Roughing the Kicker (Austin Troopers)

Chapter Twelve

A fter a low-key afternoon with Cutter on the trail, Rye was in no hurry to go back home and face Kristen. Knowing she’d been lying to him all week made Rye furious, and he didn’t know if he could avoid confronting her when he saw her again. And if he did confront her, it would likely end badly.

Talking to Cutter was surprisingly easy. Even with the undercurrent of attraction between them, an attraction that scared him, Rye was completely relaxed with Cutter. He didn’t want the afternoon to end.

“Do you have to rush home?” Cutter asked when they got home to his condo. “If not, do you want to come inside for a beer and watch a little bit of football?”

“Home is the last place I want to be right now,” Rye said. “A beer sounds great.”

“I have a couple of crowlers I picked up at Hand Wing Brewing after last Sunday’s home game,” Cutter said. “Rosie’s wife, Margie, her brother owns the brewery. I don’t know if you knew that.” He got his keys from the pouch on his bike unlocked the front door.

“I heard that, yeah,” Rye said. “I like their beer. I knew some of the guys were headed there after that game, but I wasn’t in the mood. I don’t get out much these days.” He missed socializing with the guys on the team and was aware he’d become increasingly isolated from them as his relationship deteriorated. With her erratic behavior, Rye didn’t want to take Kristen to team functions, and if he went by himself, he always worried about what he would go home to.

“If you wait here for a second, I’ll go open the garage door, and we can put the bikes in there.”

Rye waited outside Cutter’s condo until he heard the garage door, and then wheeled both bikes over that way. The single garage was neat and tidy, with an assortment of sports equipment, including a kayak, inside, along with a blue Ford Explorer. He got the impression Cutter was a very athletic guy and into outdoor sports.

“You can keep your bike in here until you leave,” Cutter said. “It’s probably safer than in the back of your truck.”

“Probably.” Cutter’s neighborhood appeared nice and safe, but there was no need to take chances.

“Follow me.” Cutter led the way from the garage inside the house. His condo featured an open floor plan, neatly decorated in black and gray with a smattering of red accents.

“I like your place,” Rye said as he looked around. “You have an eye for design.”

Cutter chuckled. “I’m a gay man. I guess you can say it comes naturally to me.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Maybe, but you were thinking it.” Cutter smiled. “Admit it.”

“I don’t like to draw stereotypes,” Rye insisted.

“It’s okay. They exist for a reason.” He nodded in the direction of the living room. “Go sit down, turn on the TV. I’ll get us some drinks.”

“You don’t need any help?”

Cutter shook his head. “Nope. I got it.”

Rye wandered into the living room, finding the remote on the coffee table. He picked it up and aimed it at the giant TV on the wall. It looked to be about the size of the one Rye had at home in his study. He was forced to put it there because Kristen insisted a sixty-inch television didn’t fit with her décor. She was probably right, but Rye didn’t particularly care for her decorating tastes, finding their whole house to be rather stark and sterile. The only room she allowed him to put his touch on was the study. He preferred Cutter’s place. It was neat and uncluttered yet appeared lived in and masculine at the same time.

The TV came on, and Rye located the football game just as Cutter came into the room holding two beers poured into pint glasses. “Thanks,” he said, taking one. He sat down on the sofa, and Cutter sat next to him, seemingly careful to keep some distance between them

“You live here alone, then?” Rye asked, and Cutter laughed.

“Obviously. If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be inviting you here.”

“I figured,” Rye said. “Just making sure.” He had enough issues with his fiancée slapping him around. He sure didn’t need a jealous boyfriend coming after him.

“You mentioned things are difficult with Kristen right now,” Cutter said, “and I get the impression you don’t want to go home very badly. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I mean, no, I don’t want to go home,” Rye said. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to Cutter about it, either. Though it might do him some good if he did. “I called you this afternoon because I needed to get out of the house.” He took a drink of beer before setting the glass down and focusing on the game for a moment. Houston was beating Jacksonville. “Kristen is... dealing with some personal struggles,” he managed. “She has good days and bad, but it makes things difficult around the house sometimes. We’ve been arguing a lot more recently.”

“Arguing?” Cutter raised an eyebrow. “Or fighting?”

“Is there a difference?” Rye asked, perhaps a little too strongly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You can say as much or as little as you want. I’m your friend, regardless.”

“And I appreciate that.” Rye let out a sigh. “Whatever you call it, it’s hard.”

“I’m sure it is.” Cutter drank from his glass before setting it down on a coaster on the table. “These fights... arguments, if you prefer. Are they physical?” He shook his head. “You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable. I told you I wouldn’t pry.”

Rye nodded, appreciating that. “Most of the time, no. At least not until recently.” He raked a hand through his hair. “It’s gotten worse, though. She’s shoved me a few times,” he said. “Like last week. You were right that the bruising on my back wasn’t from the game.”

“What happened, then?” Cutter asked.

“A disagreement. Over Kristen’s... struggles. I should have been more sensitive, but I wasn’t.” There he went again blaming himself and excusing her behavior. “She pushed me, not very hard, but I fell back against the refrigerator. My back struck the handle, and that’s how I got the bruising,” Rye said. “So, you were right all along.”

Cutter shook his head as he reached over and touched Rye’s hand. “I didn’t want to be right. I wanted desperately to be wrong. I’m sorry my questions made you uncomfortable,” he said. “I hate that you’re dealing with this.”

“I’m sorry for the way I reacted to the question. It’s hard, though,” he said. “Embarrassing.” Opening up to Cutter helped a little. Rye realized he needed friends, but it had been a while since he truly had any.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Cutter said. “I promise this stays between us.” He gently put his hand on Rye’s cheek. “What happened here?”

“She slapped my cheek.” Rye moved his own hand to his cheek, meeting Cutter’s. His touch was so nice. Gentle. Comforting. Everything Kristen wasn’t right now. “This afternoon. We had... words. It got kind of ugly.” He closed his eyes for a second, as if that would block it out. “It was her ring that cut me, but it was an accident. I know she didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean it? She hit you!” Cutter said. “That cut. It looks like it bled.”

“A little. Not very much. Like I said, it was an accident,” Rye insisted. “I shouldn’t have provoked her.” Talk about sounding pathetic.

“It’s not your fault.” Cutter reached out and caressed Rye’s cheek, where the cut was. “I only hate that she damaged your beautiful, perfect face,” he said as he leaned closer.

“Cutter...”

“Shh. You don’t have to talk,” Cutter said as his lips met Rye’s.

No. He didn’t have to talk, and he didn’t have to respond, either. He should push Cutter away. Tell him no. Rye wasn’t into this. He didn’t like guys. Not that way. That day in the training room was simply a fluke.

Except it felt so damn good, and it made him want more. More of Cutter’s touch. More of his kisses. So much more.

No! He remembered what happened last time. With Max. Their friendship was never the same. Rye couldn’t let that happen again.

He pulled away. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

~&~

No. Damn it. No. Rye pulled away and Cutter did, too, cursing under his breath. What the hell happened to being a friend? No pressure? Talk about screwing things up.

“Please, no,” he said, almost pleading. “Don’t go. I don’t want you to leave. I crossed a line, but it won’t happen again.” Was that how Rye’s fiancée sounded when she hit him?

“You’re saying you didn’t mean it, then? You didn’t want to kiss me?”

“No. Jesus, no,” Cutter said. “I did. Very much. I still do.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Maybe it was time to just own it. He’d likely already messed things up beyond all repair, anyway. “Look, Rye, I won’t lie. I’m very attracted to you. I’m a gay man, and you’re sexy as hell. You have a body like a Greek God.” And oh, the things he’d like to do to that body. Then there was the sun-drenched blond hair. Yeah. Greek God, for sure.

He moved away from Rye, standing up as if pacing would help. It usually didn’t, but whatever. “I meant what I said, though. About being a friend. I respect that your personal life is complicated right now, and the last thing I want to do is complicate it more, so I give you my word that nothing like that will ever happen again,” he said. “I can honor boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” Rye repeated. “That’s good, except for one thing... what if I want it to happen again.”

Huh? Cutter blinked, trying to follow a conversation that was becoming increasingly hard to track. “You’re saying you want me to kiss you again?” If that was the case, he was more than ready.

“No. I mean, probably yes,” Rye said. “Not right now, tough. I’m not ready for that. I’m just... confused. I have a lot to figure out. I liked it when you kissed me, the same way I liked it when you touched me. I like the way it makes me feel, but it scares me, too. A lot. And with everything with Kris being such a mess, I’m not ready. I’m not saying that someday I won’t be, because I might, but right now I’m not.

“Are you serious about honoring that, and sticking to friends for the time being?” Rye’s eyes met Cutter’s, and he tried to read the emotion in them. The kicker was hurting, for sure, and searching for something. Cutter wasn’t sure what it was, or if he could offer it, but he knew he wanted to try.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. If friends is as good as it gets, then I’m cool with that,” Cutter vowed. He sat back down on the couch. “Do you really have to leave, because I don’t want you to.” He smiled. “I promise to behave myself.”

“Okay.” Rye nodded. “I never wanted to leave. I don’t want to be at home right now. I mean, eventually I’ll have to go back, but it doesn’t have to be this minute.”

“Great,” Cutter said. “Then stay and finish your beer. Watch more of the game with me. If it makes you more comfortable, I can go sit in the chair over there.” He pointed to a chaise lounge on the other side of the room.

“That’s not necessary,” Rye insisted. “I’m comfortable with you exactly where you are.”

“Okay, good.” Cutter let out a laugh. “The view of the TV is better from here anyway.”