Ian went for broke.“I met someone, though.Sam.”He straightened his spine, pressing the button on the end of his pen up and down.Click click.
“I don’t suppose Sam’s short for Samantha?”Carl said.
Jesus.“Nope.It’s short for Samuel.”Wasn’t it?He should probably check that.
“Ian ...”His father’s voice took on that pitiful, deflated balloon quality.Fuck.He dropped the pen and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to jump out of his seat and pace around the room.
“Think of your poor mother—”
He slammed his palm down on the desk, then took a breath to calm himself and enunciated carefully.“Mom wouldn’t care.”Another breath, trying not to shout.“You know what I remember when she died?I remember sitting beside her bed in the hospital, and she took that fucking oxygen mask off and told me to be happy no matter what.You’rethe one who wants me to be straight.”
“I want you happy!”Carl thundered.He breathed audibly in Ian’s ear.“You’re my youngest son, I want to see you married like your brothers.I want you to have someone who takes care of you.You think you’ll ever get that with another man?Men aren’t like that, Ian.You should know, you’ve been with enough of them and none of them worked out, did they?This Sam, he’s just another lay.You keep looking for something you’ll never find.You can’t marry another man, you can only fuck him.”
The fight drained out of Ian, leaving a sick feeling in his gut.“The sex is your real problem, isn’t it?”he asked.“You don’t like it that I’ve been with men.You can’t see past that.”He felt weak and light-headed, but he didn’t let any of that invade his tone.“Mom wouldn’t have cared.”Hell, his voice shook a little there.Barely a quaver.
“She would have been as disgusted as I am!”
Ian slumped in his seat.“Fuck you,” he said tiredly, then hung up the phone.
The weather matched Ian’s mood.They were finally moving out of the Indian summer and into the stormy season.Right now it was gray and threatening rain, and Ian figured that was pretty much perfect.As soon as he stepped foot outside the health division building, he knew it would start raining on him.
So much for not letting the chief get to him anymore.
Ian tried to do the thing Janet had been teaching him: identify his emotions and label them, figure out what was what and who was who.But it was all a painful mishmash, and the only thing he could reliably identify was the twisting ball of fear whenever he thought of Sam.Fuck.He thought about calling Janet, but he had an appointment in the morning.He could hang on that long, right?
Besides, if he didn’t leave right now, he’d be late to pick up Sam.They were supposed to go back to Ian’s place so he could change, then go out to some movie Sam wanted to see.Probably get dinner somewhere.
The fear fisted around Ian’s stomach, giving him heartburn or something.He wasn’t hungry.Didn’t want to see that movie, anyway; it sounded dumb.
This is all about your father.Things had been so easy lately, his life and his job.Sam.Everything had been clear, but after talking to Carl it was all murky again.It was the way his father saw things that was screwed up.Didn’t mean that’s the way things actually were.
Logic wasn’t helping him—he still felt confused.
When he saw Sam, things would fall back into place inside him.
Sam never said he loved you.
He did love Ian, though, he just needed more time, or maybe more proof of Ian’s feelings for him first.This could work.Itwould.It had to.
He just needed to get his head screwed on straight.Seeing Sam when he had all these stupid doubts ...that seemed like a bad idea.
Something about this sudden rainstorm wasn’t right.The wrongness of it settled in Sam’s gut and filled him with anxiety.The weather in romance novels always reflected the plot point.Thunder and lightning?The Too Stupid to Live heroine was about to run out on the rocky cliff in the dark, wearing only her nightdress.Sudden rainstorm on an otherwise nice day?They were about to have a serious, possibly relationship-ending incident.
Maybe he was imagining things.
Maybe he felt that sense of impending doom because Ian was fifteen minutes late to pick him up.Sam stood at the glass doors of the student union, watching cars sweep by, looking for Ian’s pickup, but he was officially tardy enough to start worrying about things like car accidents and hospitals.
Maybe he didn’t get done with work on time, and he forgot to charge his phone.And didn’t notice until after he’d left, so he couldn’t call from the office.
Sixteen minutes.Officially, Ian was late enough that Sam could start worrying about his boyfriend having some kind of freak out about being in an honest-to-God relationship for the first time in his life.
Since Tuesday night, in the back of his mind—or maybe his heart—Sam had been waiting for the plot to go awry.For Ian to react badly to calling Sam his boyfriend, or to the level of commitment they’d reached when they decided not to use condoms.Oh, Sam hadn’tknownhe was waiting for Ian’s impending freak out, but now that it was here he realized he’d been expecting it.
God, and then this morning, when Ian had blurted outI love youwhile he came.What if he reallyhadjust said it without meaning to?
You should have told him you loved him too.But Sam hadn’t wanted to do it that way.He didn’t want Ian to think he’d just said it because he felt like he had to; he wanted Ian toknowit.
Seventeen minutes late.He isn’t coming.
