Page 55 of Sass

“Fucking hell.” My hand clenched around his. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“My mother point-blank refused to believe her brother would do something like that. Then they asked George if James had ever been inappropriate with him, and of course, George said no, adding that James was the best, and so my parents chose to believe James’ version.”

My blood boiled. “I have no fucking words.”

Chris nodded. “Yep. Pretty much. And with James sitting on his couch listening to the entire conversation. And then, of course, there was the whole gay thing to confront. Mum clutched her pearls and Dad fanned his face with his bible. But the fact I wouldn’t cave and admit to anything other than the fact that, yes, I was indeed gay—a disaster all on its own—pretty much made me the family pariah.”

“Oh, Chris.” I brought his knuckles to my lips.

“To be fair, they didn’t just kick me out or even yell and scream too much, probably because they thought I was simply confused and misguided and that I could besaved. But I was watched like a hawk from that point on and found myself in thespecial groupin church, meaning I needed straightening out. I lasted a year until I was sixteen and legally able to get the hell out of there.”

“Arseholes,” I said bluntly. “What the fuck is wrong with your parents?”

Chris sent me a shining look. “It’s nice to know it’s kind of fucking obvious to most other people.” He rolled out of my arms and onto his back.

“I’d bet they still pray for my wayward soul, and when I look back, I think they probably loved me in their own way. They just didn’t know how to reconcile that with who I was and what they believed.” Chris blinked several times, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

I cupped his jaw and turned him to face me. “Well,Ibelieveyou.You’re nothing if not brutally honest, and for that I am eternally grateful. What your parents did, on the other hand, was criminally neglectful.”

His gaze never shifted from mine, a flash of something impossibly young and fragile in those green depths. One glimpse of that and I knew I’d go to battle for this man, whatever it took. The realisation stunned me, and I blinked to clear my thoughts. “Did you ever tell anyone else?”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “Most of the adults I knew were all in the same church. They’d have gone straight to Mum and Dad. And I wasn’t exactly a prize pupil at school. Most of my teachers didn’t know what to do with me as it was.”

I frowned. “So, what happened with James?”

Chris kicked the covers off and studied the ceiling. “All that year, he visited our house, ate Christmas dinner at our table, sat with us in church, and was part of family celebrations just like nothing had happened.”

“What the fuck?” This fiasco got worse and worse.

“On the plus side, I never went to the farm again, so that was something, I guess. But there were a lot of creepy looks sent my way, and inappropriate closeness when he thought he could get away with it. At least until the day I turned around and socked him in the balls for the second time.”

I snorted. “Good for you.”

Chris shrugged. “Yeah. But it was still hard.” He took my hand and placed it over his scars, his green eyes steady on mine. “It was a way to cope... during that year. But when I finally left and got some free counselling through an LGBTQ outreach program, I was able to stop. I landed a retail job at a local department store, couch surfed until I could afford to share a flat, and started building a life, a pretty good one, as it turned out. And eventually, I found my way here.”

I stroked my hand over the scars on his thigh. “Have you seen your family since?”

He huffed. “Not if I can avoid it. They have my phone number, and Mum sends a text at Christmas and my birthday. I don’t reply because I know she hasn’t changed how she feels. But things have taken a recent turn. James has pancreatic cancer, or so I’ve been told. He’s on the way out. Good riddance, if you ask me, but he told my family he wants to talk with me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I pulled him closer.

He snorted. “Right? My mom swears she only wants what’s best for the family. Bury the hatchet and move on. Forgive and forget. And maybe give her a chance at saving my wicked gay soul in the process.” He paused. “She called me last night to press the point.”

“Aaaah.” I nodded as everything suddenly became clear. “Hence the phone-into-the-wall affair?”

He grinned. “Seemed fitting at the time.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m... thinking about it, not that I’ve said that to any of them. As far as they know, I’m not interested.” His tone didn’t invite any further discussion and he drew the covers up his body and rolled to face me. “So, howdidyou know about the scars?”

I kissed the end of his nose and breathed him in. “I’ve worked on a few clients who wanted similar ones inked over.”

His brows bunched but he said nothing.

“So, if you ever decide you might like something similar... you know where to find me.” I moved my hand back to the warm skin of his inner thigh and over the pain of a young boy trying to find his way back. “We could work on the design together.”

He tensed and I sensed a cool curtain drift between us. “Thanks for the offer. But I’m okay. Anyway, there you have it. My sad little story.” He rolled away, sliding his thigh free of my hand. “The answer to why I’m so fucked up.”

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