The Downside of Love

  “So, do you have any plans tomorrow?”

  “Not sure, really. Was kind of thinking about going to the airport to get a few jumps in. Blake texted me the other day asking if I could help with some civilian jumps.”

  “Oh, really?” Her face falls flat. Shit. I kick myself mentally, watching how a giant, pink elephant settles his punk-ass between us.

  I’ll give you a guess what his name is.

  Colby.

  I should have realized mentioning jumping would remind her of him. Hell, that was the beginning of the end for them. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

  I was in such a goddamn awful mood. After being stripped bare by my father the night before, I went to the airfield, craving that sense of freedom I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere else. I never expected to see Colby and Rory. No, I’d been doing everything to avoid them, because at that point, I knew I was hopelessly obsessed with my best friend’s girlfriend. And also on that day, I was jealous of my best friend’s future, because it was supposed to be mine too. We were going to go to flight school. We were going to fly the skies together like we’d done everything else together during the last four years. We were supposed to be leaving Colorado Fucking Springs. We were supposed to find our freedom.

  And there they were, happy as fuck, holding hands and about to do a couple’s jump. It was a kick to the gut I couldn’t quite swallow. I wanted nothing more than to drive away—as far away as possible—but then I saw the trepidation in Rory’s eyes, the nerves. Even though she wasn’t mine to care for, I felt this burning need to be there for her, to make sure nothing went wrong and she had the best time.

  I wanted to be present for her first jump. I wanted to see if she felt like I felt when I was floating through the clouds.

  And she had.

  God, she’d had the same fucking dreamy look in her eyes after we landed that I have after every jump. She got it.

  She got me, even if she hadn’t realized it.

  It was just another nail to my forever bleeding heart. She loved skydiving. But she’d never be mine.

  Before that day, I’d considered her my best friend’s girlfriend. I helped her with Colby’s birthday and we hung out a few times, but nothing made me think she actually cared about me.

  That day, I realized I was more to her than Colby’s best friend. I mattered to her and that just about destroyed me. I liked it better knowing that I was nothing more than her boyfriend’s friend.

  But I was more.

  So much more.

  Clearing my throat, I stare at my plate and say, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “No.” She shakes her head, waving her hand in front of me. “Don’t apologize. I feel like maybe we should discuss it, you know, get it out in the open.”

  “Get what out in the open?”

  Looking up at me through those impossibly long lashes she says, “I dated your best friend.”

  Newsflash, already knew that. Believe me, I’ve cursed every morning I’ve woken up with the knowledge that she dated my best friend.

  “Kind of aware.” I chuckle, adding a little humor to the tension building between us.

  “I know, I just feel like we haven’t talked about it.”

  I take a bite of apple. “Didn’t think we needed to.”

  Thoughtfully she tilts her head to the side and studies me. “When was the last time you talked to Colby?”

  “Does it matter?”

  She nods. “It does.”

  Sighing, I lean back in my chair and play with an apple slice, head tilted down. “Graduation night. We went back to my place, drank, and then I left the next morning, spent a few weeks at Hardie’s house until his parents kicked me out for being a disrespectful dickhead. Not my best moment.” I rub my face with my hand. “It’s too hard, Rory, to talk to him. It’s too hard to talk to any of them, but mainly Colby, because I know the path he’s on is one I so desperately wanted for myself. I feel as if I don’t have any real direction anymore. It burns me.”

  “What about Hardie and Joey?”

  “Occasionally, but that’s still painful. I talk to Hardie every once in a while but that’s just to make up for punching a hole in his parents’ wall after a drunken tirade. He keeps tabs on me.”

  “You punched a hole in their wall?”

  Shifting in my seat, I look at the clock and say, “I think we should get going.”

  “We have time.” Of course she wouldn’t make it easy on me.

  “It was a fucked-up night consisting of me spiraling out of control, once again. I got shitfaced, acted like a complete douche, and tried to pick a fight with anyone that came my way, Hardie’s dog included. Try to imagine a drunk-off-his-ass man telling a French bulldog to stop looking at him. Not my finest moment.” God, I hate that I just fucking told her that.

  When I glance up, I expect to see judgment in her eyes, but instead, there is understanding. I don’t think she’s ever judged me. How is that possible?

  “Do you miss him?” she asks, throwing me for a loop.

  “Colby?” She nods. “I don’t know, do you?”

  Looking up carefully, I study her, my breath caught in my lungs, looking for any indication that maybe she’s still head over heels in love with him. “I’ll always miss him. He was a big part of my life for a small period of time. As a pilot in the Air Force, he’s tied to the sky, whereas I’m tied here. There are still times when Bryan needs me by his side, and I don't resent that. And I want someone who will stay. With me. So, I’ve come to accept that and am working on getting past the loss.” She takes a deep breath, as if to affirm her reasoning. A tiny sliver of me unknots, loosening the tightening in my chest. But I’m terrified to admit that any member of the Air Force, in any military branch, is expected to relocate when called. Not just pilots. That could be me. “I did the right thing, Stryder. I did the right thing for Colby. He had clung to his dream for so many years, and I'm glad I let him go to pursue that. And I know I did the right thing for me. My family needs me here, so this is where I'll stay.”

  How fucked up is it that I love her even more for how selfless she was. She did do the right thing.

  Continuing she says, “I don’t want it to be awkward for us, Stryder. I don’t want Colby to be something that hangs over us. You and Colby were best friends, and I hope that eventually you'll be able to get that back with him. But please don't worry about what I might be feeling.”

  “What are you feeling?”

  Taking the last bite of her sandwich, she chews before answering. “What am I really supposed to say to that? He was my first love. For a point in my life, I truly thought he would be my forever, but I know that isn’t a reality now. Do I think about him every now and then? Of course, but that’s bound to happen. But with each passing day, I feel myself grow stronger and stronger.”

  “And you think you’ll be able to get over him?”

  She doesn’t answer right away, but when she does, her answer does nothing for the painful yearning I have for her. “I hope so.”

  Chapter Eleven

  RORY

  It had to be done. He had to be talked about, because without bringing Colby into our developing friendship, I don’t think we could every truly relax around each other, and that’s what I want with Stryder. I want him to feel comfortable around me without feeling as though he’s walking on eggshells.

  What I wasn’t expecting was for him to tell me he hasn’t talked to Colby since graduation.

  I knew Colby and Stryder were on thin ice after Stryder found out he didn’t make flight school, but I wasn’t aware they stopped talking to each other altogether.

  I pull into the parking spot next to the track and put my little VW bug in park. Turning to a very cramped Stryder, I chuckle and say, “Maybe we can take your car next time.”

  “Why would you want to do that? I like driving with my knees pressing into my chest.” He opens the door and unfolds his large body. From my position in the driv
er’s seat, I can see him stretch his arms over his head, revealing the same patch of skin I saw last night, but this time, my eyes go to the prominent bulge in his shorts, the light fabric wrapping around his thickness. Nothing is defined, but from what I can tell, he’s well endowed and that drives a shiver down my spine.

  Blushing, I turn away, ashamed for staring, chastising myself for even letting myself get caught up in the moment of being eye level with his crotch.

  I shouldn’t be looking.

  Giving myself a few seconds, I snag my clipboard from behind me and exit the vehicle. After I’ve locked the car, I head toward Stryder, who has his hands pressed against the back of his neck, his biceps impossibly large straining the fabric of his shirt, as he surveys the land. All male, a finely toned athletic man with an air of darkness swirling around him.

  “Is there anything I need to know before helping out?”

  Pulling my gaze away from him—because honestly, why the hell am I staring?—I say, “There are a few athletes with autism, and their parents help out a lot, a few athletes with Down Syndrome, and then a few who are developmentally delayed. They are all really easygoing and love being outside. I wouldn’t treat them any differently than you would your friends, minus the swearing and all that.”

  He slowly nods. “So no saying fuck and pussy.”

  I snort and cough at the same time, the sound rather ugly but uncontrollable. “Oh my God, definitely no saying fuck or pussy.”

  Turning slightly, eyebrow raised he says, “Huh, never thought the word pussy would come out of your mouth.”

  I pat him on the shoulder. “Way worse has come out of my mouth, believe me.”

  His eyes narrow and the side of his jaw ticks, lips pursed. He doesn’t say anything, just grunts and follows closely behind. Wincing, I wonder how he must have taken that. I meant swear words, but I felt like it came out more seductively, maybe hinting toward the bedroom.

  Another blush creeps over my cheeks. Jeez, I need to get control of myself. Especially since this is the first time Stryder will be meeting Bryan. Realizing I should probably give him a heads-up, I turn around and walk backward while saying, “I forgot to mention, when you meet Bryan, just act normal but no loud noises.”

  “I can do that.” Biting his bottom lip, he wiggles his eyebrows at me and says, “Think he’ll like me?”

  Playfully I give Stryder a once-over and shake my head. “Probably not.”

  “What?” His eyebrows draw together. “Why the hell not? I’m a good time.”

  “You might be too much for him.” I smile and turn back around, walking through the gate to the track.

  “Too much? Fuck that, we’re going to be best friends by the end of this practice.”

  Stopping, I face him, hands on hips. “What did I say about swearing?”

  Sheepishly he cringes and asks, “Make sure you swear a lot?”

  “Stryder.”

  “Okay, I know, no swearing. I’m sorry. I got this. Totally under control. Don’t worry.”

  “Whaaaaaat? Dude, you tossed the shit out of that softball,” Stryder says to Bryan who surprisingly has taken to him easily.

  “Stryder,” I snap, for the fifth time during practice. “No swearing.”

  “I didn’t,” he replies, looking seriously perplexed.

  “Yes, you did.”

  “What did I say?” He hands Bryan another softball and steps out of the circle to give him some space. Bryan is at a level where he can’t quite use a real shot put yet, but he’ll get there.

  “You said shit,” I whisper.

  “Did I? Huh, I didn’t even notice.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “I could tell.”

  Wrapping his arm around me, he shakes my shoulders and says, “Come on, you’re not mad. Admit it, it’s fun having me here.”

  It’s true. I’ve had fun joking around with Stryder and watching him interact with the athletes, mainly Bryan. At first Bryan was a little standoffish. He didn’t take to Stryder like he immediately took to Colby but then again, when he met Colby, Bryan was in his environment, in his space, and comfortable. He felt safe. Attending practice is already pushing him out of his comfort zone, but with some smooth coaxing, some Credence Clearwater Revival playing from the phone in his pocket, and some ridiculous dance moves, he won Bryan over enough to let him hand him softballs.

  It’s a win in my book.

  And it was really cute to watch Stryder desperately try to get on Bryan’s good side. After a few failed attempts, I gave Stryder a few pointers. Had him play the music and talk about the Broncos. That loosened Bryan up, and then the dance moves, well, I think that made everyone happy. At one point, practice turned into a dance party, and for the life of me, I couldn’t stop it . . . at least not right away.

  Stryder might have sworn a little bit more than he should have, but what was funny was the way he tried to cover it up.

  Fuck, I mean fudge. Throw the fudge out of the thing.

  That was my favorite. It made me snort, especially when I caught the confused look on the athlete’s face.

  “Come on.” Stryder nudges me.

  Rolling my eyes and giving in, I say, “Fine, I guess I’m glad I invited you, despite the swearing.”

  “I knew it.” Cocky as ever, he gives Bryan another ball just as my mom walks up to us. Practice has ended, athletes are going home, and Bryan is getting a few more tosses in while I wait for everyone to be picked up. I usually don’t have to wait at all.

  “Why, hello,” my mom says, looking between me and Stryder, a hint of disapproval in her gaze.

  I might have forgotten to tell her Stryder would be here.

  “Mrs. Oaks, hi. How are you?” Stryder waves his hand, keeping it at that.

  “Well, and yourself?”

  Stryder nods and looks over at Bryan. “I’m doing all right. Happy to get out and do something different for the weekend. Your son has quite the arm on him.”

  “Yes, he’s getting pretty good. We’re so excited that he’s ventured out to do something different.” Taking a second, she says, “How’s your new job? It can take a while to settle in after finishing years of study.”

  Ooo . . . I close my eyes, wishing my mom had some kind of filter. I know she’s trying to make small talk, but come on, I just told her the other day how unhappy he is. Work is not the thing to talk about with Stryder.

  Putting on a good face, he says, “It’s work,” and leaves it at that. He nods toward the field. “I’m going to go grab the balls and pack them up.”

  Stryder jogs off, leaving me alone with my mom. Before she can say anything, I say, “He’s staying with me and Ryan. It’s fine.”

  Ignoring me, she says, “What happened to letting him figure it out on his own?”

  I bite on my bottom lip and turn my back completely away from Stryder. “Mom, he is so lost right now. He admitted to me last night that he hit rock bottom. Before we came here, he told me he hasn’t talked to Colby since graduation. He doesn’t have a relationship with his family. He has nobody. I don’t know, I just feel like there was a reason why he came back into my life.”

  “You don’t have to save everyone, honey.” My mom lifts my chin.

  “I know, but I can’t walk away either, not after seeing the pain in his eyes that night at the bar. He might have been drunk, but he was hurting, like he’s disappointed and embarrassed for the way his life has panned out.” I can’t even imagine what his family said when he didn’t get into flight school that drove him to hitting rock bottom.

  “I can understand that, but I want you to make sure you realize you might not be able to help him. This might just be all on him.”

  “I know. But maybe I can be the one who possibly helps him find his way.”

  A few short seconds later, Stryder comes up to us, arms full of softballs. He stuffs them in the bag and then ties it off. Bryan is sitting on the grass, next to the bag, rocking back and forth, when Stryder squats down and says, ??
?Bryan, I had an awesome time, man. Thanks for showing me your whip of an arm.” I watch Stryder hesitate for a second and then stand. “I will give you guys some privacy. I’ll wait for you at the car. Mrs. Oaks, it was really nice seeing you again.”

  “You too, Stryder.”

  When he takes off, my mom grips my shoulder and says, “I can see what you mean. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, does it?”

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t.”

  My mom pulls me into a hug, her embrace comforting and just what I need. “I love your heart, Rory.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “Are you awake?” I whisper from my bed.

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “Nothing, just couldn’t sleep. I think I’m still getting used to having a roommate. You breathe loudly.”

  “What?” He sits up on his bed and looks over at me, the moonlight from the window casting light on the end of my bed, not allowing him a good look at my playful face.

  Chuckling, I say, “Just kidding. But it was fun to see your reaction.”

  Lying back down, he says, “You’re really funny, you know that?”

  “I like to think so sometimes.” Pausing, I say, “Sorry my mom asked about your job. I know you don’t care to talk about it.”

  “Ah, it was nothing.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve been quiet ever since.” He was different after we left the track and field stadium. He went off somewhere after we got back home and when he came back, I might have sniffed him when he was close, looking to see if he smelled like alcohol. He didn’t, which made me feel guilty for assuming. “Where did you go?”

  Taking a second, I hear him shift on the blow-up mattress and then say, “Do you really want to know?”

  “I mean . . . do I?”

  Chuckling, he says, “You might judge me.”