Three to Play (15 page)

“You seemed to turn to stone. Why?”

“I don’t remember that.”

“But you do.”

Clint’s face went bright red with anger and fear. “Either you let me fix things or you don’t. I don’t give a damn.”

It killed her to see him suffer so much. How long had he carried this secret? How awful it must be. She shouldn’t care, but she did. Their lovemaking was more than just sex. She saw Clint’s walls come down for a moment. He had been open, if only for a few moments.

She pushed on for Clint and for herself. “But you do give a damn. Why else are you here? And you do remember, Clint. Tell us the truth. What’s your secret?”

* * * *

Clint did remember, but he could never tell them. Never.

Why was Beth so insistent? Why was Dustin? This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Clint had his reasons. They couldn’t know them. Not the real reasons. Ever.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” The lie stuck in his throat like a hundred tangled fishhooks.

“But you do, Clint.” Beth sat down on the sofa where he sat last Friday night when everything began to spin out of control. “Dustin, let him go.”

Dustin obeyed her and stepped back.

Clint slumped forward away from the wall. Instantly, he missed Dustin’s hands on his shoulders. A pitfall loomed on the path should they continue this line of talk.

Gotta keep my head.

Beth patted the middle cushion where she’d reclined between him and Dustin. “Clint, please come sit next to me.”

But he didn’t move to the sofa. Being that close to her, to her body, to her softness would loosen his resistance. Every one of his muscles seemed to contract like a vise. He needed to get her off this line of talk. Get back to what he’d come here for. Make things right. “None of that matters. We need to be back together on the morning shift. Let me fix this, Beth.” The desperation to convince exploded inside him rocking the very crux of his being. “I can do it. I really can.”

“But something has been troubling you, and it isn’t about Candi or the station. It’s something else, something you’ve carried for a long time. And I think that you came close to letting it go last Friday. Didn’t you?” Beth’s eyes glistened brightly, revealing the sincere concern she had for him. “Aren’t you tired of all the lies? Don’t you want to stop hiding, Clint?”

Beth’s words were like truth serum entering his blood stream, urging him to answer.
Oh God.

“I don’t have anything to hide.” Clint swallowed hard to keep the truth down.

“You can trust us,” Dustin stated. “We’re here for you.”

Clint wanted to trust them. But he couldn’t. They wouldn’t understand. No one ever could. Hell, he didn’t understand it himself.
 

Tears fell from Beth’s eyes. Tears for him. “How long have you carried this burden?”

Did she really see through him, through his facade? The memory of his grandfather’s scorn resurfaced.

The feelings inside him that he’d been able to keep under control rattled against their chains. These two were tearing at the ancient metal. Chunks of his control gave way.

“Please, won’t you come sit down next to me?” Even more tears streamed down her cheeks.

Her unshakeable kindness left him unable to resist her command, and he joined her on the sofa as instructed. That was as far as he’d let her take him. No further. No matter what spell she had over him, he must resist. Clint clenched his jaw tightly.

I have to keep my mouth shut.

Beth put her arms around him and squeezed. He wanted to run, to scream, to wrap his arms around her.
 

“What happened to hurt you so deep, Clint?” Beth’s tone softened.

Clint had never been able to rely on anyone except himself. How he wanted to trust her. He really did. Their night together opened up old wounds in ways he’d not felt since that night so long ago. But trust wasn’t a luxury he could afford. Since thirteen, he’d been on his own. Depending on no one but himself. That had been Clint’s
modus operandi.
It was how he survived.

And how had that worked out for him? Until he met Dustin, he’d been alone. But even after their friendship deepened, Clint held himself back. Not allowing Dustin to know him fully. His plan had been to tie them together permanently with a spectacular career. The sex they enjoyed sharing women had been an added benefit. Clint had navigated that course for several years, walking with scissors—but not running.

The last several weeks with Beth had knocked him adrift. His and Dustin’s intense desire for her had been clear from the moment they met. And as he’d gotten to know her, his longing grew. He’d been unable to get his head around what to do with that. And now, she shined a bright light into his darkest places.

Fuck.

Dustin sat down on the other side of him. “Trust us both. Nothing you can say will ever change how I feel about you. Nothing.”

“Me either,” Beth added.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Everything would change. Just like all those years ago. And he would be alone, again. Clint couldn’t bear the thought.

“Believe me, buddy.” Dustin’s arm came around Clint’s back, interlocking with Beth’s.

Sitting between these two amazed him. He leaned back into their arms. Why had he been running so long from that awful night? Their touches were gentle and comforting.

Could he take the risk of sharing his memories? Hell, he’d worked hard to bury them away all these years. Why dig them up now?

“No matter what you say, it will be okay.” The tenderness in Dustin’s voice cut through Clint’s defenses like a warm knife through soft butter.

Beth grabbed his hand and squeezed. Dustin mirrored Beth and took Clint’s other hand.

At that very moment, it happened. Clint believed. Believed in Dustin and in Beth. And he trusted them like he’d never been able to trust anyone, not even himself.

The walls he built around his grandfather’s scorn crumbled.

It all came out. The old pain. At first through clenched teeth, in choked sentences. “I was only twelve when I went to live with my grandfather…” Then, stronger as buried rage clamored to the surface.

* * * *

A car accident killed his mother, father, and infant brother.

His other siblings, three younger sisters, went to live with his mother’s only sister in Florida. She told Clint that she just couldn’t take on another mouth to feed. His aunt had two girls of her own. She also told him that she didn’t have any knowledge on how to raise a boy.

His aunt patted him on the head like he was a dog right before he got on the bus that would take him from his home in Portland to the man he’d only seen in pictures on his father’s nightstand.

“Clint, you’re twelve years old. You’re practically a grownup. You should understand.”

But he hadn’t. How had he been able to choke back the tears when he stepped up on the bus? He waved at his sisters through the window as they were shepherded into his aunt’s car. Once out of sight, the tears fell until he finally drifted off to sleep in his seat on the bus.

Clint was sent alone to his only living grandparent, James Thomas Moore, twenty miles from Interstate ninety-five on the border of New Brunswick and Maine. It took less than a half-day after Clint’s arrival for him to realize he was nothing more than free labor to the old man. His grandfather was a man of very few words. And Clint’s loneliness grew. Try as he might to win the man’s approval, that never happened. Especially after that one night.

Clint was thrilled when a teenage boy, a year older than he, came to work for Clint’s grandfather for the summer.

Clint’s room had two twin beds. His grandfather motioned to the teenager to take the free bed.

“Nevah too early to learn to share, boy.”

Clint was thrilled with the boy’s arrival. They became great friends over the next few weeks. The teen gave Clint’s grandfather a secret nickname—Mr. Ruff Ruff. It meant, all bark and no bite. The sadness of losing his parents and the loneliness of being away from his sisters faded in the company of the boy.

Everything changed the night of Clint’s thirteenth birthday. No gift, cake, or even acknowledgement, though his grandfather knew what the date meant.

Clint and the boy were sent to bed right after dinner. Mornings always started hours before the sun came up.

“Happy birthday, Clint.” The boy’s words and smile pleased Clint.

It rained, and though it was early summer, the temperature was cold. The threadbare blankets weren’t able to keep Clint warm. The teen suggested that they double up their blankets so they both could get warmer.

The boy smiled at Clint. “That’s how the cowboys kept warm on cattle drives.”

“Really?” Clint asked.

“Yep.”

Hormones ignited inside him. He touched the boy’s shoulder. They stared at each other, leaned in and kissed.

* * * *

Clint put his hands up to his face. The memory of that night overwhelmed him.

“What happened, Clint?” Beth touched his shoulder.

“My grandfather caught us kissing. He jerked the boy up out of the bed, and told me to stay put. I heard my grandfather beat the boy. When the screams died down, my grandfather came back alone. He glared at me. Then told me to go to sleep before slamming the door.”

“What happened to the boy?”

“From my window, I saw him walking to the road. I wanted him to look back, but he didn’t. I never saw him again. Two months later, I left for Portland and never returned.”

Beth choked out, “My God, you’ve carried that all these years.”

He never shared any of that with anyone. And while telling them, tears flowed out of his eyes like a dam bursting. He felt the salty tracks they left on his cheeks. He felt like he’d run a marathon.

“What happened to that fucking grandfather of yours?” Dustin spat out. “I’d be happy to take the old man out.”

“Too late, Dustin. My youngest sister found me about two years ago. She called me the day before his funeral to tell me the old man died.”

“You were only thirteen when you left for Portland.” Beth’s eyes were bright red and tears fell freely from her eyes. “Did you have other family there?”

“No. I could pass myself off as eighteen. That’s when I got my first job in radio. I worked overnights at a little station.”

Dustin looked at him. “You’ve been carrying that for a long time.”

“Yes.”

Beth moved in close, her face inches from his. She kissed the tear remnants on his cheeks. “So, is that why you froze when Dustin touched your shoulder?”

“Yes.” Clint felt like a deflated balloon.

“You were scared that Dustin would realize you’re in love with him?”

Chapter Twelve

“Yes, I’m in love with Dustin.” Clint finally said it out loud.

Had he made a mistake?

It was one thing to tell his tale of pain, but another to admit to the secret of his love for Dustin. Clint feared how Dustin might react.

He didn’t expect reciprocation sexually. He’d seen Dustin’s skill in the bedroom. He didn’t believe that his friend’s tastes ran to the man-on-man variety. Clint also didn’t expect an equal return emotionally, though he and Dustin had been close for years. Would his admission of love end their friendship? Clint’s gut seized into a knot.

“I thought that might be the case.” Dustin’s stare pierced his very center.

That he suspected astonished Clint. “You did? How long have you known?”

“A while,” Dustin nodded, “though you should call me dense. Before Friday night with Beth, I was never certain.”
 

“Really?” Clint couldn’t get his head around it.