Page 27

CHAPTER 26

ALL LAID OUT THERE

CHUCK

“How are you sleeping?”

“Fine.” Chuck curled his toes inside his Converse, frowning down at the place where the white rubber lifted from his movement. “Actually, no. Not great. I drift off fine, but when I wake up in the middle of the night, I have a hard time falling back asleep.”

Dr. Anderson smiled understandingly. “Loud thoughts?”

“Screaming thoughts,” Chuck admitted. “And just, loneliness? I don’t know.”

“Have you talked to your boyfriend about it?”

Chuck shook his head. “He’s already doing enough for me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Chuck shrugged. “He’s taken everything I’ve thrown at him in stride. He’s been patient and understanding. When I tell him I need space, he gives me space. If I’m quiet and withdrawn, he keeps me company. He cooks me dinner and brings me homemade cookies. It’s got to be too much for him, right?

Dr. Anderson watched him with a quiet discernment that always made Chuck squirm, and tapped his pen against his thigh. “And what about what you do for him? Are there ways that you take care of him?”

Images flashed through his mind: Tommy, red-eyed and defeated on his front stoop in the wake of his divorce with nothing but a duffel bag clenched in his fist. Tommy asking if he could come over. Tommy asking if he’d help him train for an open-water swim.

When Tommy had been at his lowest, he’d come to Chuck.

“Yeah,” he finally said. It was an honor to support a man like Tommy. To be the one he came to when he needed someone. It was something Chuck cherished.

“Then what’s so different about letting him do the same for you?” Dr. Anderson peered at Chuck over his glasses. “You could make the argument that that’s what a relationship is—an agreement between two people who take care of each other and complement each other with the different gifts and strengths they bring to the table.”

As soon as Chuck left Dr. Anderson’s office, he pulled out his phone.

Chuck: Wanna go to the beach on Sunday?

Tommy: I’d love to.

* * *

It was a short drive to Folly Beach, and they were early enough that the wide stretch of sand next to the tall pier was mostly empty aside from some ambitious runners and a group of older women doing yoga.

Chuck slipped off his shoes as soon as they reached the sand, Tommy following suit beside him. The breeze that rolled in off of the water ruffled Chuck’s hair, and he tilted his head back, filling his lungs with the fresh, salty air.

Tommy spread a quilt out on the ground, and Chuck admired him for a moment. He wore blue running shorts that stopped above his knees and a white t-shirt. Sunglasses were pushed up on the top of his head, holding the floppy front pieces of his hair back.

They sat side by side. Chuck passed Tommy the breakfast sandwich and strawberry cream danish he’d picked up for him, and then opened his own. They sat in comfortable silence, watching the churning waves and the wheeling gulls.

Chuck set down his food, wiping his hands carefully on a paper napkin. “I go back to the old meds next week.”

“Yeah? How are you feeling about it?”

“I’m not sure.” Chuck looked down at his fingers, at the nails painted his favorite shade of stormy gray-blue. “Nervous something will go wrong again, but also, I’m so fucking ready to move on and get out of this hole.”

Beside him, Tommy’s body shifted, and then Chuck felt the warm press of Tommy’s knee against his thigh. Without saying anything, he returned the gentle pressure.

“Can I ask you something?”

Chuck glanced at Tommy. “Of course.”

Tommy frowned, his brows furrowing. “I’m worried about screwing this up, or not knowing the right way to support you. I don’t want to do something that winds up hurting you more than it helps. I’m always on your team, but sometimes, I feel like I don’t know the play. And that scares me. It really fucking scares me.” Tommy’s hand slipped over his palm, their fingers slotting into place. “I’m scared one day you’re going to look over and tell me I screwed it all up and I won’t get a chance to fix it.”

Chuck tightened his grip, leaning into the grounding connection between their bodies. His thumb gently caressed the back of Tommy’s hand. “Okay,” he said, holding Tommy’s gaze. “How can I help you feel less afraid?”

Relief softened Tommy’s face. “Could you,” he started, his throat working. “Could you tell me when I’m doing something good? When I’m being a good partner? And when I’m not, or when I mess up or I misjudge, will you tell me that, too?”

Chuck considered what Tommy was asking, thinking what it would be like to be so open and honest with someone. A part of him was relieved at the idea of having it all laid out there between them. It sounded terrifying, yes, but wouldn’t this alleviate his own fears too?

“Yeah,” Chuck said, and a little glimmer of excitement, of something that tasted a bit like giddiness, filled his chest. “I can do that, as long as you promise to be patient with me.” A sudden nervous laugh spilled from him and he ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been talking to my therapist about you.”

Tommy raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

He squeezed Tommy’s hand. “I’m scared too, T. I’m scared that if I let you all the way in, if you see just how fucked up things really are in my head, it’ll be too much for you. And I don’t want to scare you away, because I want you to be here, with me, like this.”

Tommy somehow moved even closer, so close that the sides of their bodies felt connected. Skin on skin, cotton on cotton, two shoulders tanned and freckled from long hours in the sun. Tommy pulled their joined hands into his lap, cradling Chuck’s like it was a precious thing to be protected.

Tommy leaned in and Chuck felt the soft, dry brush of his lips against the corner of his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I want to know all of it. I want to know all of you.”

And so Chuck began. He explained the lethargy that drained his energy, and the apathy that sometimes left him unable to move from his bed. He talked about how sometimes waking up alone in the middle of the night left him unmoored and scared. He admitted that he still worried he wasn’t giving Tommy nearly as much as Tommy was giving to him.

At some point, Tommy had moved so he was facing Chuck, and his vision was filled with all the things he loved about him: deep laugh lines, a smoothly shaved jaw, a mouth that was soft and relaxed as he gave Chuck his undivided attention.

“Don’t you realize you’re already giving me everything?” Tommy cupped Chuck’s cheek with his free hand. “Your company and the chance to be a part of your life are all I want.”

Chuck leaned into his touch. “But you do so much for me, T. Isn’t it unfair?”

Tommy was already shaking his head. “Fuck that. Fuck keeping score. You already give me exactly what I need, baby, and I’m going to work my ass off to learn how to do the same for you. And those things I do for you? Making dinner and swimming? Every single one of those things fills me up, too. So don’t go telling me this beautiful thing we’re building together isn’t fair, Chuck.”

Chuck felt lightheaded, the hesitant joy and hope that had started earlier now filled his chest and head with a bright, blinding excitement as he thought about the days, weeks, and months ahead.

And he wasn’t going to be alone. He believed Tommy when he said he’d be there. He believed him and he trusted him and fuck, he loved him.

For the first time, it didn’t hurt to hope.

Chuck kissed his boyfriend, right there on the beach with the sun warming their skin, and let himself start to dream.

He thought about the text David had sent him yesterday. He hadn’t known then how he wanted to respond, intimidated by his friend’s request and the idea of fulfilling it alone. Pulling back just far enough to form words against Tommy’s lips, Chuck asked him a question.

“Would you do something with me tomorrow?”

* * *

Magnolia Roasters was crowded when Chuck and Tommy walked in. Tommy looked ridiculously handsome in khaki shorts and a sage green button up that stretched tight around his biceps. He’d blow-dried his hair after their shower that morning, perfecting the little flop in the front Chuck loved so much.

It only took him a moment to locate the younger man who sat tucked away in a corner booth with his hands clasped on top of the table in front of him. Once they ordered and got their drinks at the counter, Chuck led them over, offering a smile when the young man looked up, relief and recognition crossing his slender face.

“Jordan, right?”

Jordan stood, an equal match for Chuck in height, and reached his hand out. “Mr. McCormac, thank you for meeting with me,” he said, his tone and posture formal in a way that seemed at odds with his age. Although, now that he was standing, Chuck could see he was dressed nicely in starched slacks and a white Southeastern basketball polo shirt a few sizes too big for him. His bright blond hair was buzzed close to his head, and the frown on his face looked like a permanent fixture there.

Chuck shook his hand. “Please, call me Chuck.” He motioned to Tommy, who was smiling beside him. “This is my boyfriend, Tommy Littleton.”

He watched as recognition dawned on Jordan’s face, and the young man’s mouth dropped open before he quickly snapped it shut. Chuck bit back a grin, and Jordan’s cheeks went red as he shook Tommy’s offered hand.

“Sir, I mean Mr. Littleton, I mean, shit, Tommy.” Jordan laughed nervously. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Coach showed us some old game tape, and man, you were unreal on D.”

Tommy chuckled. “Hughes is complimenting me in practice? I’m going to have to give him a hard time about that.”

They all sat down, and Chuck was pleased to feel Tommy slide over on the bench seat so their thighs were pressed firmly together. Across from them, Jordan watched their every move, his hands resuming their fidgeting.

Chuck figured it was on him to start the conversation. “I’m really glad you reached out to me,” he said, bracing his elbows on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “David didn’t tell me much, but I want you to know that we’re here to listen to as much or as little as you want to share.”

Jordan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and his golden-brown eyes flicked between them like he was searching for something.

“How has the transition been from playing to coaching?” Tommy asked.

Relief was visible on Jordan’s face as he answered the question. “A little weird at the beginning, but Coach Hughes has been great. Took a while for the guys to get used to me telling them what to do.”

Chuck nodded, thinking back to his first year as a graduate assistant coach. “I remember what that was like. I was taken off all the group texts about parties, and had to get used to sitting with the coaches on the bus. It was pretty lonely, at first.”

“Yeah. It really is.” Jordan shrugged his bony shoulders. “But I’m meeting new people and figuring it out.” His eyes darted between them again. “Can I, um, can I ask you guys something?”

“Of course,” Tommy responded.

“You guys are together?”

“Yes,” Chuck said, glancing at Tommy, only to find him watching him with a soft smile and his cheek pillowed on one of his propped-up hands. “It’s new, but?—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tommy interjected, resting one of his hands on Chuck’s thigh under the table.

“I’m gay,” Chuck offered, making an educated guess as to where Jordan was hoping the conversation would go. “I’ve known since high school. I wasn’t out back then, but right before I left for college I told my parents, and it didn’t go well.” Pain flashed in Jordan’s eyes and his expression tightened. Chuck continued. “I only came out to my college friends this year. I had a few good friends in the local queer community who knew, but I didn’t tell the people who have become my family until recently, because I was scared. Terrified, really, that they’d leave me.”

Jordan listened to every word intently, nodding along. When he glanced over at Tommy, the older man shrugged his wide shoulders and offered him a smile. “I only figured out I was into men this year. I was married to a woman for years, and after our divorce, I had a hard time. This guy,” he paused and nudged Chuck’s shoulder, “changed everything for me. Once I opened myself up to the possibility that I could love a man, it felt easy to accept.”

It seemed like Jordan had found what he was looking for in their answers, and his shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “My dad’s a military man,” he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the table. “An officer. He’s always been strict with me. Strict about my playing and my training, and how I dress and conduct myself. When I was younger, I told him I liked my art class, and he told me he’d beat my ass if I ever came home with any of that—” Jordan cut himself off, shaking his head. “You know what I mean. When a kid roughed me up on the playground, my dad made me box with him until I could hold my own.” He paused, and Chuck noticed his fingernails were bit down to the quick and the cuticles were torn. “I knew I liked boys, just like I knew from listening to my dad that it wasn’t right. And now I’m here, with a job coaching for the best man I’ve ever met, and I have my own apartment and a paycheck, and, um, I just…I think I could maybe come out.”

Chuck’s heart ached for Jordan, for the years of pain and damage inflicted by a family who, maybe even unknowingly, alienated their son and led him to feel like somehow he was less-than. Chuck thought of his own parents, who had never been anything but loving and supportive, up until the moment when he’d told them he was gay.

“What can we do?” Chuck asked. “How can we support you in this?”

Jordan looked up, his eyes wide and vulnerable, and it was so easy to imagine how he’d been as a little boy who just wanted to make art and trust that his parents unconditionally loved him. “What’s it like?” he asked, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

Chuck’s smile split his face in two, and it struck him, in that moment, that in the past, when he’d imagined what it might be like to live out of the closet, he’d always dwelled on the potential downsides. He’d fixated on everything—and everyone—he might lose. Given how his parents had reacted to the news that their son was gay, it made sense to him now.

But the reality of coming out? Fuck , it was good. Chuck had never realized how many pieces of himself he’d kept hidden away, or the way he had been in a constant state of vigilance over his behavior and mannerisms. Now he existed in a state of honesty that still left him a bit breathless.

Even though his depression was still there, hovering just below the surface, strong enough to derail him on the bad days, Chuck knew that he was stronger now. And, for the first time, he was getting a taste of what life was like out of the closet. He had a life and a partner he was proud of.

It was a powerful, beautiful thing.

“The first time I came out, I never considered that it wasn’t a safe thing to do,” Chuck began. Tommy squeezed his thigh, and the touch grounded him. “I thought my parents would always be loving and understanding, but when they weren't…it broke something in me. When the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally prove there are, actually, conditions to their love, then why would I trust anyone else to be different? But, the truth is, my friends are different. They are loving and open-minded, and have shown me time and time again that they care about me. It took me a long time to believe them. It would be easy to look back on the past ten years and say that I wish I’d come out to them sooner. There’s a part of me that will always long for what those years could have been like if I had. But at the same time, if I hadn’t waited, maybe I wouldn’t be where I am right now, sitting next to him.” He cast a quick glance at Tommy, who was watching him with emotion-filled eyes and a soft smile.

A quiet laugh spilled from his lips. “So, to answer your question: what’s it like being out? I love it. Since I came out to the people who matter most to me, not only have I gotten the chance to find a partner, but I’ve gotten better at loving myself. There are still people out there who don’t treat queer people with common decency, but to me, the freedom to live authentically and honestly outweighs every single one of those assholes.”

Jordan blinked, looking like he was at a loss for words.

“I don’t know if my opinion counts,” Tommy added, “since I didn’t live through this when I was younger, and I don’t share the same experience. But I think time goes by really fucking fast when you get out of school. For so long, your years are marked by holidays and summer breaks and basketball seasons, and then, all of a sudden, you’re out in the world with nothing but the calendar to mark the passing days. I spent a lot of years devoted to a marriage that ended, and now, to a job that is asking more of me than I want to give. So, when I realized this part of myself was waking up, I didn’t want to waste any time. It’s taken me a lot of trial and error to figure out who I am, but I plan on working my ass off to be the best partner this guy could ever ask for.”

How many times could he fall for Tommy all over again? How many times would this man surprise him with his earnest words—the words Chuck had always craved?

Chuck grabbed the hand on his thigh, fumbling until his fingers were intertwined with Tommy’s. He gave a gentle squeeze, which Tommy returned.

Jordan’s own eyes took on a glassy sheen as he looked at the two of them. He still seemed like a skittish deer ready to run.

“I’ve never,” Jordan began, pausing to bite his thumbnail. Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he dropped his hand, his cheeks reddening. “I’ve never been with a guy. At all. Does that…can I even call myself gay?”

“No one else gets to tell you who you are,” Chuck said, firmly. “If you define yourself as gay, then you’re gay.”

“Yeah?” Something shifted in Jordan’s eyes.

“Yeah.” It was Tommy who responded. “No one can take that away from you.”

Jordan let out a loud sigh, an overwhelmed expression on his face, like he was struggling to digest everything that had been said.

“So, how’s the team looking for next year?” Tommy steered the conversation back to Southeastern and basketball, and the younger man looked visibly relieved to have shifted topics.

Chuck leaned back, watching Tommy as he laid out his argument for some defensive set Chuck didn’t understand. Even locked into conversation with Jordan, his hand remained tightly wrapped around Chuck’s, a constant reminder that he wasn’t alone.