Colorado Connection (Colorado Heart Book 6) (14 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Jazz realized he may have made a mistake and waited too long. Every few days like clockwork, he’d received an email from Matthew. There were times when he would sit in his apartment in the dark, a beer or something stronger in his glass, and read them all while he wallowed in self-pity, but he'd never responded. It took him a few days to figure out the emails had stopped. He’d waited another week before depression really set in. Two days ago, he’d finally broken down and sent a reply, just two words:
You there?
But Matthew had ignored him. He’d not received any notes back, no texts, no phone calls, and that scared him. What if Matthew had died, or worse, really rejected him?

The sun was up, but like most days, he didn’t want to get out of bed until it was worth his time. Most of the good stuff happened online after darkness hit and the shadows ruled. He’d just rolled to his side, pulling the sheets over his head, when a knock sounded on his door. He burrowed down deeper, ignoring the intrusion. Answering meant he’d have to acknowledge that other people existed. He’d be forced to respond to requests, maybe carry on conversations with people, and he wasn’t ready for that. His little foray into the bar had shown him how ill equipped in public he really was, and for now, it was best just to avoid people.

The knock sounded again, and he pulled the pillow over his head, but the pounding only grew louder. He tossed the pillow to the ground and let out a frustrated growl.

“I’m fucking coming,” Jazz yelled, wishing he had a video monitor and could see who was at his door, but in this neighborhood, a camera would get stolen. He sat up slowly, pissed that he’d left his crutches across the room and he hadn’t strapped on his leg yet.

There was more knocking as he launched himself out of the bed towards the dresser. He braced his arms against the solid surface, snarling to himself about the asshole who was disturbing his day. He grabbed his crutches, still bitching about the fucker at his door. His anger was high, and he planned on letting the idiot disturbing his peace know exactly how he felt. Once already, since moving into this shithole of an apartment, someone had pounded on his door to tell him he couldn’t park in the handicap spot. He’d taken off his leg, showing them the stump, asking them if their leg had been blown off in battle too. That had shut them up.

Times like these were when he really noticed his lack of ability. He could pretend he was close to normal when his leg was on, his pants covering the plastic and carbon fiber, giving the illusion he was whole. But now, with his shorts on, his stub almost showing, leaving nothing to guesswork, the reality was all too evident.

Anger pulsed through him as another knock sounded. Who the fuck cared so much about him parking in the handicap spot? Jazz yanked the door open, ready to give the jerk a piece of his mind. He moved his crutches back so he could get the door open enough for the asshole to see his missing leg. He sucked in a breath, words about ready to fly when he glanced up and saw who was standing on his doorstep. All of the fight bled from him. He took a step backwards, stumbling as he lost his balance. His leg wasn’t there to support him, and he started to tumble.

Matthew reached out, grabbing the front of his shirt then his arm, pulling him close, pressing their chests together as Matthew saved him from crashing to the floor. His lips were only a few millimeters from Matthew’s neck, his hands clutching Matthew’s shirt. He drew in a deep breath through his nose, getting a good whiff of soap, shampoo, and something that was all Matthew. His resistance faltered and he melted against his old lover, fitting perfectly against the hard plains and sculpted muscles. Matthew was bigger, his arms and shoulders larger, but his hands—God, those hands—were just like they’d been before. They felt the same way. They held him just the same.

It was painful and beautiful, amazing and gut-wrenching all at the same time. He hated and loved Matthew. Above all, he knew nothing would ever be like it was before.

With Matthew absent, the ache had lessened a small amount. Maybe not enough for him to move on—hell, he would never move on, but at least he hadn't thought of Matthew every second of every day, and he hadn't remembered exactly the way the touches from his lover had felt, or the way Matthew had smelled. One touch from Matthew, and all of it came back—the kisses, the hugs, the lovemaking that had left him breathless.

“Jazz,” Matthew whispered.

Matthew's voice was another layer of pain added to what he already felt. Jazz tried to talk, to tell Matthew to go away, that he wasn’t wanted, but Jazz couldn’t speak the lies. No matter how broken he was, he couldn’t tell Matthew to leave, not when he finally had his dream man in his arms again.

Matthew’s lips were on his cheek, his chin, then his mouth, and Jazz wanted it. He wanted to feel Matthew wrapped around him, their legs entwined. He thought about how they had fit together, then reality hit and he remembered his injuries, the trauma. He ripped his mouth away from Matthew’s, pushing to get free, but Matthew wasn’t letting go.

“Stop. Let me go.” Jazz sucked in a breath, glad he’d finally found his voice.

“If I let go, you’ll fall.” Matthew’s words were soft, his tone gentle. The kindness floated over Jazz so even his skin ached.

“Please,” Jazz begged, knowing if they stayed touching for one more second, he would cave and he couldn’t give in.

“Jazz.” Matthew’s voice was filled with pain, and love, and longing so thick Jazz felt it. Then Matthew said the words he’d wanted to hear and hated all at the same time. “I still love you.”

His heart cracked. and his mind fuzzed. The words were too much, and he cried out as anger bled from him, seeping from the deepest parts of his pain. He screamed and beat at Matthew’s chest, then his back when Matthew wrapped him in a tight hug. But his pounding didn’t loosen Matthew’s grip or stop his soothing words. Jazz screamed some more and cried a lot, his breath hitching as he finally exhausted his rage.

Matthew scooped Jazz up and carried him to the bed in the corner, dropping to the mattress. Jazz was almost in Matthew’s lap but his ass was on the bed, so their eyes were level. He noticed Matthew had shut the door at some point but he wasn’t sure when.

“I will always love you,” Matthew said.

“I’m damaged,” Jazz whispered as his eyes dipped to Matthew’s perfect body.

“I love you,” Matthew declared, his voice fierce.

“I’ll need help forever. I can’t even stand in the shower.”

“I love you.” Matthew cupped Jazz’s chin and lifted his head. Their gazes met, and Jazz shivered.

“The scars are ugly and…” Jazz couldn’t say it, couldn’t tell the truth about the extent of his injuries.

Matthew shook his head and smoothed his thumb over Jazz’s lips. “I love you.”

“I can’t… I can’t be as active as I was. Everything still hurts.”

“Nothing will stop my love. I love you, Jordan Bergeron. You matter, not how many feet you have, but you. What’s in your heart and your head is all that matters.”

“But—God, this is difficult. Matthew, I can’t… I just can’t.”

“Jazz, you could have lost more when that bomb went off, but none of that matters. I don’t care that some mornings I’ll have to carry you to the bathroom, or there might be times when we want to do some activity but you can’t. I don’t care about any of that. I want to spend my life with you. You lost a small part of your leg, not your heart or your brain, that’s what makes up you. I can’t stand not being a part of your life. I miss you.”

Jazz blew out a breath and shook his head. He wanted so much, but more than wanting his body to be whole, he wanted Matthew in his life.

“Don’t you miss me?” Matthew whispered.

Matthew’s question was so innocent. He could end it now by telling Matthew a lie or he could extend the torture, pushing him over the edge by stating the truth. Surely, Matthew wouldn’t want him if he knew. God, he didn’t even want himself. Why hadn’t he ended it already? He could have easily explained what had really happened over email, but he had needed to see Matthew again. Hell, he wanted Matthew more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life and giving Matthew up had been too difficult.

Their gazes met and the lines around Matthew’s eyes softened as they stared at each other. The truth must have been evident in his eyes, because Matthew’s mouth curved up and he leaned in, brushing their lips together.

“Jazz, please promise you won’t hide from me again.”

“I-I…” He swallowed and leaned his head against Matthew’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Babe, I get it. I understand. But moving forward, please don’t hide from me.”

Jazz leaned back shaking his head. Their gazes connected again, and he had to tell him, though the words hurt to say.

“I can’t be with you, because…” He trailed off as his throat closed up.

“Why?” Matthew’s brows bunched and his mouth turned down in a frown.

“I’m not whole.”

“Jazz, I know about your leg and that doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not my leg.” The words were barely whispered, as if he could keep the truth from Matthew if he stayed quiet. Though, he knew he would have to tell Matthew everything.

A finger was placed under Jazz’s chin and gentle pressure applied, forcing him to look up. Matthew’s eyes were narrowed; his lips thinned. “Tell me.”

“I can’t. It’s too…”

“We can work through anything.”

“Anything? Anything?” Jazz felt unhinged, his anger rising. “Even my cock getting shredded and now I can’t really get hard, not like I used to. And I lost one ball. Are you prepared for that?”

Matthew drew in a sharp breath, his eyes going wide. Jazz was glad for the silence because words would hurt. Excuses would be given once Matthew saw how bad it was, and Jazz wasn’t ready to deal with those.

Defeat sucked at his soul. “Just fucking leave.”

Matthew shook his head and stayed put. “You’re more than just your dick. If that’s all I wanted, I would have just fucked some random guy. Which, I haven’t slept with anyone, not since you. I haven’t kissed or touched anybody else. It’s always been you, just you. I love you, no one else.” Matthew’s eyes were filled with intensity and he leaned close. “I mean, if our situations were reversed, if I was the one who’d been hurt, wouldn’t you still want me?”

He wanted to lie, to tell Matthew he would've walked away, but he couldn’t, not with Matthew’s intense gaze on him, looking directly into his soul. Jazz couldn’t hold Matthew’s stare and had to turn his head, but Matthew didn’t let him get away with being a coward.

“No, you don’t get to hide. You’ve been hiding from me for too long.”

He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. “It’s too much. I don’t know that I can let you see me like this.”

“It’s me. Don’t you remember what it was like?”

His eyes flashed open and his head shot up. “What it was like? Every single second of every single day. That’s the only thing that keeps me going. Do I remember what it was like? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Matthew’s eyes went wide, and Jazz knew he needed to calm down or he’d risk everything, telling Matthew exactly how much he'd thought about the past and them together and how much he wanted that again. He was unhinged, wild, on the edge, and losing control. He wanted to feel Matthew in his arms. Desire twisted through him, and as his cravings built, the anger didn’t abate. He needed to touch, to taste, to play out those memories, but the best he could do was push Matthew away so he could have a normal life.

“No,” Matthew said.

The one word was said with finality, and Jazz wondered if Matthew was done. Would he walk away?

“What do you mean, no?” Jazz asked.

“I’m not giving up that easily. Kiss me and then look me in the eyes and tell me you’re ready to end it.”

He shook his head, knowing if their lips met and Matthew walked away, it would shatter his carefully constructed life. Jazz tried to back away, but Matthew held him close. He stared at Matthew’s eyes but let his gaze flick to Matthew’s mouth. He let loose a sigh, knowing how deliciously devastating those lips were.

Matthew leaned in, his fingers toying with the sensitive skin on Jazz’s neck. He was so close that Jazz could see flecks of gold in Matthew’s brown eyes and smell the fresh peppermint on his breath. One kiss, then he could lie to Matthew and send him away. He would never have to let Matthew see the full extent of the damage.

Jazz couldn’t stop himself from touching, though he knew it would make everything worse once Matthew realized how disgusting the truth of his injuries really was. He lifted his hand, letting the pads of his fingers brush over Matthew’s lower lip. Matthew surprised him by sucking on one finger. The warmth of his mouth shot all the way to Jazz’s balls, causing all hell to break loose. Desire skyrocketed and he felt something he’d not felt for a long time. He started to get a little hard. It shocked Jazz, and he gasped. Matthew took advantage of the moment, removing Jazz’s finger from his mouth before he met Jazz’s lips in a crushing kiss that stole his breath. Matthew’s tongue played havoc on his senses as they twisted together, driving him crazy with each lick.

Matthew ended the kiss and leaned back, lifting his brows. “Look me in the eyes and tell me it’s over. That you want me to leave.”