“I know,” Luca says, nodding. “But the thing is, it doesn’t feel like it.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. “It’s like that story of the frog in boiling water. Have you heard of it?”
I shake my head.
“So, it’s basically this: if you put a frog in a pot of water and start to boil it, the frog will acclimate to the temperature increase—or at least itthinksit is—so by the time the water is boiling, it’s too late; the frog’s already dead.”
“But you got out,” I say, horror at the thought of Luca being a boiled frog tearing at my heart. “You didn’t boil.”
Luca lets out a sad laugh. “No, but that’s because of you. Noteveryone has an Austin ready to jump in and save the day. It was pure luck that I didn’t let him isolate me from you. I made other friends in Ohio.”
“Oh?” He’s never mentioned anyone to me, which I guess should have been a red flag.
“Yeah.” He adjusts, slipping his arm under his pillow to prop his head up some. “I used to do yoga. And I met this woman—Katie—she had a little boy. He was young, only a couple of months old. We were really close for a while.” He pauses, swallowing hard, his eyes glazing over like he’s remembering something awful. “I guess that should have been my first clue.”
I wait to see if he’s going to elaborate, and when he doesn’t, I say, “First clue?”
“Yeah,” he whispers. “That something wasn’t right. It started off innocently enough, right? Asking me questions. Wanting to know about her. I didn’t think anything of it. But then he started accusing me of cheating.”
What the fuck? I may not know a lot of things, but I know that Luca was out and proud as gay and fuck anyone who dared tell him that was wrong at fourteen years old. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and he didn’t care who knew. Hell, he’s the reason I felt safe enough to come out.
My mom even teased me that it made sense, considering we had to doeverythingtogether.
“Accusing you of cheating is low.”
Luca sits up in a rush, turning to look at me. “I wasn’t, though. I wouldn’t. You have to believe me.”
The panic in his voice has my stomach tightening in pain. “Luc.” I sit up beside him, wrapping an arm around his upper back and pulling him in for a hug. His ragged breaths fan across my collarbonewith each shuddering exhale. “I know you wouldn’t cheat. You don’t have to convince me. I know.”
I rub his back, waiting until his breathing returns to normal before pulling back. When we’re both settled, he continues. “It wasn’t all bad, y’know? He was nice to me sometimes. I wouldn’t have stayed so long if it was all bad.”
“I know. That’s the thing, though. He preyed on that. He made it not all badon purpose.That was a choice, like anything else.”
Luca sighs. “I know.” I watch as he bites at his bottom lip, eyes flashing with indecision. “Can I tell you about the first time? I think telling you will help… purge it. I haven’t ever told anyone.”
“You can tell me anything, Luc,” I whisper, meaning it with my entire heart.
“I was making dinner.” His voice goes soft and hollow, like he’s detaching himself from the memory and from himself. “I messed it up. I’d had a couple of glasses of wine. Katie had texted me, wanting to know when we could go get lunch, and I just… I don’t know—I forgot I was cooking, I guess.”
I hold a hand out in front of me, offering him comfort if he needs it. Warm fingers slide between mine, and I grip his hand, giving it a little squeeze to let him know I’m here.
“It was a new recipe. I didn’t set a timer for the pasta, and he had told me a hundred times to do that. Anyway, I overcooked it. It was a mushy, gross mess. I laughed it off and told him we could get Thai takeout and cuddle up on the couch. He—”
His eyes squeeze closed, pain contorting his features. “He backhanded me.”
Anger rises in my chest, burning a hole through me and threatening to destroy me from the inside out.
“I was shocked. Hell, I was never even spanked as a kid. You knowthat.”
I do know that. I wasn’t either. Our parents believed there were better ways to teach kids respect. They weren’t wrong. “I know.” I rub my thumb along the back of his hand.
“It was crazy. One second, I’m giggling and a little wine-drunk; the next, I’m holding my throbbing face. He said it was an accident, and I believed him.” Luca snorts a laugh. “How fucking stupid was I to believe that? How do you accidentally backhand someone?”
“Hey,” I quietly admonish him. “You’ve been a lot of things in your life, Luca, but you’ve never been stupid.”
He snorts. “Sure. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He swore it would never happen again, that he’d had a long day and he was upset. That it was about work and not me. Then he cried, and we…” He trails off before letting out a breath. “Then we had sex. He was so sweet and kept telling me how sorry he was. I didn’t get off. My face hurt too badly to even get hard.”
Luca falls silent, and so do I. I let the weight of his words settle over us, overme.There’s anger, sure. At Damien. But also at myself. When Luca’s parents first died, I wanted to bring him back home with me. I tried to convince him; my parents did too. But he wouldn’t budge.
