CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ashton
Controversy continues around Ashton Carmichael.
I didn’t turn around at the sound of footsteps behind me, just continued to sit at the end of the dock, my bare feet in the water, making circles.
“Still pouting?” Wyatt asked.
“I appreciate you letting me stay here, but please don’t try and understand this. You can’t understand it, Wyatt.” I didn’t know what made me come to his parents’ lake house, the one we had the graduation party at, and where I’d kissed Beau what seemed like an eternity ago. And even though it had only been a week, it felt like a lifetime since I’d touched him at all. Since I’d held him, kissed him, laughed with him. Fuck, I loved laughing with my Cranky Campbell.
“You’re right. I can’t understand. I’m still around to talk if you need me. And if you don’t want to talk to me, there’s a certain boyfriend of yours that will likely understand.”
My heart ached at the mention of Beau. I missed him in my bones, hated myself for walking away from him, but there was just so much shit in my head, I didn’t know how to sort through it all. And I knew if I saw him, if I talked to him, all that would matter was how much I wanted him. How I fucking ached for him and always had. That was what got us in this situation. There was no doubt in how I felt about Beau, but if I didn’t learn to be okay with it, all I would do was continue to hurt both of us.
“Have you seen him?” I asked.
“No. Reporters are still hanging around, though.”
“Fuck,” I cursed quietly. While I was hiding away, I was leaving Beau to deal with that shit alone. “I need to call him, see him.”
“Well, that would likely be easier if you hadn’t broken your damn phone.”
“Andrea wouldn’t stop calling.” And I hadn’t memorized Beau’s number.
“You probably need to talk to her too, Ash,” Wyatt scolded.
Yeah…there was a whole lot I needed to do. Most of it started inside myself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me…what I’m going to do.”
“You don’t have to keep yourself locked away from the world to figure that out. You do that with the people who love you. Campbell…he loves you, Ash, and I sure as shit know your dumb ass loves him. Talk to him. Figure it out together.”
How did I figure it out with him when I wasn’t sure if I deserved him? Or if I could be what he needed me to be? “I’ll figure it out, Wy. Thanks.”
He sighed. “I brought my laptop over. It’s in the kitchen. You might want to take a look at it.”
The dock creaked as Wyatt walked away. I closed my eyes, remembered that day ten years ago, the feel of Beau’s lips against mine. It’d been like I’d been living in a fog, this muted, clouded world, and hadn’t known it. The moment our lips touched, when I felt him, my world had cleared, had been bright and real for the first time. And when I’d run away from him then, I’d gone back to a blurry, foggy existence.
Ten years later and I hadn’t grown much, had I? I was still running from who I was…still running from Beau Campbell.
As soon as I heard the wheels of Wyatt’s car on the gravel, I shoved to my feet. My heart thudded in my throat as I made my way to the house. If Wyatt brought his laptop, it was important that I saw what was going on. A million possibilities ran through my head, and when I got inside, and Googled my name, bile rose in my throat. It was worse than I could have imagined.
“No…no, no, no, no.” My hands fisted. I bit my lip, tasting blood as I looked at the headlines.
THE HEARTBREAK OF ASHTON CARMICHAEL—THE COST OF BEING GAY AND HIDING YOUR SEXUALITY IN PROFESSIONAL SPORTS
FOOTBALL’S BAD BOY WASN’T REALLY SO BAD AFTER ALL
ASHTON CARMICHAEL’S SECRETS—YEARS OF PAIN, HIS HIDDEN GAY LOVER, AND HIS TICKET BACK TO PROFESSIONAL SPORTS
ASHTON CARMICHAEL—FROM PARTIES AND ORGIES TO COACHING THE DEVELOPMENTALLY DISABLED. HEART OF GOLD OR PLOY TO GET BACK INTO OUR GOOD GRACES?
The last one made my blood run cold. My molars ground together. Beneath the headline was a photograph of Beau punching someone…and a scared and confused Kenny watching.
“Oh, fuck, Campbell. What did I let happen?”
My eyes scanned the article, reading about my life with Beau, with Kenny. The coaching, the field, the possibilities in Texas, and how the journalist thought Beau and Kenny were a publicity stunt. That Kenny was just a way to make myself look good…that Beau was a way for me to try and get back on a team.
It was as if it didn’t compute. Did they really think I would do that? Did they care?
When I saw Andrea’s name, my vision blurred. I swiped at my eyes and realized I’d wiped away tears. They’d gone after Kenny…Beau had gotten into a fight.
I’d let it happen.
They’d cheapened the love I had for him, tried to turn it into something ugly when it was the only real thing I’d ever had.
What did you do to stop them? Would they have been able to do that if you’d spoken up?
I squeezed my eyes shut but didn’t try to ignore the thoughts swimming around in my head. I didn’t get that luxury, not when I’d left Beau to deal with this shit on his own.
Zeroing in on where I left off in the article, I found Andrea’s name. Each word I read made my blood pressure spike more intensely. I knew what she was going for with this article, what my promo team was probably pushing her to do, what I’d allowed her to do by ignoring her and then throwing my phone against the wall in anger. She was trying to spin this in my favor, using my sexuality and homophobia as an excuse for some of my off-field antics. And while in some ways what she said was true, it made anger and shame rain down on me.
This was my life, my story, my truth… I should have been the one telling it.
I deserved that, didn’t I? After all this fucking time, I deserved to say the words—all of them. I deserved to be happy. I deserved to figure out what I wanted, and to make it happen.
Because the only thing I did know was that I wanted Beau, and I wasn’t willing to give him up again. Not without a fight.