Page 10 of I've Got You

“No thanks. I’m heading back. Tanner should be finishing soon.”

I nodded and looked at Lauren.

“Not for me. For a short day, it’s somehow been a manic one, even though we haven’t had a heap of patients. I’m heading home.”

“Okay.” I smiled. “Well, I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

“And I’ll sort out the details with you about Libby later if that’s okay?” I said to Carter.

He bobbed his head. “No problem.”

“Thanks. See you both later.” I made my way to the kitchen and back to my day.

Chapter Six

SCOTT

I tooka deep breath and looked in the mirror. I didn’t dare look at my face though. Sometimes, I just couldn’t stomach the sight. I was sure that was all levels of screwed up, but it was my truth. Instead, I focused on my T-shirt, wondering if it was too tight, wondering if anyone could tell from the way it clung to my toned body that I was… gay. I shook my head.

Gay.

I could totally do this. I had to get the hell over myself.

Maybe.

Possibly.

I sighed. I still had no idea if Icoulddo this—accept this openness, something I’d spent pretty much my whole life ignoring—but being honest with myself, I was getting tired of my bullshit. Tired of my inner monologues. Tired of not stepping the fuck up and owning my sexuality once and for all.

But….

Yes, there was always a but, but this time, I clamped my jaw tight and stared at my face. I looked tense as all hell. It therefore made sense that a few beers would help. Getting out of my own company would help, surely to God it would.

Glancing away, I headed toward the front door, grabbing my wallet and keys on the way. Tonight I would stop the pity party and actually leave the damn house. As I stepped outside and pulled the door closed, I gave myself a moment to feel some of the tension disperse. Inhaling deeply, I savored the fresh air, the coolness in my lungs. This was good. I could do this. Even more, I was proud of myself for doing this alone. It would have been too easy to rely on Carter, my tentative friend who had implanted himself into my life. I could do this by myself. Pride felt a little alien as it settled in my head and on my chest. It was a strange sensation, and it had been a long time since I could honestly remember a time I felt honest-to-God proud of myself. Deception and self-loathing, plus a family who took every opportunity to drag me down and remind me I wasn’t good enough, could do that to a guy.

With an exhale, I forced myself to smile, still staring at the door. Shit, damn tears filled my eyes. I blinked them away and swallowed the sentiment, hysterical emotion and laughter bubbling in my chest and making their way to my throat. It sprung free, a deep laugh, the action making the smile on my lips genuine. Shit, I was losing it. But still, I grinned and allowed myself the moment to feel lighter. I considered accepting the tears, knowing that, while spiked with fear, they were also coated with unfamiliar happiness and relief.

My lips still fixed with a smirk, I breathed out and closed my eyes before taking another breath. I had no idea what I was doing, where I was going (other than a local bar), and definitely no idea what tomorrow held, let alone the long-term future held, but still, I smiled.

I turned and headed down the street to the town center, the smile now lazily lifting my lips. As I walked past Carter’s, I didn’t hesitate or pause. He had become something of my safe haven. He knew who I was. Admittedly, while he didn’t know my past, my history, he’d still given me the courage I needed to step out. I wouldn’t falter and detour. Instead, I continued on.

Once at the Oak, I stepped in right away, forcing myself not to hesitate. While my heart rate picked up and my palms sweated just a little more than comfortable, I didn’t experience the panic I’d half expected. In reality, I knew someone wasn’t going to step out and call me a fag, wasn’t going to reach out to my family and start gossiping and causing shit. A little voice in my head then pulled me short, almost making me stumble.And so what if they do? Does it really matter?

Weren’t those a loaded couple of questions? Should I give a shit if people in this town knew I’d come out? Should I give a shit if my parents were told? Fuck, my dad already knew. It didn’t matter how many times his leather belt had struck my skin. He was a prick to think he could beat it out of me.

I stood at the bar, eyes focused ahead and then skimming the length of the room. The bartender moved toward me.

“What’ll it be?”

I glanced at the draft beers before making my selection. “Pale ale please.”

“You got it.” The guy nodded, grabbed a glass, and poured my drink.

I took the time to glance around the bar. I was out of my comfort zone. Majorly. I’d never done this, never needed to before. Back home, at college, and in the couple of other places I’d lived, I’d always had the safety of friends or colleagues. Yeah, I’d arrived at places ahead of time before so had ordered and started drinking by myself, but always with the knowledge I was waiting for someone.

The knowledge terrified me as well as shot a blast of courage through my veins. I was a grown-ass man. I could drink by myself. I could make small talk with locals if I wanted to. I felt kinda liberated by the idea as I paid for my drink and took a seat near the end of the bar. Tempted to pull my phone out and mess about with it rather than be so clearly alone, I tugged it out of my back pocket and instead, switched it off. As I did so, the bartender was back, this time putting a bowl of nuts in front of me.

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