Chapter Thirty-Five #2
Knowing what’s likely waiting for me at the shop gives me a solid desire to call into work or, better yet, to quit the damned place altogether.
There will undoubtedly be stares and crude remarks—definitely some open hostility.
Even worse, I’ll be confronted by my friends’ reactions to the truth. What if I’m not ready to face them?
Luke is strangely more level-headed about this.
When he wakes up, he’s back to his usual self, all signs of melancholy wiped away, almost like nothing happened.
Even as I suggest we change our names and flee to New Mexico together, he simply laughs and drags me out of bed to get ready so we won’t be late.
We walk into work together, his head held high and mine a little less so, but still there, nevertheless.
My heart’s beating too fast as my palms start to sweat, and I’m on the verge of a panic attack.
By contrast, Luke is like a wall of calm energy, exuding nothing but confidence, standing tall as a pillar, looking everyone in the eye as they stare at him, daring them to do their worst.
And there are definitely stares—in fact, I don’t think there’s a single person in the shop who doesn’t stop to gawk as we walk by.
Except when I peek around at all of the stunned faces of our coworkers, I quickly realize they’re not staring at me at all.
Every eye is glued to Luke, some awed, more disgusted, but overall fascinated, like they’re witnessing some incomprehensible entity.
I guess it makes sense. His revelation was the most shocking of the two.
After all, now everyone has to grapple with the reality that their favorite bully and leader of the anti-gay crusade is likely gay himself.
I could be invisible for all they care. It’s almost like they’re missing context as to why they should be interested in me, too.
My suspicions are confirmed when Marcus, Ben, and Eric walk in and come up to Luke and me at my station, chatting as normally as if this were any other Monday.
As if nothing dramatic had been revealed since the last time they saw me.
The only reference to last night is the concern for Luke’s bruised chin and the whopper of a bombshell he dropped about Frank.
There’s no indication that anything else monumental happened before the conversation effortlessly switches to our plans for the big Michigan vs. Michigan State game next weekend.
I’m completely floored, left questioning if this is real life.
Why don’t they think there is another glaringly obvious conversation we should be having instead?
Even Luke looks at me wide-eyed and confused as we both realize that the expected confrontation isn’t coming.
The only explanation for their lack of reaction is that they still genuinely don’t know that he and I are together romantically.
But if that’s the case, that means Chrissy didn’t tell anyone what she saw last night like we thought she would. Despite her sharp and vicious reaction to finding us together, she didn’t immediately run inside and act like the town crier to the rest of the bar. Now, I can only wonder why not.
There’s a flicker of relief in Luke’s eyes as he looks at me, a reaction so poignant that it pulls at my heart in equal measure.
A weight lifts off my chest just as the tension sinks from his shoulders, almost like we can finally breathe again with the awareness that I’m still safe.
I haven’t been outed prematurely to the people who matter the most to me.
I know Luke feels a load of guilt being washed away now that it seems I won’t face the same terrible fate he experienced, especially after fearing he had a hand in actively bringing it about.
After my heart settles back to a normal rhythm, I can’t help but run through the events of last night again and try to understand what happened.
Or what didn’t happen. There are conflicting feelings in my chest now that I know Chrissy kept my secret to herself, especially when I don’t understand why she would.
Maybe I got her reaction all wrong? It doesn’t make sense, especially when I remember the way she looked at me after she learned the truth…
Despite his run-in with the law last night, Frank unexpectedly shows up to work like normal, strolling through the door like it’s any other day.
At the very least, I would have thought the incident violated the terms of his probation and he’d be dealing with the repercussions in the courts for the foreseeable future.
Instead, it doesn’t seem to have had much of a negative impact at all.
Now I wonder what happened after Luke and I left the bar.
Knowing the nature of small-town cops, I’ve got a feeling that the off-duty officer didn’t call anything in but rather let Frank off with a warning since no real damage was done, and Luke didn’t stick around to press charges.
Surprisingly, Nick and Henry seem to have decided their time associating with Frank has come to an abrupt and permanent end.
For the first time in as long as I’ve known him, they’re nowhere in sight.
But for how nonchalant Frank is acting, you’d think he doesn’t care.
In fact, he’s not the least bit fazed by the sneers and snickers from the rest of the shop as he walks through it.
Either he doesn’t notice it, or he’s a better actor than I thought.
But then, that’s as far as his difficulties seem to go.
Frank’s penchant for violence asserts an immovable barrier that gives him an unfair advantage.
His hecklers will only go so far, knowing that this one bites back.
It makes the tepid taunts he receives seem like child's play compared to the savage and brutal treatment Luke’s been subjected to from these same assholes.
Even now, Luke’s receiving the brunt of public derision just because he’s the simpler target. It’s absolute bullshit. And it has a strange effect on him.
He’s the first to say he’s glad the backlash on Frank isn’t as bad as it could have been, but it’s hard to ignore the kernel of jealousy that creeps in for their contrasting experiences.
This was the man who caused the worst of his problems when they were younger.
For all the harm he’s caused, you’d think he deserves to be punished for it, but he’s practically getting off scot-free.
What’s worse is that this whole ordeal only seems to have made Frank’s hostility toward Luke more intense.
Although Luke tries very hard to avoid him, Frank has an uncanny ability to appear in his pathway when he least expects it.
He’ll brush past Luke with a stiff shoulder, trip him as he walks by, or otherwise snarl in his face, making Luke wince or flinch in a way I’ve never seen him falter before.
It gets so bad that Luke searches the shop in fear whenever we walk through it, almost like he’s scanning the savannah for a predator hiding in the bushes.
I’ve tried to put myself between them whenever I can, but I can’t be at Luke’s side every moment of the day, and Frank seems to seek out the times when I’m not.
It doesn’t take long for Luke’s demeanor to change. He’s still his bright and cheery self on the outside, but it’s clear he’s struggling with something more. Something he refuses to talk about.
His once brilliant spark now feels a little subdued, his fire slowly fading—like one wrong gust of wind or unexpected rain shower would snuff it out entirely. I’m trying everything I can to keep that flame going, but I feel like I’m fighting against him as much as I’m trying to help.
That’s when I begin to notice the bruises.
At first, I write them off as inconsequential because they seem so small and ordinary, and in this line of work, it’s almost inevitable to get dinged up.
Apart from the massive welt he’d had on his shoulder a little while ago, I hadn’t noticed a pattern of injury that seemed concerning…
Until I find that Luke has covered up a massive bruise on his forearm with a ton of makeup, intentionally making it appear smaller, trying his best to hide it.
When I ask what happened, Luke shrugs evasively and says, “I don’t remember,” before insisting that he’s just naturally clumsy. “I always run into shit without realizing it because I’m so tall. It’s fine.”
Alarms go off in my head, and the rush of anxiety that moves through me makes me feel like my body knows something is very, very wrong, but my brain can’t comprehend what it is. I can’t figure out why the dismissive words strike me as odd.
A few days later, Luke comes to work with another new injury, setting me on high alert.
It’s a cut above his eyebrow, right next to his temple.
This time, he can’t cover it up fully because of how badly it’s swollen.
I demand to know what happened, fussing over him and gripping his face to study the damage more closely, forgetting that we’re in the middle of the shop in my urgency.
At first, Luke claims it’s no big deal, batting my hands away while putting distance between us. When I refuse to let him dismiss it, he finally snaps back that he’d tripped and fallen down the stairs. He barks it at me, really, the forcefulness of his tone taking me aback.
“God, you’re so infuriating when you don’t leave well enough alone,” he growls, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “I don’t need you to involve yourself with my shit, okay? If I say I’m fine, I’m fucking fine. Why isn’t that good enough for you?”
I’m left standing there, staring at him in disbelief.
Luke has never spoken to me that way before, and he realizes it, too.
I watch as his face crumples miserably as he realizes how harsh his outburst was, especially given the nature of my concern for his well-being.
But he doesn’t know how to retract it now that it’s out there.