Page 86 of Catching Kyle

“You’ve been going to therapy?”

I nod. “A ton,” I say, laughing. Or sobbing. I can’t tell. “But it’s not working.”

“Not working?”

I think back to all my sessions with Neeti, and my chest aches. “It hurts like hell,” I say. “Every time. I thought it was supposed to get easier.” I exhale through pursed lips. “Can you help me?”

Michael frowns and shakes his head. “I’m not qualified. Even if I was, I’m too close to you. And Kyle,”

God, I love it when he says my name.

“This is your journey. Only you can go through the pain. Only you can come out the other side. Nobody—not me or your therapist—can do it for you.”

I sigh. “So you’re saying it’s supposed to hurt?”

“It’s not ‘supposed’ to be anything,” he says, adjusting himself to sit cross-legged and face me squarely. “It justis. Sometimes, this work of digging into who you are is euphoric. Eye-opening. Transformative. Other times, it’s like wading through mud. Painful. Exhausting.” He sucks on his teeth. “And sometimes, it’s mundane and boring, and we see no progress whatsoever. But it’s important during all these times just to keep going.”

I grimace. “Why?”

He grabs my shoulders and tilts me so I’m squarely facing him, too. I comply and move one of my legs to the other side of him so he’s sitting right between them.

“Becauseyou’reworth it,” he says, poking me square in the sternum. “Because there’s a little kid inside of you yearning to express himself. To be free. Authentic. To live a life of integrity.”

Integrity.I feel like I’ve been sacked on the field. My dad said that to have integrity is the best way to be, and that was one of the few things that he and my ma agreed on. And now Michael’s saying that I can have integrity by digging into who I am.

“You deserve that life,” he says. “And so do I. It’s why I do all that I do.”

I gently grab hold of both of his hands and look into his eyes. And then I pull him close. When his lips press against mine, a jolt of electricity more powerful than anything I’ve felt before surges through me: more powerful than our first and even when we made love for the first time.

“Sorry,” I say when I pull away. “I just had to.” More than anything, I want to pull him back in and taste him again. Push him over right here and fuck him senseless. But I want to see this conversation through.

“No unnecessary apologies,” he says, holding my hands and rubbing them. We sit there for a minute.

And then I take a deep breath.

“I’m going to learn how to be honest,” I say. “For us.”

He squeezes my hands. “Do it for you, Kyle. That’s the only way it will last.”

I think back to that last question Robyn asked me: Do I want to win the Championship Game to prove myself to my dad? Or myself?

“I’ll do it for me,” I say.

He smiles. “And we’ll both benefit.”

I lean forward into him, my head on his shoulder, and he rubs my back. I can smell his sweat, so I deliberately breathe in his odor. I want all of him.

“We’ll need it,” I say. “For better and for worse, this fake-dating gimmick is really working. From what Timmy is telling me, it looks like the Tigers will re-sign me. That means like eight more months of this… secret. Assuming we make it to the Championship Game again. Is that something you can do?”

He exhales his warm breath down the back of my neck. “I think I can,” I say. “Let’s continue to be open like this. Do what you need to do work on trusting yourself better, becoming more honest.”

“I will,” I promise. “Starting right now. And I’ll contact my therapist tomorrow. But I can’t always promise to be perfect.”

“Neither can I,” he says. Every syllable he speaks vibrates my whole torso.

I look up at him, our faces inches apart.

“Then let’s come up with something,” I say. I kiss his cheek, then rub his face with my beard, and he moans.