Horizons (Horizons Series Book 1) Read online

  Readers love

  MICKIE B. ASHLING

  Horizons (1st Ed.)

  “Each book is a journey … it isn’t always pleasant … but that is what makes the books great. Horizons is no exception.”

  —Night Owl Reviews Top Pick

  Taste

  “Read and enjoy. I did.”

  —Literary Nymphs Reviews

  “Another great Mickie B. Ashling read from start to finish.”

  —Night Owl Reviews Top Pick

  Daddio

  “Daddio is a great read with some easy-on-the-eye guys involved in a hot but sweet romance. This one gets 5 stars without a doubt!”

  —Reviews by Jessewave

  Bonds of Love

  “Ms. Ashling definitely spices up a tale with her red hot scenes.”

  —Coffee Time Romance

  Fire Horse

  “The author captured me within their words, weaving an amazing love story…”

  —RomFan Reviews

  By MICKIE B. ASHLING

  NOVELS

  Fire Horse

  Mayon

  Cutting Cords • Vessel • Cleave

  Impacted! • Bonds of Love

  BASQUE TRILOGY

  Loving Edits • Tono

  Momentos: Mick’s Journey

  HORIZONS SERIES

  Horizons

  Taste • Daddio

  Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Copyright

  Published by

  Dreamspinner Press

  5032 Capital Circle SW

  Ste 2, PMB# 279

  Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

  USA

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Horizons

  Copyright © 2013 by Mickie B. Ashling

  Cover Art by Reese Dante

  http://www.reesedante.com

  Cover content is being used for illustrative purposes only

  and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  ISBN: 978-1-62380-961-4

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-62380-962-1

  Printed in the United States of America

  Second Edition

  July 2013

  1st Edition published by Dreamspinner Press, April 2009.

  To Jeannie, my beta and good friend, who stresses over every comma and misplaced word. To the members of my small critique group who have helped to bring this story to life with their honest and loving feedback. And to all my readers at LiveJournal and other sites who have supported my writing for years and given me the confidence to send off a manuscript for consideration.

  —Mickie, April 2009

  I’M GRATEFUL to all the readers who bought the first edition of Horizons. Your support inspired me to continue in this universe with two spin-off novels, Taste and Daddio. The first edition of Horizons had some errors in football timelines (my fault entirely!) and we’ve worked diligently to address all of them. With that in mind, I’d like to thank Lynn West, Dreamspinner’s intrepid Editor in Chief, who assisted me throughout this project and provided her much-needed expertise with regards to college football. I’d also like to thank David, my line editor, for helping to make this second edition a more fluid read without changing the heart and soul of the original story.

  —Mickie, July 2013

  Author’s Note

  MUCH has changed since Horizons was originally published in 2009. Twelve states have now legalized same-sex marriage, and just recently, a well-known sports figure announced he was gay. Nonetheless, there are many athletes who are unable to come forth and acknowledge their orientation for a number of reasons. Clark and Jody’s rocky road to happiness may seem extreme to some, but it’s an ugly reality to those in a similar situation. Five years from now, this story may no longer be relevant, but today the problem still exists. I’d like to dedicate this novel to anyone who’s struggling with a choice between doing what feels right and what’s expected.

  —Mickie B. Ashling, July 2013

  Chapter 1

  JODY stood in front of the nurses’ station, finishing his daily report. The squawk of an ambulance and the sound of running feet interrupted him, announcing a new arrival at the Alta Bates trauma center in Berkeley, California. An EMT guided a gurney into the holding area bearing a football player in full gear who cradled his left arm at an awkward angle. He had streaks of mud down his left cheek, and his dark-blue jersey with the golden CAL logo hung heavy with encrusted dirt and bits of grass. A man holding a helmet and duffel bag accompanied him.

  They ended up in cubicle six, Jody’s section of the ER. He glanced up at the clock and realized there were ten minutes left to his shift, so he forced himself to switch back to doctor mode after having discarded it a few minutes ago. As he moved down the hall, he raked his fingers through his hair, trying to make himself presentable. He’d been on duty for nearly twelve hours and probably looked as bad as he felt―tired and grubby as hell.

  He paused for a split second, listening to voices raised in anger. When he pushed the privacy curtain aside he noticed the injured player was still in his football uniform, minus his jersey, which had apparently been cut off. His pads had not been removed, and they looked completely out of place in this setting.

  Coach Brenner, according to the name embroidered on his shirt pocket, stopped talking the minute Jody walked past the curtain into the room. Whatever he’d been saying had upset the blond, who had tears running down his cheeks. He wiped them away quickly, but the two spots of color high on his cheekbones were enough to cause Jody to question what was going on.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Just trying to figure out how we ended up in this place,” the coach replied. “This should have never happened.”

  “Well, regardless of the whys and the wherefores, you’re here, and I’m in charge now.” Jody spoke quietly, but left little room for argument. “You need to step outside so that I can examine your player.”

  The guy muttered a protest, but Jody stood his ground as he watched him leave.

  The football player heaved a sigh of relief as the coach departed reluctantly, then turned his gaze back to Jody. The flush on his cheeks remained high, but the tears were slowly dissipating. Jody walked over to the sink on the other side of the cubicle, filled a small plastic cup with water, and brought it over to his patient. “Why don’t you have a sip?”

  “Thanks,” the guy replied. He reached for the cup with a shaky hand and gulped the contents gratefully. The man was definitely easy on the eyes. Jody’s pulse quickened, and a burst of energy surged through him.

  “I’m Dr. Williams,” he said gently, tossing the now-empty cup in the trash.

  “Clark Stevens,” the blond countered, saying it as if he expected Jody to recognize the name immediately.

  Jody glanced at the patient’s chart. “So you are. Nice to meet you.” He touched him on his good arm and continued, “Looks like you had a bad fal
l.”

  “Yeah, it was stupid. I got distracted and lost my footing,” Clark replied in a normal voice, seemingly recovered from the earlier upset.

  Jody started to move the player’s arm but stopped when he saw him wince. “Does it hurt when I do that?”

  “A little bit.”

  “It might be broken, but I’ll need an X-ray to confirm the diagnosis. I’m going to give you a shot for the pain.”

  “No!” Clark was emphatic. “No shots.”

  Jody could tell that the guy was frightened and still agitated for reasons other than the obvious. He took a gentler approach and said, “This is going to get very uncomfortable when you get to radiology; I really wish you’d reconsider.”

  “No, I only do painkillers in extreme circumstances.”

  “Broken bones aren’t extreme enough?” Jody asked, raising an eyebrow. The football player shook his head, and Jody wondered where the heck this was coming from.

  “It’s your call, Clark. The orderly is going to take you up to the second floor, so you’re going to have to lie down and just relax. Is there any way we can get these pads off without cutting? I know nothing about football.”

  Clark nodded and reached up to unclip the straps, but it was awkward going with one hand. Jody noticed and moved forward to help. He manipulated the clips, brushing Clark’s hand in the process, and was surprised by the sparks that flew between them. Clark made no attempt to help, seeming to enjoy Jody’s fumbling with a slight grin on his face. Jody recognized the flirty move, and he paused, seeing the football player in a whole new light.

  “Tell me how to unfasten this?” he asked, unable to tear his eyes away from Clark’s mouth. It was the kind of mouth one could only describe as kissable.

  “It’s the silver clip,” Clark said, moving Jody’s hand toward the center of the pads. The cubicle seemed smaller all of a sudden as the body heat and electricity between them surged. Jody found the opening and unsnapped it, freeing the pads from their tight harness. He removed them gently, unable to avoid touching the tight muscles of Clark’s smooth shoulders and biceps. They were both holding their breath by the time Jody slipped the pads off.

  “Don’t move your arm,” Jody warned, watching Clark bite his lip and frown. “Are you sure you don’t want anything for the pain?”

  “I’m doing just fine, Doc. Are you?” Clark asked, shaking Jody up even more with his mischievous smile.

  Jody paused and contemplated the question. Was Clark yanking his chain or waiting to see if he’d bite? Who was this guy? Jody took a step back, deciding on caution, despite the attraction that had flared so unexpectedly. “I’m not the patient here, Clark. You are.”

  I LAY on the gurney, watching the ceiling lights whiz by on our way upstairs to radiology. I couldn’t believe I was in this situation because of one moment of carelessness. Then again, I could. Most of the shit that happened in my life was because I didn’t pay attention. I was so fucked. If my arm was broken, I’d be benched for the rest of the season, and everyone would have a conniption fit, especially my father.

  The big plus in all of this was the doc. How’d I luck out and get someone that hot? Most emergency room personnel looked like they’d seen better days. The last thing I expected to see was a stud with shoulders that belonged on a swimmer. They made his blue scrubs look like they were painted on. Throw in a pair of puppy dog eyes and a killer smile, and I knew I was in trouble. He had no right to look like that and expect a guy not to react.

  I was pretty shocked that I’d given in to the impulse. I usually kept a tight rein on my emotions, especially when I was at home. Berkeley was too small and the football world too tight-knit for me to risk anything. I just couldn’t stop myself tonight. Something about the doc flipped my switch, and I was pretty sure he felt the same way. Watching him fumble with my pads convinced me I wasn’t too far off the mark.

  He’s probably in shock right now, wondering what the hell happened back there. He said he knew nothing about football, so he doesn’t know who I am, but wait ’til he starts to ask questions. Then he’ll think he’s had an out-of-body experience and imagined it all. The idea that Clark Stevens actually flirted with him would be unbelievable.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and the dark thoughts took over, opening the side of my personality that I kept locked up tighter than any jail cell on Alcatraz Island. It was a secret that I only let out when the pain became too much, and the longing found me surfing the Net’s many porn sites. This was the me who was completely aroused by the thought of the doc pressing his cock against mine or imagining myself on my knees while he spewed hot cum all over my face and chest. This was the Clark Stevens only I knew. The one who had yet to make any of his man-on-man fantasies come true.

  On the field I’d tackle practice sleds until I dropped from exhaustion. It was the only thing that helped keep these thoughts out of my head, so I hit harder and ran faster, turning into a machine, an unstoppable one that had the world of college football sitting up and taking notice. I was voted 2002 player of the year at the Pac-10 conference last year, agents were checking me out, the NFL was salivating over my numbers, and my father couldn’t wait until my senior year rolled around so I’d be eligible for the draft. I was the guy who had the world in the palm of my hand if I didn’t blow it and let this same world know that I was gay.

  THE elevator door opened, and Jody watched the orderly wheel the gurney back down the hall. He stopped pushing when Jody came closer to check on his patient. Beads of sweat slid from Clark’s forehead and a grimace of discomfort altered his perfect features.

  “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Jody asked.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Let me give you something.”

  “No codeine, okay? The stuff makes me puke.”

  “Good to know,” Jody said, scribbling some notes in Clark’s chart. He asked the nurse to prepare some Demerol, and she returned with a syringe. He rolled Clark over gently, moving his hospital gown up to expose the area.

  “Hey, watch out for hidden paparazzi. They’ll pay big money for a booty shot.”

  “Sorry,” Jody said quietly. “I should have waited ’til we were back in the cubicle, but I wanted you out of pain as soon as possible.”

  “Hey, Doc, I was just kidding.”

  “I know,” he replied absently. Jody walked alongside the gurney and placed the X-rays on the view box while Clark was transferred to the bed.

  “Well, is it broken?” Clark asked.

  Jody nodded. “I’m afraid so. There’s a hairline fracture on the ulna, but it should heal with no problem. We need to cast it from here to here.” He drew an imaginary line on Clark’s left arm, causing goose bumps to break out all over. Jody noticed but said nothing.

  “I guess I’m out for the season.”

  “When does the season end?”

  “You really don’t know squat about football, do you?”

  Jody shook his head. “Not a clue.”

  “This is the first week of November, Doc. We’re about to go into the playoffs, and the only balls I’ll be running with are my own, after the coaches get done castrating me.”

  “That’s a bit drastic, isn’t it? You’ll be as good as new once you’ve healed.”

  “Shit. Tell that to my dad. He’s going to think my career is over.”

  “It could be if you’re a left-handed quarterback.”

  “I’m not,” Clark replied without elaborating. “How long will I be in a cast?”

  “Maybe four to six weeks.”

  “Game over,” Clark muttered. He was a little woozy from the pain medication kicking in, so he closed his eyes, which was just as well. Jody didn’t think he could stand looking at those aqua eyes for one more minute without bending down and kissing each eyelid gently.

  The phone rang, and Jody picked it up immediately. “Dr. Williams.” He listened to the voice on the other end and responded, “Yes, I’m your son’s attending physician. He has a minor fr
acture on his forearm, and we’re casting it right now.” Jody remained silent as the voice on the other end of the line did all the talking. Finally, he said, “No, Clark cannot come to the phone, but I’ll have him call you as soon as he’s able. You’re welcome.” Jody put the phone down; Clark gazed at him with glassy eyes.

  “Who was that?” he slurred.

  “Your father.”

  “Of course it was.”

  “He sounded really concerned and wants you to call him as soon as possible.”

  “I’m sure,” Clark sighed and closed his eyes again. “And if I don’t call him, he’ll call me.”

  “Don’t you two get along?”

  “As long as we do things his way, we get along just fine.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s all good,” Clark replied before passing out.

  WHEN I woke up, the doc was staring at me with concern. His eyes were the color of warm caramel, and the shadows on his jawline made him look dangerously sexy. I was flying high on the drugs, and my guard was down, so I reached out for his hand, comforted when he gave me a reassuring squeeze. I left my hand in his.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, in a voice that felt like a caress.

  “Like I’m drunk.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “No.”

  “Good. We cast your arm while you were out of it.”

  I was surprised that it was all over. I lifted it and viewed the white cast. It seemed to belong to someone else; I was so physically removed from it. “Looks like you did a good job, Doc.”

  “You’re fine, Clark. I’ll sign the discharge papers, and you can go as soon as your coach gets here. He was in the cafeteria last I heard.”

  “Will I see you again?” I asked, pulling him back beside me and holding onto his hand. I couldn’t seem to let him go or keep the eager tone out of my voice. It sounded pretty needy to my ear, and I hoped he didn’t hear it that way.