by A. P. Eisen
Every time Paul showed his sensitive, caring side, Cliff had to remind himself this was also the real Paul, the side he kept hidden from the world. And Cliff warmed to that secret part of Paul, loving that Paul trusted him, maybe even starting to lo—
No. His brain took charge, ruthlessly shoving away his stupid heart and slamming the door shut on his fantasy. The trap might be set, but Cliff knew the terrain already, and it was fraught with danger. This conversation had cracked open a door Paul kept firmly shut, no matter how close they’d gotten these past months, and Cliff knew he had to take it slowly. He’d revealed things to Paul he’d never told anyone, not even Ryan, and though painful, it was cathartic in its own way. He could do this alone.
“No, it won’t,” he said firmly. “But it will be another step forward to see if they meant what they said and are willing to accept me, and a lover I want to bring home with me.” He walked with Paul to the door and made to open it, but Paul put his hand over Cliff’s.
“You know”—Paul gazed at him with shining eyes—“you always talk about me being the brave one, but it takes fucking guts to do what you’re doing. Don’t sell yourself short.” To Cliff’s surprise, Paul gave him a hard kiss. “I know I don’t.”
His heart banging, Cliff watched Paul saunter down the hallway, hands jammed into the pockets of his sport jacket. His lips still tingled as he closed the door.
* * *
At five thirty, Cliff trod up the path to his parents’ house, not feeling so brave. It was as if the evening before hadn’t happened and he was twenty all over again. The white clapboard Cape Cod-style house looked the same, with its weathered blue shutters flanking each window. The flower boxes in the front windows were empty, most likely because his mother had been too ill to manage planting.
The tall oak tree still stood, throwing shade over the front lawn. The branch that stretched right outside his window remained, and Cliff could see himself as a young teenager escaping the hot summer nights, crawling out on the branch with a bottle of Yoo-hoo and a bag of chips. He’d sit with his back against the hard, bumpy tree trunk, wondering what life would be like when he grew up. He knew he was different from the other kids, and he’d wish he could tell someone his secret.
He also thought about his crush on Paul Monroe, his best friend’s older brother, who didn’t know he was alive.
Smiling to himself, Older Cliff bade the ghost of Young Cliff good-bye, and with purpose, walked up the steps and banged the brass knocker. Footsteps sounded inside, and his father appeared when the door opened, his face less worn and eyes less anxious than previously.
“Cliff,” he said a bit gruffly. “Glad you came. Your mother wasn’t sure…”
“I’m here. I said I would be.” He shed his suit jacket and hung it on the banister. From his position in the entrance hall, he saw his mother lying on the old chintz-flowered sofa with a pillow behind her and a book in her hand. He couldn’t help but smile, the memory of her reading her romance novels as fresh as if he’d seen her with one yesterday. “She looks good. How’s she feeling today?”
Never taking his eyes off her, his father leaned against the banister. “She seems to be holding her own better now, so it looks like the new drugs are working. We won’t know until after all the treatments if she’s in remission. They’re sending a nurse tomorrow for a few hours. That’s all insurance will cover.”
He didn’t know what to say. “If you need help on the weekend, I’m happy to come over.”
All he got in response was, “We’ll see.”
Leaving his father behind, Cliff placed a smile on his face and approached his mother, who hadn’t heard their hushed conversation.
“Mom, how are you doing?”
“Oh, Cliff, you came.” She closed the book, brightening, but her complexion looked a bit gray. “I’m doing better being home.” Her gaze flickered downward. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to come back here. I’m glad you decided to look past what happened.”
“Look past?”
“Well, I mean, you seem okay with everything.”
“I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding it.” He gave a tight, grim smile. “For years afterward, I went to bed with your words in my head, telling me you wished I was someone else’s child.” He hadn’t meant to start out the visit like this, but the words tumbled out, along with the decades-old hurt and pain. “I thought about ditching it all.…Why bother to live if my own parents didn’t think I was worth loving? Who would ever love me? But you know what? People do care about me. I’ve had relationships, and I have good friends who are proud to have me as their friend even if I am gay. So while I would love your acceptance, I don’t need it anymore to prove my self-worth.”
Afraid he’d upset her even though he needed to say what he did, Cliff stopped and took some deep breaths. I should apologize, he thought and opened his mouth.
“You shouldn’t come here and upset your mother. Couldn’t you have waited until she was well before yelling at her?”
“I didn’t think I was yelling. And what she said was hurtful. As were your words.”
Turning first white, then red-faced, his father lashed out. “You have no right to speak to her like that. You want to yell at me, have at it. We can go outside and air our differences like—” His father stopped and pressed his lips together, but Cliff had no trouble finishing his sentence.
“Like real men? Is that what you were going to say, Dad, but can’t because you still don’t believe I am?” Cliff’s thin smile had worn him out, and his hopes for a pleasant visit were almost dead, when his mother spoke.
“Stop it. Both of you. Jimmy, sit down.” She pointed to the old recliner. “And Cliff, please come here.”
Like a dutiful child, he did as told and let her take his hand.
“Yesterday, when I asked you to come over, I didn’t think how hard it would be for you. With so much time passing, I’d hoped it would be easier, but that was a silly wish, I know.”
He merely shrugged, unable to speak.
“I never forgot, so why should you? Each time I replayed that scene in my head, I wished I’d never said those terrible words. But I did. The only thing I can do is say I’m sorry. Did I mean them?” She stopped and closed her eyes as if in pain.
At her pause, he raised his gaze to meet hers. “Did you?”
“In that horrible moment I did, but I wanted to take them right back. I couldn’t, though; the damage had been done. But I said them out of ignorance and fear.”
Cliff doubted if he’d ever know the truth. The halcyon days of his childhood were long gone, and he’d lived a hundred lives since then. Needing his parents’ approval no longer meant everything to him.
“I want to know if I’m going to come here and be welcome. Or if I’m always going to have to be on my guard for digs and subtle comments about who I am.”
“Cliff.” At his father’s voice, he turned to face him. “I don’t want to hurt you. And I’m also sorry for what I said that night. I’m not disappointed in the man you’ve turned out to be.”
His father’s low, deep voice quavered, sending a shockwave through Cliff. Aside from his mother’s illness, his father rarely let his emotions get the better of him.
Perhaps he’d changed, or maybe not. But for the first time, Cliff had the power to make things right, and he accepted that apology, determined to follow the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.: “I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.”
This time when he shook his father’s hand, there was a smile to go along with it. And he saw the tears shining in his mother’s eyes.
“If anything good could ever come from this horrible illness, it’s that I have you back in my life. I’ve gotten what I wanted most. My son.”
He hugged her, careful not to hold her too tight, but she held on to him with surprising strength. “Bring your friend around next time. I want to get to know him better.”
“Okay, I’ll try.” One more gen
tle hug. “I’d better go and let you get some rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He grabbed his suit jacket off the banister and left, planning to cut across the yard to the side driveway. His heart leaped at the sight of a nondescript sedan parked in front of his parents’ house, and he tried to act casual as he walked down the path. He peered into the window, and Paul’s smile gleamed from the dim interior.
“Hey.”
“Y-you came? Wh-what’re you doing here? I thought we’d meet back at my house.”
“I know you were worried about how it would go, so I wanted to make sure you were okay to drive.”
To think Paul did this for him…God, he was so not okay, but he had to keep himself together.
“Thank you. I-I’m overwhelmed.”
Overwhelmed and in love. A dangerous combination.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“So are you? Okay, I mean. Can you drive, or do you want me to?” Paul didn’t like the way Cliff looked, pale and wide-eyed as if shell-shocked.
“Yeah. I can drive. I’ll see you in a few.”
On the solitary drive, Paul had to figure out a way to keep his emotions in check. He’d never had this compelling need to protect someone like he had with Cliff, yet he sensed if he pushed, Cliff would shut down. Rejection had made him wary of people, and with good reason.
He trailed Cliff’s car, allowing him to pull into the driveway first, so Paul, who normally left earlier than Cliff in the morning, would have direct access to the street. They walked in together, and Paul enjoyed the easy familiarity between them as they changed out of their work clothes to more comfortable ones. He’d gotten a lockbox to keep at Cliff’s and placed the gun inside, then divested himself of holster, badge, and shield. He looked forward to spending his nights with Cliff, especially here, in Cliff’s house, where they’d sit at the big kitchen island and talk about their day while Cliff made dinner. It was reminiscent of his childhood, and he suspected it was like Rob and Annabel’s house as well, except quieter without the kids.
“So,” Paul said, swinging onto a stool at the kitchen island. “Tell me how it went.”
“Do you want a drink?” Cliff pulled out a bottle of beer. “I know I do.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He handed one to Paul and took a deep swallow before answering.
“I said what I needed to get off my chest all these years.”
“Which was?” Paul’s eyes searched Cliff’s, not liking the vulnerability he saw. He didn’t want anyone to hurt Cliff.
“That I didn’t understand how a parent can reject a child. How I’d thought about suicide because in the beginning the loneliness was so brutal and suffocating, I didn’t think I could make it alone.”
“I didn’t know that.” His breath grew short. “Shit, Cliff. I’m so damn sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything. And I made it. I made it on my own.”
“You sure did.”
Cliff’s smile sent a wave of warmth through him. “You’ve done all right for yourself.”
Not in his book. He’d buried himself in work to forget who he was for years. Now that he was with Cliff, he struggled with his double life and coming out completely. He’d done a half-assed job, and a guy like Cliff deserved it all.
“You say that to the forty-year-old man who still hasn’t told his father he’s gay.”
“If and when you’re ready,” Cliff said serenely. He took out a package of chicken. “Want me to grill tonight? There’s corn on the cob too.”
“Sounds good. Cliff?”
Cliff was about to slide open the glass door to the deck, but at Paul’s question, he stopped. “Yeah?”
“Do you think I should tell my father?”
His brows pulled together. “Is that something you want to do? Coming out should never be anyone’s decision except the person doing it.”
“I feel like such a fake, and being with you only reinforces it.”
Cliff set the chicken in the sink and came to his side. “Don’t compare yourself to me. Or anyone else, for that matter. Your journey is your own.”
“And that journey starts with a single step, right? I owe the old man a call anyway. Let’s see how it goes.” He pulled out his phone, and Cliff’s brows drew up in surprise.
“Now? Over the phone?”
“I don’t see why not. It’s not like we’re close, and I have the urge to hear what he’s going to say.”
“Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“Doubtful.” He hit the button on his phone, and when Cliff took a step away, he grabbed his arm. “Please? Don’t go?”
Cliff nodded and sat next to him so their thighs touched. “Sure.”
His father picked up on the third ring. “Paul? That you?”
“Yes. How’re you doing?”
“Fine, fine. How’s work? Busy as usual?”
“Yes. I’m working another homicide investigation. Hopefully it’ll come together soon. How’re you? Feeling okay?”
“As well as expected. Damn memory comes and goes. Vicki says yesterday I was talking about Harley, but I don’t remember that.”
“I think about him all the time too.” Cliff squeezed his knee.
“Planning to come visit soon?”
Did he detect a hopeful note? “I’ll have to see how this case goes, but definitely by year’s end.”
“Good, good. You know you can bring someone with you if you’d like.”
Despite the quivering nerves, Paul had to laugh. “Is that your not-so-subtle way of asking if I’m seeing anyone?”
“Are you?”
He met Cliff’s warm brown eyes. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. But I’m not sure…” He faltered, his sudden bout of courage fading.
“You’re a grown man, and I might not remember your birthday nowadays, but I know you’re forty. What’re you afraid of? Whether I’ll like her?”
Paul was sweating through his T-shirt like he was playing basketball, and Cliff stood to put his arms around him.
“No. Whether you’ll like him.” He let out the breath he’d been holding, feeling light-headed. He waited for a response. And waited…
He heard a long exhalation. “I see. Yeah. Funny. Vicki and I were talking the other day. She said to me if I thought because you weren’t married yet, that you might be.”
“Gay, you mean. You can say it out loud, Dad. It isn’t a dirty word, you know. At least not to me.”
“Don’t jump down my throat.”
“I’m not,” he said, remorseful at his snappish response. “It’s hard enough for me to tell you this.”
“You’re a grown man and can do what you want. You always have. I can’t say I’m happy about it, but you’ve always been a good son. And it’s a different world than when I grew up. I remember guys at the base we knew were queer, but we left them alone. It was against the law back then, you know.”
And in spite of the seriousness of the conversation, Paul had to smile. “Yeah, Dad. I know. But not now.”
“I never cared as long as they kept away from me. And now my son…” He sighed. “We’ll see how it goes.”
It was more than he’d hoped for. “Just don’t think of me as being any different than anyone else, and we’ll be fine. I’m not ‘one of those people.’ I’m the same person I always was.”
“I have to go now. I’ll talk to you soon.” And the phone went dead.
Paul shook his head, confused and unsure about what just happened. Cliff handed him his beer, and he welcomed the shock of the cold beads of condensation.
“Everything okay?”
“Better than I expected.” Paul let out a rueful laugh. “That was supposed to be my line. I’m sorry I hijacked your night.”
“Part of being in a relationship is concern about and for the other person. I appreciated you waiting outside my parents’ house, but that doesn’t mean I can’t offer my support to you when something as momentous as coming out to your father pops up.”
>
“I always knew I liked the brainy type.”
“Are you calling me a nerd?” Cliff gave him the slow, steady smile that never failed to set his blood pounding.
“How about a hot nerd?” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Cliff’s jeans.
Cliff looped both arms around his neck and kissed him softly. “You can just call me yours, and I’ll be fine with that.”
A funny sort of tightness squeezed his chest, and Paul tangled his hands in Cliff’s hair. “You’re not really that eager for dinner, are you?”
Cliff’s eyes lit up, and he smiled. “Maybe in two or three hours.”
“Sounds about right.” Paul pressed his lips to Cliff’s, his taste and smell as enticing today as the first time. He might never be able to get enough of this man. “Ready?”
Cliff nodded, and hand in hand, they walked to the bedroom.
* * *
The next morning Paul slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Cliff. He whistled a breathy tune as he showered and swiftly dressed. Cliff lay curled on his side, and Paul wished he could slide right back in next to him and spoon against the curve of his body.
On bare feet, he padded out to the living room to put on his socks and shoes and slip on his sport jacket. As badly as he wanted to kiss Cliff good-bye, he wanted to let him sleep. His muscles ached after their lovemaking, which had lasted late into the night. While Paul had always had what he thought was a healthy sex drive, being with Cliff was like a constant orgasmic buzz through his bloodstream. The more he had of Cliff, the more he wanted.
He left the house, making sure the door locked behind him, and started his car. On the way to the precinct, a text popped up on his phone, and at the red light he checked it.
All systems go. Annabel wants me out of the house as much as I do.
He drove the rest of the way to work with a big fat grin on his face. When he entered the precinct, Rob was already there, munching on a doughnut. After hanging the car keys up on the peg, Paul strolled through the bullpen, lips pressed tight, ridiculously happy to see his partner.
“Your wife know you’re eating that junk?”
