Page 34 of Coming Clean

Connor

I ended the call with Larissa, Sabrina’s therapist friend, and pulled up my calendar.

I had an appointment scheduled with her for the following week.

I was finally willing to admit that maybe she could help me.

It was time I tried something other than stumbling forward and pretending I was fine.

If I ever wanted a real shot at making a relationship work, I needed to find a way to get past the darkness that still clung to me.

I kept trying to tell myself that nothing with Jeremy was guaranteed, therapy or no therapy—but I refused to dwell on that.

I had to keep moving forward. Not talking to him for weeks had left me aching—for his touch, for just a glimpse of his smile.

I prayed David was right, that Jeremy still wanted me.

Calling Larissa had been hard. Showing up to the appointment would be even harder.

But I was going to do it. I wasn’t running anymore.

If I could survive the damn desert, I could face Mario too—no matter how furious he might be when he found out I was gay.

Yes, I’d wanted to protect him. Yes, I’d looked up to him, learned from him, maybe even built a version of myself based on him, but he was just a man—with flaws like anyone else—and he didn’t have the right to tell me to be someone I wasn’t.

I opened my contacts and tapped Mario’s name. I paced while the phone rang—once, twice, three times. This was usually the best time to catch him, but maybe he wasn’t around tonight.

Just when I was about to hang up, he answered. “What’s up, Connor?”

I almost said, “nothing much,” like this wasn’t a moment that could change everything. “I need to tell you something, if you’ve got time.”

“We’re heading out in the morning. I’ll be out of communication for a few days, so it’s good you caught me. What’s going on?”

I tried not to picture what he was heading into—something dangerous, no doubt. What if this was the last time we ever spoke?

Jeremy is in love with you. David’s words echoed in my mind. I had to do this. It might be my last chance before Jeremy gave up on me for good. And Sabrina was right too—I needed this for me. I needed to face the truth and start healing before I could ever help Mario.

“I’m gay.” I couldn’t believe I’d actually said the words out loud. There was silence on the other end, but I didn’t feel sick or terrified. I felt relieved.

“You’re what?” Mario asked, far louder than he needed to.

“I’m gay. I like men. I’m dating a man—or I was, until I screwed it up.

I had sex with men while I was in the Marines, I even— Okay, you don’t need the details.

” Now that the dam had broken, the words wouldn’t stop.

But whatever Mario said next, I knew I’d done the right thing.

The weight I’d been carrying was lighter now.

“You’re not serious?”

“I am. Very.” I sat down on the edge of my bed, suddenly too drained to keep pacing.

“How the hell could you do this?” Mario asked.

I’d expected him to be angry, but he just sounded… hurt. “I didn’t do anything. I was just—” I took a breath. “—born this way.”

“Fuck that. You never acted like a faggot.”

“Did Fargo and Cousta?”

He huffed. “I guess not. Not until they got caught sucking each other’s dicks.”

“Gay men aren’t all alike. Just like straight guys aren’t all the same either.” Christ, now I sounded like a PSA.

“Fuck, Connor. We were friends and you… You lied to me.”

“No. I just chose not to tell you.” I’d never said anything untrue, but maybe that was still a lie in its own way.

“We went out with girls.”

“No—you went out with girls. I went for the beer.”

“I guess you never did take anyone home. How the hell did I not see it?”

“Because I worked really damn hard to hide it.”

“How could you do this to me?” There was the anger I’d been waiting for.

“I’m still the same guy you served with.”

Mario snorted. “No, you’re not. You’re somebody I don’t even know.”

At least he didn’t call me a fucking fag. “Mario?—”

“Don’t say anything else. I need some time to think.” He hung up.

I hadn’t expected him to listen—not really.

I’d braced myself for him to curse me out, accuse me of being brainwashed, or tell me I was sick.

Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he tried to sign me up for some kind of anti-gay boot camp.

What I hadn’t been ready for was the pain in his voice—the betrayal.

Now he was headed out on a mission. Who knew when—or if—he’d be back? I thought about calling again, but I knew he wouldn’t pick up. All I could do was hope he’d come through the mission safely, and that when it was over, he’d call me.

The idea that he might never forgive me hurt—but for the first time, I was sure I’d done the right thing.

Now there was one last thing I had to make right.

It was already midnight, but I couldn’t risk waiting until morning. I’d already nearly lost my chance with Jeremy. Waking him up wouldn’t make things any worse.

I picked up the crumpled piece of paper I’d tossed out and pulled from the trash at least three times that evening. I shoved it in my pocket. Taking it didn’t mean I was going to let him read it—but it was time to find out if he still wanted to.

Jeremy

I jolted awake. A noise had woken me. Had it come from outside? I hoped so. There it was again. A muffled banging. Shit! Was someone trying to break in? No, I was overreacting. It was probably a squirrel, or a cat, or my imagination.

I lay rigid with tension for a few more seconds before getting to my feet. I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I investigated. The stairs creaked ominously as I stepped on them. By the time I reached the bottom, I was shivering. Maybe I should’ve put on something other than my boxers.

I heard something rattle and my heart nearly stopped.

It was the front doorknob. Someone was trying to get in.

The lock began to turn, and I launched into action, grabbing the lamp from the table in the hall.

It was an antique with a tall iron base.

I was no fighter, but maybe I could take the intruder by surprise.

The doorknob turned. I lunged as the door swung open. The man who entered caught my arm just before the lamp made contact with his head.

“Connor?”

His eyes were wide. “I figured you were pissed at me, but I didn’t expect to get my head bashed in.”

Fuck! “I thought you were a burglar. I didn’t even know I had that in me.” My heart thundered. Thank God Connor had such good reflexes. What if I had actually hit him?

“You were ready to defend yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“How’d you…”

Connor held up a key ring. “I still have a key from doing the cleanings. I shouldn’t have used it, but I knocked, and you didn’t answer, and this is my last chance.”

I tried to make sense of Connor’s statement with my still half-asleep brain. “Last chance for what?”

“To convince you not to sell the house and leave. David told me about the offer on the house. Don’t be mad at him. I’m really glad he did.” Connor reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper that he’d folded into a small rectangle. He held it out to me.

The adrenaline rush from thinking I was about to be robbed or attacked had me feeling more than a little disoriented. “Is this a dream?”

“I hope not, because I’d hate to find out I didn’t actually get up the courage to come over here.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You are?” Connor looked genuinely surprised.

“I am.” I doubted I would’ve been able to leave town without at least seeing Connor again. And now that he was in front of me, strong, gorgeous, but with that vulnerable look that had made me want to take a risk, I couldn’t believe I’d ever contemplated leaving at all.

“Read it.” Connor gestured to the paper.

I set the lamp back on the table and unfolded the note. When I looked at the words, I couldn’t believe it. Connor had written a poem.

Please don’t leave

If you do I’ll grieve

For what could have been

If only I’d cared enough to win

You.

Hot tears burned behind my eyes. I read the poem over and over before finally finding my voice. “Y-you wrote this? For me?” A tear splashed onto the paper.

“It kind of sucks.”

“But you wrote it for me.” When I looked up, Connor avoided my gaze.

“Well, yeah. I just thought… I didn’t know if you’d listen to me if I tried to talk to you. But you like poems. I mean, you like good poems, and that isn’t one but?—”

“It’s the best poem I’ve ever read.”

Connor frowned, obviously not buying it.

“It’s the only poem anyone’s ever written just for me and it… it means there’s a chance for us.”

“I told him,” Connor said.

“Told who?”

“Mario. I told him I was gay.”

Hope fluttered in my chest. “You did?”

Connor nodded.

“How did he take it?” I asked.

“Not well, but not as badly as he could have.”

“Are you okay?” He was here at least. He hadn’t decided his time with me had been a mistake.

“Yes, but I’d be better if…”

I grew impatient for him to continue. “If what?”

“If you were going to stay.”

My heart fluttered. There really was a chance. Don’t screw this up. “I was going to leave. I was going to give up on you, on us, but now…” I swiped at my embarrassingly wet eyes.

“I… I don’t really have the right words, but I thought maybe if I tried to change. Maybe then you’d get it. Maybe you’d understand how much I want you to stay. Sell the house if you really want to, but please don’t run. Give me a chance.”

I sucked at making emotional declarations, but I had to say something.

“I don’t know that I could have accepted the offer, even if you hadn’t shown up.

I love this house. As crazy as it may be for me to live here alone, once I realized that all the bad memories weren’t dragging me down, I didn’t want to sell it.

I do want to travel, but I want you more. ”

Connor gave me a huge smile, and I knew I’d said the right thing.