He shut his eyes, head coming to rest on his hands. “And you...you’re happy for me. I can feel it. I’m the one who’s scared, who’s holding back, who’s using you as an excuse. And you don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to be my ghost. You never would have wanted that. Right?”
The warmth of the metal in his hand was his only reply, but he felt a strange calm descending over him, the sort of full-body exertion that followed a tough workout, his body feeling warmer than it had in years, like the ice around his soul was finally melting in the flood of anger and truth that he couldn’t deny any longer. Truth was that Neal would never have wanted to be Apollo’s albatross, the 180-pound weight he lugged around with him every day, the shrine to the heart he used to have.
God, Neal would have hated who Apollo had become for a while there, but he’d be pretty damn proud of the guy who shredded his triceps reaching overhead to paint trim. The guy who was finally, finally taking charge of his future again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“We won!” Dylan looked around for Ben to high five. The fall soccer season was well underway, and today’s scrimmage would be a great warm-up for their game next week. After his help in the exhibition game, the team had welcomed him back for their competitive season, and he was loving the team camaraderie and the outlet of the game.
Because of his schedule, Ben didn’t make all the practices, but when he did, they often rode together, grabbing a beer on the way back. Back home, watching Isaiah’s revolving love life was just as entertaining as the game, and come Monday, he had a job he loved waiting for him. He had a great leaf craft in mind for the kids this week. All in all, it wasn’t a bad life.
And yet, he was still lonely. Soul-crushingly, painfully lonely, constantly aware of exactly what he was missing.
“Great job.” It wasn’t Ben’s voice and Dylan whirled around, scarcely hoping, but there he was. Apollo.
“You...you came to watch? The girls dragged you?” Chances were high this was about the girls, not the weird limbo they’d been in ever since their...hell, it wasn’t really a fight even. Their discussion. Him moving out. The weeks of second-guessing himself and barely restraining himself from going to Apollo, begging and cajoling him to try. But he’d known, deep in his marrow, that Apollo had to be the one to come to him.
And now he had. And Dylan honestly wasn’t sure how—or if—to react.
“No girls.” Apollo’s smile was a bit lopsided. “Just me. That okay?”
“I suppose.” Dylan scarcely trusted his voice to speak, and his body was still deciding whether it was angry. It had been a long damn wait for this moment, and his hope muscles had all but given out these past few weeks, replaced instead by his old enemies dread and doubt, and it was hard to get his mind to shift on a dime just because Apollo had shown up.
“I was thinking we could walk a bit? If you’re finished here?”
“We are, but I rode with Ben—”
“I can give you a ride back,” Apollo said quickly. “No problem at all.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” Dylan’s shoulders curved in, as if they could protect his heart by sheer bodily force. Now that this moment was here, he wasn’t sure he was ready for it, wasn’t sure he was ready to trust Apollo, wasn’t sure he trusted himself when it came right down to it.
“Please. Just talking. There’s some stuff I need to tell you, and I wasn’t sure you’d take my call. And I needed to see you in person.”
Dylan wasn’t sure whether he would have answered the phone either. In their time apart, he’d come to realize exactly how deeply he loved Apollo, and that had only strengthened his resolve that he wanted a true relationship of equals—he couldn’t risk being the one who cared and loved deeper.
Across the field, Ben gestured at Dylan’s stuff, eyebrows raised in clear question. It wouldn’t be fair to make Ben stick around. “Fine. You can give me a ride. But no promises.”
“Fair enough.” Apollo gave him a tentative smile, one that Dylan couldn’t quite return yet.
After grabbing his stuff, he jogged back to where Apollo stood. He looked damn good in civilian clothes—faded jeans and a blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
“So what’s up?” he asked as they headed down the path that led back to the parking lot. Dylan figured there was no need to make small talk, not when his heart was galloping like an angry stallion finally set free of the stable.
“Well...” Apollo rubbed his face. “I was wondering if you might want to come someplace with me.”
An outing? Where was Dylan’s apology? An explanation for the past few weeks? “Where?”
“I’m getting a new tattoo. Right here.” Apollo pointed to a bare patch of forearm.
“A new tattoo? But you said you were never getting ink again...”
“I said a lot of things.” Instead of heading straight for the cars, Apollo kept on the path, eyes forward, not on Dylan. “A lot of things I need to apologize for, actually.”
“Go on then.” Dylan’s throat was wool-blanket thick, but he wasn’t letting Apollo off the hook so easily.
“I’m sorry that I treated you so badly. Sorry that I was too scared to see what was right in front of my face. Mainly sorry that I kept you waiting so long. It’s not too late, is it?” Apollo sounded so genuinely panicked that Dylan had to laugh.
“No, it’s not too late,” Dylan admitted. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to let the hope monster out of its cage. “But I’m not going to lie about the waiting being easy. It sucked. And I can’t do it again. Can’t do the hot-cold thing we did all summer with you running and me chasing. I won’t go there again. I’m finally sleeping again after weeks of not, and I’m starting to find a life again with the soccer team and my new friends. I’m not ready to go back to that limbo land place if you’re not sure what you want.”
“I’m sure. I want you. Us. And I don’t want you going through hell, not ever again. I’m so sorry. For everything.” Apollo’s voice broke, and he still wasn’t meeting Dylan’s eyes. “I let you think this was all on you, when really I was just as invested as you, but I just couldn’t let myself see it. And I took it out on you—”
“You did,” Dylan agreed.
“And that wasn’t fair. I should have just faced up to my stupid self—”
“Oh, I don’t think you’re quite so bad. Tell me about the tattoo?”
“Well...” Apollo finally looked over at him, wariness in his eyes that Dylan hadn’t seen before. “It’s a puzzle piece.”
“A puzzle piece?” Dylan wasn’t sure he followed.
“Yeah.” Apollo’s strides lengthened, almost as if he might be as nervous as Dylan. “A small one. I’ve spent the last two years searching for a map. Or maybe a flowchart. Something to make sense of my life again. But now I realize...there is no map, just a puzzle to solve, one with jumbled pieces.”
“And you’ve solved it?”
“Not hardly.” Apollo’s laugh was warm, blanketing him like a favorite jacket. “But you, see, you’re an edge piece.”