Sam stared blindly into the traffic passing by outside, wondering how it had come to this.Really, he couldn’t blame Ian; the man had been honest with him, at least up until this morning.He’d truly believed all that stuff he’d said about wanting to have a relationship.Wanting totry.This heartbreak was all on Sam.He hadn’t done enough to guard his heart, had he?Failed again.
Time to let his heart shatter into a million tiny pieces, like it had been destined to do all along—
His phone rang in his pocket, startling him.Of course it would be Ian, and when Sam looked at the screen he found exactly what he’d expected.My boyfriend.He tried very, very hard to be relieved and hopeful, not dreading what he was about to hear.
“Hello?”He held his breath.
“Sam?”That was all Ian said for a few seconds, but really, it was all Sam needed to hear.His stomach felt hollow and empty.Ian took a breath before speaking again.“Listen ...I can’t pick you up.”
Sam swallowed and blinked hard.“Why not?”
“I, um ...my father called today.”
“Oh.”In Sam’s experience, all trauma began with family interference.
“I’m not sure I can explain, but I need some time to myself to think, kiddo.”
Don’t call me that.Sam swallowed the lump in his throat.“Ian ...”You said youlovedme.
“I just need to get my head screwed on straight.Please don’t be mad?”He didn’t feel mad, he felt sad.Why couldn’t Ian get his head screwed on straightwithhim?Or was it gay?Get his head screwed on gay.Ian continued before Sam was ready—as if that were an actual possibility.“This isn’t about you kiddo, it’s other stuff.It’s me.I’ll call you as soon as I figure this out.”
“Okay,” Sam whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against the cold glass of the door.
Ian hesitated.Like he didn’t really want to end this.“Will you be all right?”
“I’ll be fine, Ian.I’ll talk to you s—whenever you’re ready.”Weak.But Samhadto keep that possibility open.Even if it was only to fool himself a little bit longer.
“Sam?I swear, this isn’t about you, it’s about me,” Ian said.
“Yeah.I know.”
“Maybe—”
“Ian, don’t drag this out.”Sam said.His voice was on that edge of raw where he knew he’d break down and beg if they talked any longer.He should just say goodbye and end this, but some vindictive part inside him wanted to make Ian do it.It was his idea; he could take responsibility for all of it.
There was a very long pause in which Sam heard Ian’s breathing, even over the noise of the traffic outside.Was that a gulp?“Sam, I’m—”
“Ian.”
“Sorry.Bye.”He hung up immediately, and Sam let himself think it was because Ian knew if he didn’t do it fast—if he heard Sam’s voice one more time—he wouldn’t be able to.
Bastard.
He sort of remembered getting on the bus.He sat next to a window and stared out, watching it get wetter and darker, looking at all the miserable people trapped in the rain.His heart was in free fall, and his main parachute had failed.
Sam dredged up his backup parachute—IthinkIloveyou.
It failed too.
He only had one choice left.The Hail Mary pass—and yes, he was mixing metaphors, but at a time like this, did it matter?He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed up his first-string.
“Nik?It’s me.”
“I’ll be there in an hour,” Nik said, tipped off by something in Sam’s voice.“Just hang on, honey.”
“Bring wine,” Sam croaked.
When Nik knocked, Sam answered the door in his comfort jeans and Snoopy T-shirt.Nik looked him over, hugging four bottles of wine to his chest and clutching a paper bag in one fist.“Are you wearing the Underoos?”
