Chapter Thirty-Six
Simon
I stared at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“I was twenty-nine years old,” he said. “Working at a firm in Little Rock. Good firm, respectable clients, steady paycheck. I was building something. And then a case came across my desk. A man who’d been fired from his job for being gay.
His employer found out, and they manufactured reasons to terminate him.
It was discrimination, plain and simple. ”
Tony’s hands curled into fists at his sides.
“I took the case. And I fucking won. And then there was another one. A couple who’d been denied housing because the landlord didn’t want those people in his building.
Then a teacher who’d been forced out of his position because parents were afraid for their children.
Afraid he would molest them because he was gay.
I represented them all. I fought for them.
Not because I was gay, because it was the right fucking thing to do. ”
“Tony—”
“They fired me,” he said, and his voice cracked.
“The firm fired me. Said I was bringing controversy, that I was damaging their reputation. I’d already joined the club by then.
I was a member of a fucking outlaw motorcycle club, but somehow defending gay men was damaging their reputation.
They said clients were uncomfortable with my agenda.
And it didn’t stop there. They blackballed me.
There wasn’t a single firm within fifty miles of Little Rock that would touch me.
I couldn’t get hired anywhere. Not because I was gay, but because I was willing to stand up for people like us. ”
He turned away from me, his shoulders rigid.
“So I had to start over. From nothing. I worked my ass off to build my own practice. The club fronted me the money; they made it possible for me to become someone who could protect people who had no one else. Men and women like us, Simon. People who needed someone to fight for them when the system wanted to crush them.”
“Jesus, Tony,” I whispered.
“That’s why I do what I do,” he said, his voice raw.
“That’s why I became the lawyer I am. Because I know what it’s like to be powerless.
I know what it’s like to watch people suffer because of who they are.
And I wanted to be the person who could stop that.
Who could stand between them and the people who wanted to destroy them. ”
He turned back to me, and his eyes were filled with pain.
“But I can’t do that if I lose everything again.
I can’t protect anyone if I’m ruined. If I come out, if I make myself visible, I risk losing the practice I built.
The reputation I fought for. The ability to help the people who need me most.”
“So you’re trying to survive,” I said slowly, understanding dawning. “You’re trying to protect what you’ve built so you can keep protecting others.”
“Yes,” Tony said. “I’m trying to protect what I’ve fought so hard for. What cost me everything once already.”
“And what about me?” I demanded. “What about us? Don’t I deserve to be part of that life?”
“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” Tony said, his voice desperate.
“You don’t understand what it would cost me to come out.
The club—they might accept it, or they might not.
My practice—I could lose clients, lose cases, lose my reputation.
This town—they might tolerate you because you’re one of them, but me?
I’m an outsider, Simon. I’m the biker lawyer from Arkansas. They’d crucify me.”
“You don’t know that,” I argued.
“Yes, I do,” Tony said. “Because I’ve seen it happen. I’ve watched it happen to men braver than me. And I can’t... I can’t do it, Simon. I can’t risk everything on the hope that maybe, just maybe, people will be kind.”
“So you’d rather keep me hidden,” I said bitterly. “You’d rather keep us hidden.”
“I’d rather keep us safe,” Tony corrected.
“Safe,” I repeated, then I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You think this is safe? You think what we’re doing is safe? We’re destroying each other, Tony. We’re killing each other slowly, and you want to call that safe?”
“I don’t know what else to do,” Tony said, and his voice was so raw, so broken, that it made my chest ache.
“You could try,” I said quietly. “You could at least try.”
“And if I fail?” Tony asked. “If I come out and lose everything? If the club turns on me, if my clients leave, if this town decides I’m not welcome here? What then, Simon? What do we do then?”
“We’d have each other,” I said.
“Would we?” Tony asked. “You’d leave Diamond Creek? Or would you resent me for dragging you down with me? Would you hate me for ruining your life?”
“You wouldn’t be ruining my life,” I said. “You’d be giving me one.”
Tony stared at me, and I saw the conflict in his eyes, the love, the fear, the desperate need to believe me, battling with the trauma that had shaped him.
“I can’t,” he said finally, and his voice was barely a whisper. “I can’t do it, Simon. I’m too fucking scared.”
“Then you’re a coward,” I said, the words coming out harsher than I intended.
Tony flinched as if I’d struck him. “Don’t.”
“Why not?” I demanded, my voice rising. “It’s the truth. You’re a coward, Tony. You’re too scared to come out. Too scared to let anyone know who you really are. You put all your effort into fighting for everyone else, but you’re too scared to fight for us.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony said, his voice low and dangerous.
“Don’t I?” I shot back. “You want to talk about sacrifice? You want to talk about control? You’ve been controlling this relationship from the start. You decide when we see each other. You decide where we go. You decide who knows about us. And the answer is always no one. The answer is always hide.”
“I’m trying to protect us,” Tony said.
“You’re trying to protect yourself,” I corrected. “And you know what? I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being your secret. I’m tired of pretending I don’t exist. I’m tired of loving someone who won’t even admit he loves me back.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy and final.
Tony’s face went pale. “Simon—”
“I love you,” I said, and my voice broke on the words. “I love you, Tony. I’ve loved you for six years. I’ve loved you through every moment of hiding, every moment of shame, every moment of pretending. I’ve loved you even when it hurt. Even when it destroyed me. Even when I knew I shouldn’t.”
Tears were streaming down my face now, and I didn’t bother to wipe them away. “I love you,” I repeated. “And I need you to tell me if you love me back. I need you to say it. Because if you can’t... if you can’t even give me that...”
Tony stared at me, his chest heaving, his hands trembling at his sides.
“Say it,” I whispered. “Please, Tony. Just say it.”
Tony opened his mouth, and for a moment, I thought he would. I thought he’d finally give me the words I’d been desperate to hear for six years.
But then he closed his mouth again, and I saw the answer in his eyes.
He couldn’t.
He couldn’t say it.
The silence stretched between us, suffocating and final.
“Okay,” I said quietly, and I felt something inside me break. “Okay.”
I turned away from him, my vision blurring with tears.
“Simon,” Tony said, his voice desperate. “Simon, wait—”
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand there and look at him anymore. I couldn’t stand there and wait for words that would never come.
I walked toward the bedroom, my steps heavy, my heart shattered.
And then Tony was there, his hand on my arm, spinning me around.
“Don’t,” he said, and his voice was raw. “Don’t walk away from me.”
“Why not?” I asked, my voice breaking. “You’ve been walking away from me for years.”
“I can’t lose you,” Tony said, and there were tears in his eyes now too. “I can’t fucking lose you, Simon.”
“Then give me a reason to stay,” I urged. “Give me something, Tony. Anything.”
His hands trembled as he reached for me, his jaw working soundlessly, caught between what he wanted to say and what he was too afraid to admit.
And then he kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was desperate and hungry and filled with everything he couldn’t say.
His hands fisted in my hair, holding me in place as his mouth claimed mine. I kissed him back just as fiercely, my hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer.
We stumbled backward until my back hit the wall, and Tony pressed against me, his body hard and demanding.
“I need you,” he gasped against my mouth. “I need tonight. I need this. I need you.”
“Tony—”
“Let’s focus on tonight, Simon,” he said, his voice rough with desperation. “Tomorrow will work itself out.”
Except I’d had six years of tomorrows and none of them had worked out.
The word echoed through me, and suddenly I understood what he was really saying.
It was always tomorrow because tomorrow never turned into today.
Tomorrow was always the problem we could push off, the one we never had to make a decision about.
That he never had to make a decision about.
I would have to make the decision for us.
Because I couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep being the secret he hid away, the man he touched in the dark but wouldn’t claim in the light. Couldn’t keep pretending that his love was enough when it came wrapped in shame and denial.
Tony would never come out. He’d made that clear in every word, every action, every time he pulled away from me in public. And I couldn’t spend the rest of my life waiting for a man who would never be brave enough to choose me openly.
Even though he loved me. Even though I could feel it in every desperate kiss, every touch, every tear on his face.
It wasn’t enough.
And tonight, I finally had to accept that.
“Okay,” I whispered, and the word tasted like goodbye. “Okay.”
Tony’s mouth was on mine again, and this time the kiss was slower, deeper. His hands moved to my shirt, unbuttoning it with careful precision, as if he had all the time in the world.
As if we weren’t falling apart.
He pushed the fabric off my shoulders, and his hands traced the lines of my body. As if he were memorizing my chest, my stomach, my hips.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against my skin. “So perfect.”
I closed my eyes, letting the words wash over me, even though I knew they weren’t enough.
They would never be enough.
Tony’s mouth moved down my neck, his teeth grazing my collarbone, his tongue tracing the hollow of my throat. I arched into him, my hands tangling in his hair, holding him close.
He sank to his knees in front of me, his hands working at my belt, my zipper. He pulled my pants down, and I stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but my boxers.
Tony looked up at me, and the expression on his face made my heart hurt. There was so much love there, so much need, so much regret.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down, freeing my cock. I was already half-hard, my body responding to him the way it always did.
Tony wrapped his hand around me, stroking slowly, and I gasped at the sensation. He leaned forward and took me into his mouth, and I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from collapsing.
His mouth was hot and wet and perfect, and he took me deep, his tongue working against the underside of my cock. I moaned, my hips jerking forward involuntarily, and Tony’s hands gripped my hips, holding me steady.
He worked me slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring every moment. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and the intensity in his gaze made my breath catch.
“Tony,” I gasped. “Fuck, Tony—”
He took me deeper, and my hands gripped his hair, my breaths coming in desperate pants as I tried to hold back my release. He pulled off me with a wet sound, his hand still stroking me. Then his tongue licked my balls. He sucked one into my mouth and my knees almost gave out.
“Tony,” I gasped. “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”
His lips wrapped around my cock again, and he sucked me into his throat. His hands went to my ass, and he worked his finger into me, thrusting in and out. He hit the tender spot inside me—the button he knew would detonate my orgasm.
With a shout, I came in his mouth, my hand holding the back of his head in place, ensuring he took every fucking drop. His hands went to my hips, holding me up while he licked me clean.
He stood, and I reached for him, pulling at his clothes with desperate hands. He helped me, shrugging out of his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt, kicking off his shoes.
When he was finally naked, I took a moment to just look at him. He was beautiful. All hard muscle and scarred skin, a body that had been through hell and survived.
I reached out and traced the scar on his shoulder, the one from the motorcycle accident in Arkansas years ago. “I love you,” I said again, because I couldn’t help myself.
Tony’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he took my hand and led me to the bedroom.