Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(76)

“I was pissed off and mad in Chicago. I felt like you’d used me all these years. I’m sorry what I told Doyle gave him the wrong impression. I didn’t run him off because I was jealous of him. I honestly didn’t freaking know you two were together. Congrats, you hid it super well. Why didn’t you tell me early on you were gay? Why did you sleep with me all those years? Was I just a cover for you all these years? Are we not friends?”

As much as he hated twelve-step programs, he knew he had to follow one of their guidelines—make amends to those he’d hurt. His visit to her in LA had been a first attempt, even though she’d rejected it.

As was her right.

He stepped closer and took a deep breath before answering.

“I’ve always loved you as a friend. I wasn’t meaning to use you. I was scared. I was scared you guys might not accept me. Then when I realized you all were okay with gay people, you and I had already been sleeping together off and on. I didn’t want to hurt you and I didn’t know how to explain it. I’m not asking you to excuse or absolve me for what I did. I’m truly sorry I hurt you. I never meant to do that.”

“Why were you so scared of staying in the closet? In LA of all places?”

“You know where I came from. Everyone hears about Matthew Shepard, but they don’t hear about all the microaggressions that happen all the time. Maybe people aren’t getting beaten and tied to fences every day, and no, of course most people aren’t like that. But there were enough. Some in my own family. My own father. I grew up hiding who I was. LA was my escape, but I couldn’t escape me or where I’d come from.”

She tentatively reached out and touched his arm. “So…should I be flattered or pissed off that you slept with me all these years?”

She looked up into his face, the corner of her mouth quirked up into her snarky smirk.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Bon. I didn’t want to. If it means anything, I’ve only actually slept with three people—you, Doyle, and a girl in high school.”

Her smirk turned to a scowl. “Huh? Okay, now that’s bullshit. I’ve talked with women who’ve been with you.”

His turn to smirk. “And if they’re saying we had intercourse, they’re either lying because they want to brag, or they’re lying because they think they’re protecting my image.” He told her the same thing he’d told Clark.

Her smirk returned. “I can fake an orgasm with the best of them, but how does fake vomiting sound, exactly?”

He grinned and stepped around her into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He made sure to open the toilet loud enough to be heard, then started.

She shoved the door open, looking a little green herself. “Okay, okay, I believe you!”

He turned. “Combine it with the sound of spitting and then flushing the toilet, then running water in the sink and spitting some more, and it completes the act.”

“Gawd.” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and he belatedly realized she wasn’t even wearing makeup, which was totally unlike her. “I’ll pass on hearing the fake poop noises, thanks.”

“You sure? They’re really cool.”

She held up her hands. “I’m sure.” A sigh escaped her. “Okay, I believe you.” Sadness seemed to weigh her down. “Sorry. I guess I sort of viewed us as this crazy romantic story, and that one day we’d get our shit together and end up a couple for good.”

He pulled her in for a hug. “That’s why I picked fights with you. I was hoping you’d meet a great guy and settle down with him.”

“I had a great guy, you big dope. I had you.”

He rubbed his chin across the top of her head. “Doyle wasn’t just my boyfriend,” he said.

“That’s what you said in Chicago, but you didn’t really explain it better. He’s into kinky sex?”

“It’s not just that. It’s more about the dynamic we had. I could completely let go to him and get out of my own head. I felt like nothing I said or did would be judged or held against me. Not,” he quickly added, “that I felt you’d judge me like that. Geez, I’m f*cking this up. Sorry.”

She looked up. “I don’t want to be mad at you anymore,” she said. “I want my Mevi back. My friend. If we can’t sleep together, okay, fine. But I miss our talks into the early morning hours. I miss eating breakfast with you and you playing me stuff you thought up overnight. I miss watching stupid movies with you. I miss all of that. I’ll still be your beard if I can at least have that Mevi back.”

“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “I missed all that, too. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” She sniffled and broke away from their hug to pull a tissue from a box of them on the bathroom counter. “So have you really stayed sober?”

“Yes. I swear I am.”

“Okay.” She blew her nose and then turned back to him. “We need to tell the others.”

Old fear throbbed through him. “Which others?”

“Pasch, Troy, and Garth. They won’t tell. They’ll just be happy I’m not being a bitch anymore.” She patted his chest. “Have you tried to call Doyle?”

“Clark’s been trying to find him for me. His voice mail’s turned off, and Clark left messages for him at the place he used to work.”