In Safe Arms (My Truth Book 2)

by Ann Grech

  “I was going to write them another letter. I need to change a few things in it.” I reached out for his hand and held on to him like the lifeline he was. “I might send it to them when I feel like I’ve got it right.”

  “You’ll do it.” Angelo squeezed my hand and leaned into me. Pressing his lips gently against mine, he gave me a chaste kiss. Butterflies fluttered around in my belly.

  Anywhere else and I would have expected someone to jump out at us and start screaming a homophobic rant. But nothing happened. There were no dirty looks, no underhanded comments. It was liberating. I leaned forward and kissed him again, this time licking his lip until he opened for me. I wanted to take him home and make love to him, but at the same time, I wanted to stay in The Vault, because in that room I was the freest I’d been in a long time. Strangers had become allies, and we shared a bond that made me comfortable enough to reveal the part of me I’d hidden for so long. And it was Angelo who did that for me.

  “Come on.” I motioned, standing up. Angelo’s eyes flashed with disappointment before he hid it, blinking away the sadness that dulled his eyes and forcing his lips to turn up. I held my hand out and he followed, but instead of leading him outside like I guessed he thought I was doing, I walked backward, deeper into the club and onto the empty dance floor. Music piped through the sound system, but it wasn’t loud enough to kill off our conversation. I smiled. This place was uplifting. Empowering. I didn’t care that we’d be the only ones there. “Dance with me?”

  I took him into my arms and we swayed totally out of sync to a rock song playing over the loudspeakers. Resting my head on his shoulder, I breathed him in and kissed his throat. It was quick, or maybe not, but it was so right, and I was ready to take our relationship to the next step. I gazed into his whiskey- eyes, filled with the warmth I loved, and asked him the other question that’d been on my mind. “Move in with me?” Before Angelo interrupted me, I explained more. “I know we already live together, but we still officially have separate bedrooms. All our clothes are in separate rooms, and you still have your toothbrush in your bathroom, so we’re still not actually living together.”

  A slow smile spread across Angelo’s lips, and he tightened his arm around my shoulders before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. I opened instantly and teased his tongue with my own. His taste, his smell, his strength and love seeped into every part of me and I held tighter, kissed harder, loved louder. When he pulled back, he whispered, “I’d love to.” He kissed me again and moved his mouth to my ear, kissing down my throat and back up. “I want you.”

  He pulled back again to look in my eyes, and it hit me like a freight train. I was kidding myself. I wasn’t loving louder. I wasn’t coming out and living freely. I couldn’t bottom for him. I couldn’t give myself to him in the same way he’d let me into his body countless times. He’d get sick of me and my broken parts. Of my past ruling me. He’d walk away and I’d lose the best part of me: him. Panic rose in me, sucking the oxygen from my lungs. The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I was light-headed in an instant. I couldn’t lose him, but I couldn’t go through an experience like I’d gone through before again either. I didn’t realize the bruising grip I had on Angelo until I felt him peel my fingers off his hip and pull his other hand free of mine. He led me to a table and sat me down, and I slumped forward in the chair. My elbows resting on my spread knees, I hung my head low, trying to draw air into my lungs. Angelo pulled up a chair and sat in front of me, holding my hands in his own. They were warm to the touch against my suddenly icy skin, and I concentrated on that connection with him.

  “Breathe, Trent. In nice and slow.” I did what he said, then exhaled when he told me so too. I trusted him. He grounded me. It seemed like a long time later that I’d managed to stop shaking, and when I did, he asked, “Where did you go?”

  “I can’t,” I whispered. “He hurt me. Bottoming—”

  “Oh, Trent,” Angelo murmured, cupping my face gently. “Never doubt for one moment how much I love you and how much I want you. But I’ll never ask that of you. I’ll never push you or make you feel bad for not being able to give me that. I understand why you can’t and I’m okay with it. I’m more than okay with what we do.” He paused and ran his thumb over my cheek. “I want to kill that bastard for what he did, but he’ll never get between us. I’ll never let anything get between us.”

  I leaned into his touch and he moved closer, wrapping his arms around me. I nuzzled his throat and breathed him in, his spicy scent settling my racing heart. “I love you too,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I’m scared of losing you because of my past.”

  “I’ll always choose you, Trent. Always.”

  “Can you take me home?” I asked, hating the weakness I felt in that moment. Hating the uncertainty clouding my voice and the cold dread that had invaded my senses when I even thought about any experience possibly being as bad as my first time. No, not my first time. My rape. Then it dawned on me, this time hitting me like a Mack truck. My time with Angelo, if I was ever ready, wouldn’t be anything like it was with Ryan. He raped me. I didn’t give myself freely to him. I was just a kid and he overpowered me, pinned me down and punished me. Angelo… I couldn’t even think of him in the same sentence without risking him being tainted by the evil that was my godfather. He and Angelo were nothing alike. My true first time would be the same as them—nothing alike.

  “Let’s go,” Angelo agreed and took my hand in his. I held it tight, needing the reassurance from him as we made our way home.

  I stood at the red and gray post box with the handwritten letter to my parents between my fingers. The warmth from Angelo’s hand on my lower back and his body close to mine were a comfort I needed. My pulse thudded in my veins, and I wiped away the bead of sweat as it ran down my face. The reality hit me hard. I had to send this letter, didn’t I? I had to get closure. I wanted so badly to have my parents back in my life. But of course, sending it terrified me. What if it made no difference? What if they chose to ignore it?

  And me.

  Or thought it was some cruel hoax.

  It’d taken me four months to work up the courage to finish the letter to my parents and send it. Now that I was standing there about to let it go, I was rethinking every word I’d painstakingly written and revised. With every new version, Angelo would tell me the original letter was better, scribbled out sentences and all. When I asked why, he always said the same thing: it came from my heart. The pages were well worn now, folded and unfolded countless times. I’d tried to copy it out onto new paper, but I hadn’t been able to without changing the words, so I wrote another shorter note, explaining why it looked that way. A photo accompanied the letter, one Angelo had taken of me on one of our summer hiking trips. I was happy, smiling at him as I sat down on an outcropping of rocks overlooking the lake, drinking a bottle of water.

  “Whatever decision you make here is going to be the right one, Trent,” Angelo encouraged me, rubbing his hand slowly up and down my back. “It’s natural to be nervous. Scared shitless even. But you’re strong. You can do this. Just remember that you’re never alone. I’m here every step of the way.”

  I sucked in a breath, held it, and closed my eyes, gathering my courage. Angelo was right. I could do this. I’d already taken enough time to get to this point. There was no way I was going to back down now. I wasn’t that scared boy who ran away anymore. It was time. I lifted the envelope to the slot, slid it in, and let it go. Now all I had to do was wait.

  Right at that moment though, I had a shift to begin and Angelo was on his way to meet with clients. We were parked in the lot a block away and would be going in opposite directions when we got there, me up the mountain and him to the outskirts of town. It was good during the ski season; my shifts weren’t as long and I didn’t swap between night and day shifts, but I rarely saw much of him over the weekends. Weddings weren’t just held in spring or summer apparently. So many people were opting to take their vows on or near the sno
w, or with the snow-capped peaks in the distance, that he was just as busy at this time of year, and even further into winter, as in the warmer months.

  Even if I didn’t see Angelo much over the weekends, it didn’t matter. The months we’d been together were the best I’d ever experienced. I was getting more comfortable in my own skin, and PDAs were getting easier. Something as simple as letting Angelo touch me in public had taken months. I was okay in places like The Vault. It’d become our go-to since our first night there, as much as it’d ended on a downer because of my freak-out. But even though I was better than I had been, showing even the slightest bit of affection on the street was something I’d had to work hard to be able to do. My only explanation was fear, and I hated my godfather for instilling that in me. My therapist insisted that I needed to move at a pace I was comfortable with, that forcing anything too soon would make me anxious and have me constantly looking over my shoulder. She was right, and Angelo understood. He’d been a pillar of strength for me. He never pulled me up on my flinching when he touched me, as long as I didn’t shy away from him in places I felt safe. But now, he knew I was mostly okay with his hand on me in the open.

  The sidewalk on the main street through Queenstown was cluttered. People poured into town for the beginning of ski season, so I walked close to Angelo. We weren’t strictly touching, but I was standing far too close for us to be anything but lovers. That just made this time of year even more special. The hustle and bustle of town, the smiling faces and excited kids. There was something else I was looking forward to later in the year too—Winter Pride. It was getting bigger and better every year, and this was the first year I truly wanted to join in. My involvement would be more sedate than my other friends’, but that’s what I was comfortable with. While I’d love to be as loud and proud as Ford and Reef, who were on the organizing committee, or Ricky, whose helicopter tour business was a major sponsor, I wasn’t ready for it. My unofficial brother-in-law and his two partners were the poster boys for rainbow families. They’d gained an international following after their interview for an Australian LGBT blog went viral, and #3MenAndAGracie had been trending since. I was proud of them all for overcoming their obstacles, just like I was proud of myself for coming so far. I still had a long way to go, but I was a work in progress. My next step, depending on whether I heard anything back from the letter I’d just posted, was trying to rebuild the relationship with my parents.

  We reached Angelo’s Mini and he leaned against the door, pulling me close to him. I ran my hands down his red suspenders, following their length. Like me, he wasn’t wearing a coat, but my black ski pants and red Alpine Rescue polo were nowhere near as classy as his black dress pants, red bow tie, and crisp white button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms and that, paired with his hot nerd getup, had desire pulsing through me. We were a study in contradictions, but our mismatched looks were only surface issues. He was my best friend and the love of my life. I leaned in and kissed him chastely, but Angelo’s quiet moan had me going back for more, holding his nape to keep his lips pressed against my own. I steeled myself, waiting for the anxiety of kissing him in public to hit me, but it never came. I kissed him longer, gently touching my tongue against his, tasting and teasing each other. I sank into his embrace, pressing my body to his, every dip and valley of Angelo’s lithe frame fitting perfectly against my own. The stiff length of his shaft alongside my belly had me in a tailspin, my own cock hardening impossibly. Desire swept over me and our kiss turned desperate. My hands were in his hair, tugging at the short strands, and his fingers pressed into my shoulder, kneading the muscle there.

  He pulled back, sucking in a lungful of air, and I did the same. Pupils blown with lust and his kiss-swollen lips nearly had me diving into him again, but his words stopped me. “You never stop amazing me with your strength. That took guts. I’m proud of you.”

  “Kissing you?” I asked, confused. My brain had turned to mush from his kiss and his strong hands on mine.

  Angelo huffed out a laugh and ran his hand down my side, making me shiver. “You kissing me, yes. But sending the letter too.”

  “Oh.” I smirked. “I… yeah. But it feels good too. Reaching out, I mean. And kissing you,” I stuttered. Angelo laughed and leaned down to kiss me again, and I didn’t hesitate to respond. A flood of relief, of awareness washed over me. Standing in that parking lot, among the cars out in the open, I’d pushed past a major hurdle. I’d broken through years of fear. Years of self-loathing to acknowledge in public who I was and who I wanted. I smiled against Angelo’s lips and kept kissing him, never wanting to let go. Joy filled me, innocent and pure. I was like a teenager with a crush, like a kid feeling that first rush of achievement when he tried something new. I felt like a man who’d had nothing finally getting what meant the most to him. Love. Affection. Self-respect. I held Angelo tight and we kissed until we were breathless once more.

  “I love you,” I whispered against his throat before kissing a line up to his ear. Sucking on his lobe, I scraped my teeth over it and hummed. Angelo’s grip tightened and his shaft pulsed against my stomach.

  “You’re a damn tease,” he grouched before kissing my cheek. “And I love you too.”

  “We better both get to work, or I’m going to test how comfortable I am in public,” I mumbled against his skin.

  “Mmm.” He gently pushed me away from him and tried to discreetly adjust himself while I did the same. I waited until he was in the Mini and the engine started before I made my way over to my beat-up truck and headed up the mountain for a shift.

  An hour later I found myself doing paperwork, signing off on an incident report, and sorting through the other documents I needed Ford to countersign. It was peaceful in the rescue center. We had one patient keeping Ford busy, and the radio was silent. I’d slipped into my own world, remembering Angelo’s lips on mine and his needy whimpers as he pulled me close. It had me smiling like a loon. I loved being able to kiss him, and doing it in public made the butterflies flutter around my belly.

  “Aw, Trent’s all loved up,” Ford exclaimed from the doorway. I jumped, my heart thudding in my chest. Ford’s remarks wrenched me out of my daydream.

  Hand on my heart, I laughed at myself. “Busted.” I grinned, no doubt with hearts in my eyes.

  “I’m happy for you, Trent. You’ve been smiling a lot lately. It’s a nice change.”

  I couldn’t deny that I was smiling more. I was undoubtedly happy and ridiculously in love. “I am happy.” I looked up at Ford and found myself blushing. I scrubbed my hand over my face and huffed out a laugh.

  He came and sat down opposite me, crossing his ankle over his knee, and smiled a knowing smile. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” It wasn’t a question. He became more serious and tilted his head to the side, studying me. “You doing okay with everything? You know I’m here to talk if you ever need to.”

  I smiled. “I kissed him today. In public.”

  “First time?”

  I nodded and bit my lip, trying to hold back a grin. “It was good, Ford. I felt free. He’s given me that. I never thought….” I shook my head and huffed out a breath. “I never thought I’d have that, ya know?”

  “Yeah. I get it. With your past, it can’t have been easy opening up.”

  “It hasn’t been, no.” I scrubbed my hand over my face, all the happy feels gone the moment I thought about my godfather. “I still struggle with a lot of things, but therapy is helping and Angelo’s a far better man than I deserve.”

  “No.” Ford shook his head. “He’s exactly the kind of man you deserve. He’s a good man. The best.”

  “He is. I love him.” I smiled. Thinking of him did that.

  “It’s obvious.” He paused, but I knew he had more to say. I didn’t have to wait long. “How long have you been in love with him?”

  I huffed out a breath. “Years, but I wouldn’t admit it even to myself. Especially to myself. I hate that I hurt him while it took me so l
ong to come to terms with it.”

  “You did the best you could, Trent. Jesus, you survived. That’s… that’s enough. It’s okay to need help.”

  “I know that. Well, now I do anyway.” I paused, needing to gather the nerve to tell him why I was in town kissing Angelo to begin with. “I, ah… I reached out to Mom and Dad. Sent them a letter today. I have to wait now to see if they respond. It’s gonna suck—the waiting I mean—but maybe they’ll call me.”

  Ford stood up and walked around the desk to me. I watched as he ruffled my hair and pulled me to his side. “I’m proud of you. You did good.”

  Our conversation was interrupted by the crackle of the radio and the bell on the entry door. We jumped into action, each of us heading to where we were needed. I appreciated Ford’s words more than he could know. His support meant more than he could ever imagine. He’d hated me, and he had every right to. I’d nearly ruined his chance with the love of his life. If anyone did that to Angelo and me, they wouldn’t still be standing. I’d hunt the bastard down. To think that Ford forgave me, that he put aside the hurt I’d caused him and Reef the moment he understood why I reacted that way, just proved to me he was the kind of friend I wanted to be.

  16

  Trent

  The wait was killing me. Three days. Two hundred and fifty-nine thousand, two hundred seconds. And I felt every single one of them. I couldn’t sleep, but I was exhausted. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind ran in circles faster and faster and faster and faster until I was damn near dizzy. It was like the opening credits of The Big Bang Theory. Even when I was awake, I couldn’t think straight. It started as me being preoccupied about Angelo and the kiss we’d shared in the parking lot and turned into obsessing about when the mail would be collected. I should have paid for tracking on the letter so I could see exactly where it was at, but I thought I’d be better. I thought I’d handle it. Within a few hours, Ford sent me home. I didn’t blame him. I nearly ran over a couple of kids building a snowman just off the beginner run when I took the snowmobile out to check on a skier. He was having as good a day as me—falling over trying to get on the ski lift wasn’t something I’d done before, but in my dysfunctional state, it wouldn’t surprise me if I did.