Page 33 of Until He Scores

Yeah. For sure.

Chapter 13

Pope

It didn’t take long before I had Thierry in the passenger seat of his truck. Wes had handed me the keys on the way out when July noticed Thierry was drinking a little too much. Giving me the keys made it easier come morning. I could always have Wes come get me, or I could walk my happy ass to the compound and grab my bike. Either way, I knew Thierry would be safe and sound.

As I pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road, Thierry glanced at me. He said nothing. The intensity in his gray eyes held a wealth of unrequited emotions and fear. Our argument, then subsequent conversation, cost him more than I’d ever understand. I never had to put myself out there like Thierry had to, or like he did with me.

He risked everything.

I’d given nothing.

I tapped my thumb on the steering wheel as I drove through the empty streets of Murfreesboro. The caution lights flashed, coloring half of Thierry’s face in the yellow glow, and the streetlights dimmed. There were fewer cars out. Fewer people. The city was officially sleeping. I enjoyed being out in the wee hours of the morning. The tranquility allowed me to think.

As I came to a stoplight, I cut my gaze to Thierry, who’d nodded off at some point. He might hate me, but he also had faith in me. Well, almost, anyway. He only trusted me when it counted. Any other time, not so much. I mean, we’d been friends since we were little kids, and he never once told me he liked guys or even hinted at it until he kissed me.

Was I such a horrible person—friend he couldn’t confide in me? Had I been so awful to him, he didn’t want me to know? I stared at the turnoff to head to his parents’ place. If I turned right, I’d go back toward the shop and my apartment upstairs. Seemed like a straightforward decision. I should take him home and figure out how to get back later. Yet the thought of leaving him after we made a small bit of progress didn’t sit right with me, either. No, I couldn’t say I knew what I wanted from him. But I had promised to figure it out.

I turned right, driving along the lonely roads until the shop came into view. That place was all I had left. Me, a thirty-five-year-old man confused about his sexuality with a father who did everything in his power to join my mother in her grave.What the absolute fuck?Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have considered Thierry as a partner. Sitting next to him, however, was a whole other situation. Because deep down, I felt that connection between us. I thought it’d been our friendship. The excitement of seeing him at school and spending the night at his place.

Maybe I’d always known, and that’s why I tried way too hard in high school to be “normal.”

Nevertheless, in my attempt to move on and do the honorable thing—allow Thierry the freedom to be the best damn hockey player I knew lurked under the surface—I broke him. That idea ripped at my soul. The looks of longing. The hesitation in his greetings and the way he’d stare, just stare at me, almost like he silently willed me to see him, left me feeling like an asshole.

I pulled in behind the building and parked the truck in the spot reserved for my bike. Turning the vehicle off, I sat there, staring out at nothing. It would be so easy to just say fuck it all, and give in to whatever this was between us, but wouldn’t it be a lie? If I couldn’t say I was at least bisexual, how could I fully commit to Thierry?

My thoughts circled as his soft snores filled the cab of the truck. God, I wished he’d been sober tonight, though I understood why he got shit-faced in the first place. In his shoes, I’d have done the same. Still, if he was sober, we could have talked. Could have held a rational conversation about how things were going between us. Now, I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and hold him while he slept.

The crazy part about the whole situation; I’d left Murfreesboro to find myself. Couch surfed, backpacked, and did odd jobs to fund my trip of self-discovery. I could have saved myself the time and money and stayed by Thierry’s side if I’d been stronger. If I hadn’t been worried about others' opinions about me. Maybe my hockey career wouldn’t have ended. Hockey had been the one thing that connected us on so many levels. Perhaps, if I stayed by his side, even after the kiss, he’d have opened up to me about being gay and the wall between us wouldn’t exist.

Perhaps he’d still have my back, too.

Fuck, I hated that wall between us.

I glanced at him again, this time taking in his strong features. From his nose that’d been broken more than a few times over the years, to his angular jaw and full lips. His curly hair that he’d decided to grow out, which was the right decision. Thierry wasn’t bulky, his muscular body was honed to perfection, even with his bum knee. There probably wasn’t even an ounce of body fat on him. Whoever scored Thierry, they’d be one lucky son of a bitch.

I pulled the keys from the ignition and tucked them into my jacket pocket for safe keeping. There was no point sitting out here all night, plus, pretty soon the effects of Thierry’s night would be catching up with him in the form of a hellacious headache. It was best we went inside.

As I reached over to wake Thierry, hating even the thought of disturbing him, his eyes opened, and he blinked a few times. He glanced around the darkened area behind the shop then frowned. “Where are we?”

“My shop,” I said, prepared for an argument to ensue.

Instead, Thierry nodded. “Okay.” He fiddled with the latch for a second before popping open the door.

I followed suit, hopping out first then cutting around the back of the truck to assist Thierry as he got out. This time, he took me up on my offer to help him. He looped his arm around my shoulder and neck and leaned into me. My body pinged to life, lighting up like a damn Christmas tree as sparks of electricity and recognition shot through me with such force, I was giddy from the reaction.

And shocked.

I again reminded myself I was straight. Nothing was going to happen between us. Even with the chiding, excitement coiled in my belly. My palms itched with anticipation. I had no business being this happy, especially after the conversation we had at the compound. Any hope of exploring this thing between us was probably dead. There was also the fact Thierry was drunk. No way in hell I’d take advantage of the situation. If or when we decided to speak on the subject again, I wanted us both sober and consenting.

Yet the tingle remained, and anticipation hummed to life simmering under the surface.

“Why’d you bring me here?” Exhaustion tinged Thierry’s words, along with the slur of being inebriated.

“I figured if I took you home, your parents might question what happened or you’d have to make other arrangements to get back to the city for practice. This way, you can leave in the morning, and I can call Wes to get my bike back.”

He grunted. “Sounds inconvenient.”

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