Page 38 of Pages of My Heart

It’s almost four o’clock when Charlie gets back to the house.

He’s been gone too long, he knows that. He understands Thomas’s reaction, but he’s also angry and deeply hurt by it.

Going to war fills him with fear—not so much because he’s afraid of combat, or even afraid to die, but because he doesn’t want to be separated from Thomas.

Over the five and a half years they’ve been together, he’s seen how fragile Thomas can become, how much he needs routine and stability.

Now Charlie is being forced to upend their life together—a life they have worked so hard to carve out for themselves.

“Tommy?” he calls out as he closes the front door against the snow that has just started to fall.

He huffs in frustration when he gets no response.

Surely Thomas isn’t still mad? He shrugs out of his heavy coat and walks further into the house.

“Thomas, I know you ain’t still locked in the—” But Charlie doesn’t finish, because when he gets to the bathroom he finds the door wide open.

Feelings of guilt start to trickle in as he continues on to their room, thinking that maybe Thomas has taken to bed.

“Sweetheart?” He steps into their room, but Thomas isn’t there either.

As he walks back toward the kitchen, in desperate need of a beer, he wonders if maybe Thomas has gone across town to hide out at his sister’s house. Before he makes it to the icebox, he spots a piece of paper on the table bearing Thomas’s loopy handwriting.

Charlie,

I didn’t want to give you the chance to change my mind. If you’re going, then so am I.

I’ll be home soon.

Tommy x

Panic engulfs him as he realizes what Thomas has done.

Heart pounding, he races through the house and out the front door, not even bothering to lock it behind him.

The recruiting office is a good thirty-minute walk away.

Charlie runs. He runs like his life fucking depends on it.

He runs like Thomas’s life depends on it, because, quite plainly, it does.

Thomas should not—cannot—go to war. Charlie’s fear and fury give him stamina and strength he didn’t know he possessed.

He doesn’t even notice the cold or that he’s forgotten his coat in his haste.

When he arrives at the office his clothes are drenched in sweat and he is gasping for air, but he doesn’t stop to catch his breath.

He bursts into the building, unable to face what it means if he’s too late.

Tears threaten to spill, his body shakes and his limbs turn to liquid.

“Tommy!” he yells, frantically looking around.

There is a line of men. A fucking line of men who are waiting to sign up, and thank God, because Thomas is one of them.

With all eyes on him, he strides over without a second thought.

“Tommy, we need to talk.” He grabs Thomas by the arm, but Thomas won’t look at him nor budge from the line.

“Charlie, you can’t change my mind.” Thomas’s voice is monotone. He has his chin lifted defiantly, and his eyes stare straight ahead at the back of the man standing ahead of him.

Charlie knows how stubborn Thomas can be, so he breathes deeply, forcing himself to calm down.

“Please get out of the line. I just wanna talk to ya for a minute. Then ya can get back in the line if ya still wanna enlist. Please, Tommy.” Some of the men in the line are looking at them curiously, others with open suspicion.

He lets go of Thomas’s arm and steps back to put a more respectable distance between them, trying to appear nonchalant.

“He’s my cousin,” he announces to the room.

Thomas continues to stand like a statue, refusing to make eye contact.

There is only one person left standing between Thomas and the recruitment officer sitting behind the desk.

Charlie’s hands are shaking so badly he has to stuff them into his pockets.

He wants to take Thomas in his arms and tell him he loves him.

Fall to his knees and beg him not to do this if he must. But he can’t do any of that in this public place.

Instead, he steps in front of Thomas, as close as he can without their bodies touching, and takes a huge risk, placing a shaking hand on Thomas’s hip.

“Tommy, look at me.” His voice quivers. “If you lo—” He lowers his voice to barely a whisper. “I’m begging you, if you love me . . .”

Thomas finally lowers his chin, bottom lip trembling, and looks at Charlie for the first time. He holds Thomas’s gaze, conveying everything he can without words, praying the man he loves can see reason.

Then Thomas nods. And he steps out of the line.

Thomas

After walking home in silence, Thomas wordlessly insisting that Charlie wear his coat for the final ten blocks, they prepare dinner together and eat at the kitchen table.

Charlie tries to engage him in conversation, but Thomas is caught up in his own thoughts.

He knows he is being selfish, but he doesn’t know how else to survive this.

Charlie thinks he’s changed his mind, but he hasn’t—he merely came home because he realized it wasn’t the right way to do it.

He’s just not sure how and when he should broach the subject again.

“You wanna hear some good news?” Charlie asks.

“Sure, let’s add to this joyous day,” he answers, smiling coldly.

“Always with the smart mouth, huh, Red?”

Thomas decides to call a truce. Lord knows, they don’t have much time left before they’ll be separated. He shouldn’t waste it being sullen and sarcastic. “What’s the good news then?” he asks with sincere interest.

“Evie’s got a bun in the oven.”

“Truly?” Genuine joy lights up inside him. “Charlie! That is great news. You’re going to be an uncle! Uncle Charlie.” He grasps Charlie’s arm and gives it a playful shake. “It’s the best. You’ll love it.”

“She wanted to tell us both, but with . . .” Charlie trails off.

“Perhaps we can visit her tomorrow? I want to congratulate her.”

“Sure, I think she’d like that.” Charlie puts his knife and fork down and pushes his plate away, his face serious once again. “You ready to talk about it now? I think we should.”

Thomas sniffs petulantly. “What exactly is there to talk about?” He unequivocally does not want to discuss it.

“I gotta report to the draft board within a week, and if they don’t find nothing wrong with me, it won’t be long ’til I’m gettin’ my letter.

We got a lot to talk about. I’ll need to organize Evie to collect my pay cause I won’t be able to assign it to you.

It’s gotta be a family member. But I’ll instruct her on how much to give you to cover my portion of the rent and utilities. ”

Thomas looks down at his half-eaten dinner and closes his eyes.

He figures if Charlie insists on having this conversation, they may as well have it out now.

“We have more to organize than that. I haven’t changed my mind.

I only came home with you because I realized it was wrong to just leave you a note and not talk it through first.”

When Thomas looks up, Charlie’s face is a deep shade of red, the rage radiating off him like heat from a furnace.

Thomas has never once been afraid of Charlie until this very moment.

Charlie doesn’t speak, so Thomas takes their dinner plates to the sink, willing his hands to stay steady.

With his back to Charlie, he says, “We’re not having this argument again tonight. ”

“Like fuck we aren’t!” Charlie explodes, slamming his fist down on the table.

Thomas quits the kitchen, the scrape of the kitchen chair on the floor alerting him that Charlie is following. He goes into their bedroom because all he wants to do is lie down, but Charlie has clearly reached the end of his rope, so he steels himself and turns back to face him.

“I don’t know why you can’t understand—I can’t stay here while you go! I just can’t! So I am going to enlist. I’ll organize everything—my job, the house—so you won’t need to worry.”

“Thomas, I forbid it!” Charlie’s voice roars as he advances. “I fucking forbid you to enlist.”

Thomas stumbles back, legs banging into the frame of the bed, half frightened Charlie is going to strike him.

For the first time since they met, he sees a shadow of Robert in Charlie’s face, and that truly terrifies him.

Charlie has always been his rock, his anchor, and seeing him out of control feels like the ground breaking apart beneath his feet.

Charlie pushes in close and pokes Thomas hard in the chest. “You hear me, Tommy?” Charlie’s voice drops low, sounding deceptively controlled. “If you love me, you will not break my heart this way.”

There’s a standoff as they stare at each other, chests heaving, and eyes filled with unshed tears. Thomas doesn’t know how to make Charlie understand that it’s because of how much he loves him that he cannot stay behind.

Charlie breaks first and turns away, head and shoulders slumping down as if defeated. “Your mind, Tommy. You’re not . . . don’t make me fuckin’ say it.”

His heart sinks. “Say what?” he dares.

Charlie turns back around and looks him square in the eyes and hurt and shame run Thomas over at a devastating speed. He hates the confirmation that Charlie sees him this way.

Weak. Broken.

Crazy.

“Your mind ain’t strong enough.”

Thomas cannot stop the tears, and he has to look away—anywhere other than at Charlie. The look of pity would kill him.

“Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Charlie reaches out to touch his face, but it only makes him angry and he slaps it away.

“Thomas, please. Listen to me and see reason. Do ya not remember how bad it got two years ago?”

The room is suffocating and he doesn’t want to listen to what Charlie is saying. He’s not like his mother. He’s not. Wiping furiously at his tears, he pushes past Charlie and heads toward the sitting room, needing to be alone. But Charlie is right behind him, not giving him the space he needs.

“Tommy, we need to talk about this. You can’t run away from it, and you can’t enlist.”

Reaching the middle of the room, he spins abruptly, crowding into Charlie’s space. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Charlie explodes all over again, “Like fuck I can’t!

” The sound of buttons popping, then bouncing and scattering on the hardwood floor registers before he understands what Charlie has done.

Chest now bare, Charlie pounds on the ink over his heart.

“What the hell did I get this for then? Why did we say vows to each other in this very room? Are you my fuckin’ husband or not? ”

Charlie’s words awaken something deep inside him and all the shame and fear takes a backseat to his anger. “Yes! Yes, I’m your husband, and you’re mine!” he yells. “And you aren’t listening to a word I’m fucking saying!”

Thomas surges forward and attacks Charlie’s mouth with his own, forcibly pushing his tongue inside.

In this moment his desire to have Charlie, to claim him and dominate him, is ugly and primal.

Thomas needs to take back some semblance of control before his life completely unravels before his very eyes.

Charlie is the only thing in his life that has ever made sense and now he’s leaving.

How can Charlie leave him behind? It’s the ultimate betrayal.

They claw and rip at each other’s clothes, frantic in their attempts to come together.

Stumbling, falling to the floor, they are finally naked, flesh on flesh.

Thomas pushes Charlie roughly onto his back and growls as Charlie spreads his legs for him, moving into position between them.

Spitting into his hand, he wets his painfully hard cock, then spits again over Charlie’s hole.

With no further preparation, he pushes inside, Charlie screaming out his name.

Thomas thrusts forcefully, completely untethered. “Charlie, you’re mine. You’re my husband.”

“Yes, Tommy.” Charlie’s voice is thick with both pleasure and pain. “Yes, yes . . . I’m yours.”

Thomas chokes up, the grief inside him growing more and more unbearable with every determined push of his hips. “You’re mine. You can’t leave me. Please, Charlie . . .”

“I’ll never leave you.” Charlie reaches for him.

“But you are! You vowed you would protect me . . . always be there for me. Now you’re leaving me behind.

” Thomas gasps for air. “What if you get hurt? What if you fucking die? I can’t.

I have to go. I can’t—I can’t stay here and wait.

Charlie, I can’t—” He cannot continue. A guttural cry pierces the room, ripped straight from his chest. He stops thrusting, letting himself slip from Charlie’s body and collapsing on top of him.

He sobs uncontrollably. The pain reminds him of the day the men in white dragged his mother away, pieces of himself splintering off and leaving him less than whole.

“Tommy, my sweetheart.” Charlie’s arms envelop him and Thomas clings to his husband like it’s the end of days. And maybe it is. “Shh, shh . . . it’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll come home to you. I promise.”

“I love you,” he cries into the crook of Charlie’s neck. “I love you more than you know.”

“I do know, cause I love you just the same. I need you to stay home where I know you’ll be safe. And you’ve got to let me go. You got to trust me. Here, kiss me.” Thomas lifts his head and Charlie cradles his face and kisses him tenderly. “Come on, sweetheart. Make love to me. I need you.”

Thomas reaches down between his legs and strokes himself, desperate to get his erection back and give Charlie whatever he wants.

He realizes as Charlie’s body welcomes him back inside that they are lying in the very same spot where they made love after exchanging their vows.

Just like that night, they make love slowly, Thomas barely pulling out with each thrust, never wanting to leave Charlie’s warmth.

He cradles his husband in his arms, their eyes never straying from each other.

“Yeah, that’s it, Tommy,” Charlie encourages. “You make me feel so good.”

“Charlie, my darling . . . I’m sorry.” Thomas’s tears fall upon Charlie’s face. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Charlie caresses his face, brushing the tears away.

“I love you, and I’ll wait for you to come home to me,” he promises.

“Thank you.” Charlie sighs, a mix of relief and pleasure. “Just love me, Tommy. That’s all I need. Just love me.”

Thomas pulls their bodies even closer, rocking in perfect counterbalance. Charlie releases first and Thomas immediately follows, their lips joined in an exchange of love, profound and unyielding.

Later that evening, when they settle down in bed, Charlie pulls Thomas against his chest and softly sings him to sleep. It’s the song that was playing the night they first met, the night they first danced in each other’s arms. Perhaps even the moment they first fell in love.