He shook his head, then groaned. “Damn it, I’ve got to quit doing that. I’d never realized how much I shake my head. But no, you can’t make me breakfast. I’ve put you through enough.”
“Then just start saying yes more.” I didn’t let go of his hand, and though I couldn’t believe what I was about to say, I felt emboldened by what I’d seen in his eyes. “And I think we can quit pretending we’re putting the other one out. It’s obvious you’re feeling more for me than friendship. I feel the same. And I want you. So”—fuck—“sit down, shut up, and let me make you breakfast.”
Gilbert stared at me, brown eyes wide, and maybe a touch terrified, and then he laughed softly. “Okay.”
“Good. Okay.” I nodded in relief. I’d expected more of an argument. “I know when I’m hungover I need grease. I’m not the best cook in the world, but I’ve got an easy version of a sausage McMuffin. I’m pretty sure we won’t need raspberry preserves to eat it either.”
He laughed again. “Touché. True, but touché.”
“You sit. I’ll bring you another mug of coffee and start cooking.”
“You really don’t have to wait on me.”
“Hmmm…. Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”
Gilbert stared at me, his lips curving into a smile. “I’m not sure if I like this new side of you, or if it means I’m in trouble.”
Trouble. I was pretty sure it meant he was in trouble. That both of us were. “You’re getting coffee and homemade breakfast. I’d say you’ve got it pretty good at the moment.”
He nodded. “I’d have to agree with you there.”
Busying myself in the kitchen helped. Gilbert sipped his coffee and nibbled on half of a toasted English muffin as he waited. I’d heard burnt bread helped hangovers. We didn’t talk, but the silence was comfortable. Much like it had been the morning at Gilbert’s house a couple months before. Though this time was even easier in some ways. And a little more thrilling too. Before, it had just been a hookup, despite what I’d felt. While I wasn’t sure where this was going, if anywhere, it was now obviously no longer a hookup.
I pushed up my glasses as I fried the sausage. I’d taken them off to work in the garden but, for whatever reason, cooking without them strained my eyes. As always, preparing food helped calm my nerves. Not as much as yard work, but close. Anything requiring work with my hands grounded me. That was why I’d gotten up and immediately started working in the yard. Knowing Gilbert was asleep in my bed was too much. Too tempting to crawl in beside him, or worse, to shake him awake and ask him what all of this was. Instead, I made coffee and got out the spade. I hadn’t been able to completely erase the questions churning around as I worked, but I’d been able to let it be. Trust that things would figure themselves out if I didn’t push. I’d never in a million years predicted things would have gone as they had once Gilbert woke up. I’d expected panic, not the kind of look he gave me.
Before long I placed two greasy, cheesy sausage sandwiches on each plate and slid them on the table.
Gilbert groaned once more, but this time it seemed in pleasure at the smell. He gave a quick grin. “I’d joke about praying again, but this looks too good to waste time on jokes. Thank you for doing this.” He didn’t wait for a response before taking a bite, and then groaning a third time and talking with his mouth full. “Holy fuck. You’re as amazing at cooking as you are at sex.”
I nearly choked, but couldn’t help but be pleased. “Well, you’re hungover and starving. That may have something to do with it.”
Gilbert made some sort of noise, but kept eating. He’d finished off his first one before I’d managed my second bite. They were good. He paused before picking up his other one. “Thank you, Walden. I’m actually feeling human again.” He glanced at the glass doors. “And the sunlight doesn’t seem to be trying to kill me any longer.” He let out a long breath as his shoulders relaxed. “Seriously, that garden is gorgeous. I can’t even believe it.”
“Thanks. You should see it at night. It’s pretty ethereal if I say so myself.”
“I bet it is.” He looked back at me and smiled sadly.
I wished I could read his mind, or take away whatever sadness seemed always so near. “You could stay here tonight. See it for yourself. If… you’re not going back home today.” Shit, I really was being direct, nearly brazen. What if I’d read him wrong? I mentally kicked myself. I hadn’t read him wrong. I’d seen what I’d seen. I had to quit second-guessing. He wasn’t Levi. He wasn’t setting me up to lie to me.
Maybe he wasn’t, but he did look uncomfortable. “I’m sure it’s beautiful. And I’d love to see it, but I’m not sure that would be the best idea.”
“Okay. Sorry.” I nodded and focused on my breakfast. But I looked back at him before I could take a bite, some unnamed sensation rushing through me. “Actually, no, it’s not okay. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea? I’m not making up what I’m feeling between us. It was there before. It was there last night. It’s here now, stronger than ever. I’m not imagining it. I’m not crazy. And if you want to tell me I am, then do it now.”
He straightened. For several seconds it looked like that was exactly what Gilbert was going to do. Then his shoulders slumped again. “You’re not making things up. You’re not crazy.” A bitter laugh. “Well, you might be crazy to be feeling stuff for me, but that’s another story. It’s just not something we should do right now. Er, not something we should do.”
God, he was frustrating. “Why not? Timing? Location? Are you heading back home and need time to think?” Like the months in between had been long enough for things to fade if they were going to.
“No. I’m going home tomorrow. I’m rarely in town, and when I am, the entire family gets together. So that dinner is tonight, after my therapy session.” His eyes widened, and he twisted around to look at the microwave. “Still have an hour or so before that, speaking of, so that’s good.” He turned back around. “It’s just not a good idea. You deserve someone different. Someone better.”
Looking at Gilbert, no one would ever think he’d find anyone on a higher level than himself. He was gorgeous. He was a rich, successful artist, and that in and of itself, was a rarity. He was arrogantly confident.
No, he wasn’t. That was how he’d seemed that first day at the gym. Even the first night at the hot springs. But that wasn’t true at all. Somehow, he was more insecure than me, which shouldn’t be possible.
“Tell me what it is.”
Gilbert had taken another bite, and he spoke without swallowing again. “What?”
“Whatever it is that keeps making you think you’re shit. I know you battle with depression and stuff, but it’s not just that. There’s something else.”
He stared at me, then shook his head again. He was right. He did do that a lot. I imagined he said no to lots of things in life. Not just me. “It’s not important. You’re just better off on your own or with someone el—you’re just better off.”
“You heard my story. What I don’t tell anyone. What haunts me at night.”
Irritation crossed his face. “So, what? It’s the ‘I’ll tell you my shit but as payment I want to hear yours’ game?”
“No. Not at all.” I allowed my frustration to show through. Why not? “And cut that out. You already know me enough to see that isn’t what I do. It meant a lot to me to share that with you. Meant a hell of a lot that you kept caring about me despite it.”
“Sorry. I do know that.” He considered for a moment, but gave another damn shake of his head. “I don’t want you to know.”
“Why? Because you think I’ll see you differently? That I’ll walk away?”
He nodded. “Yeah, of course that’s why.”
“So you just walk away instead?”
“Shit, I feel like I’m already in my therapy session.” He gave another nod and looked me straight in the eye. I was beginning to prefer the head-shake. “But yeah. Exactly.”
I couldn’t keep the bite out of my tone.
“Well, it sounds like you have a therapy appointment in a bit, anyway. Why don’t you talk about this stupid decision and then come see me after, when he tells you to pull your head out of your ass.” My God, what had come over me? I’d never spoken to anyone like this. Ever. But I could feel him slipping through my fingers. And with every second that passed, I wanted him more and more. I didn’t want to lose him. Not when it felt like we could have something. I at least wanted to find out.
To my surprise, Gilbert laughed. “You really are something, Walden. I wouldn’t have predicted this side of you.”
That made two of us. “Well?”
His eyes flicked back and forth quickly as he inspected me. “Fine. Plus, it’s not like it’s a secret. After last night’s display on the dance floor, it’s only a matter of time before someone warns you about the wicked Gilbert Bryant. You’ll probably get a call this afternoon. I’m actually surprised you haven’t already, knowing this town.”
Whatever else was going on, he was obsessed about the people in Lavender Shores talking about him. I nearly pointed out that could be another topic to discuss with his therapist, but decided I’d pushed as hard as I was comfortable. So I waited.
Gilbert placed the remainder of his breakfast on the plate, folded his arms on the table, and leaned forward. “Here’s the down and dirty version. Like the one you told me, just a lot dirtier.”
I nodded when he paused. Afraid if I spoke, I’d say the wrong thing.
His expression was unreadable, completely turned to stone as he spoke. Even his tone had grown cold. It was obvious he wasn’t telling me a secret. Though it haunted him, it wasn’t a fresh wound like mine had been. “I had an affair with a married man. A married, straight man. A father of three. Because of me his wife left him, he lost custody of his children, lost his career, and nearly went to jail.”
I waited.
He didn’t say anything else.
I thought through his story. I couldn’t say I loved what I heard. Having an affair didn’t say great things about him. But neither did what I’d chosen to do. And I hadn’t checked the ring finger of all those nameless men dumping into me. I was certain some of them had probably been on the down low. “Okay. You had an affair. Is that really the only time that’s happened in Lavender Shores?”
He cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “Okay, not enough, huh? I was trying to spare you the details.”
“Don’t. I didn’t spare any on you.”
He sighed, and some of the hardness left his tone, making room for just a bit of guilt. “He was my English teacher my sophomore year in high school. I pursued him. I knew he was married. I’d met his wife. His oldest kid was a good friend of mine. I also knew they had two younger kids as well. I knew all of that, and I pursued him. For months, until I wore him down and got him to fuck me.”
I blanched. That I’d not seen coming. I tried to play catch-up as fast as I could. High school? Sophomore? “So you were… sixteen?”
“Fifteen. Sixteen when it ended. When his wife walked in on us fucking in their bed. I knew what I was doing.” That, he said like a dare. Like I would argue with him.
I did. “You were fifteen. He was your teacher. How the hell is this supposed to make you look bad? I thought you were telling me about an affair from a few years ago. Good God, Gilbert. You were a kid. Your teacher was the only one to blame.”
He snorted and waved me off. “That’s what my parents said, what the school said, what my therapist said.” He leaned closer, unfolded his arms and jabbed a finger on the table. “I. Knew. What. I. Was. Doing. I saw a man I wanted, even though I knew his wife and his family, and I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I went after him, not the other way around.”
I opened my mouth to disagree, then closed it, playing the conversation out quickly and realizing that if I argued, if I defended him, Gilbert would shut down. “So… he got divorced you said? And went to jail?”
“Yeah, his wife left him and got custody of the two little kids. My friend wouldn’t speak to him again. Not sure if he ever did. They all moved away.” His nostrils twitched in apparent agitation. “But no, he didn’t go to jail. My parents started that process, but I begged them not to. I loved him. Or felt whatever a teenager thinks is love.”
“They actually listened to you?” God, my parents and I didn’t have the best relationship, but if they’d ever found out about a teacher doing that to me, they’d have murdered him. I couldn’t imagine parents doing nothing.
“Not at first. They pressed charges but ended up dropping them when it only made things worse for me.”
“How did it possibly make it worse for you?” I couldn’t keep the astonishment out of my voice.
“Because, Walden, Lavender Shores is a safe haven for the LGBTQ blah, blah, blahs, but it was still high school, and there were still expectations. I was already known as the school slut before this happened. It wasn’t that huge of a deal, and my parents somehow hadn’t been aware of all of that, but it exploded after the affair. Mr. Fitz was one of the most beloved teachers. He was gorgeous and popular. He was kind and a good teacher. Everyone loved him. Students, parents, the whole fucking town. They loved him and his wife. Everyone outside the family saw it for what it was. The town slut corrupting the good teacher. And they weren’t wrong.”
Again my inclination was to argue, but I stopped myself. If I took a step back, I could see Gilbert’s perspective. I didn’t agree with it, but I hadn’t been there; I didn’t know. But the result of it all was sitting in front me. I needed to focus on that. “So you feel….” I started over. “So because you’re responsible for breaking up his family, a lot of the townspeople still look at you as nothing more than a home-wrecker?”
He nodded.
Another thought hit me. “Oh.” Shit, it should’ve been the first connection I’d made. “Oh. So that’s why when you found out I was a teacher….” I couldn’t hold back a laugh, albeit a dark one. “There you were again, corrupting another high school teacher.”
“Yeah.” He sounded relieved. “Exactly.”
In a way, it really did make sense. And being from a small town myself, I could honestly imagine how life might have been for him after that.
“It gets worse.” He kept going, though, looking more defeated with every word. “You know I told you I checked into rehab last year because I was close to hurting myself?”
How could it get worse? “Yeah, I remember.”
He let out a long shaky breath. “Well, I keep track of his son’s Facebook page. Dr. Carlisle says it’s a form of self-flagellation, but whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “Not the point.” He met my gaze, so direct it was uncomfortable. “Mr. Fitz killed himself last year. So home-wrecker, town slut, and all the other names got topped by murderer.”
I sucked in a breath. “People actually called you that? He killed himself. You didn’t do it.”
“No, they don’t.” He kept his gaze on me still. “But yeah, I did do it, or might as well have. I ruined that man’s life. The entire family’s life.” There were no tears, no crack in his composure, which told me how deep the pain went, and how truly he believed his words. “There you go. There’s your trade of stories.”
I knew he didn’t mean it like it sounded, but it still stung.
He didn’t wait for a response. “I’d say it’s pretty clear why you deserve someone better than a man who would do all of that.”
If he’d told me the exact same story but changed his age to thirty, I still don’t think I would’ve rejected him. Affairs weren’t good, but they happened. And if a person was remorseful and changed, then who was I to judge? Levi flitted in my mind. I’d been his affair, though I hadn’t known. And he’d never change, no matter what his last message had said. But this wasn’t that. Not even close. Gilbert had been little more than a kid, and town slut at that age or not, it wasn’t the same thing. Not at all. But his darkness and hurt made total sense. A spark of hate for Mr. Fitz flitted through me. As a teacher
, I couldn’t imagine any scenario that would allow me to take advantage of one of my students like that. Even if they pursued me like crazy. If that ever happened, I’d get the school counselor involved, get the kid the help he needed. Not cave in and have an affair with him. Gilbert had deserved better. And he was still paying the price for that teacher’s weakness.
I reached out and placed my hand over Gilbert’s. “I’m sorry you’ve gone through this, and I’m sorry you’re still hurting. But I’m not walking away. And you are not worth less than me. Not at all.”
He flinched, and his brows knitted. He really had thought I’d answer differently.
Maybe I should’ve quit talking, but I couldn’t seem to hold back the words. “If anything, Gilbert, I see you as stronger now than before. All the things you’ve had to fight against? All the things you face and deal with, and yet you’ve built a home for yourself, a career, and you’re brave enough to come back into this town and face what people might say.” An echo of that woman in the steam room and her whispered insults flitted into my memory. I hadn’t paid them much thought, but they made sense now. “If anything, it shows how much love you have that you’ll face people’s judgment so you can come back and see your family. Be at your best friend’s engagement party and wedding. That’s strong as fuck. And just as beautiful.”
I swear Gilbert was near tears, but none fell. Though I could hear them in his voice. “That’s a pretty good spin there, Mr. Thompson.”
I squeezed his arm. “It’s not spin.”
He didn’t argue, but he did pull back. “I should get going. I meet with Donovan, er… Dr. Carlisle soon.”
Panic washed over me. “Are you walking away from what we’re feeling? Whatever it might be? Since I’m not walking away from you, then you’re really doing it instead?”
The Garden (Lavender Shores Book 2) Page 16
