Page 2 of Boyfriend on Parole: The Care of Broken Things Extended Epilogue (Breaking Free #2)

“No!” He’d been afraid of this. Exactly this. Knowing Nathaniel would try to apologize. “I love it. You wanting me. You thinking of me. I got so—I liked it so much.”

Nathaniel made a soft sound. A sweet sound. “I like you so much.”

Samuel gathered those words in as he would always gather those words in.

Nathaniel was generous with his affection, but not so generous that a greedy bastard like him wouldn’t always be craving more.

But he couldn’t be distracted. “Don’t apologize.

Please never apologize. I want so badly to—you don’t know how much I want it with you.

” He was trembling like a leaf. “You don’t. ”

He didn’t mean to make it come out like an accusation, but Nathaniel didn’t take it that way.

He was still being warm and soft, curled up on the loveseat, maybe.

With the blanket Hailey had crocheted for him for his birthday and Father’s Day combined—it had taken that long to make.

It helped to think of that image but also made it harder. He so, so hated to disappoint him.

“Sam—”

“I want to do those kinds of things with you, but if my body doesn’t respond the right way I don’t want you thinking it’s because I don’t want it or because I’m not properly attracted to you.

Because I am. I am . I think about it all the time.

I think of you all the time. I have more dreams about you than anyone else, even Eli.

When I think about touching myself, or if I could touch myself properly, I’d think of you.

It’s always going to be you. So please don’t think—”

“I don’t think that.” Nathaniel was calm, but only because he could hear the panic in his partner’s voice. “I don’t think that, Sam.”

He was aware of the train wreck that was his breath, fast and gulping and anxious.

He squatted down, pressing his face to his knees, and tried to modulate.

“Even if my body is strange, I hope you’ll still—I can use my mouth on you.

I’d like to do that. I’ve thought about doing that.

And other things as well. I can still do other things.

Whatever you want. If you just let me try. I want to—”

“Samuel. I know I shouldn’t interrupt, and I won’t after this.

But Sam, please don’t be anxious. I so don’t want you to be anxious.

Listen, I promise there’s nothing about this, or us, or anything that’s going to send me away.

I am so, so attached. You say I don’t know how much you want me, well you don’t know how much I want you.

And I want you, Samuel. In all ways, in every way, I’m here for all of it.

Pearsons are turtledoves. We mate for life.

So you’re my partner now, whether you want to be or not.

Even if you break up with me or come to hate me or disappear forever, you are going to be my partner.

No matter what your body does or doesn’t do, or what mine does or doesn’t do, I will always love you.

I will always cherish you. Now, do you want to keep going with what you were telling me, or is it okay if I respond? ”

He’d forgotten about the breathing. “Didn’t you—isn’t that your response?”

“That’s my pre-response. A standard qualifier I want you to keep in mind as a reference for any and all future questions. But I have more to say about this specific concern if you’ll let me.”

A reference. Was it really okay for him to have something like that?

He’d always thought words were things of the moment.

Matter that could change or be subject to changes.

It was why he needed to hear Nathaniel’s I love you every day and at the end of every phone call.

Because things like feelings could change.

Were always changing. So what power did Nathaniel have to give him something like that—a universal truth like gravity or the laws of thermodynamics?

It shouldn’t have been possible, but he also couldn’t say it wasn’t possible.

That’s how sure the man sounded. “As if I could ever hate you, and if I disappeared it would only be because someone made me. I’d fight everything to keep you. ”

“Then we’re on the same page.”

If they were on the same page, they were in the same story. Two characters tied together. “I want to hear your response.”

Nathaniel laughed. “You sound like you’re bracing yourself.”

He was always bracing himself. Even after all this time, waiting for the shoe to drop. “Is that bad?”

“Only if you’re expecting bad news. Listen, Sam.

I can hear this is something you have anxiety about, and as someone who experiences anxiety morning, noon, and night, I don’t want you thinking I’m dismissing it.

But I will say this: I know from experience that what we plan and what we expect are not always the things that happen.

You and I have never had sex. We’ve never tried to have sex.

And until we do, I’d like it if you could try not to cement how you think it would go.

Obviously, have whatever fantasies you want.

I look forward to the opportunity to make them realities.

But you speak as if there were something wrong with you when I really don’t see any evidence of it.

Do you think I could masturbate in a prison?

Do you think Eli could? In fact, I think it would be more unusual for your body to ‘work properly’ in a setting like that.

I don’t think mine would, and I’m something of a whore.

So no, I don’t think you’re broken just because your dick doesn’t work in prison.

Hell, even if you weren’t in prison, I don’t think it would be strange.

So far as your body is concerned, I’m a foreign entity. It doesn’t know if I’m safe.”

“Of course you’re safe! You’re my—” He stopped, unsure of how to end that sentence, or rather, whether he had the audacity to end it the way he wanted to. He went for it. “My wife.”

His face was flaming even before Nathaniel’s laugh came. That lovely, lovely laugh. Not just a hug, but warm chocolate and a favorite sweater.

“I know. And I love being your wife. But that doesn’t change the fact that our bodies haven’t had a lot of contact—yet.

I know you want it, and believe me, I want it too.

But it’s new, and even more so for you. Forgive me if it’s insensitive to bring up, but you’re a virgin, aren’t you?

I think it’s even more normal in that case for your body to be cautious, and there’s nothing wrong with that. ”

But that was just another pit of dread. Samuel had been wanting for the longest time to bring up the matter of his inexperience.

Had needed to ask if it was alright, and not too much of a disappointment.

But he’d been too chickenshit to do it, even if Nathaniel was right about why that was stupid.

If he couldn’t even speak about things with his partner, then there was no one he could speak to, and he wouldn’t accept that.

“I’m not a virgin. I did—I’ve had sex.”

Nathaniel was quiet, struggling with something himself, but then he said. “No, you haven’t.”

And then he knew that Nathaniel knew, and that the thing he’d been so dreading to tell him was already done and over with.

It meant he hardly knew what to say or how even to react.

What did you do when the thing you’d been building up so much in your head, all the guilt and anxiety for what it might do or cause—was all just suddenly gone, popped as easily as a soap bubble?

“He told you?”

“He didn’t mean to.” And suddenly Nathaniel was the one with the anxiety, the one whose words were coming too fast. “He was drunk and made an allusion to it—he’d forgotten I didn’t know.

And then I made him tell me. It would have been worse to only half-know it.

Please don’t blame him. I didn’t mean to break his trust in you. I hope you don’t think—”

“I don’t.” And now the shoe was on the other foot, and he was the one desperate suddenly to offer reassurance. “He hasn’t broken anything. I never even told him not to tell you. Did he think I’d be angry?”

“No, I—I don’t know. We weren’t sure what to do.

I thought it was better to wait until you decided to tell me yourself.

But I also didn’t want you to not know that I knew, or act like I was keeping secrets, because I don’t keep secrets, and I kept thinking how hypocritical it was to tell you to be open with me when here I was not telling you that I knew the thing you didn’t want me to—”