“He tells me that he doesn’t love medespiteeverything that’s wrong with me. He tells me that he simply loves me and I should remember that I am more than that one terrible night. I am an artist. An intelligence officer, official or not. A good man. And I am worthy of love,” he says, tears brimming in his eyes. “Now…do I believe that every single day? No. Not even close. Is it worth battling those doubts and fears to have that man in my life? One hundred percent. Because I deserve him, and he deserves me. I am more than that night, and so are you. And I will—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, interrupting his diatribe. “Beat me with my cane if I don’t accept that.”
He chuckles, nodding. “Exactly.”
We’re both still crying but laughter soon takes over. I blow my nose on the wetted napkin, and Jake cackles even harder, setting off more laughter from me. Honestly, there’s a bit of hysteria in it after a while, and when Jean-Pierre sticks his head in to find out why we’re causing such a ruckus, the fresh tears are pure joy.
His words have shaken something loose in my soul.
15
Odd
Driving to Dallas is giving me déjà vu. The last time I showed up unannounced, it took days to recover from the hangover caused by DeShaun’s kisses. He’d been like a compressed coil freshly loosened, and the power of his emotions… There was no hiding them after that, no matter the walls he throws up.
The beauty of most people is that they’re full-on brain stem when it comes to the person they’re attracted to, and when the attraction’s mutual, it’s easy. I’ve been in long-term relationships before, and the beginning was always fairly straightforward—I like you, you like me, let’s see where this goes. Simple.
Nothing, and I meannothing, about DeShaun is simple, and I can’t tell if I want to throw him against the wall and kiss him until he gives in or fucking just…have a real conversation.
Now that I’ve hit Dallas proper, I’m sitting in traffic, losing my nerve. I know I could call up my mom or brother and they’ll hype me up, but I think what I need right now is a calmer sort of wisdom. I call up my dad’s number via Bluetooth and ringing fills my speakers.
“Odd, son?Er du okay?” Are you okay? My dad’s kind voice immediately settles me.
Tapping my thumb on the steering wheel, I let out a big sigh. “I don’t know. I’m in Dallas, twenty minutes from DeShaun’s house, about to make a big play.”
“I heard. Your mother is very excited.”
“Anders,” I growl, taking the exit for the loop going north.
“If I may say, you don’t sound as thrilled.”
“I’m kind of wondering if I should be doing this at all. I heard he was sad and got into the car. But I don’t know how to make him realize that I’m here for whatever he’s going through.”
“And you’re certain of his feelings for you?”
I shift into a slower lane to let cars pass me. “Yes. But he has big physical issues, along with probably some head stuff from his time in Iraq, and he thinks that means I’ll start to resent him.”
“Oh, you totally will,” he says, his quiet chuckle filling my car.
I look at my car speaker as if it has somehow switched callers on me. “But I know what I’m getting into. Why would I resent him?”
“Well, are you just wanting to sleep with him once and be done?”
“No, of course not. You know that’s not how I operate. He’s it for me.”
“Well, I hate to tell you, son, but even if everything is perfect, you’ll still have days when you’ll hate the way he breathes in and out. And, yes, it will bother you when you realize that you’ll never be able to just hop in the car and go because, with his knee, he’ll always need extra time to get settled in.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would it bother me that it takes him extra time?”
“Do you know how much faster I could get around if I didn’t have to wait on your mother and her short legs? Those extra minutes, times every day, times the rest of your life…believe me, it’ll happen.” He says this with a combination of amusement, affection, and absolute certainty.
“Don’t concern yourself too much with these things making sense because there’ll also be days when you find yourself re-arranging the contents of the dishwasher because, for some reason, he doesn’t understand the benefit of an unimpeded sprayer.”
“That’s…weirdly specific.”
“Thatwas the argument your mother and I had over the dishes last week.” Laughing softly, he continues, “But because we maintain our ship, we were able to move past it quickly and have a rather invigorating evening together.”
Ignoring the obvious reference to my parents’ sex life, I ask a follow-up question. “Maintain your ship?”
