Chapter 17 The Sleepover #3
I wanted to be on the couch before he came out. I didn’t want to give him the chance to object to me giving him the bed. He deserved to sleep comfortably. Kent deserved a lot of things. I couldn't give him what he really wanted, so I gave him all I could.
The bathroom door opened, and Kent stood in the doorframe wearing a plain pink shirt and a pair of skin-tight white boxer-briefs that left little to the imagination. His shorts were bunched in his hand. I jerked my head around and stared at the ceiling.
“The bed’s ready for you, Half-pint. I’ll take the couch.”
His footsteps were slow as he approached. When he was at my side, he knelt down, resting his head on my chest. I couldn’t look at him, because I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I’d lose everything I spent twenty years working toward.
“Go to bed, Two-liter. I’m not making you sleep on the couch.”
“I’m fine here. Honest.”
He shook his head, his loose heap of curls tickling my arm.
“You’re a king.” He leaned down and kissed my shoulder.
“You’re my king. Kings don’t sleep on futons.
” The way he held me made it feel like the weight of the world was holding me down.
Like I held his life in the palm of my hands, and he was waiting to see if I would crush him or let this thing between us blossom.
Even though I couldn’t give him what he was wanting, I could give him something.
I could try to show him he mattered to me—that he always had.
So, I wrapped my arms around him and held him as tightly as I could.
“It’s okay,” he said, calm and soft. Then his arms were around me, hugging me back.
His skin felt like silk. Gentle. Delicate.
Something precious that needed to be protected above all else.
“Go on. I’m fine here, I promise. I’ll feel better if I know you’re comfortable.
” He pulled back, a pained smiled etched onto his beautiful face.
“You’re sure?”
He nodded, his chin scraping up and down my cheek when it moved.
“I slept on the streets for months, remember? I’m used to it—hey.
Gray, no. Baby, it’s okay. Please don’t cry.
” The comment was like a sledgehammer's strike to the dam holding back my emotions. He’d been homeless because of me.
Kent lost his entire family because I was a coward.
Because I ruined us. He had to know how sorry I was.
I’d take it all back if I could. He knew, didn't he? He had to know.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to say through my voice breaking. “Didn’t want you to—I didn’t—”
“I know,” he said, kissing my forehead. His tone was desperate, his kisses rough like he was trying to push each syllable into my head so I knew it was true.
It was like he was desperate to bring me a morsel of comfort, and that just made everything hurt even worse, because I should have been the one consoling him.
He was the one who lost his family. “I know you didn't want that, Grayson. I knew it then, and I knew it now.”
“I would take it back. I would do it all so differently,” I whispered, hoping he wouldn't hear. “I want to take it back.”
“So do I,” he said, sniffling. “Come on.
Let's get you to bed, baby.” He hooked his arm around my waist and helped lift me off the couch.
We made our trek across the few feet separating the futon from the bed, and once we got there, he pulled back the cover and helped me in.
I lay on my back, trying to hold myself together as he tucked me in.
When he was done, he dried my eyes and stared at me for what felt like hours.
Despite the hurt, there was a comfort in his gaze.
An old familiar sense of completion. Gently, he tapped the tip of my nose. “Snug?”
I nodded. I figured he would just make his way back to the couch, but he knelt beside me, brushing my hair away from my face with his fingers.
We stayed that way for a while. Me staring at him, him staring at me.
I opened my mouth a few times, but I couldn’t think of any words to convey the chaos running through my mind.
Then, to my amazement, Kent opened his beautiful mouth and sang a song that had always been my love letter to him, stroking my face like I was adored.
“In life, in death, my love, abide with me.” Kent might not have been the best singer out there, but in one line, he moved me more than any hymn ever had. He leaned in and kissed my cheek, and I pretended not to feel his teardrop land on my chin.
“Always,” I said, raking my fingers through his curls. “Always, Kent. You know that, don't you?”
“I know.” He sniffled, then he pulled away from me and stood, making his way back to the futon. I turned over, because I knew if I didn’t, he’d see me break right in front of him.
I clung to my pillow, just trying to hold back the tears. Half-pint was less than three feet away. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep doing this. Living a miserable life was just par for the course for me, but I didn’t realize he’d been just as unhappy.
It happened slowly, my unraveling. The first indication something was wrong was when I heard him sniffle.
It brought back memories of him on the floor that night.
Me telling him to say the words. Him smiling at me so fucking beautifully through bloodstained teeth.
The look of pure love in his eyes when he refused to renounce what we shared.
The love that coursed through us like lifeblood.
I buried my face in my pillow and screamed silently.
My fingers dug so deeply into the fabric, I worried it might burst.
“I don’t regret it, you know,” he whispered. I tried to ask him what he meant, but I couldn’t pull my face away from the pillow. “That night. When you asked me to tell Trevor that we were a mistake.” He let out a long, heartbroken sigh. “I lost everything, but I’d do it again if I had to.”
“Why?” I croaked.
The futon creaked, and then his footsteps traveled lightly across the floorboards.
I didn’t have the strength to send him away, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I knew there was no use, or if I just didn’t have any fight left in me.
He lifted the blanket, and the mattress dipped as he slid in behind me.
I knew he was close, because I could feel his breath against my neck, but he didn’t touch me.
“How could I ever look you in the eye and tell you I didn’t love you?”
“We could have—I wouldn’t have had to—” And then the tears fell like a rainstorm, each one heavier than the last. Before I knew it, I was sobbing, holding onto my pillow, wishing it was Kent.
He wrapped an arm around my waist, and I couldn’t pull away.
“I didn’t want this,” I finally managed. “I know y-you lost everything but—”
“So did you,” he said fiercely. “So did you, Grayson. Do you hear me? He took you away from me, but he also took your whole goddamn future. He took your hope. Your spark.”
“I promise, Kent. I didn’t—we were going to—”
“I know.” His grip tightened around me. “We were going to be happy, baby. I know.”
“I wasted my whole freaking life. For what?”
“To protect me,” he said, kissing my shoulder. “You did it for me, Gray.” His hand slid on top of mine, and he weaved our fingers together. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for this. I ruined everything. I ruined both of our lives. Our future. We were going to get a place. You wanted us to get another dog. You said so, remember?”
“I remember.” He was quiet for a while, the only sound in the apartment his lips puckering against the back of my neck from time to time. Once my sobs settled into soft sniffles and muffled whimpers, Kent cuddled in even closer, holding my heart with his hand.
“Kent?”
He kissed my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“When you were gone, did you ever have anyone? Someone you cared about? A man, I mean.”
“A couple,” he admitted. “None that lasted more than a few months. You ruined me, you know. No one else came close. I tried, but I think a part of me kept them at arm’s length because I knew …
” He sighed, and it was a terrible one. “If I say something right now, you’re not going to freak out on me, are you?
You’re my ride home, and I really don’t want to have to walk forty miles tonight if you kick me out. ”
“You can tell me anything, Kent. I promise. I’m fine.”
He nuzzled his face into my nape, his lips pressing flush against my skin. “I pushed them away, because I didn’t belong to anyone else. I couldn’t. I belong to …”
“To me?”
He slid his hand beneath my shirt, sliding his palm up my chest until it rested on top of my heart. Skin on skin. “Yes.”
We lay there for a while, neither of us saying anything. I hummed to him a few times, and every time, he’d just cuddle up closer.
“I used to dream about us,” I finally said, almost wishing he was asleep.
I needed to say the words, but I wasn’t sure I could handle the repercussions.
“About what our life would have turned out like. I think it would have been a lot like this.” I slid my hand under my shirt and put my hand on top of his.
“You’d come home from work, and we’d dance around the living room.
I’d handle dinner, because you’re useless in the kitchen.
We’d cuddle up in bed and watch television together.
This could have been us, Half-pint. Every night.
This is who we were supposed to be.” I closed my eyes and said a prayer that Kent wouldn’t say anything back.
“I saw Mom today,” he whispered. “She asked us to bring dessert to Sunday supper, tomorrow.”
What the heck was he talking about? “It’s Friday, and I’m pretty sure Mrs. Fox would kill me if I showed up at her house.”
“She loves your pumpkin pie, baby. Do you think you might be able to make one after church?”
“I’ve never baked a pie in my life.” I tried to turn around to check on him, because he seemed to be losing it. Maybe all of this back and forth between us had finally caused him to snap. I couldn’t move, though. He was holding me in place, his hold on me firm.
“Then, we can come home and dance, same as every night. I’ll hold you while we watch TV, and you can sing me to sleep.” He sniffled. “We have a good life, don’t we? We turned out just how we always wanted?” He brought his voice to a whisper. “Please, Gray? Just for tonight, can we pretend?”
I wasn’t sure what made me give in to his request. Maybe I was so tired, I’d reached delirium.
Maybe I just wanted to indulge the man I loved.
“I don’t know if I’ll have time to make a pie. I’ve got to stop and get an oil change after church tomorrow. You know how slow Mr. Sims can be. Do you think she’ll settle for store-bought?”
His fingernails dug into my chest, and it was like he was trying to pull me into him. Like he wanted us to implode into one another. Like we were stars gone supernova. “I c-can follow you to the Jiffy Lube. You’ll drop your truck off and then we can head home and bake it.”
I needed to see him. Needed to see his eyes. Turning around was a terrible decisions, because the aching hope in his eyes was paralyzing.
“You’re not stepping foot in the kitchen,” I said, kissing the tip of his nose like it was my right to do so. “You can give someone food poisoning just by opening a can of tuna fish.”
He laughed though his tears and nodded. “That's absolutely true, but completely out of line.” God, I loved him like that. Wild and unhinged and full of sass. “Worst boyfriend ever.”
God, please?
I shook my head and tried to steady my voice. “Best boyfriend ever.”
The smile he gave me would stay with me until the day I died. I just knew it. “Best boyfriend ever,” he agreed, nuzzling his face against my chest.
“We’re happy, right?” I said, just needing to hear it. “We had a happy life, didn’t we? One worth losing our families over?”
“We had each other, Two-liter.”
I wanted this. More than anything in the world, this was what I wanted. The fictional life where I was his and he was mine. “Was it enough for you? Was I enough?”
“You were always enough for me.”
“Do … Do you remember the day I proposed?”
“Gray.” He let out a choked sob that felt like a sucker punch.
I hated hearing him like that, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Once I let myself envision a life with him, I didn’t want to let it go.
I knew when we woke up, we’d go back to normal.
But right then, in my dark apartment, he’d indulge me.
I knew he would. He wouldn’t hold it against me when my courage disappeared with the moon as it slipped past the horizon.
He’d let me have this to hold onto. He was crying even harder, and I tried to put him at ease.
“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You’re okay, baby. ”
“Did you propose at the lake?” he whispered.
“Where else would I ask you to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“Can we go there tomorrow? Please?”
“We’re already there, Kent. Just like we always wanted. I left the window open to let the air in. Can’t you hear the water rippling outside?”
“We got a place at the lake?”
“Of course, we did. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s ours, you know? A little two-bedroom house. Rose bushes out front. I pluck one every time I get home from work, just for you.”
He lifted an invisible flower to his face and took in a deep breath. “It’s beautiful.”
“Careful with the thorns. Can’t have you sticking yourself, Kent. Gosh.”
He giggled, allowing himself to get swept up in the moment, same as me.
“I’ll be more careful next time.” He brought his hand to his face, wiping away a tear.
“We should probably call it a night. It’s getting late.
” He stared up at me with wet eyes, his hand cupping my cheek, ever so gently.
“Thank you for that. It meant the world.” And then, when I had no more will to fight, I stayed still as stone as he leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Night, babe.”
I forced a smile. “Night-night, Half-pint.”
I pulled him as close as I could get him, tangling my leg between his knees. Closing my eyes, I said a prayer—one that I’d meant more than any that had come before
As I drifted into the most peaceful sleep I’d ever experienced, for a moment—just the briefest of moments, really—it almost sounded like he said he loved me.