Chapter 14 #3
“I know you’re not. I know.” He bit his bottom lip and looked up at the sky.
I was dredging up memories he’d buried years ago.
Excavating trauma like an archeologist on the hunt for long-forgotten artifacts chronicling our love.
It would have been best for me to stand up and walk away.
It would have been the honorable thing to do.
He could still leave the lake with his dignity intact.
The hurt on his face, the resignation radiating out of him— I'd done that.
I was the reason, and I hated myself for it.
I tried to stand up, but his hand slid around my wrist, holding me in place.
“I would have had you.” He looked up at me, his grip growing tighter.
“After you left, I couldn’t even talk about you.
Not around Trevor. Momma and Daddy knew something was off with me, but they didn’t press.
I almost wish they had. That they’d made me tell them why we weren't talking anymore. You were the biggest part of my life—the best part of my life—and then you were just gone. It was like you never existed. When I was on the road doing my shows, every night I hoped that you’d be out there.
That you’d heard I was in town, and you’d come to …
” he sighed, easing the grip he had on my wrist.
He was right there. Right on the brink of breaking.
I wanted to scoop him into my arms and take all of that hurt away from him.
To transfer it into me. Because I’d known hurt.
I’d known it for twenty years. I didn’t want that for him.
Gray was just about the purest soul I’d ever met. He deserved more than this.
“Come to what?”
“That you’d come to take me home. I missed you, Kent. More than I’ve ever missed anything, that’s how much I missed you.” His fingernails dug into my shoulders as he pulled me in for a hug. “Did—” his voice cracked. “Did you miss me, Half-pint?”
I pressed my lips against the crook of his neck, risking a kiss. His fingers dug in deeper as if it was his only way of returning what I’d just given him.
“I did,” I admitted, letting the last of my resistance fall like a stage curtain, closing out a portion of our life that we could never get back. “I do. I miss you deep down inside my bones.”
"Can I ask you something about that night?" Gray said.
Taking his lead from earlier, I repeated, "Anything."
"Before he took you—after he pulled us apart—why didn't you just say it? All you had to do was say you didn't love me anymore. That I was a mistake. He said he'd let you go."
"Do you really think he was going to let me walk out of there after what he saw us doing?"
He shook his head. "You could have at least tried, though."
I reached for his face and cupped his cheek. "Never," I said, meaning it more than I'd meant anything in my life. "Never, Two-liter."
We were quiet for a while. At one point, he pulled me closer, sitting on my lap, chest to chest, leaving no space between us.
His legs tangled around my waist, holding on to me like he was scared I might disappear.
We stayed that way, wrapped up in each other until the sun disappeared over the trees.
Gray pulled away first. As he dried his eyes, he said, “We can’t go back, Half-pint.”
“I know. And that’s okay.” I wasn’t sure which of us I was trying to convince.
It wasn’t okay. Nothing about this was okay.
Even if every moment of our past had been stripped from my memory, I think I still would have felt it at that moment.
The familiar feeling of connection. Two souls adrift, making their way to each other, seeking comfort in an endless sea of loneliness.
Maybe he felt it too. Maybe it was just easier being lonely together than lonely alone.
“It is?”
“Yeah. Hey, look at me. It’s okay. I won’t lie to you and say that I don’t wish things would have turned out differently. Because there’s history there.”
“Terrible history.” He wiped away a tear with his sleeve, but another one took its place. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“It wasn’t all bad, though,” I said. “It wasn’t all gasoline and matches. It was Sundays in this lake. White chocolate macadamia nut cookies without the nuts—”
“You just bite into them expecting chocolate. They’re just little white liars,” he said with a sniffle.
“Yeah, I remember. That’s why I want to fix this.
You know me. Probably better than anyone ever has.
I miss having that connection with you.” He let go of my wrist and reached down, weaving our fingers together.
“I don’t want to fight with you anymore.
I don’t want you to think that I’m out to lure you back.
I’m not trying to seduce you. This is hurting you. It’s been hurting you. I can see it.”
“Is it hurting you?”
“Of course, it’s hurting me. I have to watch you every day knowing I can't—" I stopped myself, refusing to sabotage what I was trying to regain. I wanted my friend back. That was what mattered. “I don’t want it to, though. I’m so sick of being sad and mad at you all the time. Can we just be friends again? Can we try?”
“I want that.” He stared out at the water. “I didn’t just lose you. When you left, I lost myself. My future. Everything I was hoping for. After you left, things got really dark for me. It took me a long time to find myself again.”
I slid my hand into his and squeezed. “Will you tell me about it?”
He shook his head. “I can’t. I already feel like I’m barely holding on.
” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the last of the daylight kiss his beautiful cheeks.
“It took me twenty years to finally feel like I’d found myself again.
I worked so hard to get back to feeling like a real person. ”
“And then I came home.”
“And then you came home,” he agreed.
“Do you want me to leave the store? I will. If me being here is too much for you—”
His grip was so tight that I worried his nails might pierce my skin. “Don’t you dare.”
“I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Gray.”
His jaw trembled. “You can’t, Kent. Please?
You’re the only person who …” His hand slid down, stopping at my wrist. It took me a moment to realize what he was staring at.
When his finger traced my small rainbow flag tattoo, every word that went unspoken was clear in his eyes.
I was the only person who knew the real him.
The boy he’d hidden away. The side of him he never got to show.
He’d kept himself hidden to keep himself safe.
I made a silent promise to myself. An unbreakable vow to the boy I once loved. I couldn’t leave him there to do this on his own. I wouldn’t. I was the boy who ran. The man who returned. I knew Gray Collins in a way no one else ever would.
“I promise,” I said, and I’d never meant anything more in my life.
He gave me a final squeeze before prying himself off of me and shifting himself up. His knees popped as he stood. Once he was on solid footing, he held his hand out for me.
Gray glanced out at the water. "Old times’ sake?
” He grabbed the tail of his shirt and tugged it over his head, making visible a delicious sight of pale skin and reddish-brown chest hair.
The shoes came off next, and then he made his way toward the water.
With his ankles submerged, he paused, lost in contemplation.
After a moment, he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his jeans.
“No funny business,” he said, peering back over his shoulder with an unconvincing smile.
“I can control myself. I’m more than just my penis.”
“Well, thank gosh for that. Wouldn’t be much to you if you were.” He kicked off his pants, tossing them over his shoulder.
“That’s a lie and you know it. God, Gray. Worst best friend ever.”
“Best best friend ever,” he shouted as he ran into the water.
Following behind him, I tore my clothes off at lightning speed and made my way into the lake, swimming toward him. He disappeared under the water.
I groaned. “Not this again.” I spun in a circle, trying to find him.
When something brushed against my leg, I kicked.
As someone pinched my ass, I squealed. The second Gray rose from the water with puffed-out cheeks, I was ready for him.
A long stream of disgusting, unsanitary lake water spewed out of my mouth and across his face, taking him by surprise.
Gray opened his mouth, letting water he’d collected pour down his chin.
I floated forward and reached for his face.
“Got a little lake on you. Just right there.” I wiped away the water from his already-drenched skin.
“We’re fully submerged in a lake. How is that helpful?
” He floated forward and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m so happy you’re home.
” In a moment of weakness, I let my arms slide around his back, and I pulled him closer.
He pressed his lips against my ear, bringing his voice to a whisper. “Don’t ever leave me again, okay?”
“I promise.”
“You mean it?”
“I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I don’t really have many other options at the moment. I haven't heard back from any of the places I've applied to. West Clark might be stuck with me for good.”
The look of relief on his face was overwhelming. “Well, in that case, I’m glad you sent a picture of your privates to the world and had to move back in with your mother in your thirties.”
“You’re just mad I didn’t send it to you.”
He rolled his eyes, skimming his fingers up and down my back, as platonic friends so often do. “I’ve seen it in person, remember? Can’t believe they’d fire you over four inches. Doesn’t seem very fair, if you ask me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, and then I reached behind him and tapped his bald spot. Gray looked absolutely scandalized.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered, leaning closer to his ear. “I think it’s cute.”
“Sarah hates it. Keeps asking me to start wearing hats.”
“With those ears of yours?” I reached for him, tugging his unnecessarily elongated earlobe. “Don’t listen to her. You’re perfect.”
“I am?”
“You always have been.”
He held on to me, both of us bobbing up and down in the water. When he leaned in, his face rested against my shoulder. “Can I tell you something without you making it a big deal?”
“Promise,” I whispered.
“You look good, Half-pint.”
“Thank you?” I joked, trying to steady my racing heart.
He tickled my back. “No, I just mean like this. The way you are now. I wondered how you'd turn out." He rested his head on my shoulder, his fingers sliding lightly against my skin. “I wondered about it a lot.”
"Did I meet your expectations?"
He nodded. "You didn't have to change, though. You got so small. Every time you talk about that dang diet, I just want to shake you and tell you to cut it out.”
“You try being overweight in the gay community and then tell me to cut it out. It’s hard, Gray.”
He scoffed. “I don’t care about the dang gay community.
” At first, I took offense to his words.
I readied myself to remind him that I wouldn’t stand for internalized homophobia, but he pulled away and stared me in the eyes.
“I care about you. If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you, but you didn’t have to change.
You were perfect the way you were.” He turned his head and stared off into the distance.
“You were always beautiful, Kent. I just wish you would’ve seen it back then. ”
“I might not have seen it, but I felt it. Every time you looked at me, I felt it.”
And when he turned and stared at me, the affection clear on his face, I felt it stronger than I ever had.