It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Welcome back! “Stone” is our word this week. Today I’m sharing a snippet from First Season, the second Harrisburg Railers book. I’m coauthoring this M/M hockey romance series with Rj Scott and am thrilled to be able to share excerpts with the Tuesday Tales readers!
In today’s post, Adler is in a bit of a dark place.
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
He thought I’d left. I guess I had in a way. I was no longer in his space or face but I was in the hall, staring at the door to his place, willing it to open and to see Layton calling me back in. Maybe he had changed his mind and wanted me around again. After thirty minutes, and no open door, I had to accept that he wasn’t ready for me now…or ever. I’d not been good enough again.
And that fear and anger and helplessness and regret and pain all started to coalesce in my breast. I wanted to do something for him but there was nothing I could do. I wanted to go back in time and find the motherfuckers who had hurt my man and beat them into paste. I wanted to punch holes in the walls of this nice corridor but couldn’t. So, I left his building and I drove around Harrisburg until I ran out of gas. Then I walked. Somehow, I ended up by the capitol building. It wasn’t open yet. I sat down on the west side on the grand stairs leading up the impressive white building. The ice on the steps made my ass cold. I got up after a bit, hands in my pockets, and continued walking.
I ended up by the banks of the Susquehanna River. There were big chunks of ice along the banks. The stones lining the shore were slick with ice as well. My breath fogged in front of me. I felt hollow inside. Hollow and angry. Angry at me, that stupid, hateful, homophobic fan for refusing to let his son have a puck from a queer player, the press, my parents, and myself. Somehow my love hadn’t been enough for Layton. I’d not been a good enough boyfriend. Probably because I was hiding the fact that I was his boyfriend. I was never good enough…
And so, the rage and self-disgust fed off the confusion and fear and it quadrupled. It was so large come evening that it was all there was of Adler Lockhart. I was a skating ball of chaos who was on the edge. All it would take would be a comment or a nudge. I got both ten minutes into the game with Philadelphia. The nudge was from Gabriel Marsan, a defenseman from Philly known for being one of those players who likes to push. He rarely made the mistake of being way over the line, but if he could instigate and pull a penalty then he would. He was good at both, pulling penalties and poking a humming hornets’ nest with his stick.
Copyright 2017 ©by V.L. Locey & Rj Scott
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