“How do you live with yourself?” his dad implored. “Are you jealous of my son? Jealous his life was better than yours? Is this some sick game to you? Do you get joy out of ripping away another man’s life, driving a wedge between him and his family?”
“That’s enough.” Drew cut in and stood. Gone was the weariness and even the sadness. In its place, anger was taking over.
Drew was as tall as his father, so when he closed the distance between them, they were eye to eye. “Don’t talk to him like that. Not ever. This isn’t his fault. He didn’t make me turn gay and certainly didn’t rip away my life.”
I wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed I didn’t have a place to speak, like I needed to let Drew handle this his way. But honestly, Burke’s words stung. How could they not?
Hadn’t I worried for weeks and months about how my love might ruin Drew’s life?
“You weren’t like this until you moved up there.”
“Yes, Dad, I was.” Drew pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m the same person I’ve always been. It’s you who never wanted to see. I’ve spent my entire life trying to live up to your expectations, being the son you always wanted. But this is me. Who I’ve always been. You and Mom just never saw because I didn’t let you. I’ve never wanted to work in software. I hated college, and my day job makes me feel like I’m dying inside. I’ve always felt a little different. I’ve always felt like the son you wanted just wasn’t who I was. But I tried.” His shoulders sagged. “I tried so hard.”
“Andrew,” his mother said sadly and got up from the couch.
“When I went to see Ivy and walked into her house, it was the first time I felt like I truly belonged, like I didn’t have to be who someone else wanted me to be. It was so… It was a relief. So I stayed. And I know it looks like being there changed me, but it didn’t. It just made me more me.”
Burke turned away. I couldn’t tell if he was listening, and frankly, it made me want to deck him. I knew how hard it was to pour out a piece of your soul, to admit to being more or something different than people thought.
It was fucking excruciating. The least the man could do was look at his son while he spoke.
“Honey, we love you no matter what job you work in,” Adrienne said and hugged him. Drew returned the embrace, squeezing his mother tight, but over her shoulder, his eyes sought out mine.
He was breaking inside.
Drew stepped back from his mother and looked in her face. “Do you love me no matter who I love?”
Her breath caught. Mine did, too.
Her eyes filled with tears. “What you’re asking us, Andrew… it goes against the Bible.”
“Do you think God loves me less because I love another man?”
Did you hear that sound?
It was the sound of my heart cracking.
It was a sound I knew well because it was the same sound my ribs made the night I was attacked.
Adrienne’s tears trailed over her cheeks, and she reached for Drew’s hand. “How could anyone not love you?”
“It’s impossible,” I said.
Drew and his mother looked in my direction. I offered them a smile. His mother tentatively returned it.
“You’ll move back home.”
Everyone’s eyes widened when the deep, authoritative voice filled the room. Burke’s back was still turned and his posture was rigid. Both hands were folded behind his back, one lying over the other. It looked like he was in the military and standing at parade rest. So formal. So rigid…
So unaccepting.
“What?” Drew asked.
“You’ll drop out of racing and move back home. I’ll get you that interview at the company here in town. It’s not too late to fix this, to be the man I raised you to be.”
Drew’s mouth thinned. “No.”
Against the small of his back, Burke’s hands clenched together. “You will. Or you will no longer be welcome in this home.”
Adrienne gasped. “Burke!”
I jerked up off the couch. “Are you fucking kidding me!” I went off.
Burke turned around to pin me with a stare. “You are not welcome in this house. Ever.”
“What kind of father would disown his own son?”
“And what did your father say?” He lifted an eyebrow.
I felt like he’d thrown a rock at my chest. I cleared my throat. “I don’t have a father.”
Drew glanced at me sharply. He knew my dad wasn’t around, but he seemed surprised anyway.
“Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t be so depraved.”
Drew moved fast, like lightning. One minute he was staring at me, and the next he was flying across the empty space between him and his father. His arm swung back, his fist clenched.
“Drew!” his mother gasped.
His father’s eyes widened in surprise. Just before he delivered the punch, he deflated and dropped his hand. “All my life…” Drew began. “I wanted to be just like you. You were the man I measured everyone against.”
His father lifted his chin, and Drew shook his head sadly.
“But now I’m ashamed. I knew I was going to disappoint you today, and I’ve been struggling with it for weeks. But it’s me who’s disappointed. Disappointed I put so much faith and energy into wanting to be like you.”
“Andrew,” his father said, more emotion in that one word than I’d heard all day. It made me see deep inside that man, he really did love his son.
Too bad he wasn’t better at showing it.
“You won’t bully or threaten me into the life you want me to live.” Drew went on. “I wish you could see how happy I am, how excited. I wish when you looked at Trent, you saw the man I did. A man who is passionate about business, who is loyal to his friends, and who feels more deeply in his little finger than you do in your entire body. You might be disgusted that I love him, but I’m proud. I’m proud to love someone who loves me enough to walk into this house and take the abuse you’ve so casually thrown at him. You want to make me choose? I choose him. I choose my life over the life you want me to have.”
My heart swelled, filling in that crack I’d suffered earlier. There was so much beauty in Drew’s heartbreak. Probably because he was determined to overcome.
Drew turned his back on his parents and looked at me. “I want to go home.”
Without another word, I went to the front door and picked up both our bags. The door was heavy when I pushed it open and stood, holding it ajar.
“Andrew,” his mother called after him when he started my way.
Drew stopped, the pain in his eyes naked and real. He blinked and turned back to his mother. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
She was openly crying now, and he wrapped her in a hug. “My door is always open to you,” he whispered against her hair.
She sniffled against his shirt. I looked up at Burke, who was watching his wife and son embrace. There was guilt in his eyes. Guilt and pain.
Had Drew’s words sunk in?
Now that he was faced with the truth he was literally disowning his son over a lifestyle choice, was he beginning to see the error in his ways?
I hoped so. For Drew’s sake. I hoped this man could find it inside him to remember the child he raised, to remember the person Drew was at his core.
He must have felt my stare because our eyes locked.
The regret vanished, and in its place came hardness. Wrath.
Even though it stung, I wanted him to blame me. I’d rather take the anger and let Drew have the regret.
Unblinking, I held his stare. I didn’t look away until he did.
Drew brushed by me on his way out the door. I stiffened slightly because I didn’t want to accidentally touch. It was my touch that set off the events before. It was probably best if I didn’t touch him again until we were alone.
Assuming he would want me to touch him then.
Yes, yes, I knew he’d chosen me. I knew he said he was proud to love me. But later, when we were in the quiet of the hotel room we w
ere going to have to go and find (we were supposed to stay here), things might feel different. His veins wouldn’t be pumping with anger and challenge. The stinging hurt from his father’s rebuff would be felt deeper… and perhaps Drew would begin to feel regret.
Instead of letting the door slam behind me, I carefully pushed it closed. It seemed far harsher to leave quietly than to bang away. Sometimes silence carried more impact than noise.
At the car, Drew climbed in the driver’s seat. I didn’t say a word. I tossed the bags in the back and took up shotgun. He fired up the engine, and threw it in reverse.
We weren’t in the Fastback, and this car wasn’t equipped for mad speed. But he needed to drive; he needed the release.
I rolled down my window to let in the air, and he floored it all the way across the property. The wind whipped through the interior, pulling at my hair and clothes. The air smelled like sunshine, and the rumble of the engine was familiar.
Just before we took a turn that would lead us out onto the main road and toward town, where I assumed we’d find a room for the night, Drew pulled the emergency brake and drifted to a stop.
The engine ran idly, and his hair was a windblown wreck.
In one motion, he leaned forward, draped his forearms over the steering wheel, and bowed his head. His shoulders shook.
I hesitated for long seconds, my hand hovering over the broad expanse of his back before settling firmly between his shoulder blades. I felt the breath hitch in his body, and I searched for any way I could somehow take away his pain.
In that moment, it seemed maybe not having a father was a blessing in disguise because at least when a man didn’t have one, he didn’t have to worry about being disowned.
I rubbed gently against his back.
Drew stilled and slowly pulled back off the wheel.
His eyes were damp when he looked at me. My chest squeezed.
“C’mere,” I whispered and opened my arms.
He came, tucking himself right against my chest. The tip of his nose was cold, and he pressed it to my neck. I ducked my head and folded my arms around his body.
His fingernails dug into my back and his body shuddered.
And there on the side of the road, I held him.
Drew
Some hurt burned.
Some hurt ached.
And some hurt was so potent it left you feeling numb.
I’m not sure what was worse: telling my parents about Trent or finding out they were only human. In a way, I’d walked through life disillusioned just like most children. From the day we’re born, parents aren’t really people. They’re pillars of strength, examples of humanity, and somewhat exempt from the cruelty of the outside world.
Until they aren’t.
Until the illusions are shattered and a child turns into an adult.
It’s hard to look upon your parents with the childlike ideals you grew up with when it’s through eyes of experience.
The disappointment of learning my parents weren’t everything I thought they were was a bitter pill to swallow. In fact, I think that pill was still stuck in my throat, lodged there and refusing to go down.
I couldn’t even be angry, but I wanted to be. Part of me wanted to rage and yell. To declare how unfair life was and how dare my own father deem I wasn’t worthy enough to be his blood anymore.
All I felt was sadness. Like a part of me was in mourning. Like I’d just spent my day at a funeral… for a piece of my life.
I knew not everyone would accept T and me. I anticipated it. But I expected better from them.
Maybe my father thought his “tough” love approach would somehow make me see reason. It didn’t. All today managed to do was drive me closer to Trent. It was him, after all, who wrapped his arms around me when all was said and done. It was him who didn’t demand I choose or draw lines in the sand.
I learned something today in the midst of that fight.
All love was not created equal. It wasn’t a birthright. It wasn’t earned by blood. Love wasn’t guaranteed.
Really pure love was hard to come by.
It didn’t matter where it was found. All that mattered was that we held on when it was.
I chose a local hotel that wasn’t nearly as swanky as the one we stayed at in Maryland. It was a mid-range place that was clean and close to the interstate. It would be an easy drive back to the airport tomorrow.
Our room was a typical one-room place. In the center was a giant king-size bed with a flat-screen on the wall, a couple dressers, and a small desk and chair near the window.
Not too far from here were lots of restaurants I hadn’t been to in years, some bars, an outdoor mall, and a movie theater. There was also a place where you could go hiking and take in some of the scenery.
I didn’t feel like doing any of that.
I knew my parents would likely be disappointed, but I never honestly thought they’d disown me.
You’re not welcome in this house.
“I think I might call the airline, see if there’s an earlier flight back to Maryland tomorrow,” I said. I don’t know why, but my voice sounded strange to my own ears.
“You sure you wanna do that?” Trent asked from over by the window.
“They aren’t going to change their minds,” I said.
“I can call them,” he offered. “Order some food, too. You wanna go take a shower?”
“How do you do it?” I asked.
He turned away from the window and looked at me. “Do what?”
“Shove down all the hurt I know you feel and try to shoulder mine, too.”
He half smiled. “Shouldering yours makes mine feel lighter.”
“About what he said to you…” I began.
Trent shook his head. “Forget it. You don’t owe me an apology. His actions aren’t yours.”
“He was an asshole.”
“Yeah, he was.”
I smiled. “Maybe I will take that shower.”
Our tickets were in the pocket of his duffle, and he went for them. At the same time, I pulled out some fresh clothes from mine. Before I was even in the bathroom, he was already dialing the airline to see about changing our flight.
For a standard hotel, the water pressure was actually pretty good. I turned the temp a little hotter than usual because my body was understandably tense. I stood underneath the spray, letting it pelt me, and goose bumps rose along my arms because it felt so good.
I tried not to think about my parents. Doing so wouldn’t change anything. But it was hard to just move on and let it roll off my back. Especially when I felt so betrayed. It would take some time, time for me to maybe make sense of how they reacted.
No.
I would never be able to make sense of what they said. But maybe I would learn to accept it, accept them for who they were, even if they couldn’t accept me for who I was.
I grabbed the tiny bottle of shampoo and dumped some in my palm to scrub my hair. The suds were rinsing down my body when I heard T enter the bathroom.
“Tickets are changed. There was a fee, but I paid it.”
I grunted. Good. It was better we got home early anyway. At least Trent wouldn’t be in the car half the night while we drove home after picking up my car, and he’d actually get a decent night’s sleep before having to be in class Monday morning.
And shit, I had to go to work.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I hated that place even more now.
“What do you want to eat?” he asked. “Besides fries.”
I smiled, and water ran in my mouth. “Forget food. Get your ass in here.”
The curtain was yanked back, and T stood there naked as the day he was born. “Thought you’d never ask.”
I laughed. It felt good. Even after everything, it seemed okay to laugh with him.
We took turns washing each other’s bodies, which turned out to be a very good distraction from the thoughts trying to take over my mind. Even though his body was hard and stro
ng and the soap clung to all the contours, it was his eyes I kept going back to. The lashes were wet, so they appeared darker than normal. The hazel looked more like deep, liquid gold, and when he looked at me, all the tightness in my limbs didn’t feel so tight.
Water droplets clung to his lips and made me thirsty, so occasionally, I’d lean forward and suck the moisture across my tongue. Trent’s back was under the water, but he wrapped his arms around me and spun so it was me beneath the spray.
“Turn around,” he instructed, so I did, and his wide hands settled over my shoulders and began to massage the knotted muscles there.
I groaned and slapped a hand against the shower wall, leaning in a little and succumbing to the intoxicating feel of his massage. His fingers worked expertly, like they automatically knew exactly where to spend the most time. When his hand closed around the back of my neck and squeezed, I moaned.
He kept kneading the muscles, using his strength to work out the worst of the stress. As he did, my body became languid and more relaxed. The sound of the water falling from the showerhead and the feel of it rushing over my head and coating his fingers as he worked gave me a freaking hard-on.
I swayed a little, and one arm came around my waist to tug me back against his body, giving me some support.
He was hard, too. His stiff cock pressed right against my ass, and I shivered.
“Had enough?” he asked, still working the side of my neck with one hand.
“Not nearly,” I groaned.
Trent turned us so we faced the back of the shower, the wall that was the longest. He put both my hands up on the tile so I could support myself and then went back to massaging, working his hands down my back and up again to my shoulders.
His hips stayed close, though. His rock-hard rod rubbed against my ass and hip. I found myself arching in to it, wanting to feel more, anticipating his slick, smooth head against my skin.
His massage turned a little deeper, and his hips started rocking against me in a gentle thrusting motion. Breath hissed between his teeth, and I smiled secretly. Slowly, his hands worked down to my waist and dipped to my front.
His hand latched onto my dick and jacked me lightly.
“Time to get out,” I rasped.
#Rev (GearShark #2) Page 18
