Luke: But there’s nothing wrong with you. Promise.
I snorted, the breathless laugh sounding like it came from someone else.
Me: Gonna take your word for that.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket, hot embarrassment working its way up my chest and neck. I didn’t even know what to do with myself. Why had I opened my big mouth?
Because you trust Luke.
I felt like my brain was in the spin cycle. I was repeating everything, forgetting it, and then having to repeat it to myself all over again. Why wasn’t nothin’ stickin’ in my brain?
I didn’t know what to say to Skylar. I didn’t know what the hell he wanted from this.
Why was I freaking out? Nobody died. We didn’t do nothin’ bad. This was just some new information about myself. Right?
Meltdown protocol.
I slowed my breathing, inhaling deeply and holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. I repeated it until the desire to throw up went away, and my heart rate came down from the goddamn treetops.
You’re bein’ ridiculous, Baker.
A few more deep breaths for good measure, and I slipped out of the bathroom. Another long out breath as I stood at the foot of the bed. Skylar really was so beautiful, naked and twisted up inthe sheets. I walked on unsteady ground to the little kitchenette area and grabbed a plastic cup out of the cabinet. Shaking out my hands, I turned on the faucet and filled the cup, drinking it down.
“Well, hey there, cowboy.” Skylar said, his voice sleepy.
I placed the cup in the sink and gripped the edge of the countertop for a ten count before turning around. I tried to grin, but his eyes told me I had failed.
His smile was so gentle.Too gentle.
“Freaking out a little bit, are we?”
I swear to God, I didn’t know where these goddamn tears were coming from. I turned back toward the sink. Wiped them away. “Maybe a little.”
“That’s okay,” he said, his voice that measured kind of steady you used with a psychiatric patient having a bad day. “A little gay panic never hurt no one.”
I huffed out another hollow laugh, glancing back over my shoulder. “Are you sayin’ this is so common it actually has a name?”
“Well . . . the gay panic defense was a strategy straight men used in the eighties and nineties to explain why they got scared and killed gay men. Sometimes after having slept with them. But, it’s been reclaimed, sorta.”
I opened my mouth, shocked. “That’s not?—”
“I know,” he said quickly. “Poor word choice. I’m teasing you because I bet you’re questioning your entire life right now.” His smile was encouraging. “What does this mean? Who am I?”
I took another shaky breath, and more tears spilled. Another sneak peek over my shoulder told me he wasn’t making fun of me. Not even a little.
“Come here,” he said as he wrapped the sheet around his waist and stood.
Like iron filings to a magnet, I padded over to him in my bare feet and half undone jeans, falling into his open arms like a little boy. Tucking my face up against his neck, I let out a shivering breath as more tears fell. His arms surrounded me with so much warmth.
“Hey now. Just remember . . . This is big, but also very normal. You’re probably gonna need a few days. And that’s totally fine.”
I laugh-snorted into his neck.
“It’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore,” I said, my voice all warbly. “Why am I so worked up about this? I never lose my cool about . . .anything. I’m supposed to be the even-keeled one.”
Sky rubbed my back. “Maybe you don’t always have to be the even-keeled one with me.”
I sniffed and pulled back enough to see his face. There was so much understanding it almost made me cry harder. “I am so fucking ridiculous.”
