Page 40 of Guitars and Cages
I froze, cold and tired there against the brick, Mark’s arm the only warmth I’d felt in a while. Could I trust him—and, if I did, would he help me get away? Did I even have a choice at this point, when I doubted I could stand without help? I was at his mercy, whether I wanted to be or not, and maybe it was exactly what I needed, because what I’d told Alex was true: I was tired as hell of living so many lies.
“Did Morgan tell you why I ran?” I asked.
“No, he just said he needed you found and brought back. He told me about your arms; he told me he was worried you were gonna off yourself. He said you won’t talk to him anymore the way you used to, and that you hadn’t seemed yourself lately and he was worried. When Conner came back with that bullshit story you told him, Morgan asked me to go with Conner and bring you back. He’d have come himself, but you’ve got Rory pretty scared and he was clinging to Morgan’s side.”
“Damn, I didn’t mean to scare him.”
“Then apologize to him later and make up for it.”
“I’ll make up for it by getting gone.”
“Not until you tell me why you have to go.”
Damn, he was insistent. It was real dark now; we couldn’t see each other anymore. In a way that made it easier. “I kissed Morgan.”
To his credit, he didn’t move; he didn’t flinch. He just chuckled.
“Not funny,” I groaned.
“Dude, if you are seriously sitting there and telling me that you’re gonna pack up and leave the city because you kissed Morgan, then yeah, that’s funny as hell.”
“He’s gonna beat the hell outta me if I go back.”
“You keep saying that. Do you really believe that’s what he’s gonna do?”
I nodded, and then remembered that he couldn’t see me. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“’Cause that’s what I deserve for what I did. My old man woulda horsewhipped me if he’d seen that, and Morgan will, too.”
“I can’t see Morgan doing anything like that. I’m sure you two are gonna need to have to talk about it sometime, but he ain’t gonna beat you for kissing him. What did you kiss him for, anyway?”
I buried my head in my hands.
“I just...he was in my face—he was asking me about the cutting, he was pushing me for answers—he wanted to know what was wrong, and I couldn’t make myself say it so I... I showed him what was wrong.”
“Okay, you’re losing me, buddy. I’m not getting it.”
I took a deep breath, raised my head. Words. I hate words... or at least honest ones. “I like guys,” I admitted. “I dig chicks, too, but I, um, I don’t always want to be with them.”
“Okay, so what’s the harm in that? You’re bisexual; lots of people are bi, some even say it’s the best of both worlds. I tried it for a while, then decided I liked dudes more than I ever dug chicks, so yeah.”
“But that’s you. My older brothers will kill me if they find out.”
“It’s not their choice to make. They don’t have a right to tell you how to live your life, and you shouldn’t feel like you need to live your life for them. Asher, goddamn, if you’re destroying yourself for them you’ve gotta see that’s wrong.”
I sighed, staring into the darkness. “You make it sound so easy.”
“I know it’s not an easy thing, Asher, but it’s gotta be easier than living the way you’re living.”
“You can’t tell anyone,” I begged him, because no matter what he said, no one else could ever know, though it had felt so good to finally admit it.
“You know I won’t say a word, but I think you need to talk to someone, like a professional. Don’t freak out; they really can help. Hell, I know one you could try, his name’s Hozman. I’ll even drive you there myself until we leave for the tour.”
I opened my mouth to snap at him, to tell him I didn’t need a goddamned shrink, that I didn’t need to talk to anyone about the shit I did, but I couldn’t say the words. For once, I couldn’t lie. My head hurt and my hand throbbed and I’d been feeling sick to my stomach for a while. I shivered, and Mark pulled away from me and stood; then he started hauling me to my feet. I wobbled, staggered, unable to keep myself standing on my own. He tossed my arm over his shoulders, wrapped an arm around me, and started guiding me toward the end of the alley.
“I can’t go back to my apartment,” I muttered.
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