Zac
Two months.
Two months, and everyone’s acting like I should have just… moved on already. Like everything should just be back to normal. I don’t even know what normal is anymore. For me, these days, it’s sitting at home, ignoring everyone and trying to pretend the last two months haven’t happened.
My family–what’s left of them–have mostly given up on me. My mom still brings by some casserole or something every few days, but I haven’t seen the rest of them since the burial. They know I’m a lost cause. When my doorbell rings earlier in the day than I’ve come to expect my motherly food deliveries, I have no clue what to expect. Probably some other misguided attempt to get me to leave the sanctuary I’ve created here or just some door-to-door Jesus freak.
When they don’t go away, and in fact begin to hammer their fist so loudly against the door that it rattles my brain, I decide I might as well answer.
I peel myself off the couch and pad to the door, not bothering to check the peephole before throwing it open. Whoever and whatever I was expecting to see standing there… it wasn’t Carrick.
Carrick Moore Gerety. When I use the phrase best friend to describe someone I don’t take that lightly, and Carrick is definitely one of my best friends. It felt like a slap in the face when he missed the funeral, even though I knew he was on some international trip with his brothers at the time. I couldn’t be angry with him for long; I had other places to direct my anger, anyway. Then that anger faded out of me, and all that was left was just… emptiness.
“Hey, man,” Carrick says, running a hand through his hair. I’d forgotten that he’d bleached it a while back, and I’m not sure I like it. It makes him look older, but I’m sure I look even worse.
“What are you doing here?”
He shrugs. “Haven’t seen ya in awhile. Thought I’d swing by and see what’s up.”
Swing by. As though it wasn’t an expensive, multi-hour flight from Los Angeles to Tulsa. I stare him down. “Who called you? Tay or Ike?”
“Does it matter?” He asks, the words coming out like a sigh.
“No,” I reply, offering him a shrug of my own. “But one of them did. I’m not wrong about that, am I?”
Carrick stares at me for a moment before finally speaking again. “I’m sorry. For not calling, I mean. It’s been too long, and I’m really sorry for that.”
I give him another shrug and step back to let him into the house. I really don’t want his apologies anyway. All the “sorry”s in the world don’t change a damn thing; that’s probably the worst lesson I’ve learned in the last few months.
Carrick walks straight into the house like he owns the place, even though he’s really only been here a few times when his band was passing through town. He plops down on the couch and makes himself comfortable before finally glancing up at me again.
His voice so soft I can barely make out the words, he asks, “How are the kids?”
“They’re okay…” I reply, because that’s my standard answer. I’m okay. We’re okay. Everything’s okay. After a moment, I add, “Mom and Dad are watching them today.”
It’s not that they don’t trust me alone with the kids or anything, although I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t. After I broke down crying while trying to give Abraham a bath one day and had to call Taylor to come rescue us all, everyone’s been walking on eggshells around me and taking any opportunity possible to try to relieve some of my burden. I would resent that, but realistically I know that I can barely take care of myself, let alone three kids.
I get so lost in my own thoughts for a moment that I nearly jump out of my skin when Carrick places a long, thin hand on my shoulder.
“Look,” he says. “Your brothers did call me. They’re worried about you, and they want me to give you some sort of pep talk to make you wake up and see how precious life is. But I’m not here for that.”
“Then what are you here for?” I ask, my tone harsher than I really intend for it to be.
“Just to see you.” Carrick gives me a tiny smile. “Like I said, it’s been too long.”
“Yeah.. I guess,” I reply, because I can’t argue with that. It’s been months and months since we got together in El Paso, and everything was different then.
“If you want me to go, I will. But I’d like to stay, hang out for a while. We don’t have to do anything, but I missed you.”
I give him a dismissive shrug, because showing even this little bit of emotion hurts. But a smile breaks out across my face before I can stop it. “You can stay. And I missed you, too.”
“You hungry?” He asks, standing up and nodding toward the kitchen.
“Not really…” I answer.
“Okay,” Carrick replies, his eyes narrowing a bit as he looks down at me. I’m sure he wants to comment on how much weight I’ve lost and how it’s just not healthy to starve myself, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just says, “Well, how about I cook something for me, and if you want a bite, you’re welcome to it?”
“I guess,” I reply, even though I still don’t feel hungry at all. He’ll be gentle about it, I know, but he won’t let up until I’ve eaten something.
When he starts banging around pots and pans, I pull myself from the couch and head into the kitchen. The counter is covered in frozen hamburger patties, bacon and cheese. I flop down onto a chair, knowing I’ve lost this battle.
Carrick glances at me over his shoulder. “We can talk if you want. Or not.”
I just shrug, because I know what he wants to talk about. It’s the only thing anyone wants to talk about anymore. This horrible tragedy has become the most interesting thing about me, it seems.
“Drunk driver?” Carrick asks quietly, even though I’m sure he already knows the answer.
I nod. I still can’t say it out loud, but it’s on a loop in my head all hours of the day. My wife is dead.
Carrick shakes his head and sighs “How was the service?”
“It was nice, I guess. Long.” Impersonal. Full of fire and brimstone. Nothing like Katie would have wanted. And afterward, I had to fight through a throng of well-wishing fans to get into the limo that would take me to the cemetery to bury my wife at the age of thirty two.
“I’ve never actually been to a funeral,” Carrick says, and I think I remember him telling me that once. I envy people who have never had to face that sort of loss, or any sort, up close and personal. After a moment, he adds softly, “You could have called me, you know.”
“I’m sorry,” I barely manage to squeak out.
He shakes his head. “Don’t be; I’m not upset. I just feel bad.”
“I guess I just figured you’d hear about it somewhere…” I reply. God knows the rest of the world did. Sometimes I think the fans knew before I did, before I got that awful phone call from the pre-school when she didn’t show up on time to pick up Junia.
“Eh, I’ve been out of the loop lately,” he replies, sitting a steaming hot burger down in front of me. “I would’ve gone, if you’d wanted to me to.”
“Thanks,” I reply, staring down at the burger I know I’ll have to force myself to eat. “I didn’t not want you to.”
Carrick just smiles and nods, then plates up his own burger and heads back to the living room. Again, he looks like he owns the place, and it makes me smile in spite of myself as I follow him.
We eat in silence for a moment, getting crumbs all over the couch, though there’s no one left to chastise me for it. Everything is a reminder of her absence.
“How’s the album coming?” Carrick asks.
“It isn’t, really. Not now.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” he replies. “Still, I’d love to hear what you’ve got.”
“I don’t even remember the last time I went to the studio,” I reply. That’s not true. I was in the studio the day she died, and I haven’t been back since. I shake my head, then add, “But I might have some of the demos here.”
“Well, no hurry,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I want to thank him for that, but the words won’t come out. I’m still too stubborn to admit that I’m just not okay, I guess. But I know that Carrick won’t make me.
A few more moments pass in silence before he asks, “Dude, no offense, but when’s the last time you hopped in the shower?”
“Umm,” I reply. “What is today again?”
“Thursday,” Carrick replies with a chuckle. “The eighth. Of September. 2015.”
“About a week, then.”
Carrick nods. “Okay, not too bad. Wanna jump in the pool after we eat?”
“Sure,” I reply, relieved that Carrick offered something of a solution with little to no judgment. That’s just like him, though.
We finish our meals slowly, giving them time to digest before we get in the pool. Although Carrick has cleaned his plate, nearly half of my burger remains. I’m trying, I really am, but I’m just not there yet. Even Carrick can’t fix everything, at least not so easily.
We leave the mess in the kitchen to clean up later and head out to the pool, something I insisted upon having built in before we moved into this house. Aside from my art studio over the garage, it’s probably my favorite place on the whole property. Judging by the smile on his face as he peels off his t-shirt, Carrick agrees.
“The ocean’s nice and all,” he says, tossing his shirt onto a chair, “but there’s nothin’ like a heated pool.”
“So, umm, have you got swim trunks on under there or…?” I ask, remembering a certain time on tour when Carrick decided we just had to sneak into the hotel pool after hours.
He just grins over his shoulder at me and begins to shimmy out of his jeans. To my relief, he does in fact have on boxers. Averting my eyes, because I realize I’m staring a bit, I toy with the hem of my t-shirt. I can’t say why I’m hesitant, even embarrassed, to strip down in front of him, but I suppose it’s because I already feel so exposed. Everything that’s happened has left me completely bare, at least metaphorically speaking.
Carrick pauses at the edge of the pool, and turns to look back at me. “You are getting in too, right?”
“Yeah…” With a huge sigh, I begin to peel my shirt off.
Carrick takes a few steps toward me. “I’m glad I’m here. I really did miss ya.”
“I missed you, too,” I reply honestly, then toss my shirt to the side.
He gives me a playful nudge, then turns and runs toward the pool. “Cannonball!”
I shake my head, but take my jeans off anyway and jump into the pool a bit more cautiously than Carrick did.
“Man, this is great,” he says after surfacing in front of me and tossing his hair back. “Can I just move in here?”
“Where, the pool?” I ask, chuckling.
“Sure.” He shrugs and gives me a wide grin.
He takes off then, doing more laps around the pool than I think I’ve ever done, and it exhausts me just to watch him. Instead, I just grab a pool float and prop myself up on it, watching my best friend literally go in circles around me.
After a moment, he seems to get tired and switches to floating on his back, kicking up little ripples and waves.
“Having fun?” I ask.
“With you?” Carrick replies, then grins cheesily. “Always.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
He stops floating and gives me an exaggerated pout. “What, you don’t believe me? But you’re my Zaccy!”
“…Your Zaccy?” I repeat.
“Yep,” he replies, paddling closer to me.
“Since when?” I ask, surprising myself with how… playful I sound. Almost coy, even.
“Since always,” Carrick replies with a shrug, swimming up right in front of me. “Someone’s gotta take care of ya.”
“Yeah, okay,” I reply, rolling my eyes. It always comes back to that–how much of a mess I’ve become.
Carrick just smirks and splashes me. I splash him back, and the fight goes back and forth until I shove him underwater and he drags me down with him. I splash, kick and try my best to wriggle away from him, but Carrick’s arms are wrapped tightly around my waist.
With a strength that surprises me, he lifts me up out of the water and asks, “Now what, kid?”
“When the hell did you get that strong?” I sputter.
Carrick just shrugs. “Ever think maybe I let you win?”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, trying not to pout.
“‘Cause I like seeing you happy, I guess.”
Resisting the pout is pointless now. “So you just let me win?”
“Well, I don’t make it too easy for ya,” he says.
I roll my eyes and give him a shove… and immediately regret that move when Carrick lets me drop from his grip and into the water.
I come up sputtering and coughing up water, and yelp, “Not cool!”
He just laughs. “You said not to let you win!”
Giving him a low growl, I step in closer to him as I pull my ponytail loose. My hair’s gotten a lot longer lately, so a nice rain of water falls over Carrick as I shake my head.
Rather than retaliate, he just giggles and eyes me for a moment. There’s something strange in his eyes, but I don’t know what. He licks his lips and then he’s off again, swimming lazy circles around me.
I must be staring, because he looks up at me and asks, “What?”
“Nothing,” I reply, because I really don’t even know where to begin.
“Hair’s getting pretty long,” Carrick remarks.
“Yeah, I guess.” It’s not out of a deliberate choice, really. Just laziness.
“I like it,” Carrick replies. “Looks great.”
“Thanks,” I reply, tensing a little as Carrick swims up behind me and brushes my hair off my shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” His fingers trailing down my back say otherwise. My back stiffens and Carrick remarks, “You’re tense.”
“Well… yeah,” I sigh out. I’ve got a pretty good reason to be tense lately, even without my best friend giving me an un-asked for back massage. It’s not that I mind Carrick’s touch at all; I’m used to how touchy-feely he is, and together we’re so attached at the hip that even Kate jokingly called him my boyfriend. But I don’t even remember the last time anyone touched me, aside from all the perfunctory hugs at the funeral.
“Just relax,” he says softly, standing so close that his chest is nearly pressed against my back.
I sigh again. “I’m trying.”
“Should I stop?”
“No,” I reply, because honestly I don’t want him to. It isn’t his fault everything else has gone to hell. That has nothing do with Carrick at all, and I know he’s just trying to do whatever he can to help.
“I was worried about you too, you know,” Carrick says, his head pressed up against mine.
I leaned back against him. “Why?”
“When Tay called…” His hands pause, and I swear I feel a shudder go through his body. “He really is blond, you know.”
Carrick
“What did he say?” Zac asks, turning around, his brow furrowed.
“I asked how you were,” I answer, snorting. “First words out of his mouth were ‘there was an accident’.”
I stare at Zac, but all I can think about is that phone call. The one that almost broke me.
“Oh,” Zac says simply, frowning.
“For a minute, I thought…” I stop, afraid to even voice the words.
“What, that it was me?”
I can’t even look at him. I can already feel the tightness in my chest, the memory of how scared I had been. I hang my head and nod, and hear him sigh.
“Sometimes I wish it was,” he whispers, and my head shoots up.
“No. Zac… I don’t wanna hear that shit. Not from you.”
“Why not?” He asks, his frown deepening.
I search his eyes. How can he say that? After everything we’ve been through? Doesn’t our friendship mean anything to him? Don’t Imean anything? Maybe I’ve held back in the past, but what was I supposed to say, to do? I thought he’d known how I felt, but apparently not.
I grab his shoulders and pull him close, crushing our lips together. If he decks me, or pushes me away, I’ll take it. I don’t care. I just know I can’t go another day not knowing. If there’s one thing this whole mess has taught me, it’s that life is too short.
After a few seconds, I pull back and stare him down, both of us breathless.
“That’s why not, okay?” I can feel myself shaking, from fear, anger, desperation… or some combination of the three. “It wasn’t much, but for sixty seconds, I thought I’d lost you without ever getting to do that.”
“Oh.” Zac stares up at me, an unreadable expression in his eyes. He’s trembling almost as much as I am; I wonder if his reasons are the same as mine.
“You’re not alone, Zac,” I tell him, pulling back and heaving a sigh. “Cheesy as fuck, I know. But if you leave me, I swear to god I will resurrect you just so I can kick your ass.” He hasn’t punched me yet, so I think a little humor is safe. I want him to know anger isn’t the main emotion fueling my outburst.
“I wasn’t really planning on leaving you,” he replies, laughing nervously. I give him a tiny smirk, glad he doesn’t hate me yet.
“Better not.”
Zac arms are still shaking a little as he wraps them around me. “I won’t. Promise.”
I pull him closer, watching him for any hint that he doesn’t want this. I’m not seeing any.
“Promise?” I ask, my voice soft to hide how scared I know I sound.
“Promise,” he echoes, nodding.
I lift a finger to his cheek, tracing his jaw and tipping his chin, then press our lips together softly. This. This is how our first kiss was supposed to be. I feel him sigh against me, his hold on me tightening as he returns the kiss.
So this is okay. I never expected it to be; hoped, dreamed, but never really expected. And yet, here we are. If this is a dream, I’m going to make the most of it before I wake up.
I suck his lower lip into my mouth, needing more of him. I rub his back, trying to balance the urgency of the kiss. I hear him whimper, and I pull back, panting for breath.
“You sure this is okay?” I remind myself that until five minutes ago, as far as I knew, Zac was straight. This is probably his first time doing anything with another man. I’m pretty sure that shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.
“Y-yeah,” he says, nodding. “It’s like, I didn’t really know I wanted it, but…”
But he does. I can’t help kissing him again. I move to his neck, something I’ve always had a fascination with. I trail my lips over his skin, nipping at his jawline. He whimpers again, his fingers digging into my back, and I feel my knees shaking.
I lift Zac out of the water; he chuckles, shaking the water out of his hair, and I resist the urge to attack his neck again. Instead I carry him out of the pool, making it all the way to his room and dropping him carefully on the bed. I’m a little out of breath, and my back is yelling at me, a fact Zac apparently finds funny.
“Not as strong as you thought you were?” He asks, giggling; I glare at him, but smirk to let him know I’m kidding. “Sorry your old ass can’t handle carrying my fat ass.”
“Not that old, kid,” I tease, shaking my head and laying next to him.
“And I’m not a kid,” he shoots back. The age thing really isn’t a big deal to either of us, but that doesn’t stop us from bringing it up.
“Yeah, yeah…” I look down at him, drops of water rolling down his neck. I lean over and hiss him gently; he responds immediately, moaning softly. I crawl over him, kissing him harder and running a hand up and down his chest. I don’t want to scare him by moving too fast, but I’ve wanted this for so long, and knowing he wants it too is making my head swim.
He whimpers, wrapping his arms around me. I pull back to look at him, watching his reaction as my hand slides farther south, my fingers just barely slipping under the waistband of his boxers. His eyes go wide, and a tremor runs through his body, but he isn’t stopping me, not even when I go all the way and wrap my hand around his cock.
“Damn,” I breath, not even meaning to voice my reaction. I have to fight to keep my eyes open; he’s hot, hard and bigger than I imagined.
“What?” Zac chuckles nervously, and his shyness somehow makes it even sexier.
“Just… damn.” I grin as I tug his boxers down; if he doesn’t mind me touching him, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mind me looking, either. He rolls his eyes, but his cheeks turn a bright pink. I plant a kiss to the center of his chest, drawing his attention.
I keep my eyes on him as I move lower, trailing kisses down his chest, over his stomach. I flick my tongue out at his abs, the anticipation almost painful. He whimpers, his eyes glued to mine and his fingers clutching the blanket beneath us. Finally, I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, my mouth filled with my first taste of him.
He groans, his head rolling back. I moan as I suck him fully into my mouth. He tastes better than I could have imagined; I feel like I could live off this and nothing else. I feel his fingers tangling in my hair, hear him sigh my name. I stare up at him and he moans again, almost as if the eye contact is giving him as much pleasure as what I’m doing. I echo the sound as I suck him deeper.
“Fuck,” he says, the sound more breath than spoken word.
I hollow my throat and let him slip even further; his back arches and he lets out a loud moan, and I can’t stand it. I pull off of him, panting for breath.
“I want you.”
“O-okay…” His eyes are wide, and I worry I’ve gone too far, too fast. I crawl up his body and kiss him.
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “Just, you know, I’ve never… done anything like this before.”
I roll onto my back next to him, giving myself a moment to breathe.
“I want you to suck me,” I tell him, even though it’s more like need at this point.
“Even though I just told you I’ve never done this before?”
“Please?” I’m not above begging, not anymore. I stare at him, fully aware how far I’m pushing my luck, but I’m too far gone to help it.
“I’ll try,” he says after a moment, crawling between my legs.
“You’ll do fine,” I tell him, touching his hair and giving him a reassuring smile. And he will, because it’s him, and there’s no way I couldn’t be pleased by anything he does.
His eyes are wide as he tugs my boxers down. I expect him to take his time, but he leans down right away, giving a hesitant lick to my head. His eyes stay on me the entire time, so I fight to keep mine open. I give him a nod, and he swirls his tongue around me; a soft moan escapes me, turning into a gasp as he takes me into his mouth.
I don’t miss the moan he lets out, either.
I reach down and bury my fingers in his hair as he takes more of me into his mouth. This is blowing every fantasy I’ve ever had out of the water, and we’ve barely begun. Before long I feel my legs starting to shake, but I need more. I lift a hand to my mouth, sucking on a finger; Zac’s eyes are on me, wide and curious. I take my time, teasing Zac, and it seems to work. He lets out an adorably erotic whimper, bobbing his head faster.
I bend my knees, reaching down to brush my slick finger against my entrance. Zac whimpers again as I slide my finger in, moaning softly. He pulls back, replacing his mouth with his hand, and watches me as I finger myself. Something about that feels a little wrong, a little dirty, and I love it. I wince a bit as I add a second finger, and Zac’s brow furrows in concern; I could kiss him for that.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Just been a while.”
“Oh… okay…” Zac leans down and swirls his tongue around me again; I moan, my hips lifting off the bed. After a minute, Zac pulls back again, and places his hand over mine, stopping me.
“C-can I…”
It’s my turn to stare at him with wide eyes.
“Yeah, of course,” I tell him, nodding. Without hesitating he sucks on two of his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine. I feel myself panting as I watch, this whole scene threatening to overload my brain. A second later he pushes my hand away and presses both of his fingers into me.
My hips rock toward him against my will; he pushes back slowly, and my head rolls back.
“Zac,” I moan.
“Y-yeah?” He thrusts into me, finding a slow and steady pace that’s just this side of teasing. I nod, unable to form words, but he seems to understand. He speeds up his hand and crawls over me, kissing my neck.
I wrap my arms around him and turn his face, capturing his lips. We moan against each others’ mouths, and I can’t help thinking of how beautifully we harmonize.
“More,” I whisper.
“M-more?”
“Yeah,” I ask, nodding. “Please.”
Zac
I’ve never seen this side of Carrick. I’m not even talking about the sexual side, although that is definitely new to me too. But what surprises me, almost scares me, is how vulnerable he seems. How needy. I don’t know if he even knows what he’s asking of me, but I’m past the point of denying him anything.
With that thought in mind, I give him exactly what he wants. More.
I meet a little resistance as I try to add a third finger, but Carrick hardly seems to mind. He thrusts against my hand, and that’s all the encouragement I need to push that finger in all the way and work up a rhythm with all three. Soon I’m rolling my hips against Carrick, too, imitating what I’m only just realizing I want to do to him. What I’m going to do to him. What I need just as much as he does.
“Fuck, that’s it,” Carrick moans out, his fingernails clawing at my back as he holds my body tightly against his. “Need you. Now.”
“Yeah,” I agree, panting so heavily the word is hardly intelligible.
I pull back and line myself up against him, knowing there’s absolutely no going back now, not that I want to, not at all. The only thing that gives me any pause is Carrick’s hand resting gently on my cheek.
“Zac…” he breathes out, a strangely bittersweet smile on his face.
“Yeah?”
His smile turns shy, which is not an emotion I’m used to seeing from Carrick. “You know.”
“Yeah,” I reply, with a nod.
Because I do know. As much as I want to feel sorry for myself, I haven’t lost everything. I love Kate, and nothing will ever change that, but maybe love doesn’t have to come just once or in only one way. And maybe it can be there for years before you even realize what’s right in front of you.
Carrick leans up to kiss me, and I swear I can feel every ounce of his love pouring into that kiss. I hope he feels mine too, because there’s no question that it’s there.
Almost in spite of myself, I roll my hips against his and feel my dick pressing right up against him. Carrick groans and bucks his hips up against mine. It takes one more thrust for the tip of my dick to slip inside of him, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
“Carrick…” I moan out, staring down at him, this amazing man who has made me feel again.
“Zac, fuck…” He hisses out, his neck craning as he leans up to kiss my neck.
And that’s it. All of my restraint is gone. With a pathetic whimper, I thrust all the way into him, until our bodies are flush against one another. Carrick’s back arches up off the bed and he lets out a loud cry.
That snaps me back to reality. “Shit… I’m sorry?”
“No,” he replies, shaking his head, “it’s good…”
“Yeah,” I agree. Neither of us is terribly eloquent right now, but I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words to explain not just how amazing this feels but how much it means to me.
Slowly, my entire body trembling, I begin to find a rhythm. Carrick is holding me so tightly against him that when he moans, I swear I can feel it vibrating from my head to my toes. Being this connected to someone… it’s a feeling that’s impossible to describe. I never knew I wanted this, with Carrick or any other man, but I can’t deny it now. I don’t just want it; I need it.
I can’t get enough of it, in fact. I rest my head on Carrick’s shoulder and roll my hips harder and faster, moaning softly when he kisses my neck. When he nibbles my earlobe, I’m nearly done for.
“Carrick…” I manage to whimper.
“I love you, Zac,” he whispers in my ear.
“Love you, too,” I reply. And I mean it–in every possible way.
“Y-yeah?” He pulls back and stares at me, eyes wide. It hurts a little that he doesn’t believe me, but why would he? I didn’t even know myself, not really, until just now.
Biting my lip, I nod. “Yeah… I do. I really do.”
Slowly, a smile spreads across Carrick’s face. “I really do, too.”
And that’s it. I can’t hold back anymore. With a huge smile on my face, I pick up my pace until Carrick’s eyes flutter shut. I lean down and kiss his neck, hoping he doesn’t feel the tears that are threatening to spill from my eyes.
“Fuck, Zac,” he moans out, gripping my hair. “Love you, so fucking much… That’s why… why I didn’t call. Didn’t wanna screw up.”
“Screw up?”
“Didn’t want you to know,” he replies.
I touch his cheek gently. “I’m glad I know.”
“Yeah,” he replies, smiling. “Me too.”
I don’t know of any way to respond to that but to kiss him, and so that’s exactly what I do. Carrick’s lips mold perfectly to mine, just one more puzzle piece fitting together. I can’t help thrusting a little harder, because in spite of all the emotions threatening to overwhelm me, this is also just completely physically overwhelming.
“Love you,” I say again, moaning a little when I feel Carrick’s lips on my neck. “So much, Carrick.”
“Thought I’d lost you…” he replies, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.
I shake my head, hoping to shake away some of my own tears in the process. “Not going anywhere. Promise.”
“Promise?” He repeats, and it hurts a little that he even has to ask. Still, I know better than anyone that it isn’t entirely within my control.
“Promise,” I reply with a nod, because I know that while I can’t predict the future, I can say with certainty that my feelings won’t change.
Carrick’s eyelashes flutter, and his hand finds mine, entwining our fingers. I run my other hand through his hair, which still looks so foreign to me.
“Fuck, Zac…” Carrick moans, wrapping a hand around his own dick. “Getting close.”
“Yeah…” I reply. “Me too.”
My hips are rolling so hard against his that I almost fear I’m going to leave bruises, but Carrick doesn’t seem to mind. He wraps his legs around mine and lets out a growl that pushes me right over the edge.
“Oh god, Carrick, I’m…” I manage to whimper out, trying to pull away from his grasp.
“No,” Carrick says firmly, his fingernails digging into my back. “Stay. Please.”
If that’s what he really wants, then I’m not going anywhere. My eyes wide open and trained on his, I stop trying to hold back. When Carrick latches onto my bottom lip, I’m completely done for, my eyes rolling back in my head as I come harder than I think I ever have. Seconds later, Carrick comes too, a few drops landing on my stomach.
“Fuck…” I manage to groan. My entire body shaking, I collapse against him.
“My thoughts exactly,” Carrick replies, wrapping his arms tightly around me.
I slip out of him, but remain in his arms, choosing to ignore at least for the moment the sticky mess we’ve become. Carrick rubs my back lightly, peppering my neck and cheeks with soft kisses.
“Love you so fucking much,” he says, each word punctuated with a kiss on the lips.
I nod. “I know, Carrick. I love you, too.”
“No more hiding?” He asks.
“Hiding?” I ask.
“Your kids, your brothers… your fans.”
I sigh. There are two meanings to his words, whether he realizes it or not. Whichever meaning I chose to think about, it’s a little terrifying.
“I know, babe,” Carrick says, resting a hand on my cheek. “But you can do it.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah, I do,” he replies, giving me a smile. “You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
I haven’t showered for a week or left my house in seven weeks, but if Carrick sees strength in me… well, I trust his opinion. I always have. “Well… okay. If you think I can.”
“I know you can.” To punctuate his statement, he kisses my forehead.
“Okay,” I reply, a smile beginning to tug at the corner of my lips.
Carrick’s smile spreads, too. “I’ll be right here with you.”
“You will?” I ask.
“As long as you want me to be.”
“I don’t want you to go anywhere either…” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. I can’t even imagine what he felt when he thought he’d lost me. I try to imagine how I would have felt on the receiving end of that phone call, and it makes my heart ache and a cold shiver run through my body. Forget the rest of my life, I can’t even imagine spending another hour without Carrick now.
“Then I won’t,” he replies simply. After a moment’s pause, he adds, “Ever.”
“Good.” I didn’t really think he would, but hearing him say as much makes me feel infinitely better.
“It’s up to you what you tell people,” he says. “As long as I’m with you, I couldn’t care less about labels.”
“Okay,” I reply, nibbling on my bottom lip. If just leaving my house is an insurmountable task right now, I can’t even imagine coming out of the closet.
Carrick pulls me closer and kisses my forehead. “Love you, Zac.”
“Love you, Carrick.”
And for now, that’s enough for me. The rest will come in time. With Carrick by my side, I think I just might be okay.