CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Ashton
Ashton Carmichael takes a lot of flak for some of his recent off-field antics, but there’s a solid guy behind the bravado.
“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” Wyatt asked when I answered his call.
“Pretty good, man. What’s up?” It was Saturday. It had been a couple of weeks since I’d purchased the field for Beau and his team. Things had been…well, sort of a whirlwind since then. The sale had been organized through my lawyer and was anonymous, which really made the town talk. They’d all been trying to figure out who had purchased the land and the reasons behind it. I didn’t know why, but I hadn’t expected the talk.
Beau did what he did and played it off well, claiming he didn’t know who bought it, that he was just honored someone had.
We weren’t stupid, though. We knew people were tossing around my name, especially considering I coached with him. The more I thought about it, the more I wasn’t sure why I had done it anonymously anyway. Why the fuck couldn’t I buy a damn football field for a team I was coaching?
Because I’d wanted it in Beau’s name. I’d wanted it to be his, and I was afraid that would come with too many questions.
“You there?” Wyatt asked, making me realize he’d been speaking to me while I was daydreaming.
“Sorry, you’re just boring,” I teased, and Wyatt laughed.
“You’ve always been a sarcastic motherfucker. Anyway, Holly’s out of town tonight. She’s visiting her parents. I thought maybe you’d want to grab a beer or something?”
“I can’t, actually. Beau and I are…working on some remodeling around my house.” Liar…I’m such a fucking liar. Why in the hell was this so goddamned hard for me?
“You need any help?” Wyatt asked.
Fuck. I should have seen that one coming. I didn’t even know if Beau and I had plans that night, but I figured we did since we were always together. I wanted to be with him. Cheesy or not, I always wanted to be with him. We were in that gooey honeymoon phase I teased many of my friends about in the past. “Shit. It’s Saturday, right? I forgot, we’re going to his mom’s for dinner tonight.”
So if anyone couldn’t tell, I was now the biggest liar in liar town.
“Okay… Well, what about Thanksgiving next week? I wasn’t sure if you had plans, but Holly and I were thinking you might want to come over. We have quite the feast. Shannon and a few other people will be there.”
Fuck. I obviously had plans with Beau on Thanksgiving. When I didn’t reply, Wyatt sighed. “Ash…you know you’re my friend, right? Nothing else matters. If there’s something you want to share with me, you can. It won’t change anything.”
My heart began to thud, and my palms got sweaty. He knew. Of course he fucking knew. How could he not? Everyone probably fucking knew. We were together all the damn time.
I took a couple of deep breaths. The urge to hang up the phone was there. My conversation with my agent echoed, together with the ringing in my ears.
It was a ridiculous response. Logically, I knew that, but I didn’t know how to get around the way it made me feel.
“I…” He’d said it was okay… Beth knew…Kenny knew… I wanted people to know Beau was mine. I sort of wanted to be growly about Beau belonging to me. I wanted people to know I belonged to him too. This was Wyatt. He’d been my best friend. I should be able to do this.
“Beau is welcome too, ya know? Or not… I don’t want to assume, but everyone sees you guys together all the time, and—”
“Yes,” I blurted out.
“Yes what?”
“What you’re thinking…about us. Yes.” My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the couch, my knee bobbing up and down like crazy.
“Cool. I don’t give a shit who you fuck, Carmichael. I’m not going to pretend I’m not shocked, but I guess it sort of makes sense. You guys always seemed to be in on something no one else was.”
I smiled at him thinking that about us and breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t care. Wyatt didn’t care. “Not everyone is like that.”
“Then those people don’t matter.”
His words were true. I knew that in theory, but yeah, that emotional stuff still had me a bit fucked up. “There might be a team interested in me next year. I don’t know for sure, but…this could complicate things. No one knows. You can’t say anything.” Just saying those words had lifted some of the weight off my chest. It felt good to speak them—both about Beau and the team.
“Holy shit. That’s fantastic. Will make things difficult with you and Beau, though. What does he say?”
Another silence from me.
“You fucking dumbshit. He doesn’t know?”
“I’m going to tell him. I just didn’t want to do it until I knew it was a real possibility…and until I knew what I would do.”
“What do you mean, what you would do? You would give up pro-ball for him?” There was such shock in his voice that I felt it in my soul. This was football—professional football. It had always been the most important thing in my world. It was who I was.
“I don’t… Fuck, I don’t know.” When I heard a door slam, I pushed off the couch. “Listen, I gotta go. Beau is here. I’m going to tell him, okay? And thank you…for being okay with this.”
“Jesus, did you really think I wouldn’t be?”
I was still adjusting to being okay with it myself. “I gotta go, Wy. I’ll talk to you soon and…I appreciate the invite for Thanksgiving, but we’ll be at Beth’s.”
“You’re welcome, man.”
We hung up just as Beau came inside.
“What’s—”
“I told Wyatt,” I interrupted him. “About us.” A sort of high, giddy feeling washed through me at the admission. It had been…surprisingly easy to say. Strangely, much easier than when I’d told Beth or Kenny. It was as if the bubble Beau and I lived in together was expanding, fitting more people inside. Maybe it could stretch around my whole life, even football.
“How did it go?” Beau asked, concern in his eyes.
“He knew before I told him.” Everyone likely did. “And…he didn’t care.”
Beau smiled, wrapped an arm around me, and gave me a hug. “No, I didn’t think he would. But I’m proud of you.”
The crazy thing was, I was proud of me as well. “I guess that means we should celebrate tonight. What do you want to do?”
He tensed up briefly and pulled back. “It’s Saturgay… We’re going to Fever. I missed the last one. Linc will kick my ass if I’m not there.”
Well, shit. I’d forgotten about Saturgay when I’d told Wyatt I couldn’t go out.
“I could stay home. I—”
“No, that’s fucking dumb. You’re not staying home, Campbell.”
“You could go with us… The guys won’t say anything. Wear my cap. Most people there won’t even recognize you, but if they did, they wouldn’t say anything. They won’t out you.”
I opened my mouth to tell him I couldn’t go, that I’d just stay home, but then…fuck, I wanted to go. I wanted that experience with Beau. I wanted to experience it myself. After all these years, I deserved to go to a gay bar with my boyfriend, didn’t I? “Let’s do it.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, but the ear-to-ear smile on his face told me he liked the idea.
“I want to.” I hadn’t realized how badly I did, but I fucking wanted it. To be a normal couple, out with Beau.
He grabbed me, pulled me close, grinded against me a little, making my dick take notice. “Fuck, I love you.”
“I love you too, Cranky Campbell.”
“I’m not cranky anymore, remember?”
“Guess you just needed me.”
He rolled his eyes, pushing me down onto the couch. We celebrated with a blowjob. It wasn’t necessary, but hey, he liked sucking my dick, and I sure as hell liked being in his mouth. I wasn’t going to deny either of us the pleasure of the experience.
Afterward we cooked shitty dinner together and ate. We showered and dressed. I wore a hoodie, jeans, and Beau’s hat—forward, as if any of it made a difference. He didn’t mention it, though, because that wasn’t Beau.
I sure as shit admired him in the jeans that hugged his ass and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
We were silent for most of the drive to Fever. When we parked in a lot down the street, Beau killed the engine. “You nervous?” he asked.
“Yeah…and I fucking hate that I am. It makes me feel weak.”
“You’re not weak, Ash. This is something deeply personal. We all deal and accept and come to terms in our own way. There are no rules to being gay or coming out or how you realize it or accept it. Life would be a whole lot easier if there were. It’s real easy for those outside of a situation to judge what a person should do, how they should feel or how they should handle it. Your story is yours. No one else’s. No one has your experiences, and no one needs to understand it but you…and maybe me.”
I chuckled, and he reached out and brushed his thumb against my cheek. “You’re here, with me. That’s all I care about. Me and you, Ash.”
“Me and you, Campbell.”
“I told Linc we’ll be here. He’s telling the guys. They don’t know all the details, but no one will question you. Straight men can go to gay bars.”
I looked over at him, the dome light dancing along his features. “Do straight guys want to eat their boyfriend’s ass after going to a gay club?”
He smiled, which made me smile because I loved seeing him happy.
“No, but I hope you do.”
“I do.”
For a moment, I almost leaned forward and kissed him, but I made myself stop.
“This is your night, Ash. You lead and I’ll follow.”
The night went by in stages.
The loud beat of the bass vibrating my chest. Seeing men dancing and kissing and just…being. The nerves. The jealousy. Then the nerves again.
Seeing Lincoln, Sawyer, and Camden. Meeting Rush. Holy fuck, Beau had gorgeous friends. Not as sexy as Beau was, but if I wasn’t so confident, I might be slightly worried.
Lincoln knew. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind about that, but then I figured he’d known for a while. The other three…they must have figured it out, but they were still looking at me confused, like they couldn’t make sense of me. Welcome to the fucking club. I was twenty-eight and couldn’t understand myself either.
Rush came around first. He apparently liked football. We also talked some about dirt bikes and Supercross. He promised to take me riding sometime. I didn’t know if he did it because he wanted to hang out with me or because of Beau, but I appreciated it. Rush was in professional sports…and he was out. If he could do it, why couldn’t I?
There was a part of me that considered drinking one of everything to help myself relax, but I didn’t need that, I didn’t want it. Tonight was supposed to be about me…me and Beau.
We were in a back corner. It took me a few minutes to notice Beau, Lincoln, Rush, Sawyer, and Camden were almost in a circle around me, like they were protecting me…like they had my back.
The more we talked and laughed, the more I liked them. The more I enjoyed their company, the more I loosened up. Eventually, I wasn’t in a gay bar listening to pop music with my boyfriend’s friends. I was just in a bar, having fun with my boyfriend and our friends.
And it felt good…it felt right. I wanted to hold on to it with both hands, squeeze it tight, live it.
Beau stumbled forward when a guy accidentally ran into him. He had white-blond hair, eyeliner, and a gorgeous smile. “Sorry…oh…hey.” He grinned up at Beau, and I recognized the smile. “That was an accident, but I can’t say I’m sorry for it. Holy shit, you’re sexy.”
Beau laughed it off, apparently not sensing the rapid beat of my heart. The guy was just…so fucking free. He saw Beau, wanted him, and went for it. Beau would never have to hide with a guy like that.
“Thanks, but I have a boyfriend.” Beau winked at him.
“He can join too,” Blondy replied.
“Why don’t you come dance with me? I’m better-looking than he is anyway,” Camden told him. The guy obviously wasn’t picky, and shrugged, disappearing through the crowd with Camden.
I couldn’t say exactly what it was that made me do it—jealousy, pride, the fact that I’d told three people and it had gone well all three times, or just plain want, but I reached out, hooked my finger through the belt loop of Beau’s jeans, and tugged him toward me.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh,” I replied. I leaned against the wall, and he stood between my legs. He was technically blocking me from prying eyes, but I still felt a surge of adrenaline at touching him like this in public. “I’m holding my boyfriend.”
“I think I just swooned,” Lincoln said.
“You don’t have to do this, Ash. You don’t owe me anything.”
No, I didn’t owe him anything, but I owed it to myself…and I wanted this. Wanted him. I’m safe here, I told myself before pushing the cap up on my head so I could kiss him more easily. I nodded, and Beau grinned, reading exactly what I wanted.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. It went zero to sixty in no time flat. I felt fucking invincible—like I was flying.
I held on to his hips, and Beau rubbed against me, deepening the kiss. His tongue swept my mouth, and fuck, there was nothing in the world as good as feeling Beau against me.
“Fuck, Ash. Sort of feel like banging on my chest here,” Beau said into my neck. “Like I can stand on the bar and scream to everyone that you’re mine.”
“That might draw attention.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
“I’m already trying to figure out what’s taking you so long.”
His mouth came down hard and fast on mine. The kiss was filled with urgent hunger and need. I suddenly wished we weren’t in a bar anymore so I could get on my knees for him. There had never been a time I thought I would feel okay with wanting that, with doing it, but I was. I so fucking was.
Just when I lowered my hands to his ass, a light flashed from the other side of my closed eyes.
“What the fuck?” Lincoln said.
“Give me that shit,” Rush added. And I knew, I fucking knew without opening my eyes, what was happening. Beau jerked away from me.
There was a group of men, all standing around with cameras and phones aimed at me, at us, taking photos, recording. Not guys I would have seen here any other night, but reporters.
Rush grabbed one of them, pulled the camera from his hands. All hell broke loose after that—people looking, taking their own pictures, because they knew something was going on. Shoving their way closer.
“Let’s go,” Beau said, but I was already moving with him through the people. I looked back to see Rush, Sawyer, Lincoln, and Camden trying to head people off.
It didn’t matter, though. I knew it fucking didn’t. Bile rose in my throat, and my vision swam, but I didn’t know if it was because I’d been caught, or because of my reaction to it. It shouldn’t matter. Why the fuck did it matter?
The second I burst from the door of the club and onto the sidewalk, there were more cameras, mics shoved in my face.
“Ashton Carmichael, are you gay?”
“What were you doing in a gay bar?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Have you been hiding him your whole career?”
“Does this have anything to do with why you left football?”
“What about the purchase of the field?”
“Get the fuck out of his face!” Beau growled as we pushed our way through the crowd.
We ran to his truck, were silent the whole drive. My stomach clenched, was so damn tight, I knew I could lose it any second. My head throbbed, my heart too. They knew…everyone knew. It would be all over the news in no time.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Ash,” Beau said when we pulled up at my house.
Before I could reply, my phone started to ring. It was my agent. “I can’t…I can’t do this right now.”
The call ended, and then the phone began ringing again immediately.
“Yeah, whatever you need.” Beau reached for me, but I shoved the door open and got out of the truck.
My phone didn’t stop, and suddenly it was all I could hear—my phone, my agent, the questions, twisting in a powerful cyclone in my brain.
“Ash?” Beau asked.
“I just… I need some space. I need to figure this out.”
Without another word, I walked away. I hardly made it to the toilet before I emptied my stomach, vomiting until there was nothing left.
I fell against the bathroom wall just as my phone started ringing again.
I didn’t get a chance to say anything before I heard, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
I was thinking that for once I could be me, that maybe, just maybe, that would be enough…and now it was all over.