Page 51 of Pretend You're Mine

I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling the stubble rasp against my palm. The words stuck in my throat, but I forced them out anyway. “I’m good.”

He cocked his head, a frown etching lines into his face. “I sense a but. What’s going on, Creed?”

My heart pounded, each beat a dull thud in my ears. A thousand thoughts rushed through my mind—what if he looked at me differently, what if he pulled away, what if I ruined one of the few good things I had left? I clenched my jaw, forcing myselfto breathe, staring down at the coffee cup, watching the steam swirl up in lazy tendrils.

A lump formed in my throat, and my chest tightened, like I was on the edge of a cliff with no guarantee of a safe landing. The words lodged in my mouth, heavy and bitter. But I couldn't keep pretending. I couldn’t keep hiding.

“I’m... I’m gay, Trent.”

The words hung in the air, like a challenge I couldn’t take back. I braced myself, my muscles tensing, waiting for the shift in his expression, the flicker of disgust. But when I finally looked up, all I saw in Trent’s face was quiet understanding.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I don’t care, Creed.”

My chest loosened, and I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “You’re... okay with this… with me?”

He snorted, a rough, humorless sound. “I spent enough time in the Marines to know what real bravery looks like. Coming out like this... hell, that’s courage, Creed. More than I’ve ever had.”

My hands tightened around the cup. “You’re the first person I’ve told. I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

Trent’s expression softened, like he was seeing right through me. “I get it. Secrets like that... they eat at you. But it doesn’t change who you are, Creed. Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got a good heart.”

A laugh escaped me, rough and shaky. “Yeah, well, I don’t feel so good lately. There’s this guy, Avery. We started off with this... arrangement. A fake relationship, to help him with his family. His mom kept pushing him to settle down with some nice girl, even though he came out to her years ago. So I played the role. Pretended he was mine… but it got... complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, struggling to find the right words. “It stopped feeling fake for me. I started falling for him,even though I knew it wasn’t real for him. And now... things went to hell, and I don’t even know where we stand.”

Trent leaned back, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re in deep, man.”

“Yeah. Deep and drowning.” I met his gaze. “I don’t know what to do, Trent. How do I even begin to fix this?”

He paused, thinking it over. “Look, I’m no relationship guru. Was barely around enough during my marriage to get it right. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned since my wife passed, it’s that time is a gift, Creed. You can waste it, or you can use it to say the things that matter. You love him?”

I swallowed hard, the truth settling into my bones. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Trent’s expression softened, something like understanding in his eyes. “Then don’t waste any more time.”

CHAPTER 32

CREED

A sharp knock echoed through the room, the kind that jerks you out of a fitful sleep. I dragged myself up, the weight of the past few days still heavy on my shoulders. My body protested, sore from too many hours hunched over with my thoughts. Trent's reassuring presence seemed distant now, even though it’d only been a couple of hours. The cold air seeped through the cracks, making me shiver as I shuffled toward the door. I pressed my eye to the peephole, squinting into the dim light outside.

Avery.

My heart stuttered, a flicker of hope overshadowed by the weariness etched into his features. He looked tired, his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones like a mask. He’d lost weight. Even with that, he was still stunning—dark hair tousled and falling over his forehead, his eyes shimmering with an intensity that pulled me in, even from behind the door.

He shifted from foot to foot, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his gray hoodie. His jeans were snug, molding to his form, and I couldn’t help but admire how they clung to his thighs. It was cold, four days after Christmas, and I wondered if he was even warm enough.

I yanked the door open, half-expecting to see a stranger in his place, but it was still him. “Creed! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The words tumbled out in a frantic rush as he pushed his way into the apartment, his breath coming in quick bursts. “I’ve been a total idiot.”

He’d never spoken to me this way before, a whirlwind of emotions spilling out as he paced the small space like a caged animal. “I didn’t give you a chance to be honest with me. I talked about my family, my trauma, everything that weighs me down. I made it all about me.”

The heat of his words wrapped around me, prickling my skin, igniting something dormant.

“Avery—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head vigorously, eyes wide and pleading. He stopped pacing and stood in front of me. “It wasn’t your fault for holding back. I made it clear I wasn’t ready to listen, and I want you to know?—”

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