Read Online Six Ways from Sunday by Mercy Celeste - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mercy Celeste
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the drops that landed on Bo’s cheek really were sweat.
Later after a shower and more food, Dylan dressed while Bo lay sprawled on his stomach asleep, one arm thrown over the side of the bed that Dylan had vacated. His name written in scrolling intricate script down the center of Bo’s back thrilled him. He was with him. He’d always be with him. He tied his boot and pulled his jeans over his knife sheath. His hands shaking. One last look. He couldn’t kiss him. He wanted to. He didn’t want to walk out of his life. Not now. Not like this. But it wasn’t his choice.
When the job was done, he’d call him. It was all he had. Five minutes here and there. Five minutes to live a lifetime with this man. “Love you,” he whispered. He kissed his fingers and waved. It was stupid middle school girl behavior, but it was all he had.
The night was cold and clear when he slipped from the house. He could see stars. There were more up there, he knew. Tomorrow night he’d see different stars but these were the ones he’d dream of. And the one he left sleeping inside. The black SUV pulled up on the street and he met it. His luggage disappeared into the back. And that was it. One week and it was all gone as if it never happened. He’d remember as much as he could for as long as he could.
With one last look at the house, he climbed inside, the driver greeting him by his new rank, “Staff Sergeant.” And that was all there was now.
“Private,” he replied and they were off.
* * * * *
He knew the exact moment when he was alone. He knew it was coming. He could feel it between them all evening. The frantic need in him. The almost desperate way he tried to hold on. Bo reached for the pillow he’d slept on and pulled it to him. Dylan’s scent engulfed him, hitting him like a three hundred pound linebacker. His gut twisted. His heart followed. Eighteen months and fifteen days. That’s how long they had. Eighteen months and fifteen days. He’d been counting since the practice field that morning. He’d keep counting. It’s all he could do. Count down until the day Dylan came home to him, for good.
He shoved his face into Dylan’s pillow and howled. So god damned unfair. But now he knew. And he’d wait. When Dylan came home, he’d love him six ways from Sunday.
Chapter Six
Dylan called in May. Three long months with no contact with anyone. His mission was successful. Ten minutes. That’s all the time he had to talk. Just ten minutes. Bo was grateful for those ten minutes. Training camp started in late July and his life went back full tilt. There wasn’t time to worry about why he hadn’t heard from Dyl in weeks. The pressure to repeat the previous season was tremendous. But in the infinite wisdom of the powers that be in the front office most of the team was traded or let out of their contracts and this wasn’t the same team as last year. Everything they’d worked for and built had to be started all over again from the ground up.
Summer workouts in the heat were killer. And New Orleans was Satan’s Sauna in the hot months. So fucking hot and humid, he couldn’t breathe some days. Somehow he managed to get through it because he knew what Dylan went through every day was worse. He got to go home to an air conditioned house and a hot tub and a soft bed. Dylan didn’t get that. So he worked his ass off. Counting down the days. Eighteen months became twelve months. And seven years to the day since the day that Dylan left crawled slowly by. Just one more year. That was all, just one and they would be together.
August came in a hurry, the final week of the pre-season nearly at an end. Next week, this all became real. Still no word from Dylan. But they’d gone longer without contact. He dragged his helmet off and flipped his braid, hoping for just a hint of a breeze to blow on his neck and down under his pads. His lungs ached from the heavy air. The coaches worked their asses hard. And Bo hated every god damned
Later after a shower and more food, Dylan dressed while Bo lay sprawled on his stomach asleep, one arm thrown over the side of the bed that Dylan had vacated. His name written in scrolling intricate script down the center of Bo’s back thrilled him. He was with him. He’d always be with him. He tied his boot and pulled his jeans over his knife sheath. His hands shaking. One last look. He couldn’t kiss him. He wanted to. He didn’t want to walk out of his life. Not now. Not like this. But it wasn’t his choice.
When the job was done, he’d call him. It was all he had. Five minutes here and there. Five minutes to live a lifetime with this man. “Love you,” he whispered. He kissed his fingers and waved. It was stupid middle school girl behavior, but it was all he had.
The night was cold and clear when he slipped from the house. He could see stars. There were more up there, he knew. Tomorrow night he’d see different stars but these were the ones he’d dream of. And the one he left sleeping inside. The black SUV pulled up on the street and he met it. His luggage disappeared into the back. And that was it. One week and it was all gone as if it never happened. He’d remember as much as he could for as long as he could.
With one last look at the house, he climbed inside, the driver greeting him by his new rank, “Staff Sergeant.” And that was all there was now.
“Private,” he replied and they were off.
* * * * *
He knew the exact moment when he was alone. He knew it was coming. He could feel it between them all evening. The frantic need in him. The almost desperate way he tried to hold on. Bo reached for the pillow he’d slept on and pulled it to him. Dylan’s scent engulfed him, hitting him like a three hundred pound linebacker. His gut twisted. His heart followed. Eighteen months and fifteen days. That’s how long they had. Eighteen months and fifteen days. He’d been counting since the practice field that morning. He’d keep counting. It’s all he could do. Count down until the day Dylan came home to him, for good.
He shoved his face into Dylan’s pillow and howled. So god damned unfair. But now he knew. And he’d wait. When Dylan came home, he’d love him six ways from Sunday.
Chapter Six
Dylan called in May. Three long months with no contact with anyone. His mission was successful. Ten minutes. That’s all the time he had to talk. Just ten minutes. Bo was grateful for those ten minutes. Training camp started in late July and his life went back full tilt. There wasn’t time to worry about why he hadn’t heard from Dyl in weeks. The pressure to repeat the previous season was tremendous. But in the infinite wisdom of the powers that be in the front office most of the team was traded or let out of their contracts and this wasn’t the same team as last year. Everything they’d worked for and built had to be started all over again from the ground up.
Summer workouts in the heat were killer. And New Orleans was Satan’s Sauna in the hot months. So fucking hot and humid, he couldn’t breathe some days. Somehow he managed to get through it because he knew what Dylan went through every day was worse. He got to go home to an air conditioned house and a hot tub and a soft bed. Dylan didn’t get that. So he worked his ass off. Counting down the days. Eighteen months became twelve months. And seven years to the day since the day that Dylan left crawled slowly by. Just one more year. That was all, just one and they would be together.
August came in a hurry, the final week of the pre-season nearly at an end. Next week, this all became real. Still no word from Dylan. But they’d gone longer without contact. He dragged his helmet off and flipped his braid, hoping for just a hint of a breeze to blow on his neck and down under his pads. His lungs ached from the heavy air. The coaches worked their asses hard. And Bo hated every god damned
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