Just What the Truth Is (16 page)

I remembered what Micah said to me the last time we talked. (Yeah, I was describing it as a “talk.” Don’t laugh at me. I’d had a rough night, okay?) Anyway, he said he didn’t want a fuck buddy. Was that what he thought I wanted? Well, I couldn’t blame him. I had spent so long thinking that was all there was to being gay that I hadn’t conceived of a lasting relationship with another man. Maybe that belief had come through in my behavior, both with Micah and over the past couple of weeks of bar hopping and hookups.

My brother had tried explaining it to me more than once. Hell, he had been modeling it for me. But I still never understood that it could be true, that it could be real, and that I could experience it. As I stood in Noah’s kitchen watching the emotions that were clear in every glance and every touch he shared with Clark, I realized with an almost painful clarity that it was possible for a man to truly be in love with another man.

Living three decades without having experienced that emotion or thinking I ever could, I had taken longer than I should have to recognize it. But suddenly, I realized that I did understand what it meant to love someone. There was no other word to describe the joy that surged through me when Micah smiled in my direction, the way my heart raced when he touched me, and the way my stomach had hurt since I had let him slip through my fingers. Oh, God. I didn’t want to lose him.

“Morning, rock star,” Clark laughed, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“What?” I glared at him.

He shook his head and walked over the fridge. “Nothing, man. Just thinking about last night. I don’t think I’ve seen you that drunk since pledge week.”

I sank into a chair at their kitchen table. “Yeah? Well, nineteen-year-old frat boys have nothing on your friend Zach. Something tells me he could charm a nun into sinning.”

“Oh, he’s got no interest in nuns. Now a priest….” Clark shrugged. Then he set a bottle of Gatorade and a vitamin in front of me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Hangover helper: B12 and Gatorade.”

I popped the vitamin into my mouth and swallowed it down with the sports drink. “This really works?”

Clark nodded and then went back to the fridge, pulling out eggs and other breakfast ingredients.

Noah flipped a chair around and straddled it, resting his arms on the back and looking at me intently. “Actually, you don’t look bad at all. Your eyes are a little bloodshot, but otherwise you’re just as gorgeous as ever.”

“Gorgeous enough to face the parental units?” I fiddled with the label on the bottle as I asked the question.

My brother chuckled. “They’ve seen me in much worse condition. But if you’re not up for it, just ditch them and blame me. Tell them I needed you for something, or whatever.”

It was amazing how good that simple comment made me feel. Knowing my brother had my back. “Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” I asked.

“Because I meant what I said last night.” He rested a big hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. “You’re a good brother.”

I nodded and swallowed down the lump in my throat. I had tried so hard for so long to keep our family together. It hadn’t been easy with Noah. He had always been pissed off at all of us. And I had made my share of mistakes along the way; some of them should have been unforgivable. But there I was, sitting in Noah’s kitchen on a Saturday morning, talking with him and watching Clark make breakfast. Nobody was yelling or hitting or slamming doors. Whatever else happened later that day, I had family to fall back on.

“Thanks, but I need to go talk to them. I need to tell them the truth.” I paused and gathered my courage, willing myself to say the words without sounding ashamed. “They need to know that both of their sons are gay.”

Chapter Fifteen

M
Y
MOTHER
was crying and my father was pacing, but I hadn’t completely fallen apart. All right, so I hadn’t hit it out of the park with my big announcement, but it was an improvement over how I had expected things to go. I won’t say it wasn’t terrifying—my trembling hands and nausea would show me as a liar. But I had done it. I had walked into my parents’ colonial style house, sat down on the antique Chippendale wing chair in their perfectly decorated living room, and calmly told them I was gay.

You heard me right, folks. I, Benjamin Isaac Forman, had come out of the closet. Scary, yes. But also freeing.

“You’re not
that way
, Benjamin,” my father shouted as he stormed back and forth in front of me, somehow managing to avoid knocking over any of the Lladró collectibles. “You’re an athlete, for goodness sake! Just look at you—you’re a man. Why would you say these vile things about yourself?”

Hearing my father talk left no doubt in my mind about where the insidious little voice that had been haunting me for years had been getting his script. Well, I was done acknowledging that voice. I knew he would probably keep infiltrating my brain, but that didn’t mean I had to listen.

“Being an athlete has nothing to do with it. I would think Noah had already proven that one to you. And, yes, I am a man. A gay man.” It was a little less difficult every time I said the words. “Why can’t you just accept that and move on? Why do you need to take cuts at me and tear me down?”

“We’re not tearing you down, son,” my mother said with a shaky voice, a damp tissue dabbing at the sides of her eyes. At least she was no longer bawling. “We know you love your brother. We love him too. But Noah has always done everything he could think of under the sun to rebel. There is absolutely no reason for you to follow his lifestyle choices.”

Great. When Noah came out, it was my fault for introducing him to Clark. Now it was Noah’s fault for introducing me to… lifestyle choices? What the hell did that even mean? I had thought it myself, even said it—a gay lifestyle. But it made no sense.

“A lifestyle choice is being a Republican or a Protestant, Mom. Being gay isn’t a lifestyle and it isn’t a choice. It’s who I am.”

See that? I put together an articulate sentence. I promise you, I was an actual lawyer and I talked to people for a living. I know my behavior so far has made you wonder, but hopefully I’m redeeming myself.

“It doesn’t have to be who you are.” My father sat down next to me. “There are people you can talk to. Let us help you, Ben. We’re your parents and we love you.”

I shook my head. There was nothing anybody could say that would change how I felt when I looked at Micah. I wanted what Noah and Clark had—that heart-slamming, stomach-dropping, dick-hardening excitement I had only ever experienced with another man—and the freedom to enjoy it.

I knew it would disappoint my parents. I knew it wasn’t what they wanted for me. But I couldn’t continue going through life only partially engaged, constantly hiding, and always afraid someone would figure out the truth. Because the fact was if I didn’t take a stand and start living the life I had been given, I wouldn’t be
living
at all. It had taken me thirty-one years to figure that out, but I had finally gotten there, and I wasn’t going to let my parents push me backward.

“You love the son you want me to be,” I said. “As for who I actually am… well, you don’t really know me. How can you love someone you don’t know?”

I listened to my own words and came to a startling realization. My parents weren’t the only people who didn’t know me. I had been hiding for so long that I wasn’t even sure I knew myself. And how could
I
love someone I didn’t know?”

I
KNEW
that I should just go home and get myself together. I had been up late the night before, I was still a little hungover, and I had just barely survived the most emotional conversation I had ever had with my parents. It wasn’t as if I was at my best, either emotionally or physically. But when I left my parents’ house, I didn’t drive home. I got onto the highway and drove to EC West. And I wasn’t going to my brother’s place.

It was after six by the time I got to Micah’s house, and it was Saturday. I hoped that meant he would be at home and not at the office. With a million different thoughts skittering through my mind and no clue what I planned to say, I walked up his paved sidewalk and rang his doorbell.

The door swung open, and I found myself face to face with a gorgeous guy. He was wearing cotton shorts and a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, so it was impossible for me to miss his bulging muscles.

“Oh! I, uh, I was looking for Micah,” I stammered.

He smiled and waved me in. “You’re Noah Forman’s brother, right? Ben, is it?” He held his hand out.

I nodded and shook his hand. “Yes.”

“I’m David Miller. We’ve met a time or two. I think the last time was at Noah and Clark’s barbeque earlier this spring.”

Once I looked at his face and made my brain focus, I recognized him. He had just been out of context at Micah’s house. Wait. Why was he at Micah’s house?

“It’s nice to see you again, David. Is, um, is Micah….”

“Micah’s in his bedroom getting dressed.”

I gasped involuntarily and started backing up toward the door. Walking in on Micah and another guy right after they’d…. I had to get the hell out of there.

I should have known Micah would have moved on. Someone as wonderful as him probably had a couple of guys on deck or wouldn’t have had any trouble meeting a new guy. And from the look of things, he had sure as hell upgraded from me. David was drop-dead gorgeous and, based on my memory of past interactions with him, really nice.

David’s tricep bulged as his arm flew out and he grabbed me by the shoulder. “Wait,” he said. “I was just leaving. You stay.”

Before I could argue with him, he was out the door and I was standing alone in Micah’s entryway.

“All right, David. I’ve got a lot of tension to work off, so I hope you have time for a long….” Micah’s voice tapered off when he saw me. He halted to a sudden stop several feet away. “Ben.”

I couldn’t quite tell if he sounded happy or frightened when he said my name. Whatever the case, he was within arm’s reach before I realized I had been moving. I couldn’t help myself. I was so tired, so scared about everything going on in my life, so lonely without him. And he was right there. I had to get closer.

“Where’s David?” he asked.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and answered. “I’m sorry. I think it was my fault. He said he was just leaving, but he probably didn’t realize that you weren’t done, uh”—I blinked back tears—“working off your tension.”

And just like that, I was pulled into Micah’s arms. He held me close, rubbed my back with one hand, and stroked my hair with the other. His gravelly voice was soothing in my ear. “Shhh, honey. We were just going to the gym. Other than my own hand, that’s the only kind of tension release I’ve had since you. David’s got a partner and a son at home. There’s nothing going on between us.”

Big hands cupped my cheeks and tilted my head back up so our eyes met. Thumbs swiped under my eyes, wiping away tears I couldn’t stop from falling. And then those strong arms pulled me close again.

I pressed my face into his neck and closed my eyes. God, I’d missed how good he smelled, how wonderful it felt to be held, the taste of his skin. I thought about the last one when my tongue reached out and took a lick.

“Talk to me, Ben. You’re trembling and crying. This can’t all be about David.”

I shook my head and leaned toward him until our lips met. He opened for me right away, tilting his head and sucking my tongue into his mouth. Our bodies lined up perfectly, just like they always had, and I dragged my erection against his.

“It’s not all about David,” I whispered when we finally broke for air. “But can we talk later? I just need to feel you right now.” I desperately hoped he wouldn’t turn me away. “Please, Micah,” I pleaded.

He nodded and leaned in for another kiss. My hands took hold of his T-shirt, pushing it up his chest and exposing smooth, hot skin. I mapped his body with my hands, feeling the anxious ball that had been living in my stomach for two weeks start to dissolve as I felt those familiar long, sleek muscles tighten under my touch.

He shoved his hands between us and pulled my polo shirt out of my pants, yanking it up and over my head. Then he stripped off his T-shirt and came back for more kisses. Lips, tongues, and even teeth got in on the act. Micah’s fingers dug into my hips and pulled me forward. Then he rolled his hips and thrust his hard cock against mine.

“Bed,” he practically growled as he dragged his teeth over the soft skin under my ear and worked his way to my shoulder.

“Too far,” I answered and then pulled him to the sofa.

“Yeah, okay.”

Micah’s eyes were unfocused, his pupils blown and his skin flushed. I loved seeing him so turned on, and knowing I did that to him made me lose whatever rein I’d had on my control. He unbuttoned my pants as I toed off my shoes, and then I pushed my briefs down and stood naked in front of him.

He crowded me toward the couch, not letting our lips separate for more than a second at a time. I fell backward onto the soft cushions and watched him hook his thumbs into the sides of his shorts before shoving them down along with his jock and then straddling my lap. One of his hands cupped the back of my head, pulling my mouth toward his, and his other hand reached between us and circled our erections.