Page 31 of Beyond the Stix

Give him something.

“You’re lucky to have grown up with a father and mother, who loves you without restraints. My father threw me out when I was sixteen.”

His eyes widen and his mouth parts in surprise. “Why?”

“He found out that I was gay.He doesn’t a faggot for a son—his words.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That you had to go through that,” he says with sincerity.

“Well, it was his loss.”

“Have you seen him since?”

“No. He died when I was twenty-one. I never got to say goodbye, or tell my old man to go fuck off,” I chuckle, even though it isn’t funny, but I get a small smile out of Connor.

Though, the smile drops from his face and he turns his gaze away, as if he’s ashamed of what he’s about to tell me. “I was ten at the time. Sicker than shit. Flu—I think my mother said. I was throwing up. I couldn’t keep anything down. Anyway. I vaguely remember my parents had to go to my Aunt Dorothy’s wedding, which they couldn’t miss. And me being sick, I couldn’t go, so they called Jessup to watch me.”

Connor scoots a bit closer, a hint—I hope, of him needing my touch. I take a risk, and using my thumb, I skim the pad over his wet cheek and gently wipe a tear. “Go on.”

He takes a shaky breath and continues. “I seriously don’t remember much. I’d been in and out of sleep that night, drugged up by medicine my mom gave me before she left and I think another dose from Jessup. Mom also slathered some nasty stuffon my chest, too. I just remember the god-awful smell. But she told me that the minty stuff would help me to breathe.”

“Did it?” I ask.

A small smile curves up onto Connor’s face, but the whimsy doesn’t reach his eyes. “I think it did. I don’t know.” Then he sobers. “I remember one second my parents had kissed me goodbye, and then I was cold. I opened my eyes and saw my uncle wiping me down with a wet washcloth. The strangest thing, I had no pajama pants or underwear on—I don’t know.” He tucks his head down and shivers, like he’s trying to clear away the memory.

Jesus fucking Christ. I wish I had known this before, because I would have ripped Jessup apart for touching Connor that way. He was a kid. Innocent of the world.

“Honestly, I could have made a mistake, like Jessup said. I could have peed myself and he was cleaning me up.”

“But you don’t believe him?” I growl, unable to control my indignation.

He hesitates before saying, “The thing is I could have wet the bed since I was so sick. But I don’t know.”

“You have to follow your gut, Connor. What doyoubelieve?” I asked. For his sake, I don’t visibly react, but my insides are even more gnarled up now from his admission. I am now absolutely sure Jessup will never get near Connor again.

“I don’t know what to believe any more,” he confesses.

“What did you do next?” I need to know how Connor reacted.

“I freaked out, kicked him in the nuts. He slapped me then. I remember being so angry that I grabbed my pajama pants and then ran.”

“You went to the tree house, didn’t you?” I remember Danny joking around about when Connor disappeared for over fourteen hours, and everyone in the neighborhood was looking for him.But Danny was the one who found him sleeping in the tree house.

Connor nods, biting his lower lip, a nervous gesture he’s been doing a lot lately. “Yeah. Danny found me the next day. By then the flu had turned into full blown pneumonia and my parents took me to the hospital.”

“Did you tell your parents what happened?”

He shakes his head. “I only told them that he slapped me for accidently kicking him in the balls.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because they wouldn’t have believed me. My dad—my mom, too, loved Jessup… I did too—that’s why they wouldn’t have believed what actually happened.” He sighs. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s the past, and I just want to move on with my life.”

I tip his chin, needing to see his eyes—see the truth to his words. “You sure?”