Fool's Gold Read online

  They parked in front of their room. Since Jake was already soaked to the skin, he didn’t bother with his duster and made no effort to scurry to the shelter of the walkway the way Rich did. Rich waited for Jake to join him at the door and let them in with a key card. The smell of industrial-strength room freshener was overpowering. Rich stopped dead in the entrance and Jake ran into him. He caught Rich by the arms to keep from mowing him down, and for a moment, it seemed as though they were embracing.

  “Fuck,” Rich said emphatically. Jake let go of him and peered over his shoulder into the dimly lit room. One queen-sized bed dominated the space.

  “Problem?” Jake drawled.

  “No, no, not at all.” Rich snapped on the lights, stepped into the room, and hurried over to turn on the heat. “We’re adults here, right? You should get out of those damp clothes. Why don’t you take a shower? Did you bring anything else to change into? While I’m at it, what do you want to do about dinner?”

  Jake tossed his bag down on the end of the bed. “I can change back into the clothes I was wearing this morning before my ride. With any luck, my socks and things will dry before tomorrow.” He lifted a lip at the thought of putting on damp briefs. He’d rather go without. “Do you mind just ordering takeout? I don’t want to go back out again tonight.” Outside, the rain rattled at the window.

  “You go shower. I’ll order a pizza and get some ice for your shoulder.”

  Jake got some ibuprofen out of his bag and made his way to the bathroom. The tap water tasted a little funny, but he made sure to drink most of the glass as he swallowed the pill. He peeled off his wet clothing with difficulty and hung it up as best he could to dry. The water pressure was blessedly strong, and he made a small sound of satisfaction when he stepped into the steaming spray.

  A large patch of discoloration ran from his elbow to his forearm. He was betting that would be an interesting bruise in a day or two. The shoulder hurt, but careful rotation revealed that everything was in working order. Nothing that rest and anti-inflammatories wouldn’t cure. He’d touch that up with a muscle relaxer and some tramadol too. Good thing he’d brought those old prescriptions with him.

  For a split second, a wave of dizziness washed over him and he had to grab the rail inside the shower. He hadn’t had a bout of vertigo since the accident. For a few weeks after the wreck, a sense of instability had hovered around the periphery of his vision, especially when he moved too quickly, but it had eventually gone away. He stood in the spray, uncertain if what he’d just felt had been a hint of the old problem or if he was just tired. As the water ran over his neck and shoulders and nothing further occurred, he relaxed. He just needed some food and to get some sleep, that’s all.

  The vision of Rich splashing his way toward him through the pond came to mind. Rich had been worried Jake was seriously hurt. A small part of him argued that Rich’s concern had been greater than that of a coach for his student, Olympics notwithstanding. Which was ridiculous. They’d been working so well together these last few weeks, Jake could almost forget they’d had a previous history.

  Almost.

  Not that he wanted to forget. Some nights when he’d watched Rich get in his car to make the long drive home, Jake had been tempted to stop him, to ask him just what the hell had happened all those years ago.

  He deserved to know, damn it.

  It took a full twenty minutes in the shower before the muscles in his neck relaxed. By the time he was done, Jake knew he had to say something. He had to know what had really gone wrong between them. When he came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, he found Rich sitting at the end of the bed, phone in hand.

  Rich glanced up and then quickly looked back at the phone. “About damn time you got out of the shower. I hope you left some hot water for me.”

  Chagrin at his thoughtlessness made Jake wince more than the actual tone of Rich’s voice. “You’re still wearing those wet pants. You must be freezing. Why didn’t you take them off?”

  The look Rich flashed him could have been classed as lethal, had they been enemies. “Unlike you, I have nothing to change into. Besides, I had calls to make. I had to arrange for someone to take care of the evening feeding at my barn.” He continued to scroll through his phone, checking messages.

  The room was warm enough now that the heat was cranked. Rich’s shoes and socks were drying on the heating unit. Jake should put his own things on the radiator as well. There was no reason Rich couldn’t have shucked his wet clothing unless…. Unless he didn’t want to be undressed in front of Jake. Which stung more than Jake cared to admit.

  Jake went over to his duffle bag. He pulled out his jeans and crossed over to Rich, holding them out. “Here. I don’t have any spare socks or underwear, but at least you can be warm and dry.”

  Rich looked at the jeans dangling in front of his face as though he’d never seen such an article of clothing before. “Are you insane? I’ll never fit into your jeans, you hipless wonder, you.”

  “We used to trade clothes all the time.”

  “Back when I couldn’t keep weight on to save my life. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve put on a few pounds.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Jake let that sink in a beat before continuing. “You look good.”

  The corners of Rich’s mouth turned down and he squinted in disbelief as he pushed the jeans aside and hitched himself along the bed so he could stand up without running into Jake. “Oh, please.”

  Jake tossed the jeans on the bed. “I’m serious.”

  “Serious or not, there’s no way my ass is fitting into your jeans.”

  “Your ass is perfect,” Jake said in a low voice.

  “Hah.” Rich craned his head around to look at the ass in question. “Maybe once upon a time—”

  “Perfect,” Jake growled.

  That seemed to confound Rich. He opened his mouth to retort, then shook his head slowly, his face turning red. Straightening, he said, “The pizza should be here any minute. There’s ice in the bucket by the sink. Let me see that arm.”

  Jake lifted his elbow and peered down at the length of his forearm as Rich moved in closer to inspect it.

  “Damn, that looks sore.” Rich reached for Jake’s arm, only to pull his fingers back at the last second. “Are you sure the bone’s not cracked?”

  Lowering his elbow, Jake shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to be.”

  With a nod, Rich crossed over to the ice bucket and, using a glass, scooped some ice into the plastic bucket liner. He brought it over to Jake as a makeshift ice bag. “Ice it for ten to fifteen minutes. I’ll take care of the pizza when it comes. You go sit down.”

  Cupping Jake’s elbow, he gently placed the ice pack on his arm, keeping it steady until Jake took hold of it.

  Rich’s careful concern took him back to other times when Rich had been so considerate of his needs, and the words blurted out of him before he could stop them. “What happened to us, Rich? What went wrong?”

  Rich jumped as though he’d been jolted with a cattle prod and stepped back, putting a safe distance between them once more.

  “Look, I was young and stupid back then. It’s all water under the bridge, okay? We’re not the same people anymore.” With every sentence, Rich retreated farther away. By the time he’d finished speaking, he was by the door, checking his jacket for his wallet.

  Anger flared in Jake suddenly, like a spark catching in a fire he thought had been snuffed out long ago. “That’s it? You’re going to take what we had and dismiss it just like that?” He snapped his fingers. The ice bag dangled from his other hand, dripping water onto the carpet.

  Rich didn’t look at him, patting the jacket ineffectually for his wallet. “What did we have, Jake?” He sounded tired. “A few months of fucking like rabbits? We were little more than teenagers. It was just a phase.”

  “You sound like my father.”

  Rich let the jacket fall back to the chair. “Now you’re just being insulting.” H
e clapped a hand on his back pocket, sighed, and pulled out his wallet. He opened it, withdrew two twenties, and laid them on the table by the window. “For the pizza if it comes while I’m in the shower.” He paused, lifting an eyebrow. “Just what exactly have you told your father about us?”

  Jake frowned. “What do you mean? I didn’t tell him anything. He already knew.”

  Rich’s face went dead-white. For a moment, Jake thought he might actually faint, and he took a half step toward Rich, just in case he needed to catch him.

  “He knows I’m your trainer now? And he’s said nothing about it?”

  “No,” Jake said slowly, uncertain why Rich was so upset. “I was talking about before. Us. You know.” He flicked his index finger back and forth between the two of them. “Back during our ‘phase,’ as you put it.”

  Rich’s green eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I wasn’t talking about the past. I meant now. But your dad spoke to you about me? About us? Back then, I mean.”

  Jake shrugged again. “Yeah. Funny, huh? I was so sure he’d flip his lid if he found out about us, only he was actually pretty cool about the whole thing.”

  “Cool.” There was tension in the way Rich spoke, in the manner in which he tipped his head slightly to one side, which made Jake sure he was missing something important here.

  “‘Cool’ might be overstating it a bit.” Jake thought back to the day Rich had dumped him and the things his father had said. “He wasn’t exactly approving, but he was more supportive than I expected, all things considered.”

  Rich slipped his wallet into his back pocket. He curled his fingers tightly for a moment, then he unclenched them once more. “But he doesn’t know I’m your trainer now? That could be a problem. You realize if you’d been seriously injured today, I’d have been the one to tell him, right?”

  It was Jake’s turn to flush. “Look, it’s not that I’m embarrassed you’re my trainer, okay? I just know he doesn’t like you much, and Tom was pretty adamant about keeping his illness quiet for the time being. Besides, I thought once I win at Rolex, my father will be less likely to kick up a stink and insist on someone else.”

  “Cocky, aren’t we?”

  “Weren’t you always the one that said you had to believe in yourself first before anyone else could?”

  Rich shook his head sadly. “I was a lot younger then. Your dad is going to lose his shit when he finds out about the substitution, you know. You might be better off with someone else after all.”

  Rich obviously thought the fallout from the change in trainers was going to be big. Jake wasn’t looking forward to telling his father either, but surely it wouldn’t be that bad.

  Jake lifted his chin. “No, I wouldn’t be better off. You know Tom’s methods inside and out. There’s no one else I would trust as much as you.”

  Rich blinked. He stared at Jake for a long moment before wiping his hand over his face. “I’ve given you little reason to trust me.”

  “Idiot,” Jake said lightly. “Aside from Tom, there’s no one I trust more.”

  Rich gaped at him as though he’d said something unbelievable. Jake could see his point. He hadn’t been exactly acting as though he trusted Rich. He’d been pissy and it showed. But everything suddenly made sense to him. He was pissed because he wanted Rich. He wanted things the way they used to be. The need to touch Rich was overwhelming. Closing the distance between them, Jake placed his hand on Rich’s shoulder. When Jake looked into Rich’s eyes, he saw his own eight years of self-denial and loneliness reflected back at him.

  It’s not just me.

  “Tell me again it’s all in the past and make me believe it.” Another time and place, and Jake would have cursed the raw emotion in his voice. Not tonight, though.

  Rich bowed his head, but he didn’t pull away. It was a simple matter to cup Rich’s neck and tug him closer, closing his eyes to the warmth of Rich’s skin against his own. This. This was what he’d been missing, what had burrowed under his flesh like a festering thorn because he’d never dealt with it properly. He’d walled it off and set it aside. He’d somehow convinced himself that he didn’t need anything for the last eight years but a goal—to get to the Olympics. He was wrong.

  The Stanfords didn’t hug. The first time Rich had spontaneously hugged him, Jake had gone rigid, not knowing how to react. Rich hadn’t seemed to notice Jake’s frozen stance, laughing in his ear as he thumped Jake on the back in congratulation on a successful trial. Jake had finally relaxed, giving in to the connection, the full-body contact from chest to groin. After that, hugging Rich had become part of his daily routine—the best part of his daily routine. He’d missed that more than anything these past years, maybe even more than the sex. The feeling of being encircled in someone’s arms and knowing it was an act performed out of love.

  They weren’t quite hugging. Almost, but not quite. All it would take was another half step forward, and he could put his arms around Rich. If he hugged Rich now, he knew things wouldn’t stop there.

  There wasn’t anything he wanted to do more.

  Rich lifted his head and took a step back. He pushed past Jake, ruffling a hand though his hair distractedly. For a brief moment, something like hope appeared in his eyes, only Jake could see him shut it down. When he spoke again, it was with the emphasis of a man forming a plan of action. “We can’t do this right now. Not here, not tonight. We have a goal to meet. So we maintain a professional relationship. We pretend the past never happened—there is no past between us. We focus on the job at hand: qualifying you for the Olympic Team.” Rich looked squarely at Jake, his eyes intense with the need to make Jake understand. “It’s the way it has to be, Jake.”

  Just hearing Rich say his name was enough to bring back all kinds of memories. The way Rich would murmur Jake’s name as his lips ghosted over Jake’s skin. The way he would cry out Jake’s name when he was close, when he wanted Jake to pound him harder. The way he would wake with a smile on his face and merely utter, “Jake,” as though it were a benediction and an affirmation as they lay face-to-face in bed.

  “Rich.” He didn’t know what he wanted to say. The only thing he knew was he didn’t want things to be the way they were right now. He wanted what he’d had for such a brief time and had lost all those years ago. Even if it wasn’t real.

  “No, I’m serious, Jake. It’s going to be bad enough when he discovers I’m your trainer now. But if he thinks we’re sleeping together again—”

  “Hah.” Jake tried to point at Rich with the ice bag and only ended up slinging chilly water at him. “Sorry about that,” he said as Rich ducked and came up scowling. “The point I was about to make—”

  “Before or after you christened me with ice water?”

  It was a valiant effort at deflecting him from the matter at hand, but Jake was having none of it. “The point I was about to make was that you don’t sound very much like an opportunistic gold-digger to me.”

  “What?” Rich’s face had gone white again. His mouth fell open slightly, and his pupils made his eyes look nearly black in the lamplight.

  “You know,” Jake said slowly. “What you said that day in the hospital. That you were only sleeping with me for what you thought you could get out of me.”

  “Oh. Right. That.”

  Something wasn’t right here. Whatever it was, Jake was too tired to figure it out. His head was pounding, and he knew he’d gone too long without eating. It was making him stupid. He was practically swaying on his feet.

  “Look, like it or not, your father is going to have a cow when he discovers I’m acting as your trainer. Why haven’t you told him already?”

  “Tom asked me not to,” Jake said stubbornly.

  “Probably wise, in the beginning at least, until Tom knew whether we could be adult about it and work together. But that was weeks ago. You’re going to have to tell your father before he finds out from someone else. And you have to make it clear to him we’re not seeing each other again. The last thing
we want is him pulling his funding on you right now.”

  “He may have threatened me with that in the past, but that hasn’t come up in years. He wouldn’t pull out now, not when I’m this close to making the team.”

  “You don’t think?” Rich tipped his head to one side again. “Maybe that’s because you haven’t given him any reason play that card for a while. Been toeing the line, haven’t you? Doing whatever Daddy says?”

  Jake pressed his lips into a thin line and counted to three before responding. “I hardly think he’d like the negative press that would come from dumping his son, the Olympic hopeful, right before the Games.”

  The skin around Rich’s eyes softened, and his expression was briefly sympathetic, but his words were harsh. “What do you think would be tougher on his political ambitions? Cutting off his playboy son from an expensive hobby few people have ever heard of or having a gay son?”

  “No one would ever have to know,” Jake snapped. “Wait, not that there’s anything…. Jeezus, Rich, you’re tying me up in knots here.”

  It seemed incredibly unfair Rich thought Jake would be penalized for a nonexistent relationship. At the very least, if Jake was going to crash and burn at his father’s hands, shouldn’t he at least get some fun out of it?

  “You may not have thought of these implications, but I guarantee you, your father has. Like I said, we’re back to the fact it’s going to be bad enough once he finds out I’m your trainer. If he thinks we’re also back together again….”

  It was an ugly truth, but Rich was right. Deep down Jake knew that. Knew the only reason his father had been restrained in his disapproval of his relationship with Rich was that it was already over when he found out about it. They couldn’t go back. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  The certainty of this defeated Jake, and the pain and exhaustion of the day rolled over him inexorably like an incoming tide.

  “You need to tell him, Jake. Soon.”

  Jake nodded and then winced at the action. The benefit of the hot shower was starting to wear off. “I know. After Rolex, okay?”