Page 87 of The Boy from Half Moon

Tate glanced at his watch. “It’s only three. Anything pique your interest?”

“Remember those trucks and trailers we walked by that you said sold food?” I asked. He nodded. “Can we go see what they have? Or…” I added, shifting gears. “That place you went when you brought sandwiches to the furniture store. The sandwich with three slices of bread.”

“Heck no on McDonald’s,” he stated. “I agree. Let’s hit up the food trucks. You’ve done the Big Mac already, and Portland is famous for its food truck scene, plus you’ll have a ton of choices.”

Our walk from the hotel to the food trucks was a short one. He pointed out interesting things as we walked sidewalks that were full of people. I’d never seen so many individuals walking around at one time. Each person looked different from the next. A sea of individuality was everywhere I looked.

A foreign landscape of humans, all of them on separate missions. All colors. Different sexes. The women didn’t dress the same. Everything that was not like the ranch walked past us. The best part? No one stared at me or singled me out as strange. A few times, I noticed men giving me a second look. Men who appeared to be looking at me the way Tate did sometimes.

As we made our way through the city, skyscrapers looming overhead, casting shadows over the streets, I stayed very close to Tate, occasionally reaching for his hand. The sheer size of the city, mixed with the volume of people and noises I wasn’t familiar with, overwhelmed me at times.

I leaned into him as we walked. “Is it okay if we hold hands?” I asked.

Tate glanced at our connected hands. “Yeah, sure. People may stare at us, though,” he warned. “So don’t think it’s about your clothes, okay? It’ll be more about two men holding hands, but it’s okay if we do. Especially in Portland,” he added.

“Why in Portland?” I asked, gripping his hand as we crossed the street.

“Portland is a welcoming city for gay people, Luke, especially downtown, like where we are now. People will think you and I are gay and a couple, though. So you should be aware of that.”

“We are, aren’t we?” I asked. He looked surprised at my comment, tilting his head and studying me carefully. “Did I say something wrong?”

Tate led me to the side of a building, away from the bustling sidewalk, before facing me. “You think we’re a gay couple, Luke?”

“I thought we were,” I confessed. “We aren’t?”

“What about the rest stop? You know, the part about not courting me any longer?”

“You asked why I hadn’t called you when I was at the ranch the last time,” I explained. “I told you that I couldn’t court you because Ma and David were getting punished because of me staying overnight with you back then.”

“But now you want to?” he asked, grabbing my other hand and holding that one too.

“Do you still want to?” I whispered, worried I’d blown my chance. “I can’t go home, Tate, but I understand if you don’t want me now,” I added. “I promise I’ll pay you back for everything, even if it takes me a long time.”

Tate let go of my hands and walked several feet away, leaning against the building, facing the opposite direction. My heart felt like it tumbled to my gut, doing somersaults on the way down, worried he no longer felt the way I did. I turned around, facing the traffic and what seemed like thousands of people. Maybe I could go home when things settled down. I didn’t want to, but maybe I could.

After a minute or so I made my way to where Tate was, standing beside him quietly as people walked by. I remembered how my father had once told me it’s important to face issues head-on, and never ignore a concern you might have. Regardless of the result, knowing is always better in the long run.

He reached for my hand, so I held his, coming to stand in front of him. His cheeks were flushed. “I don’t want you to repay me, Luke. It’s never been about that,” he began, dragging his thumb across the top of my hand.

Several people looked our way as they passed, but quickly diverted their eyes when I noticed. “May I ask what it is about then?” I asked naïvely.

A small laugh preceded his answer. “Do you really want to be with me, Luke?” he asked but kept talking, so I swallowed my gigantic yes for now. “Meaning me and you? An actual couple who makes plans for a future?” he clarified, locking his gaze on me. “A life where we’d live together full time? We’d share our lives with the goal of lasting forever. Does that sound like something you want?”

“A life where you’d love me?” I whispered, dropping my chin to my chest. “Because that’s what I want, Tate. It doesn’t matter what it’s called if it means I get to be with you,” I said, staring at my feet, dragging the tip of my shoe back and forth across the sidewalk. “I don’t need fancy things, but can you love me enough to overlook the stuff I’m not very good at?”

His head slowly moved from side to side, his smile growing. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not good at a lot of stuff either,” he admitted. “I already failed at one relationship. And just because I’m older than you, Luke, I don’t want to be the one who decides everything.”

“But I have nothing to offer.”

“Yes, you do,” he corrected, squeezing my hands. “You have you. That’s what I want, Luke. I want you.”

I pulled Tate against me, unsure of what to do on a people-filled city sidewalk. There was so much I wanted to say. I needed to tell him I was still afraid of having sex, even though I wanted to share the experience with him so badly. He deserved to know everything that happened to me on the ranch, but here again, I was afraid it made me less worthy of him. A million fears from a lifetime of planted ideas still haunted me.

Trusting Tate with my love would be a challenge for sure. Loving and living with him would require repairing my fragile soul and forgiving Franklin for what happened to me. If there was one thing that could tear me apart, it was facing the horrors of my childhood.

There was one other thing as well. One more thing that could keep Tate and me apart. And that was my innocence, as Franklin’s death was investigated. I had an instinct about his murderer, and there was no way I would allow that person to go to prison.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: Tate

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