Looking for Trouble(39)

Dylan nodded. That sounded like his dad. Dylan had often rolled his eyes at his father’s fairy-tale thoughts. He’d treated Dylan as though there was nothing he couldn’t do, when Dylan knew there was. He believed anything was possible, and it had always hurt him that Dylan couldn’t feel the same—not about himself. “Yeah, I know. I wish I could be more like him.”

“I wish I could be too,” Clay replied. He paused, cleared his throat, then continued. “Like I told you before, I hadn’t accepted or realized I was gay back then.”

Something twisted in the pit of Dylan’s stomach at that. Oh no… Had Clay betrayed his father with April?

“We were hanging out one day, just April and me. She…well, she kissed me. I tried to stop it at first. I knew it would break Mike’s heart. But then I started to think about myself, and maybe deep down I had an inkling I might be gay, but I was in denial. Maybe I thought I could be happy with April in a way I couldn’t with another woman and that Mike would understand. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, and when she said it was me she wanted and kissed me again, I let her. I kissed her back.”

Clay lowered his eyes, shame palpating off him. “I laid her down, beneath me, and the second I did, I knew it was wrong. I hated myself for what I was doing. What I had let myself do. This was April, and Mike loved her, and I was kissing her…touching her. The whole thing didn’t last more than five minutes when I pulled away, when I told her I couldn’t because of Mike. She started to cry, and I was still lying on top of her. She told me again she loved me, but that she understood, and then she pressed her lips to mine again, and of course, that’s when Mike walked in. I was lying on top of her on my bed; you can imagine how that went.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Clay shook his head. “I haven’t gotten to the worst part yet, Trouble. Not sure I deserve your pity. Mike lost it, of course. It was a betrayal for him. He felt like he could count on me in a way he couldn’t with anyone else, and I’d just done the worst thing to hurt him. He and April represented this sort of life he’d always wanted. The one he wished his own parents had. He went after me… April was crying… He hit me, and I…” Clay’s voice broke. “I told him it wasn’t what he thought. That I didn’t care about her that way, that it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have worded it that way. I should have thought before I spoke. Mike left, and I yelled at April too, blamed her, asked her why she’d done it, told her it was her fault and to leave and never talk to me again. April ran off, hurt, and I didn’t go after her. I went after Mike, and I just…let her go. Christ, why didn’t I go after her?”

Dylan’s heart sank, his body tense. No…he couldn’t believe this was going where he thought it was.

“She got into a car accident. She drove head-on into a semi. I don’t know if it was an accident, or if it was on purpose. They say she died instantly. Mike blamed me. He told me he hated me, that it was my fault. First, I’d kissed the woman he loved, and then I’d yelled at her and blamed her. She was upset and crying when she left, and I let her go. I lost both of them that day.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dylan managed around the rock in his throat.

“Wasn’t it, though? I kissed her when I’d known I shouldn’t have. I’d then blamed her, when I could have stopped it. I let her go. I knew she was upset and I let her go, I told her to go, and she listened, and she died, Dylan. I would say it was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t. It sucks, and I hate that all this happened to you—to April and Dad, but none of it was your fault. You screwed up, yeah, but you can’t blame yourself for April’s death. That’s just life. We never know when our time is over. Believe me, I’m angry as shit that my dad is gone, but we can’t control that, Clay, no matter how much we might want to.”

“Logically, I know that, but it’s sure hard to make myself see it. I have a habit of losing or hurting people I love—most of the time both. My parents passed within a year of each other, when I’d just entered my twenties; I hurt April before she died, hurt Mike before he walked away. Hurt Renée by marrying her when I knew I didn’t love her the way a man is supposed to love his wife. And—” For the second time, Clay’s voice broke. There wasn’t a doubt in Dylan’s mind who he was talking about.

“The guy in the photo? The one who got you into tattooing?”

Clay nodded. “I don’t know how to do this, Trouble. I don’t know how to be with someone I care about because I’m so damn afraid of losing you or hurting you.”

Dylan’s breath hitched. Clay cared about him? Was afraid to lose him? “You won’t. And we’ll take it slow. No pressure. If you change your mind or I start to drive you crazy—well, crazier—just tell me, but we shouldn’t walk away before we have a chance to get started. I won’t be here that long anyway. I’m sure by then you’ll be ready to get rid of me, but in the meantime—”

“Hey,” Clay cut him off. “Don’t sell yourself short. I won’t be ready to get rid of you. And if anyone makes you feel that way, they’re not worth your time.”

“It was a joke.”

Clay held Dylan’s chin between his fingers and turned Dylan’s head to face him. “No, it wasn’t. You don’t see how incredible you are. You’re making me feel alive again.”