Page 65 of Go Deep

I immediately hate myself for letting those caustic words slip out when I see the expression of shock and hurt on Gabe’s face. He stares at me like I just decapitated a puppy.

“Is that what you think of me? Some fuckboy to play with?” Gabe pulls on his pants and scoffs. “You really are an egotistical asshole.”

I rake a hand through my hair and sit straight up. “Why? Because I don’t want to parade my personal life around in front of the world? Because I don’t want it to impact everything I’ve built?” I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stalk toward him. “I’ve lost a shit ton. My dreams went up in smoke. You’re still living yours, so maybe the hate doesn’t hurt as much as it could if you hadnothing else.”

“You’re a fucking coward.” Gabe tugs on his shirt and pushes past me to get to his shoes. “You have plenty. And I thought you were so strong, too. You talk a big game, Vince, but deep down you’re a scared, closeted kid who doesn’t know how to get out of his own way. You hide behind the money and the influence because you think it’ll make up for losing out on your football career, that it’ll keep people worshiping you, that in some small way it might make up for the fact that you can’t accept who you really are. But it only makes you weaker because you’ve convinced yourself you need it to survive.”

I recoil, his searing words jabbing my ears like a hot poker. “Fuck you.”

He stops mid-tirade to glare at me. “Fuck me because I can see right through you like nobody else? Or fuck me because you can’t stand to hear about it?”

“Fuck you because you don’t get to psychoanalyze me.” I give him a shove, blood boiling in my veins. “I already live mylife by my rules. I don’t need you telling me that I have to change them.”

Gabe’s gaze hardens, his jaw tensing tight like his fists, almost like he’s trying to decide whether or not to punch me.

I deserve it for being such an insufferable ass.

He should just do it.

I know I would if I were him.

Especially since everything I’ve just said is total bullshit. He’s totally right. I am a pathetic coward who lies to protect himself. I hurt people who try to get in close because I’m afraid they will see the real me.

Just like Gabe does.

Being an asshole is the only way I can push him away. It’s the reason why I don’t keep a lot of close relationships. I hate the person I am and that I have to lie to protect the façade.

I love that Gabe doesn’t need a façade to hide behind. It’s one of the reasons why I’m so drawn to him. His confidence and self-assurance is so damn hot and sexy. But at the same time, I hate him for not needing it, for being open and honest in a way I fear I’ll never be able to.

“You know what? I should be so pissed off at you right now. You’ve turned this whole thing into some twisted game where you call the shots and you get to back off when you get what you want.” He steps toward me. “But you’re not really winning. Every day you’re in denial about who you are and what you want. You haven’t really lived. And that just makes you fucking sad.”

I grit my teeth, my fists itching for action. Except they don’t want to pummel him into the core of the earth. They tingle with the desire to strip off his clothes so I can grab him and devour him like I did last night.

“I didn’t ask for your commentary about how I live my life. You’re just angry that I don’t want to flaunt my lifestylechoices in front of the media like you do. It’s like you’re looking for validation.”

Again, bullshit. But it stings. I can see it in his corded neck muscles.

“Does it make you feel better to tear down the people you aspire to be like?” he sneers. “Because I’m exactly what you want to be. And judging by the way you fucked me last night, I’m exactly who you want in your bed.” He pulls open the door handle and stalks into the hallway. “But just so you know, you’ll never have me there again. Have a nice fucking closeted life, Castro.”

His gaze drops to the newspaper laying on the hall carpet outside of my room. My throat tightens, an invisible noose tugging it hard when I read the words on the front page of theColumbus Times.

“Senator Michael Castro and NFL-Star Turned Finance Guru to the Stars To Hit The Campaign Trail for Election 2023!”

“That’s just fucking perfect.” With one final nasty glare back at me, Gabe kicks the newspaper out of his way and doesn’t look back. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a head pop into the hall. It disappears again when Gabe blows past.

Rage always makes people take cover.

I bend down, grab the paper, and slam my hotel room door shut.

“What the fuck?” I slam my fist against the back of the door as I scan the article. I told my father no, but does he ever fucking listen? Does he ever give a shit about anyone other than himself?

I grab my phone and stab Carolyn’s number into the keypad. She answers on the first ring.

“Carolyn, what the hell is going on? I saw thenews article. I said I wasn’t going to join him on the trail. I told him that very thing my damn self.”

“It’s crunch time, Vince. He really needs your support with the campaign.” Carolyn’s clipped voice shreds my insides.

My support? For his homophobic beliefs that the gay lifestyle is an aberration? I’m supposed to deliver that message on his behalf? To help him get re-elected so he can continue to torch the dreams homosexuals have of living a normal life, marrying their partners, and actually grasping a chance at happiness?

---