The Closer You Come

He nodded, saying nothing else. Encouraging a conversation of any sort wouldn’t be wise. Mistakes were the stepping-stones to ruin, and Jessie Kay had taken him too far down that path already.

Brook Lynn, on the other hand—

Would only take him further, he decided. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, images of her in his shower, naked, wet, using his soap and his shampoo, playing on a continuing loop in his mind. This morning he’d woken up on the verge of climax and gasping her name. Knowing how soft her skin was and just how sweet she tasted would likely turn him into a frothing-at-the-mouth he-beast with only one goal: sinking inside her no matter the cost.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, though. Maybe he would forget her afterward, just like he’d forgotten so many others.

Stop rationalizing, seeking permission.

“Go, Johnny, go!” the woman beside him called. “Yes! Yes! That’s the way. Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

It was clear she loved her son, and a pang of envy hit Jase. He’d been six years old when his mother had packed up and abandoned him in a crumbling, run-down apartment, knowing she would soon be evicted. Days had passed before the super found him.

Being a parent wasn’t a responsibility he would ever want or welcome, but he was damn sure he’d never abandon his own child like that.

“Good going, Ryan,” Beck called.

If anyone would understand his issues about childhood abandonment, it was Beck. The guy’s mom had taken off soon after his birth, and the father he’d rarely ever seen had left him with one aunt after another before signing away his parental rights and moving out of state without even saying goodbye.

How could parents be so uncaring? How could people be so cruel?

Like I have the right to judge anyone.

A sudden prickling at the back of his neck had his gaze darting here and there. Some part of him must have sensed danger his eyes hadn’t yet found. A handful of parents loitered nearby... A man a little younger than him leaned against a car parked at the curb, shading his eyes with his hands as he watched the field... A snow-cone stand had a line of kids from other teams. No one watched him. No one looked to be packing heat.

Jase forced himself to relax. He wasn’t in danger at a freaking Little League practice.

A whistle blew, and Strikers scattered across the field, returning to their parents. West and Beck began picking up cones and balls. Jase rolled his shoulders in an effort to loosen the knots forming there before standing and jogging to the field to help.

He reached Beck, and they bumped fists.

“How’d the meeting go?” Beck asked, stuffing the cones in a bag.

“Better than expected. I’ve been upgraded to unsupervised.”

“Dude,” his friend said, sounding like anything but a millionaire businessman.

“I know.”

They shared a quick grin.

West dumped a basket of soccer balls into the bag. “I need a picture of the two of you in this moment. I’ll create a GIF and tag it with the phrase I Just Found Out I’m Awesome. You Might Want to Get Yourself Tested.”

“It’s funny because it’s true,” Beck said with a nod.

“My results would be negative.” Just like all the others, thank God. Jase had paid a visit to his doctor immediately after his release. He’d had a full workup done and received a clean bill of health. But months had since passed, and he’d been with multiple women. He’d used a condom with each of them, but maybe he should do another round of testing. Not because he had any interest in unprotected sex with anyone particular. Of course not. Never. Just for his own peace of mind.

“You guys ready?” West hefted the oversize bag behind his shoulder. “I’ve allotted myself two hours for lunch.”

“More than ready.” Beck kicked into gear. “I’m starved.”

West snorted. “You’re always starved.”

Deadpan, Beck said, “I also think I want to take two hours and eight minutes for lunch.”

West punched him in the shoulder. “Forget it.”

Jase drank in their easy camaraderie.

On the way to their cars, three moms blocked Beck’s retreat in an effort to “question” him about upcoming practices and games. Those need-answers-now questions sure were punctuated with a lot of giggling, but Beck responded as if the upcoming championship depended on the words that left his mouth. Somehow, despite his seriousness, he managed to flirt with each of them. But then, flirt was his default setting.

West glanced impatiently at the time on his phone. “Beck. Man. My two hours are already running down.”

“Pencil me in for another minute,” Beck said before returning to his convo with the women.

Jase didn’t stick around to hear the rest of the mating dance, but met the boys at their favorite dive. A hole-in-the-wall located in one of the rougher areas of Oklahoma City. Surrounded by government housing, with gang signs spray-painted on every wall and streets littered with potholes. His home turf.

They ate greasy burgers and heart-attack fries, and for a while, it was just like old times, when they had teased each other and laughed, nothing between them but a bond thicker than blood.

But the reprise didn’t last long. A clatter of breaking dishes sent Jase hopping to his feet, a butter knife clutched in his white-knuckled grip.

Horrific memories flashed through his mind. Memories that had been seared in his brain, a disease without a cure. Darkness he couldn’t shake. Inmates surrounding him, forming a wall so the guards couldn’t see what was happening. A cold shiv pressing into the back of his neck. His clothes...ripping...