Free Crash: M/M Straight to Gay First Time Romance by Jerry Cole Page B

damaging part of the equation. You never know what kind of treatment you will receive from one day to the next. You never know who to trust or how to trust. As painful as their relationship might be to Liam, knowing that Ruairi won’t even try to help him is better than refusing to accept that fact and carrying the hope that one day things will change.
    “I have therapy tomorrow,” he says after several minutes of silence.
    “Yeah, I am working remotely while you have your session. Who are these guys you hired?”
    “Specialists in sports medicine and physical therapy. They work with athletes usually.”
    “But you are no athlete. I mean, you have a decent body, but-“
    “Speaking of athletes,” he interrupts “you do look like an athlete, but I don’t see any trophies or medals anywhere.”
    I reach into my pocket and pull out the small lump of silver that I have carried with me for nearly fifteen years. I drop it on the table in front of me and take a deep breath.
    “That is the only medal I need,” I say.
    His long fingers creep towards the small pendant slowly, hovering over the dull medallion reverently before picking it up and examining it.
    “Saint Christopher?”
    “Liam… My Liam gave that to me the night of my first game in high school. I was nervous and scared and worried. He didn’t say anything, you know. No fancy speeches or anything. He just handed it to me and then walked away. It became my good luck charm. Every game, every victory, on and off the field, I had that thing with me. Even when I was strung out and desperate for money, I held on to that thing,” I explain, recalling the shy boy whose silent hero worship meant so much to me so many years ago.
    “You don’t believe in that stuff do you?”
    “What?”
    “Good luck,” he says with a lopsided grin, handing the trinket back to me.
    “Athletes are superstitious people, Liam. And I was one hell of an athlete,” I say, leaning forward. Liam rolls his eyes and scoffs.
    “If that thing worked, you wouldn’t have needed rehab in the first place,” he says skeptically.
    “Maybe…” Or maybe remembering that once there was somebody who thought I was a hero helped me to get clean. But he doesn’t need to know that. Those thoughts and private regrets are the ones I reserve for Liam, my Liam.
    “I need to get a little more work done tonight,” he interrupts my dark musings.
    “Yeah, I’ll leave you to it,” I say, collecting the plates and putting them back on the tray.
    In the kitchen, I can hear the low staccato of Liam’s voice as he dictates his work into the headset. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the Saint Christopher medal. You can hardly tell what it is anymore, but it is the only thing I have left from that time. I got rid of all of my memorabilia when I moved. There was nothing from that old life that I needed in this new one except for this.
    Remorse and longing wrap themselves around my heart and make breathing difficult for me. I use my meditation technique and focus on my breath. I let the feelings happen but don’t hold on to them. I let the memories of those blue eyes invade my mind, wrapping them in gratitude and putting them back into the place inside my heart where all of my most precious memories are stored.
    Liam, I am sorry. 
    I miss you.

Chapter 9
    Liam
                  When Reid knocked on the door to help me into the bath, I was in a flow state. After our intense dinner conversation, I happily escaped into my work. It turns out there is more to Reid Cummings than meets the eye. Some part of him, maybe the sober human part, remembered me. Or at least the boy that I once was. As the steam from the shower filled the bathroom, I took another hard look at myself in the mirror.
                  Back then I would have sold my left testicle to have Reid say more than four words to me. Now, he knocks on my door and reminisces about old times with me over dinner, and I hate him