Read Online Goldilocks: A Man, a Jersey, and a Tight End by A. M. Riley - Free Book Online

face down so they could smooch some more.
    “It’s nice not talking,” he said when they parted. “I’m not good at it anyway.”
    Jim’s eyebrows went up, and he looked down at Scott.
    “Not like Brian.”
    Jim let one finger play across Scott’s chin. Traced his lower lip. Scott licked that lip, feeling the nervousness trying to sneak up his spine again. Jim’s body, his presence, kept it just over there.
    Truckers talked about their girlfriends to other truckers. They talked about their wives. Sometimes they just grunted and drank their beers and let the other men draw conclusions from the set of their shoulders and the squint in their eyes.
    Because, you know, nothing lasts forever. And you’re always on the road, and really, what difference is it gonna make if you’re the man who comes home to her or some other? It’s the sort of thing that starts going through a man’s head somewhere up on the I-9 at three a.m. when there’s nothing but three hundred miles of black asphalt and the sound of your truck’s wheels spinning over it to keep you from going crazy.
    “Bet you know lots of smart guys,” said Scott. “Me, all I know are rednecks.”
    “Plenty of smart rednecks,” Jim pointed out, his voice a question mark.
    “Not me,” said Scott. “I’m nothin’ special.” He sat up suddenly and began rooting around among the Tupperware strewn about them. “Is there any more fudge?”
     
    Aha . Jim wrapped his arms around Scott, burrowed his nose behind Scott’s ear, and didn’t answer. He could feel the man starting to twitch, though.
    “I told Paul I wanted to take you away for a while. Just you and me,” said Jim after a long while.
    He felt Scott stiffen. “Yeah?”
    “But he asked us to stay.”
    Scott took this in. Turned it over in that odd little head of his. Over and over. Jim could almost see the wheels starting to turn.
    “We all need each other,” said Jim. “Brian and Paul and I. We need you .”
    Scott frowned and ran his fingers through Jim’s beard. There was no quick cure for this. Jim could see that. So he held Scott close, laid kisses on his head, and said, “Sleep, baby. We’ll go back at sunrise.”
    Scott sighed and let Jim gather him up against him, winding his fingers and toes and even snuggling his head in so Jim couldn’t have released him if he wanted to.
    The slow thud and drag of the receding tide, Jim’s humming little lullaby, and the shaking of the canvas around them was all there was, and Scott fell asleep.
    * * * *
    “Where is Scott going?”
    Paul thought it interesting that Brian had said Scott and not Scott and Jim.
    “Jim thought it would be nice for them to have some alone time.”
    “But he just got home. I haven’t even gotten to talk to him.”
    Paul was unpacking, and Brian sat at the desk, printing out a paper he’d written for class tomorrow. Paul paused, hand halfway to a hanger, and said, “You’ve been talking to him all afternoon, Brian. Teasing and arguing and talking.”
    Brian poked at a tiny, imperceptible flaw on the wood of his desk.
    Paul sighed and set his suitcase aside. Unpacking could wait. He went over to the bed and sat down, stretching out his arms. Brian stepped across the room and slid into his lap without question, wrapping his arms around Paul’s neck and laying his head on the man’s broad shoulder with an unhappy sigh.
    “Scott’s got a lot on his mind,” said Paul.
    “He always talks to me ,” said Brian. “Sometimes you guys are…” He shrugged, expressing the eternal impenetrable denseness of tops around the world and through the centuries. “But he talks to me .”
    “I’m sure he’ll talk to you about it when he’s ready,” said Paul. “Haven’t you ever found it hard to talk about things, Brian? Even to Scott?”
    This may have struck a little close to home because Brian was silent, head lying on Paul’s shoulder. He was silent until Paul stirred, gently dragging the tie from his hair.