat the device on the bar, faceup between them.
On the screen was a friend request with a picture of a face Bas had done everything in his power to avoid the past four years. Since the last Olympics, when Bas had been a selfish, immature ass and hurt both his team and a man he’d cared for. The same man smiling up at him from Alex’s phone. He’d grown into his striking features—a headful of thick black hair, green-gold eyes, and a strong square jaw that balanced out his pronounced nose and made the overall impression sharp and handsome.
“He’s on the Spanish team again,” Alex said. “He’ll be in Madrid.”
Bas propped his elbows on the bar and scrubbed his hands over his face. This wasn’t a surprise; Bas had reckoned he’d be there. One of the top swimmers at USC with Alex and Bas, he’d been projected to win gold for Spain in his individual races at the last Olympics, before Bas had sent them both off the rails. With the Games in his home country this time, of course he’d be back. Of course Bas would have to face his biggest mistake while struggling not to make another.
“You mind running interference?” he said to Alex.
“Count on it.”
“I didn’t realize you hadn’t stayed in touch.”
“You’re my best friend, even when you act like an idiot. And no real reason to, once he moved back across the pond.”
Because Bas hadn’t given him a reason to stay.
Stay.
His eyes strayed again to the dance floor. Jacob had asked him to stay and Bas had. In the tattoo parlor, on the bus, in the locker room. He’d promised to stay by his side throughout this Olympic experience, as a friend, teammate, and mentor. Had he also promised more? In his actions? In his heart? Bas wasn’t sure which frightened him most—Jacob’s possibly skewed expectations or his own definitely skewed desire to meet them knowing it’d only end in disaster.
Same as it had four years ago.
Bas rubbed a hand across his chest, over the lone tattoo, as he tried and failed not to make comparisons. Going down that road was dangerous, but it was also a necessary reminder of his mistakes.
That was the point of tonight, wasn’t it? To get the mistakes out of the way. And would that third pint Mike was holding out to Jacob be the pup’s first mistake?
Bas was half off the stool when Alex grabbed his arm.
“Give him a chance to make the right decision,” Alex said.
Which Jacob did, waving Mike off with a good-natured smile.
“See,” Alex said, releasing Bas’s arm, “we don’t have to worry about the pup. Between my boyfriend’s hazing and your tattoo night out, I think he got his fill in San Antonio.”
Bas focused on the former instead of the latter. “I think you also like saying that word boyfriend.”
Alex’s shy smile was all the answer Bas needed. For all the press attention and big announcements, it was the small everyday affections between Alex and Dane that made Bas happy for his friend. Alex deserved that, more than anyone Bas knew.
“Alejandro,” Dane called from the pool tables. “I’m over here making bets on your behalf.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Ay Dios.”
Chuckling, Bas returned the earlier side-eye. “Hope you’re still as good at running the table as you were in college.”
“Better,” Alex said with a wink, before draining his soda and cutting back across the pub.
Rotating on his stool, Bas made another visual sweep of the place. Nat’s crew in the booths were playing beer pong with soda caps, Sean’s flirt turned way up. Alex and Dane had the pool tables under control, starting up another tourney round. And Eva was making laps around the dance floor, stopping for small talk while keeping a watchful eye out.
With Eva’s attention on the group as a whole, Bas zeroed in on Jacob. Hair shiny and skin glistening with sweat, he played the part of carefree new adult well, bouncing with Leah and the others on the dance floor. Just a goofy college kid in his goofy Walk the Plank T-shirt having a fun night.
With the girl he maybe liked.
Probably liked.
Scowling, Bas started to turn back to the bar, when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a shift in his favorite subject. And not a good one. Jacob was no longer having fun. Carefree mask ripped away, Jacob stared down at the phone in his hand and his skin blanched under the flashing lights. The next instant, he was shoving through the crowd toward the back exit.
Bas was moving before he made the decision to follow. Hell, there was no decision to make. He’d made a promise—to look out for Jacob—regardless of what that might entail. He wove quickly through the thinner crowd around the outer edge of the dance floor. Reaching the back door before Leah, Bas waved her off and pushed through the door.
Outside in the alley, he heard Jacob before he saw him, ten or so feet ahead on the left, pacing the width of the narrow cobblestone street with his phone to his ear. Speaking fast, his voice was high and thready, alarmed. “He was fine when I talked to him earlier.”
In his other hand, Jacob tumbled the dog tags as fast as his words, and Bas reckoned the he Jacob referred to must be his dad.
“Josh, what the fuck happened in just a few hours?”
The angry curse startled Bas. He’d only ever heard Jacob sound that short, seen his rangy body that puffed up, when they’d confronted Ryan back in San Antonio. That confrontation had ended with Jacob taking Ryan down in an impressive martial arts move. It sounded like that’s what Jacob wanted to do to Josh right about now too. Was Josh the cousin he’d mentioned earlier, the psych major? And what did that have to do with Davis?
Bas was starting to put the pieces together, when, at the end of the alley, Jacob made a U-turn and lifted his head, spotting Bas for the first time. He froze midstep, eyes widening and nostrils flaring, reacting like a trapped animal. Standing in place, Bas raised his hands, palms out. He just wanted Jacob to know he was here if Jacob needed him.
Jacob hesitated a second, then whatever Josh said on the other end of the line must have been more distressing than Bas’s presence. He resumed his pacing, and Bas leaned a shoulder against the wall, out of Jacob’s way but still there for him. Not leaving him alone.
“He needs to go to the clinic,” Jacob said, then after a beat, “Yes, yes, put him on the line.” He pocketed the tags and braced his hand against the wall, angled slightly away from Bas. “Hey, Dad,” he said, voice wiped clean of anger, eerily flipped to calm and upbeat. To see him though, was a different story. Back straight, shoulders tight, and jaw clenched, the pup was barely holding it together. “No, no, it’s no trouble. Tell me about work today.”
The psychology of the cue was impressive. Jacob hadn’t directly asked how his dad was doing or how he was feeling. Instead, he’d offered an innocuous prompt, aimed at getting to the details and series of events he wanted to know more about. Bas employed similar tactics at the tattoo shop and had tried the same on Jacob, to no avail.
This was more of the pup’s story than Bas had ever gotten before.
Bas could tell when Jacob’s father reached the part of the story Jacob wanted to know. Or maybe didn’t want to know. Inhaling sharply, the pup curled in on himself, spine bowing like he’d been punched in the gut.
Bas couldn’t take the distance any longer. Clearing his throat to signal his approach, he stepped across the alley and put a hand to Jacob’s curved back. Jacob startled at first, then leaned into the touch, chasing it. Bas flattened his palm against Jacob’s spine, cementing the connection and support.
“What do you want to do about that?” Jacob asked his dad, and after a moment, nodded. “Good, that should help you rest. And I’ll call Doc.” Davis’s objection was so loud Bas could hear it. “Okay, okay, not tonight,” Jacob cajoled. “You’ll call in the morning. And you have your support group tomorrow evening. You’re going to that, right?” Whatever answer Davis gave caused Jacob to relax, a little, the tension slowly ebbing from his frame. “Good, call me after.” There must have been a handoff on the other end, Josh coming back on the line. “Can you stay there tonight, cuz?” Jacob asked, relaxing a little more into Bas’s touch, closer to his body. “Great, thank you, and I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. That was uncalled for.”
They exchanged a few more words before Jacob ended the call. He shoved off the wall, forcing Bas back a step so he could spin and slump against the stone, hands clutching for hair that was no longer there.
Bas rested a shoulder next to him, close but not touching. “Tell me about your dad’s day,” he said, using Jacob’s own method.
For a change, Jacob cut right to the chase. “My dad’s a combat vet,” he said, arms falling to his sides. “Afghanistan. Came home with PTSD.”
“That’s why you were worried about leaving,” Bas said, connecting the dots. Jacob nodded. But there was still a piece missing. “What about your mom? She’s not in the picture?”
His scruff-covered jaw clenched again. “She split five years ago,” he gritted out. “I asked her to stay, to give him more time and to help me, but she couldn’t handle it anymore. We’ve been on our own since.”
Jacob’s words from the tattoo parlor rattled around Bas’s head. And heart.
“I put myself first once. It didn’t end well.”
A fourteen-year-old kid dealing with his father’s postwar trauma. Everything aligned—the hyperobservation, putting others first, never asking for what he needed. Because the one time he had asked, he’d been left behind, by his own mother, to fend for himself and take care of his father.
“Christ,” Bas hissed. “That’s why you went to UT? To stay close?”
“I’m lucky they have a top-notch swim program.” Jacob pushed off the wall and resumed his pacing, hands flailing as he spoke. “He hasn’t had a flashback in over two years. Not a single one since Josh and I have been at UT.” His words tumbled faster and faster, as did the dog tags in his hand. “But then I leave, to where I can’t get back, to where I can’t be there for him when he needs me. He gave me these—” he brandished the tags “—to keep me safe, but he’s the one who needs them. I should be keeping him safe, but I’m a fucking ocean away and I can’t!” His gaze bounced around the alley as his breaths grew shorter and thinner, on the verge of hyperventilating.
Bas moved in front of him, cutting off his circuit. “Pup, you need to take a second and breathe.”
Jacob’s chest rose and fell faster, green eyes filling with panic. Not on the verge, then; already gone. Bas stepped closer, and Jacob slammed into reverse, backing into the wall. Bas kept coming, not letting up. He lifted his hands and grasped the sides of Jacob’s face, holding him steady.
“Breathe, Jacob,” he coached.
Mint green dimes snapped to him, but Jacob’s breaths were still too fast and short. His brain needed to move past the panic so his body could fall in line.
“Your dad’s okay now?” Bas asked.
Jacob nodded. A short inhale.
“Your cousin, Josh, is taking care of him?”
He nodded again. Another short inhale.
“Josh is a psych major, right? You said that the other day.”
“Yeah,” he wheezed. “Aunt’s also a nurse.”
“Okay, someone’s got your father, then. Multiple someones.” Bas inched closer, bodies brushing as his thumbs swept over Jacob’s cheeks. “Your dad’s gonna be fine. He’s safe, and so are you. I’ve got you, you’re not alone, but I need you to breathe, baby.”
Jacob’s eyes fluttered closed as he choked on a strangled breath.
“You can do it,” Bas said. “Just like we do in the water. In and out.” Bas exaggerated his own breathing so Jacob could feel the rise and fall of his chest, could hear the exchange of air, could mirror both with his own.
Finally, Jacob began gulping air, his swimmer’s instincts enough to break through the panic. One, two, three big inhales, followed by measured exhales.
Bas continued to breathe with him until Jacob’s chest no longer heaved. “That’s got it,” he said, moving to step back.
Jacob’s hands shot up and wrapped around Bas’s wrists, holding him in place. When Jacob’s eyes opened, they were no longer brimming over with panic. They were the warmest shade of cool green Bas had ever seen. Molten mint. Impossible, and yet right there in front of him, scorching.
As was the single word that passed through his parted lips. “Stay.”
Not scorching.
Wrecked.
Like he had been in that tattoo parlor.
A wave of heat, blazing off Jacob, slammed into Bas.
“Stay,” Jacob whispered again, rougher and more urgent.
The plea raked down Bas’s spine, making him tremble with things he shouldn’t want. Things he shouldn’t do. Others had left Jacob. He’d leave Jacob; it’s what Bas did. It’s what he’d done before, hurting someone he’d cared about and costing his team the gold. This, if he closed the distance between himself and Jacob, would be a terrible repeat. He’d be breaking his promises, to Alex and to Jacob, acting in no one’s best interest.
But fuck, with Jacob looking at him like that, crooked teeth digging into his full lower lip, and sounding like that, a plea on a whimper, Bas felt the pull all the way to his balls.
Jacob like this—like always—was beauty Bas couldn’t turn away from, same as in the tattoo parlor.
He rationalized away the rational; even if he couldn’t make it better for Jacob in the long run, he could make it better for him now. Jacob needed him to stay. To make him forget all that worry, at least for the span of a kiss. Bas wanted to help, to comfort, and he wanted to taste that beauty.
Desperately.
He tightened his grip on Jacob’s face, palms scraping against Jacob’s scruffy jaw, the short hairs at the nape of Jacob’s neck tickling his fingertips. Bas drew him in, erasing the distance between them, chests pressed together and other parts hardening, until they were maddeningly close.
Jacob’s eyes fluttered closed again. “Bas,” he breathed, the motion brushing their lips together.
Bas shifted his head, angling for more than a mere brush.
A taste of beauty, of Jacob, was so close.
Then so far away.
The pub door slammed open behind them, and Bas shot out of Jacob’s hold, stumbling backward across the alley. His back hit the opposite wall just as Dane came around the open door.
“Hey! Alex wanted me to check on you two. We’re getting ready to head back to the academy.”
Hands behind his back, Bas clawed at the cold stone wall, trying to scour away the enticing sensation of rough stubble and warm skin. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strangled as other parts of him felt. “You good, Pup?”
“Yeah, fine,” Jacob said, heading for the door. “Had to take a family call.”
“Everything okay?” Dane asked.
Jacob paused over the threshold, shooting a smoldering, inviting look at Bas. “It will be.”
When he was sure his body wouldn’t betray him, Bas unglued himself from the wall, only to meet a wall of red-headed Southern nosiness. “Not your problem, Big Red.”
“You’re Alex’s best friend. You’re on his team. His problems are my problems.”
Bas liked that for Alex, but not so much for himself right now.
“You turned out all right, Ellis,” he said, deflecting. With Dane momentarily stunned, Bas slipped inside past him. Up front, Alex was herding the team toward the exit. “Go back to your man,” Bas told Dane when he caught up. “I’m right behind you.”
Waiting at the bar, Bas watched as Leah hovered close to Jacob, the two of them shuffling along with the departing crowd. The pup smiled at her, making some assurance or other, his easygoing mask back in place. For her sake, never for his own. Bas wanted to go after him, to tear away that mask and give Jacob a safe place to let the truth out, to find a true calm instead of an affected one, but his common sense had returned. Bas knew where those intentions would lead—to anything but safe. He couldn’t do that—not to Jacob, not to Alex, and not to his team.
He did right instead and climbed onto an empty barstool.
“Not going back with the team?” Ernie asked.
“Not yet.”
“Another cider, or something stronger?”
“Stronger.”
Though Bas doubted even the strongest thing here would wipe from his mind those molten green eyes or that needy whimper.