Page 44 of Never Stay Gone
Shane froze, hand raised, staring. Dakota was down to his white undershirt, untucked from his tight Wranglers. His hair was messy and sticking up, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, lips swollen like he’d been gnawing on them.
Confusion burned from Dakota. Confusion, and agony, and a wounded, kicked-puppy kind of hope, the kind that still loves back even after it’s been sent away. For the first time, Shane could see past all the walls and barriers Dakota had thrown up against him. He could see Dakota again, the way he’d been before Shane had ripped his heart out.
“Shelly left me,” Shane blurted.
Dakota frowned. “I’m not the guy you should come cryin’ to about that—”
Shane pushed his way into Dakota’s motel room, one hand on the center of Dakota’s chest, the heel of his boot kicking the door closed behind him. “She left ’cause I don’t love her.” He kept walking Dakota backward. His heart was roaring, and the world was spinning, but he dug his fingers into Dakota’s shirt, right over his heart, and hung on. “I couldn’t love her. I’m already in love with someone else. I’ve been in love with someone else my whole life.”
“Shane—” Panic flared in Dakota’s gaze. He reached for Shane. Got both hands on Shane’s shoulders. Shane didn’t know whether Dakota was trying to hold him or shove him away, but instead of doing either, Dakota froze.
Shane backed Dakota into the wall and closed the distance between their bodies until he was chest to chest, hip to hip, heart to heart with the love of his life again. He didn’t know where to look first: into Dakota’s terrified eyes or down to his lips or over his perfect face, the face Shane had dreamed of every night since Dakota had disappeared.
Dakota’s fingers twisted in the fabric of Shane’s khaki uniform shirt. Every part of Dakota was shaking. Shane could feel him trembling all up and down Shane’s body.
“Dakota, I—”
Don’t—
Don’t kiss that boy.
Don’t fall in love with him.
Don’t ever say the word.
Don’t.
Nowhewas the one shaking, all those old fears rising inside him. His father’s dead hand clinging to his own, the long shadows of all those failed expectations and plans everyone else had for his life clawing at his soul. “I—” He stared into Dakota’s eyes. Saw the life they could have had together flash in those golden orbs. Saw Dakota’s love, brighter than the sun, yearning, hungry for Shane to say the word, to kiss him, to dosomething.
Saw the fear, too, build slowly, micron by micron, as Shane stayed still—too scared to move, too scared to speak, too scared to break out of the shackles binding him to all his goddamn pain.
He saw Dakota’s eyes slide away. Saw his gaze hit the floor and felt Dakota exhale, like he’d been holding his breath at the top of a roller coaster. “Shane,” Dakota whispered. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I love you.“Dakota,” he choked out. His knee buckled, and he sank into Dakota’s hold, hands grabbing on to Dakota’s shirt. “Dakota, I’m—”
Don’t—
“I’m gay,” Shane breathed. He buried his face in Dakota’s chest as he howled, as the world tipped over and every dam he’d built collapsed, and every barricade he’d tried to erect failed, and all of the thoughts and feelings and desires he’d tried to ignore or bury or bully away roared back to life.I’m gay. I love you.
The only thing I ever wanted in my whole life was to love you. Not football, not this town, not my family legacy. The only thing I wanted was to be withyou.
Dakota’s arms wrapped around him and hauled him in tight, holding Shane hard to his body. He heard Dakota’s heart pounding beneath his sobs, felt Dakota’s tremors as Shane buried his face in the valley between Dakota’s pecs. He grasped Dakota’s arms like he was drowning.Don’t let me go.“I’m gay. And I love you too, Dakota. I love you too.”
Dakota held on to Shane as he sank to the floor, and they crumpled into each other’s arms. He felt Dakota’s tears falling on him, felt them slip and slide and burn down the back of his neck. “Shane,” Dakota whimpered. “Jesus, Shane.”
Chapter Twelve
Finally,they talked.
First came their tears. They clung to each other as Shane whispered, “I’m gay, I’m gay, I’m gay,” against Dakota’s ribs.
One word—one truth—that had dominated his life. Keeping that truth barricaded out of his mind and out of his soul had taken everything he was, oppressed him until he was nothing, only a shadow of a man living a hollow life.
Their salt mixed as they pressed their foreheads, their cheeks together and breathed in each other’s shaking cries. Dakota kept saying Shane’s name, repeating it in whispers and desperate-sounding pleas. His hands ghosted over Shane’s back, down his arms, up into his hair. He cradled Shane’s face, stared into Shane’s eyes.
Eventually, Dakota pulled them both up and guided them to his unmade bed. He sat Shane down against the headboard and grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the dresser. He cracked the seal, downed a long swallow, and held the bottle out to Shane.
Shane, too, took a long, fortifying shot before Dakota crawled across the bed and sat beside him.
