by Ella James
My chest feels so fucking heavy.
“Don’t go…okay? Until we talk some more.”
And then he’s sleeping. He’s sleeping, and I am crawling out of my skin with the need to know if he means what he’s saying. Trying to remind myself that even if he does, it doesn’t matter because he will never choose to do the things he’d need to do to be with me. And I don’t judge him for that. In my worst moments, I’m angry. But mostly, I understand. I respect him, and I get why he is like he is. He’s Luke. I fucking love him, too, but this will never work.
I text Pearl. Hey. I need to leave tomorrow.
Okay, she replies. Would you like me to switch shifts with you?
That would be good.
She’s typing. I see the little bubbles. Then she isn’t. I set my phone down and fuck around his room. I read a magazine—Wired. Then step into the bathroom, wash my hands, and look into my own eyes in the mirror.
When I sit back in my bedside chair, I check my phone. There’s a text from Pearl.
Vance—stay where you are. Don’t move, don’t leave the room. Don’t turn the TV on, okay? I’ll update you soon.
The video hit 4chan first. It didn’t catch on there, partly because they didn’t believe it was authentic. Who was I? ‘No random pastor’s fuck boy looks like that guy.’ Someone else puts forth the theory that my voice doesn’t match the movement of my mouth. Still another on 4chan says that the wall behind us, and the curtains, don’t match the look of the ER in UCSF Hospital.
Their disbelief bought us most of the day before Pearl arrived. Sometime overnight, though, or today, the videographer must have found some way to verify his or her wares. A British tabloid bought the footage, and it spread like California wildfire.
Pearl and I switch shifts as an ambulance disguised as an SUV preps to take Luke to his house for privacy, security. I put on my hoodie’s hood and slip out a side door, into the fresh air and the sun for the first time in five days.
I call a rideshare and take it to my hotel. I never paid, but they’ve still got my stuff behind the desk. I get a room there again, wanting to just hunker down and be anonymous. When the woman hands me my key, she winks and says, “I believe in all love.”
Fuck.
Pearl can read my mind from across town. She calls within just a minute of me getting into my new room.
“Listen, Vance, I think you need to be careful about where you stay. That townhouse, you know—or maybe you don’t—but it isn’t rented. That’s McDowell property. Are you open to going back there? Or will you be going back home?”
I laugh. It sounds rough and cold. I swallow. “Negatory.”
I don’t have the balls to ask her where they are. Are they at Luke’s now? Does he know what happened? Does he hate me yet?
“Honestly, Vance…we’re almost to his house, and he’s asked for you two times already. I don’t want to tell you what to do but…”
“I can come. What’s the best way for me to get there?”
Pearl tells me about a secret gate you get to through the neighbors’ fence. “It’s a man I know—who has a son that’s trans—so that’s a good thing for us. I’ll call ahead and let him know you’re coming through there. He’ll get it.”
I feel like I might be sick.
“Does Luke know?” I rasp.
“No. It’s me and Arman with him. No staff at his house. No one is going to tell him yet.”
Thick heat moves all through my face and chest. I feel kind of dizzy.
“Also. Vance. It’s going to be okay.”
I can’t speak. I can’t even swallow.
I get to Luke’s house after dark and Pearl meets me at the garage door. She hugs me. As we step inside, she stops and looks over her shoulder.
“Steven.” She moves past me, holding out her hand to shake the hand of a huge, fro’d guy. “Steven, this is Vance Rayne.”
He nods. “Hey, Vance. I’m one of the pastor’s body guards.”
Turns out, guards are being posted all around the place. Because Pearl chose to bring Luke here instead of somewhere off the grid.
“Nothing’s going to happen. But you know how people are. It’s better to be careful.”
We move through the kitchen, and I meet Pearl’s husband. Arman is a gentle giant, six-foot-four, with glasses and a baby face. He’s soft spoken and nice. He hands me a glass of water, and Pearl says, “Vance. Go sit on the couch.”
Arman brings me a second glass—this one a vodka drink that feels like heaven as it burns my throat—and Pearl turns on the fireplace.
“When’s the last time you ate something, Vance?”
Pearl gives me a few food choices. I don’t really pick one, but she returns a few minutes later with a plate of waffles. Arman gives me a kind smile before he disappears down the hall. A strange spear of jealousy spikes through me. I feel the old magnet tug to be in his room. No one else. Just me.
That’s when it hits me full force that when he finds out, this is over.
He sleeps all that night, and I sit by his bed. No one asks if I want to. Who would need to do that now?
In the beginning of the video, you can’t see his face well. But I know he’s crying, lying on that bed in the curtained ER area.
The first thing that can be heard is his voice as he says, “Vance?” In the vid, you can’t tell he’s shaking—but I remember he was. He says, “Don’t go.” It’s so soft, it sounds almost slurred. But it sounds like Luke.
I say, “I won’t.”
He nods—you can see that, even though the camera’s shooting from between the curtains, and it’s maybe fifteen feet away. The person moves in closer, showing more of Luke’s face—and mine.
I lean over. Stroke his hair back like a lover would.
I lean in close, so you can only hear some of the words as I say, “It’s okay, You’re okay.”
I kiss his cheek. Then the videographer walks to the curtain and zoom in on the chart that’s attached.
The tabloid blurs out everything but his name.
I watch the video on repeat as I sit in the same chair where I sat the morning he rubbed on my shoulder. I’m right by the bed. He doesn’t move much, though, and I’m glad.
There’s a nurse that pops in twice to check stuff. It’s an older woman. She’s so good, she doesn’t wake him up
“He’s doing just fine. How are you, darling?”
She’s got a Scottish accent. I didn’t expect that.
“I’m good. Thank you.”
“You get some sleep yourself, my dear. It’s a stressful moment for you. And it’s not your fault.”
“Thank you,” I tell her.
“It’s sincerity.”
She leaves, and I get up and pace. So everybody and their fucking brother knows. A few minutes later, I get a text from Hakim.
Vance. I saw you in the video with the pastor. You guys involved? You okay?
I set the phone down on the bed and walk into the bathroom, where I stand at the counter looking at myself in the mirror. I try to tell myself that this will be a good way to really put this whole thing with Luke the ground. Put it to bed? I’m so tired, I don’t fucking know. I rub my face.
I decide to get a shower. It’s been days. I think at least two. I’m so damn exhausted. And it’s not getting better. When I tell him—if I get the chance to before he hears some other way—the fallout is going to be bad. He’ll be upset. Probably angry, too. It’s understandable. It was my fault he got outed. I’m the one who loved him up right there where anyone—any creep, at least—could see us. I’m the one that wasn’t careful.
I turn the shower on and try to focus on feeling the water hitting my neck and back. When the door’s pulled open, I nearly have a fucking heart attack. And then I see who it is.
“Luke?”
He’s white-knuckling the door, looking like an apparition with his pale face and his sharp-edged physique. Just one glance, and I can see he’s shaking.
I com
e toward him, then stop. I’m wet. He steps underneath the faucet with me. I barely get my arms around him before his knees buckle.
“Fuck.” I grunt, but I get us both down to the shower floor with no injuries. Luke wraps his arms around me, his hands shaking as he wraps my head against his throat.
“Sorry.” His mouth presses to my temple. Then he leans his head back. I realize he’s drinking water.
“Hey, man.” I spread my palm over his upper back. He’s smaller in my arms. Just a little leaner than me, but he’s always been so fucking bulky. He feels like a different person.
“I saw the video.”
“What?”
“You left your phone…on the bed.”
I hold my head, forgetting for a second how weak he is. Without my arm around his shoulder to steady him, Luke loses his balance. He’s been lying in bed for almost two weeks, if you count the flu time before he got sepsis. I cup his shoulder and shut my eyes. I wish I could deny it, but…
“I’m so damn sorry. I was carless. I—I don’t know what to say.”
“You’ve always been careless.” He sounds breathless, and I he is; after those words, he stops to breathe. He adds, “Of yourself.” His eyes meet mine. “Now,” he whisper-hisses, “way beyond the pale.”
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I didn’t kiss her,” he says, shaking slightly from what I think must be exertion. “She…kissed me.”
My chest aches as I hug him against me. “It’s okay. That’s all behind us.”
I’m a liar, though, because my heart is pounding and my head is spinning—that he knows. That he got up and walked in here to tell me.
“I don’t want there to be…behind. Everybody knows now.” He rubs his forehead, panting just a little between his words. “The elders will either…fire me…or not.”
His eyes are wide in his face. Shit, he’s weak. I should help him back to bed.
“You know why…I’m not…more upset?”
I shake my head.
I fold my hand over his pec. “Get a breath, Luke.”
His jaw tightens. “You…still love me. I could tell.” A tremor racks his shoulders. He gulps down a breath. Then looks back at me. “From…the video.”
29
Luke
I remember being wheeled down a long hallway in a bed. I knew he should be there with me, but he wasn’t. I kept trying to ask for him, and no one would comment. So I tried to get up and go find him.
Then someone was poking my neck with a needle, and I didn’t see him anywhere. I hate needles, so I tried to push them off me.
After that, I got him back. I tried to keep him by me. Often, I was too tired to talk, but I would try to look at him and talk with my eyes.
Please don’t leave yet.
Please stay with me.
Please forgive me.
There was this mask on my face—some reason. I remember he would get down by me when I was in bed. I would fall asleep with his hand rubbing my arm.
The whole time, I wanted him to hold me, but when I could think straight, I would realize that he couldn’t. He just sat by my bed, and when no one was around, he would lean in and kiss my hand and rub my hair.
Even though he thinks I’ve been with Megan. Even though I told him don’t come near me at the church.
“I hurt you. Always…have.” I want to say more about that—how I didn’t mean to, was just too focused on me—but I’m so tired. Everything now…making me tired. I drag my eyelids open. Take a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to,” I manage. “But I did.”
His hand rubs my shoulder. He runs his palm up my neck and holds my head. I lean against him.
“I’m…weak.”
“You were really sick, Sky.”
Tears swell in my eyes. My heart is racing. “I don’t want to…be finished.”
I shut my eyes. Everything is spinning.
“I wasn’t kissing her.” I remember what else he’s mad about. “When I was gone. To Ottawa—”
His arms encircle me. I lay against him. “Hey, McD…let’s get out. Then we’ll talk. I want to get you back in bed.”
Putting me off? Even my own thoughts are just a whisper in my head now.
Vance helps me walk into the bedroom. My legs are so shaky, I can’t get up on the bed. I think I might be sick. I sink down into the chair. He kneels in front of me. I lean down, resting my cheek on his head.
“Did you really see the video?” His voice is quiet. “You’re full-on outed.”
I nod. “I know.”
“You got outed because I wasn’t careful enough at the ER. See what I’m saying, Luke? It was my fault.”
My eyelids are heavy. I can’t help a yawn as darkness starts to bleed in from the corner of my vision. “Tired. Don’t care.”
“How can you not care?”
I take air in through my mouth and try to focus. “After Ottawa…I…wanted…to come out. Didn’t call.” I get two breaths, and when I speak again, I use a whisper so it won’t take so much breathing. “Was thinking. Of you.”
Satisfied I made the point I’ve waited weeks to make, I let sleep take me.
I wake up against him. It feels so good, I don’t want to open my eyes. So it’s annoying that the sunlight is in my face.
“Hey, L.” It’s V’s voice, so I crack open my eyes. He’s lying on his side, propped up on his elbow over me. We’re…on the floor?
There’s so many blankets, I can’t tell. I look around, and yeah. We are on the floor. “What happened?”
He shakes his head. “Couldn’t get you up there on the bed. You passed out in a chair, so I just stretched out on the floor beside you. Lots of blankets.”
I look at his face—like really look. He’s got a short beard. He looks tired. “You didn’t leave,” I whisper. Every time I went to sleep lately, that was my fear.
“You wanting me to?”
I shake my head.
“You want me here? You want to be out, and seeing me?”
I swallow. My eyes feel too hot. “Yeah.”
“You know what that would be like?”
I give a hoarse laugh. “It’s you who doesn’t.” I close my eyes, wondering now if this is too much to expect from him. I look up at him. “It would be a lot. Maybe too much for you.”
“Why too much?”
I can’t read his face, and I’m still a little hazy, but I do my best to give a honest answer. “Strangers. On the street. In restaurants. It was hard before. Now some of them won’t like us. Before…you were out and peaceful.” I swallow. Blow my breath out. “I would take that from you. When you’re with me…we would both be public.”
I don’t think I want to see his face, so I shut my eyes.
“Do you think it’s going to be bad?”
“Of course. I don’t know. I don’t care.” I put my hand over my eyes. I hate how I’m almost crying. Vance’s lips brush my jaw. He comes closer to me, wraps me up against him.
“This was missing at the hospital,” he says softly. “Drove me fucking crazy not to touch you like this.”
“Did you want to?”
“Yes. Illogically.” He sounds chagrined.
“I want to make it logically. But I don’t know if I can.”
He frowns deeply.
“Vance…sometimes people—”
“Are fucking nuts?”
That makes me smile. “It’s not funny. But yeah.”
“It’s going to be hardest for you…I would think.”
I nod. My stomach pitches.
“If I said no,” he murmurs. “That I think I can’t…be with you. What would you do? You could walk it back. Deny it. Did you know the coverage is still somewhat open ended right now? No one has a statement from you.”
“Up in Ottawa, I married my friend. To a man. It was my first gay wedding.” I shake my head slightly. “I don’t do gay weddings.” I look at him, to see if his face can tell me that he understands. “I can’t marry people li
ke us. Or…I don’t.”
He looks sad. He nods.
“I’m not coming out for you, V. That night at the dinner in Manhattan, I lost it.” I stop to breathe. And swallow. My voice is scratchy and my throat hurts now from overuse. “Someone told me…they heard about the elders. Hoped I shut it down. But with a slur. I told him I hoped he would keep opinions to himself…on things he didn’t know about.”
Vance’s face transforms. “Did you say that?”
“Yeah.” I shut my eyes. “And then I walked out.”
“It scared you.”
“A lot.”
“Fuck, Luke. That makes so much sense.” His lips are on my hair.
“I had told them no…my friends from school. But…I said yes. Because to think about them…getting married…” I swallow as my eyes sting. “It made me think about you. And I couldn’t stand to think someone would…not marry us.”
He hugs me a little tighter. “It’s a strange hurt. Stranger for you. I didn’t know,” he adds.
“About me up in Ottawa? How would you? I was in my head about it. I needed to think.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “And I trusted you to trust me.”
“How could I?”
I open up my eyes and look at him. “I said I loved you.”
He sighs. Rubs at his face. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Maybe it was me who didn’t have enough faith in you. When I realized that you guys got home on Sunday and you hadn’t even texted…” He shakes his head. “Then I saw you with her.” His jaw tightens.
I sigh. “It was my fault. I never…gave much. I was so scared.”
His mouth brushes my hair. His hand rubs a circle on my back. “I know, dude. I gotcha.”
I run my hand down his abs. “I love you, Luke.” I move lower. He’s half hard and growing under my touch. I groan. “I’ve missed this.”
“Don’t tease me, Luke.”
