What He Left Behind(11)

“We’re going to fix that. Together.”

He lowers his hand, meeting my gaze. “Would you be offended if I said I was skeptical that I can be fixed?”

“Offended, no. But I disagree. You’ve come a long way in the last few years, and you didn’t think you’d get that far.”

His lips tighten, and he avoids my eyes as he shrugs. “I guess we’ll see what happens.”

“We don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he says quickly and quietly. “I can’t even tell you how much it means that you’re willing to do this, and I want to. I’m just…”

“Not sure how much it’ll help?”

He nods.

“Only one way to find out.”

He tenses again, flinching slightly.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight.” I curl my fingers at my sides, desperately wanting to reach for him, but afraid to make contact again. It’s so weird, hesitating to touch him after we were just wrapped up in a long kiss. “If you need some time, I can go.”

He nods but doesn’t speak.

“Call me tomorrow. Even if you’re not ready to talk, just, you know, let me know you’re doing all right.”

“Okay. I will.”

My keys jingle as I pull them from my pocket. There’s got to be something I can say right now, but I’m drawing almost as much of a blank as I did when I broached this subject with Michael in the first place. So I just murmur, “I’m gonna go.”

He nods again.

I spin my keys around my finger, and I still don’t have a clue what to say, so I wish him a good night and head out of the kitchen.

I’m halfway down the hall when Michael says, “Josh.”

I turn around, eyebrows up.

He hesitates, then meets my eyes from the kitchen doorway, and the subtlest ghost of a smile flickers across his lips. “Thank you.”





Chapter Four


I should be relieved that Michael’s open to Ian’s suggestion, but I don’t feel anything like relief as I head home. I’m still too shell-shocked by just how shaken Michael really is. Hearing that his terrible ex did things to him to make him afraid of sex is one thing.

Watching him tremble with fear over the idea of being touched? Seeing the tears in his eyes? Personally witnessing his hellish past turn a kiss into something that difficult?

I wince, my throat aching and my eyes stinging. Knowing how Michael was when he was still young and unscathed makes it even worse. I know firsthand how confident and bold he used to be in bed, and it hurts like hell to realize how much damage has been done.

Halfway back to my house and my husband, I’m struggling to focus on the road, so I pull over. As the engine idles, I rub my hands over my face. Memories are flooding my brain, and one in particular keeps surfacing. It’s a memory that still wanders through my mind from time to time, and tonight, it won’t be ignored. Not with Michael’s kiss still fresh on my lips and the raw fear in his voice still thrumming along my nerve endings. There’s no stopping it. The past wants to be heard, and it’s either let it say its piece now, or wait until I’m lying in bed beside Ian.

So I close my eyes and let the memories come.

We’d been high school graduates for all of two weeks, so naturally, we owned the world. Driving around our hometown in beater cars, grinning like idiots every time we passed our alma mater, we were flying high and ready for the future to bring it on.

To save money, we were both going the community college route for the next two years. After that, Michael would start at the university for pre-vet, and then veterinary school. He had it all mapped out and planned down to the letter, from graduating at the top of his class to opening up a practice right there in town. My agenda wasn’t quite so well plotted. I hoped—and my parents hoped—that the two community college years would be enough for me to figure out what I planned to study at the university, if anything. At the moment, I didn’t have a clue.

It was no surprise that Michael had it together and I didn’t. He always did. He was valedictorian. I barely squeaked by with a C+ average. He had his driver’s license the day he turned sixteen. I failed my driving test twice and finally passed it—barely—just before I turned eighteen. He’d known since kindergarten he wanted to be a vet. Nothing short of a fortune teller or a time machine was going to shed any light on what I wanted to do.

And Michael had figured out this whole gay business long before I had. He’d been out since our freshman year, and he’d confided in me that he’d known since fourth grade. Me, I’d been a bit slower to creep out of the closet. It took me until well into high school to accept that, no, those hard-ons for guys weren’t going away and, no, I really wasn’t into girls, no matter how much I wanted to be. Senior year, just before the homecoming game, I finally came out. Naturally, the first person I told was Michael.

He’d blinked a few times, shaken his head and finally said, “Okay. And?”

“What do you mean, ‘and’?”

“I mean, I thought you had something big to tell me.” He shrugged. “I’ve known you were gay since forever.”

“You—seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I laughed. “It took me long enough to figure it out.”