23. Brogan #2
My eyes opened immediately, and I was breathing heavily. It took a second for me to catch my bearings, and when I did, I looked down to see Enslee draped halfway across my chest and one of Declan’s arms under my head.
Sweating profusely, my heart was racing a million miles a second.
A crushing weight sat upon my chest, and it wasn’t because of the beautiful girl there.
This was an inner weight, and not one I could so easily eliminate.
Call it regret, disappointment, shame, dishonor, or any other fucking thing, and it’d be nothing worse than what my father had called me during those treatments.
Needing some fresh air, I forced my heart rate to lower before I carefully untangled myself from Enslee and slipped out of bed.
Immediately, I exited the room and went to the kitchen, where I downed two bottles of water in rapid succession.
But the fear, disgust, shame, agony, and regret all came rushing back, and it wouldn't leave.
I downed a third bottle of water, but it did very little to alleviate anything, so I stepped out into the night air.
I had no idea how long I had been standing on the back patio, but the red-hot rage that had gripped me eventually turned cold, chilling me to the bone. Well, that, and also because it was autumn, so the night breeze was enough to chill my naked flesh.
Technically, I had on a pair of sweatpants, but that was it.
Goose bumps rose on my arms, mixing with the sweat.
As I scrubbed my hands down my face, I felt the softness of hands.
I whirled around, knowing they didn't belong to Declan.
His touch had always held a sense of authority, dominance, and strength, while hers were more uncertain, delicate, and uneasy.
“What’s wrong?” she asked me softly.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said in a partial lie.
“You were having a nightmare,” she pointed out and I tensed.
“Was I?” I asked, this time knowing I was lying fully. It seemed to be all I did to her, and while I hated having to do it all, the very act became easier each time I did.
“Yes. I could feel it. “
“You could feel it?’
“You were tossing and turning as I’d tried to hold you. Your heart started to race, and you were physically shaking. When you got up so suddenly, I needed to come and check on you. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”
I shook my head. “As you said, I was just having a nightmare. It's nothing, so you can go back inside.”
She was unconvinced. “I’d like to stay out here with you if that’s okay.”
I tamped down my growl. “Suit yourself.”
I turned back around to stare out at the water, and she stood beside me before tentatively wrapping her arms around me.
I could feel her shivering against my bare chest despite the fact that she was dressed in a long T-shirt that either belonged to Declan or me.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her closer and just held her as we stood there.
“What were you dreaming about?” She eventually asked me. “Was it a monster-filled nightmare?”
If she only knew. I slid a hand under her chin, then tipped her head up so she'd have to look at me. I could now see her face clearly through the streak of moonlight that seemed to be focused down on us like a spotlight.
“You know how you’d do anything to get your memories back?” She nodded, or at least the best that she could with my grip on her chin. “It’s different for me. I actually wish some memories would go away and never return.”
“You can't mean that. Memories, whether good or bad, are what made us who we are today.”
“Perhaps, but some memories try to steal who we are today.”
Her eyes softened and I scowled at the sight of what resembled pity. “I heard a few of the things you were saying. You were mumbling something about your father and not being gay. Is he… ahh… does he not—”
I knew what she was trying to say, so I finally put her out of her misery. “My father doesn’t approve of my relationship with Declan and never has.”
“That's terrible. We should be judged for who we are, and not for who we love.”
“Tell that to the Almighty Stanley Sinclair,” I replied.
“What happened to you? What did he do?”
A sigh escaped me. I had no idea why I was still talking about this, but I started to speak before I even realized what I was saying. “He thought he could torture the gay out of me.”
“Hmmm, that sounds like conversion therapy.”
“Conversion what?”
“Conversion therapy,” she repeated. “I don't know why I know that, but I feel like I've been around others who have gone through it before.” At the stricken look on my face, she added. “It was probably you, and I'm just not remembering it.”
“It wasn’t me,” I said to her as I felt the need to be honest with her for once. “I’ve never talked about this with anyone.”
“Not even Declan?”
“Definitely not Declan. I could never tell him what happened to me. If he knew, he’d feel so guilty and would pity me, so you have to keep this to yourself.”
“I will. I promise, although I feel so sad for you.”
“Don't feel sad. In life, some things just are what they are.”
She turned fully in my arms in that moment, then stroked the side of my face. After, she raised up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips softly to mine before pulling away. “I'm here for you if you ever want to talk about it.”
“Thank you, but dreaming about it was bad enough.” I pulled her closer to me, then kissed the top of her head. “You're freezing, so we should get you back inside.”
“Are you coming with me?”
“Yes,” I said before we walked back into the house, then got settled back in bed.