Page 60 of Lust

I notice a tear stirring in his eye, and he turns away from me.

“Fuck, Luke. That’s why you didn’t want to come out tonight.”

He nods.

“I’m such an asshole.”

“No,” he says, resting his hand on my thigh. “I wanted to come. I thought it could be fun, and it was…until I fucked it up.”

I rest my hand on top of his. “I don’t think that counts as you fucking it up, Straight Boy.”

He snickers at his nickname, and I’m glad because I was hoping to ease some of this weight he’s carrying.

“I appreciate your sharing that with me, Luke. I wish I’d been more considerate and asked why you didn’t want to come.”

“No way you could have guessed that.”

“Maybe you’re right. I’m glad to hear both your parents were so involved in your childhood, though. My mom was great. Dad…not so much.”

“Your dad didn’t do anything with you for Halloween?”

I chuckle, but as soon as I do, I realize how fucked up it is to be amused at the thought of him giving that many shits aboutme. I shake my head. “Let’s not talk about my bullshit for now. This is about you.”

He turns to me, his gaze boring into mine, as though he can see my deepest, darkest secrets. Instinctively, I look away.

“What is it?” he asks, assuring me he hasn’t seen this darkness within me. “Brad?”

Luke’s ruminations on his past have activated mine, and I find myself sifting through memories I prefer to keep buried…and regrets I couldn’t bury if I tried. Luke would hate me if he saw this side of me. He would see me for the selfish coward I really am.

But as he sits here, being so vulnerable with me, all I want is to protect him. From me.

Maybe it’s my conscience or this connection between us, but even wishing I could keep the words down, they slip past my lips. “You might have guessed from what I told you already that Dad’s a controlling man. He was that way with my mom. Kept her like a doll. She was one of those people who believed you were supposed to make a marriage work, no matter how hard. He wasn’t physically abusive. Just a dick. Both Mom and I knew when he was coming home late that he was seeing someone else. How fucked up is it that a child knows his dad is cheating on his mom?

“When I was eight, she’d finally had enough and called him out on it. She wanted a divorce…and so he made her life a living hell. Dad was the one with the money, so he dragged her through it. Incredible, the case a rich man can make with lawyers who are experts at redactions and objections and filing bullshit motions to get the opposition to run out of cash. Mom wound up in a mental-health facility, that’s how bad it was, and he won sole custody.”

Tension knots up in my chest at the flashes of being questioned by social workers and attorneys.

“Before they divorced, we celebrated holidays, but it always seemed to annoy Dad. After he got custody and we moved in with his new girlfriend, there wasn’t anything. Not even my birthday. Then she got pregnant, they got married, and it was clear he finally had the child he really wanted. I was the mistake. I was nothing and nobody to him.”

“Brad,” Luke says, his voice full of concern as he grips my hand tighter.

For once in my fucking life, it feels like a relief to talk about this shit. Maybe that’s why I can’t fucking stop. “I tried to get out of that house. I snuck away to see Mom from time to time, and each time, he got worse. Told me I was her child and just as worthless. That I’d never amount to anything. I could see the disdain in his eyes every time he looked at me, wishing he could get rid of me, but keeping me from Mom was a cruel torture for both of us.”

“I’m so sorry, Brad,” Luke says, turning his hand and interlocking his fingers with mine.

I was so lost in the telling of my past that I hardly noticed the blur in my eyes and the warmth sliding down my cheeks. I consider turning away from him, but now that I’ve shared so much, I don’t want to. Wild to think I didn’t want him to know any of this, and suddenly, I want him to see me. All of me.

But as I see the warmth in his expression, I spit out, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t deserve sympathy, Luke. Not after what I’ve done.”

“What you’ve done?”

My chin trembles. “Yes. Luke, I’ve done something terrible.”

He tilts his head, seeming surprised to hear this.

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